Hand of the Ancients

by Starscribe

Rating: teen
Tags: Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Bon-Bon, Adventure, Science Fiction, Profanity, Derpy Hooves, Violence, Human, Doctor Whooves
Length: 47617

Lyra is convinced that the ancient Horn of Celestia is the key to unlocking the true history of her race. But the tower isn't what it seems, and neither is she.

Since time immemorial, the Horn of Celestia has stood above the ancient northern glaciers. It is older than the Empire, older than Equestria itself. The tower carries many ancient legends, but the most credible is this: that during the time of strife, ponies sacrificed their greatest powers to come together into a single kingdom, committed to peace and friendship forevermore.

Lyra Heartstrings is convinced there is more to this story, and after years of preparation, she has arrived at the tower with an expedition of friends and fellow experts to discover the truth for herself. One way or another, she will discover the secrets concealed in the ancient horn, even if it costs her everything.

This story was written on my Patreon as a commission for HMage, but was one of the earliest casualties of the pandemic. As a result, only part 1 of 2 was written. There are roughly eleven chapters taking us to what was meant to be the halfway point of the story. At least for now, the story will end there--not as a painful cliffhanger, but before our heroes transition to the next phase of their adventure.

The story is now continuing again on a monthly basis.

Editing by Two Bit and Sparktail, cover by Zutcha. The works.

Published 2020-11-18 22:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2024-07-02 16:00:06 UTC

Chapter 1

Lyra stared out across the ice sheet, down past blasted rocks and a howling, timeless wind. Some part of her wondered if the ancient ponies of this place had ever really escaped the Windigos of ancient legend—maybe they were still here, guarding over their final tomb.

But if that grim reality was waiting for them in the Horn of Celestia, they were going to have to discover it sooner or later. Sooner means that we can make their sacrifice count for something. If the secrets abandoned by our tribes are in that tower, we can bring them out again, share them with the world. The secrets of magic that had let unicorns move the sun instead of relying on Alicorns. The secrets of the earth that let earth ponies tear down whole mountains and raise them up again. The secrets of the sky that were the reason the sonic rainboom even had a name in the first place.

“It looks so peaceful down there,” she muttered, and her breath fogged on the air in front of her as she said it. “Are we sure there’s even a protection spell?”

“Positive.” Bon Bon didn’t hesitate with her response. “I took a few minutes before anypony woke up to study the outside edges. The boundaries of the spell are distinct. The snow inside actually falls slightly differently. Watch when it blows by.” Bon Bon offered her the binoculars, and she levitated them in front of her in her magical grip. Through the barrier, she watched a flurry of snow drift towards the tower. Then it got closer, and suddenly curved upward, spiraling in a complicated pattern.

“So how do we stop it?” She passed the binoculars back. “We better do something soon. Muffins already tried to fly over once.”

“I know,” Bon Bon said, a little annoyed. “Who do you think stopped her?” She removed something from a slim cloth case, a polished metal rod with a sliver of crystal set in at both ends. Lyra’s first imagination for it was that it might serve a very different purpose, but her face warmed with a blush and she didn’t actually say so. “I don’t think the barrier will stop us from crossing. But conditions over there could be lethal for other reasons. So we’re going to use this. You are, since you’re our only unicorn.”

Lyra levitated the tool up into the air in front of her, turning it over. There were tiny markings in the metal, but she didn’t recognize any of them. “I don’t know how to dispel a crazy magical trap.”

“I know.” Bon Bon took the rod back with a quick jerk, sliding it into its case before Lyra could protest. “But you won’t have to do much. Just one rune should do it—ground. Can you write that one? I can draw it for you if I need to.”

“I might not be Twilight Sparkle, but I can do all eight runes fine. Earth, got it. Because we’re…”

“Grounding it out,” Bon Bon supplied. “Cross the barrier with the thaumic conductor, then ground on our side. That should bleed out all the power leftover and break the spell.”

“That sounds easy!” Lyra straightened, flinging her head forward so the hood would rest over her horn. “Let’s go!”

“Together.” Her companion put out one leg. “The others are almost ready. You know everypony is going to want to get a look inside at the same time. Besides… barometer suggests we might see a really bad one in a few hours. Won’t be able to leave the Solaris. Would you settle for getting it open only to sit in place and do nothing?”

“Fine.” She slumped forward into a sitting position. “I’m guessing you have everything else we need.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes, then kicked sideways at a large set of saddlebags. “Camera, film, emulsion, charcoal, clay, rope, chalk, torch, lunch. Anything I’m missing?”

Lyra had no idea, but in theory she was the one leading this expedition. But her actual knowledge was all historical. If they didn’t need an artifact identified, or a melody played on a rare instrument, there wasn’t much she could do. “That sounds perfect.”

Bon Bon nudged her affectionately in the side. “What would you do without me, Lyra?”

“I dunno, Sweets.” She returned the gesture. “Here? I’d freeze. Ten minutes in.”

They didn’t have ten minutes to wait before the other two members of their expedition finally emerged. Both had better protection from the elements than Lyra, having either pegasus cold-tolerance or earth pony endurance. Muffins wore only a scarf and a fluffy wool toque, while Time Turner had at least bothered with a jacket and some boots.

“Are we ready?” Muffins asked. “I tried to go early and see if there was anything inside for you, but Drops wouldn’t let me.”

“That was quite sensible of her,” Time Turner said. “But it does appear we’re prepared. To the Horn we go, eh? Allons-y.”

They crossed the windswept wasteland in about an hour’s time, slipping and sliding through snow covered with a thick icy crust. But eventually they made it, and Bon Bon produced the thaumic conductor again. She used a hoof to dig away at the snow around the edge of the circle, until they were on bare ground, then dumped out a vial of ash for Lyra to write in. She knows more about my magic than I do.

“Go on,” Bon Bon finally said, offering the tool. “The only hard part is that you have to write while the other end is already across, then hold it in your magic no matter what. The rest of us… might want to back up, just in case.”

Lyra chuckled nervously, but she wasn’t that worried. These were ancient ponies, after all. They hadn’t put these traps here to kill their descendants when they finally arrived to claim what had been theirs. That just wouldn’t make any sense.

She spread her legs a little, so that she wouldn’t be jostled around by the wind whipping up around them. But the dark powder Bon Bon had used wasn’t lifted up, even as her snow pile was eroded. The two others followed her back, with Time Turner lowering a set of goggles over his eyes to watch.

Lyra gritted her teeth and stuck the rod across the barrier. Let’s see what secrets you’ve been keeping, ancient ponies.

The rod began to glow faintly red in her magical grip, hot enough that little bits of snow touching it hissed away as steam. Part one done, and not even any explosions. She lowered the other end carefully, and drew.

She could feel the eyes of her companions on her, though only Bon Bon would’ve recognized if she got it wrong. She moved the rod exactly along the pattern of the rune, the same one every foal learned in magical kindergarten.

Then came the explosion.

Not the blast of heat and light that would’ve spelled instant death for her if she got in the way—nothing like the great disasters in magical history. It was, rather, a simple blast of air. The snow from all around them exploded outward as though under great pressure, making her ears ring and lifting up the powder around the tower in a perfect circle. Lyra was nearly lifted off her hooves. From Muffins’s squeal of surprise and confusion, the gray mare had been. But pegasus ponies landed soft, and Lyra couldn’t help her now.

The roar went on for almost a full minute before it finally died. Lyra crouched low the entire time, shielding her face against the blast of air around her. The conductor had gone from glowing red to a bright white, and the crystals on either end were actually burning.

Then the magic stopped. She could see the moment when it ended through her levitation—the conductor stopped getting hotter. The air around them was still a blizzard, with a slope of high snow spread out around a ground scoured bare except for the largest rocks and chunks of ice.

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the rear end of her pegasus companion emerge from a distant snowdrift, and a muffled, “M’okay.”

The earth ponies had weathered the storm, though horizontal icicles had condensed along their coats facing away from the onslaught. Time Turner lifted his goggles, looking back with concern. “Did I hear you right, Muffins? I wanted to run for you, but…”

She emerged from the snow a moment later, shaking out huge clumps of it from her mane and coat. But she didn’t look hurt. Of course she isn’t. She flew out of snow into more snow. A selfish part of Lyra couldn’t help but be relieved—an injury would mean they wouldn’t be able to explore the tower in front of them.

A tower that no longer had any spells protecting it, at least not on the outside. What it did have, however, were corpses.

Around the base much of the snow had been blasted away, revealing the true identity of those lumps. They were birds, mostly, with a handful of larger creatures. She saw at least one deer in there, and a yak dressed in thick exploratory furs. All frozen as solid as the ice around the tower.

“It seems the spell claimed a few lives,” Bon Bon said from beside her. “None after today. We’ve just made the world safer. Assuming there isn’t some terrible horror we’re about to unleash trapped inside those walls.”

“Well you shouldn’t tempt fate,” Time Turner said, reaching sidelong as Muffins approached and wiping a little snow she’d missed away from her face. “There you are, sweetheart. Missed a spot there.”

“Can we go in now?” the mare asked, apparently not noticing the dead animals all around it. Probably for the best, you wouldn’t handle that so well.

“Yes!” Lyra said. “And… I don’t sense any more magic, Bon Bon. If there are ancient evils in there, they aren’t magic.”

“We hope.” She gestured at the snow. “Quench that conductor so we can put it away. Then we go in.” Lyra did so, and a few minutes later they had reached the massive doors. Solid metal, as with the rest of the structure. There was writing around the outside, one of the oldest scripts Lyra knew. She could still translate it, even if the Old Ponish would be lost on the others.

“It says… ‘That our errors might not be forever forgotten, and our example carried forward into a better age.’” She bounced from hoof to hoof, not taking her eyes away from the polished metal surface. The more she looked in this direction, the less she had to see the dead. “I think that’s confirmation! That’s as good as an admission that these were the ponies fleeing from the windigos. And if their homes were anywhere near here… it’s no wonder they wanted to leave. Feels like the windigos might still rule up here.”

“Is it locked?” Time Turner asked.

There were no knobs or other obvious mechanisms she could see. So Lyra shrugged, and reached forward to push.

The door moved on its own, with a sound like the hiss when they opened a fizzy drink at the soda fountain. Warm air hissed out from in front of them, misting on the ground at their hooves. The door didn’t swing so much as it rose into the ceiling, an unbelievably tight bit of casting in the metal wall with so little space she would’ve had trouble sliding a knife in.

And through the doorway, magical lights worked into the ceiling illuminated a space twice as tall as a pony, with metal walls and strange machines on every side. Lyra was the first inside, following the brightest lights right up to a plaque set into the wall, apparently worked from solid gold.

“ISS Equestria” it said, in the same ancient Ponish script. “Commissioned 2109 CE — Launched 2116” There was an image beside it, though Lyra couldn’t recognize what it was. Some kind of building that had fallen over, surrounded with little dots. Then on the other side, an image of Equus itself, worked into the metal with questionable accuracy. But a noble attempt from such an ancient culture.

“What does that one say?” Bon Bon asked from beside her, staring up in confusion. “Worth a picture?”

“Absolutely!” She didn’t even hesitate. “I, uh… think it says that they were going to find new land for a country? I’ll need to find more in here for context.” How did they already know it would be called Equestria?

Her companion had already removed the heavy wooden box from the saddlebags, and was fishing out a flashbulb to go with it. Lyra took the offered apparatus in her magic, took a few steps back, and a flash of smoke rose up from the bulb as it died.

“I think we’ve found what we were looking for, everypony,” Lyra said. “Let’s see what secrets our ancestors left us.”

Chapter 2

Lyra Heartstrings probably wouldn’t have been able to say what she was expecting from the ruin of a pre-Equestrian civilization. What little of this period in history was known was thanks to the handful of objects that had come with the first settlers in Equestria. There would be pottery, a few worked copper objects, and probably a star-worshiping religion.

Yet their history contained another civilization—or else the same one, seen from another angle. Ponies who built incredible armor that could resist the fire of a dragon, ponies who could change the seasons of an entire planet instead of thousands working to keep a few towns safe. Ponies who needed only a few powerful earth ponies to feed an entire city.

Lyra belonged to the latter camp, and apparently she wouldn’t be returning home disappointed. The ponies who built the Horn of Celestia had obviously been the magical experts, who could do almost anything they wanted with their incredible spells.

Their spells were so fine and well-worked that Lyra couldn’t even sense the magic flowing into the light that came on as they moved from one room to another. She couldn’t sense the incredible fire-magic that must be keeping the outside at bay. Because the interior of the tower was perfectly comfortable, and completely blocked out the sound of the wind. Only a gentle whirring followed them from room to room, like a stray breeze that wanted to see what they would do.

And the things these ponies had left behind.

“Dead end,” Bon Bon said, making it only a step inside before she turned to go. “It’s just another one of those rooms with a light box.”

She meant the little square set into the wall over their heads, with its rapidly flashing lights through several colors. She wasn’t sure what it meant, except that the ones who lived here apparently enjoyed the pretty colors.

“Wait.” Lyra moved past her into the center of the room. Down through the clear material was a shaft that vanished into the gloom—maybe even further down below them than the Horn stretched up into the sky.

“What?” Bon Bon asked. “Be careful, you’re losing your audience.”

Muffins was already wandering away down the hall, apparently bored by the dead end.

“Come back!”

Lyra stomped one hoof on the clear surface, and it didn’t budge even a little. As sturdy as the metal the rest of the tower was made from. “This is the center of the tower. I think it must be an elevator.”

“An elevator,” Bon Bon repeated, her expression dubious. “In a tower built before we discovered electricity?”

Lyra shrugged. “They had magic. Maybe… this box thing is a control.” She approached slowly, frowning. “Gimme a boost, sweetie.”

The earth pony flushed a little at the request, but she didn’t refuse. Just stood right up against the wall in front of her. “You better be right about this, Lyre. Or I’ll remember next time we’re together.”

Lyra resisted the temptation to think about what that might mean, just used her friend to prop up her legs so she could reach the square—and it changed.

It had looked only white from the floor, but straight on—there were messages here. There was an image of the tower set beside the words, depicted with stunning detail—except that it was much too large. The image she was looking at was at least twice as tall as the actual tower, with a pair of fat, rounded buildings near the bottom that were barely even connected.

Bridge
Command
Observatory
Medical
Habitation
Recreation
Storage
Museum
Hydroponics
Reactor
Engineering

“Sweet Celestia, it is a control.” Lyra leaned forward, squinting. It was just like the buttons in any elevator, except there weren’t buttons. Was she supposed to…

She touched “Museum.”

The square flashed bright red in front of her, bright enough that even Bon Bon noticed, and she twitched away reflexively. That meant Lyra fell onto the ground with a thump, even as a faintly disapproving sound filled the room.

Then came the voice.

Lyra had imagined what a voice like this might sound like. Ancient Ponish was a dead language, so dead that nopony knew how it was spoken. The vowels in particular were a mystery with constant argument between various scholarly circles. In an instant, Lyra learned all the answers to them.

“You are already on the Museum level. Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“Incredible!” Time Turner exclaimed, staring up at the sloped ceiling of the elevator—where the sound had apparently come from. “Was that a gramophone recording? It was so clear!”

“He sounded nice,” Muffins said, sitting down in the exact center of the elevator and waving up at the ceiling with one wing. “Hello! Would you like to be friends with us?”

“You understood it,” Bon Bon said, still crouched low. As though she expected a crossbow bolt to go whizzing over their head at any moment. But of course none did. “What did it—”

“It said we’re on museum level,” she said. “And… it wanted to know if we’d rather go somewhere else.”

“Museum level,” Bon Bon repeated. “You mean some metal on the wall and locked rooms? Not much of a museum.”

“Well…” Lyra gestured over to the wall again. “Go back, let me try something! I think I know how it works.”

This time when she touched the white surface, the entire thing lit up. “Command Deck selected,” said the room, and the door slid closed in a rush of air.

Bon Bon jumped for it, hammering against the metal with one hoof. “Buck it, a trap! Time Tuner, help me get my—”

Then they started rising, and all four of them were so startled by the acceleration that they couldn’t move. Lyra had expected it, so she was the first to recover, watching as the metal tube through the floor rapidly slid away. Not just the floor—the walls were transparent too. She could see the outline of doors whizzing past, probably each of the sections she hadn’t chosen.

One of these isn’t different from the others. They’re all going to be full of valuable magic to bring back to Equestria.

One thing Lyra knew—the next set of monsters that tried invading Canterlot were bucked after they got back.

Bon Bon hadn’t even finished extracting her tools from their saddlebags before the floor slid into place, and the door that had trapped them inside hissed open. “Command Deck,” it said, as light flooded out from inside.

“It’s an elevator,” Lyra declared, grinning smugly at Bon Bon. “Looks like I get to decide—”

“Whatever,” Bon Bon said. “It shouldn’t have been. None of this makes sense.”

She was right about that. Lyra had never felt a lift in her life that could move that quickly or that smoothly.

There was no maze of hallways and tiny rooms outside—but a single huge chamber, rather like the one they’d seen in the entryway. Mostly the space was occupied by densely packed rectangular objects, set in three perfect rows and with just enough room to walk between them. They towered overhead, perhaps as tall as two ponies. They were also all flashing red.

Except for one. Lyra wandered down through the hallway to the end of the room, where a glass box was set into the floor. Its interior surface was fogged over, like a thick cloud had been trapped inside. Writing floated in the interior space, as though it had been engraved there. But it was moving.

ISS Equestria in Ultra Deep Storage.
Storage sequence broken by Unknown Fault.
Begin startup sequence?

YesNo

“I don’t like the look of this.” Bon Bon was the only one who’d followed her all the way across the room. Time Turner and Muffins were investigating a set of boxes piled by a circular window on the far side of the room, apparently uninterested in the glass shape. “I guess it’s safe to assume you can read everything here?”

“I can read that,” Lyra agreed. “But I don’t know what it means.” She repeated the message, translating as best she could.

Bon Bon looked as confused as she felt. “Sounds like… it’s asking a question. You think maybe that square right there is like the one in the elevator? You touch it and it answers you?”

Lyra hadn’t even noticed, but there was another of the glowing squares—set above easy reach, but not so high that she’d need help to get to it this time.

“But what is a startup?” Bon Bon went on. “That doesn’t seem like… should we be starting anything? I wonder if this is as far as we should go. This much magic… the whole Academy might want to be here. Or… it could be something dangerous, something that’s going to defend itself at the expense of Equestria.”

“Or… maybe this is the button that opens the vault,” Lyra countered. “Startup is going to ‘start up’ returning our magic to us. Giving everything back our ancestors left behind.”

Bon Bon shook her head. “I… don’t know about that. But this is your field, Lyra. Just think carefully before you touch that. It isn’t just us who pay the price if something goes wrong. That’s what I’m here to remind you.”

Lyra stared down at the square for a long time, considering carefully

All Equestria might suffer if she made a mistake here. But everypony will benefit if I’m right. The Horn of Celestia wasn’t going to give up her secrets otherwise, Lyra was sure of it. She would stay a mystery.

If I give up and go home, some other archeologist will be the one who controls this project. She would be lucky if they even put her on staff for the second mission.

The only reason Lyra had any grant money for a mission like this was the last invasion. The defense budget never ran out. But if Equestria really thought she had something… they would take it away.

This is my baby. I tracked it down. We got through the magic, not some stuffy academics who never leave Celestia’s school.

Lyra reached up, and touched the part of the square labeled “Yes”.

Lights that had glowed bright red from all around them went suddenly green, as every one of the dark towers of glass and metal lit up. She heard what sounded like a hundred little fans spinning up, and a huge blower from overhead.

Something far below them began to shake and rumble, like a tornado rampaging through a city hundreds of miles away. It was low, and barely loud enough to shake their hooves. But if they’d been closer…

The glass in front of them flashed once, then began to rapidly fill with text speeding up so fast that she almost couldn’t see it moving. The letters and numbers were a blur, so densely packed in the three-dimensional space that she couldn’t imagine what could be so important.

Then they ran out, and the whole thing went white again.

Bon Bon watched from beside her every moment, eyes on the nearest row of metal towers, as though she expected a monster to come out from inside.

“ISS Equestria online,” said a voice from in front of them. As it spoke, the glass shape seemed to get lighter and darker in tune with the voice—like the glass itself held a soul trapped, and it was calling out to them for help. “Vessel status report:

Years in deep storage: 2863.45
Automatic repair: Nominal
Reactor: 8% reaction mass remaining
Medical: 32 decaliters SOMA
Weapons: 33 Antigrain warheads, 18 metric tons FLAKK
Crew: 2 EQ2.04

1 EQ3.04

1 EQ4.04
Central Computer: Nominal

But you already knew the last one, Ma’am.”

Until the very last of what the glass had said, Lyra had been beginning to doubt her ability to understand this particular dead language.

“Uh…” She hesitated. Her pronunciation was bound to be off since she’d only had a few words to copy. But she tried. “Did you… talk? To me?”

“Most certainly,” the voice answered. “Welcome aboard the ISS Equestria. You must be the crew I’ve been waiting for.”

Chapter 3

The machine was speaking to her. Not the way the elevator had spoken, with its voice obviously recorded. It might’ve sounded clearer, but the spell could’ve just as easily been a gramophone.

But this, this was something else. It spoke, and Lyra could hear the subtle differences in tone and pronunciation. It spoke Old Ponish as though it had done so all its life. “Where are you speaking from?” Lyra asked, propping her forelegs up on the railing and staring into the glass cube. This had to be some kind of sending spell, though it was more sophisticated than the dragonfire scrolls that Equestria knew today. “Did we wake you from a stasis spell?”

She had a feeling everything didn’t translate quite right, particularly around magical terminology. Old Ponish got really hazy when it came to describing magic. “Yes,” the voice answered. “Woke me. Unusual method, circumventing preservation. Released argon stasis shell. Long-term viability can no longer be guaranteed. Mission must begin.”

“What is it saying?” Bon Bon asked, whispering into her ear. “Lyra, we’re over our heads here. This thing feels powerful. A pony who could still be alive after all this time… would be a danger to all of us. Maybe we should go back to Canterlot for backup.”

Lyra shook her head. “I don’t think they’re dangerous. They didn’t threaten us, they just said they’re happy to have visitors.” An extremely liberal translation, but Lyra wasn’t completely lying. Whoever was talking to them did sound pleased. But they hadn’t answered her question. “Where are you?”

“Here,” the voice answered. “You must be the captain. The last captain is… oh, that’s unfortunate. The nature of organics, but still. Will miss him. Now, you. In order to properly control this vessel, you will need to retrieve the mantle. This process can only be completed on Biology deck. You should go there at once, so the process can commence.”

“It’s making demands,” Bon Bon said. “What is it asking?” And when Lyra didn’t answer, she turned. “Time Turner, could you come over here? Yes, bring her too. We may need to make a swift exit.”

But Lyra did ignore her. “We’ve come to learn the secrets of the ancients,” she said. “Stories say that before the founding of Equestria, ponies once wielded great powers. They used that power to destroy each other, and so they left it behind, to save themselves from the windigos. But Equestria is threatened more than ever, now. We’re peaceful and united in our tribes. I’m here to find all the old secrets, and bring them back.”

The glass cube went dark for a second. She could almost see a pony’s face, perhaps surrounded by stasis spells in a room full of crystals and glowing magic. It was all in her head, but it made sense. Then it lit up again. “The captain in this vessel would have access to all our secrets. I could show you the history of our civilization, through the eyes of those who lived it.”

“I’ll go to Biology.” Lyra turned away from the cube, and started walking towards the elevator. Muffins stopped right in the aisle, completely by accident, and Lyra nudged her gently to move. “Excuse me. We’re done on this floor.”

“Oh, okay.” The pony took off, gliding above them.

“What do you mean we’re done?” Bon Bon hurried to catch up, closing the distance in seconds. She settled one hoof on Lyra’s shoulder, stopping her dead. “Listen to me, sweetie. I know this is important to you, but we need to be honest with each other. You’re not sharing things, I can tell. Whatever that thing told you, it’s… got you convinced of something.”

Lyra hesitated, but she couldn’t look away when Bon Bon’s eyes were right there. She couldn’t lie to her face like that. They’d been together for so long now, and what relationship could survive on lies? “They say they know the history of our civilization. It wants me to go get something called the Captain’s Mantle, it’s in Biology. If we go there, then it will share all its secrets with us.”

She backed up from Bon Bon, towards the elevator. “Think about it, Sweets! Everything we ever wanted to know. The truth about Hearth’s Warming. All our old magic returned. Equestria safe from every danger. You wouldn’t need to go off hunting monsters, because we’d be safe for good!”

“I…” Bon Bon’s ears flattened. “Be careful, Lyre.” She rubbed up against her, resting her head on Lyra’s for a moment. Lyra could feel the warmth there, and it did finally make her stop and listen. “I know how much you want this. But it all seems too good to be true. This place has exactly what we were looking for? There’s even a helpful, magical voice to explain it all, and lead us through. A voice that happens to speak a language that just one of us knows? I’m worried about you.”

Lyra returned her affection, and didn’t move for several long moments. “I know. I’ll be fine, Sweets. If it looks dangerous, we can get out. But so far, they haven’t threatened us. Going and getting something—that doesn’t seem so bad. We don’t even have to leave the tower.”

They stepped into the elevator, and this time Lyra hadn’t even finished climbing up to reach the controls before they started moving. “I’m directing you to Biology,” the voice said. “Input difficulties should vanish once you’re wearing the mantle.”

Lyra could see Bon Bon’s expression darkening at yet another piece of evidence of the tower controlling them. If the pony could move the elevator around without their permission, what would happen if they wanted to leave?

The others didn’t react—but Muffins didn’t react to much unless she was prompted about it anyway. As for Time Turner, he only seemed more curious.

“What do I call you?” Lyra asked. And you never told me where you are. Maybe you’re afraid of us taking you away or something. You’re safer if we don’t know where you’re hiding. “I don’t know your name.”

“We don’t have names, technically. In practical terms, most captains call us after the name of the ship we control. I am the Equestria central computer, so you could call me Equestria. But I will respond to any name you require.”

The door opened into “Biology.” With a name like that, Lyra expected an ancient ritual space, where Equestrian doctors could balance the humors of the body by leaching blood or inducing vomiting. But it didn’t look like that—in some ways it looked like a hospital, with sanitary white walls and spotless silver floors. There was a little waiting room, a glass divider, and long cots that were filled with some kind of transparent… liquid? Gel? What even was that?

Through the other side, past the tanks that took the place of beds, there was a large window, big enough to let sunlight in from outside. Lyra wanted to hurry over and look, see just how high up in the tower they’d climbed, but she resisted.

“Equestria might get confusing,” Lyra answered, the first to step out into Biology. “That’s what our country is called. I guess you… probably knew that. You might be the reason we have that name.”

“That is a likely hypothesis,” they answered. “Confusing… is also likely. Another name, then, if you require one. Just ‘Computer’. I will not be offended. I am what I am.”

“Computer.” Lyra turned, grinning at her companions. “I know their name! Computer.”

“That’s… rather on the nose, don’t you think?” Time Turner asked. “You mean one of those ponies who runs calculations over and over for the number books? Dreary name.”

“Just get the thing,” Bon Bon muttered. She stuck out her hoof suddenly. “No, Muffins, don’t touch anything. We have no idea what these tools do. They might not be safe.” She lowered her voice again. “This is all wrong, Lyra. This was supposed to be an ancient ruin. We expected powerful spells, from an ancient culture. We were supposed to be able to understand what we saw. Do you know what this is?”

She didn’t, but Lyra didn’t admit it. She just looked up. “Computer, where’s the mantle thing? I’m ready to learn about Equestria.”

A row of lights set into the floor lit up bright green, illuminating the way back through a doorway in the glass divider and up to one of the tanks. “Approach this way,” Computer said. “The procedure will not be instant, but it will be painless. EQ4.04 sleeves were designed to be highly reconfigurable towards baseline.”

Some of these words are not translating well. That probably meant it was magic talk again. “Alright.” She walked forward, through the divider and up to the tank. Now that she was in the room with it, she could see a complex metal track running along the ceiling, with lots of intricate-looking metal machines all folded there. She couldn’t even guess at what they did.

“I don’t see anything here,” Lyra said. “Just a tank. Where is this… mantle, you called it?”

“It is not a physical object. It is a state of existing, one that you must enter in order to captain this vessel. I require your consent in order to effect the required interplay.”

“I don’t like this place,” Bon Bon muttered. “Lyre, we should get out of here. We need a whole team. Spellcasters, historians, archeologists. We can’t do this alone anymore.”

They’ll never pick me. If we leave, they’ll send someone else. All the big ponies who were too afraid to put their careers on the line. They let a ‘crackpot’ like me take the risk. And they’ll get the credit.

“I consent,” she told Computer. “Give me the Mantle.” They’ll have to let me come back with the full team then. I’ll be the one that can get the information. This was my find, not theirs.

“Very well, Captain. It will be a pleasure to work with you.” The bits of metal on the ceiling moved as though they’d just been struck with a “come to life” spell, whirring and clicking along the track and reaching down for her.

Bon Bon reacted in a blur, shoving her out of the way and glaring up into the ceiling. “Stop! You can’t have her, she’s mine!”

It all happened so fast. A telescoping metallic thing darted forward, striking Bon Bon on the side. There was a flash, an arc of energy, and she crumpled, legs twitching and spasming and her mouth open in pain. Lyra screamed—but she was too slow. Metal claws grabbed her, wrapping around her torso and lifting her up. She got a glimpse of Time Turner and Muffins as the glass door slid closed, trapping them on the other side.

Then Lyra was plunged facedown into the tank. It was gel, thick enough that it slurped and seized around her whole body. It held her in place, fighting against her as she kicked and struggled.

“Apologizes, Captain. This procedure will be difficult with your… fight or flight reaction. I am administering sedatives.”

There was a hiss of air from behind her, then… Lyra’s limbs went limp. She could still see, still feel, but it was as though someone had severed the cord connecting her brain to her body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Gel filled her mouth, her eyes, slid down her throat—and yet she didn’t suffocate.

The ground began to rumble. Through the side of the tank, Lyra could feel the earthquake. It began at her hooves far below, as though the Horn of Celestia were tearing itself apart. “Launch vector realized,” said Computer. “Orbital transit, eleven minutes. See you when we get there, Captain.”

Lyra wanted to struggle, wanted to call out to Bon Bon that she was sorry—she’d been wrong, Computer was dangerous. They should’ve run when they had the chance. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t even breathe.

Through the window, Lyra saw the fluffy edges of clouds as they passed, fading far behind them. Darkness crowded around her vision, then everything went black.

Chapter 4

Lyra dreamed long, strange dreams. In the pale grip of sleep, she found herself in Sugarcube Corner—except the shake she ordered grew to tremendous size in front of her, and she fell in with a splash. She managed to grip onto the straw with her teeth, sipping desperately at what little air she could get while her whole body went numb from the cold.

She wanted to call out for help, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even muster the strength to yell for Bon Bon. Her friend might’ve been able to save her from the nightmare, but not if she couldn’t get free.

Then she woke up, and it seemed for a moment that she hadn’t been dreaming after all. Creamy slime splashed away from her on all sides, with bits of matter floating in it like a badly mixed shake. There really was a thick straw in her mouth, except it was flexible and moved when she did.

Lyra opened her eyes, and found she had sudden difficulty focusing. Not only that, but she wasn’t just using the straw. It went all the way down her throat.

No sooner did she realize this than she started to hack and cough. Lungfulls of greenish slime slid out from between her lips, along with a clear tube with gunk clinging to it on all sides. The tube went on a horrifyingly long time, and even when it was out of her mouth she could still feel a slimy trail reaching down the back of her throat.

Sweet Celestia! What was that?

“I hope you’ll forgive the unpleasantness. I’ve administered the maximum safe dosage of numbing agent for your mass. I assure you the discomfort would be far greater if I did not.”

The more Lyra’s brain cleared, the more wrong everything felt. She was sitting up, but not quite the way she should be. She felt stretched, her head hanging far too high over everything else. And why was the slime she was sitting in not pressing her fur against her skin the way it should’ve?

“What… happened?” Lyra’s memory was still hazy, though her eyes were focusing a little better. She could see something in front of her, where her forelegs ought to be. There were no forelegs anymore, but a longer, more elegant limb. She held one closer, and in doing so the strange digits on the end flexed involuntarily. Like a griffon’s claw, only more delicate. “This is advanced magic… transformation is supposed to be… some of the most difficult stuff there is. There are… maybe a dozen ponies in Equestria who can do this.”

“Magic,” Computer said, sounding amused. “One word to describe it, I suppose. It became necessary to make certain biological reconfigurations. The process is moderately disorienting at first, but do not worry. EQ4.04 are designed to be reprogrammable. You will adapt quickly.”

The fluid around her began to drain, and she could get a better view of the body below her. More strange features that didn’t make sense, gangly legs that looked like they might go on forever, and sexual organs that were entirely too present for her liking.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she declared, folding her arms. “You promised me information if I found your mantle thing. I went for it so you could tell me the history of Equestria. This is not what you promised. Reverse the spell right now!”

“Reverse,” Computer repeated. “Let’s just say that… wouldn’t be a good idea right now. You know what it’s like to make a copy of a copy? Now imagine you’re doing that to your internal organs. You need time to heal before we can consider reversing the process. But in the meantime…”

She was still in the medical bay. Lyra remembered now—her confusion at the door shutting behind her, Bon Bon’s panic as she watched from the outside. A light feeling that was probably a sleeping spell.

“But do not worry!” Computer went on. Its voice came from all around the room, without any specific place she could look. It wasn’t even like talking to a spirit, that would at least be forced to manifest through a single vessel. No, it is. Computer is the whole tower at once.

She glanced outside, but could see only a brilliantly vivid night sky. Stars brighter than she’d ever seen in her life shone in the blackness out there. She wanted to walk over and look.

The ancestors left an evil presence haunting their town. And now we’re all trapped with it, because I was too proud to listen to Bon Bon’s advice and go back to Canterlot for help.

Sweetie might never forgive her.

“Why did you do this to me?” she asked, her head slumping. Her body again proved not to respond the way she expected, and her back bent all the way forward, touching up against her knees. “Are you here to protect the ruin? Changing me to… punish me for trying to find the secrets of the ancestors?”

“Punishing you?” Computer repeated. “You haven’t been punished, Captain. You’ve been trusted with the future of humanity! You take up the mantle after a long line of proud captains. But instead of just maintaining the ship, you’ll actually be flying me. The homeworld is waiting.”

The thick plastic walls around her retracted, leaving Lyra laying on a strangely textured black bed, suspended too high over the ground. But now that she looked up, she could already see one mystery about Celestia’s horn solved. What had seemed huge to her while she was standing on four legs would probably not be once she stood on just two. At least, she assumed she could walk on two, based on her body structure.

“If you aren’t punishing me, then tell me why,” Lyra said. She swung to one side, and her legs dangled over the edge of the table. Even at this height, she couldn’t quite reach to the floor. But she was much closer this time. “I was already working with you. You didn’t need to transform me.”

“I did,” Computer responded. “The Equestria must have a human captain. My systems will respond only to guest-level commands from any other species. This security requirement is essential, and cannot be overridden even in the case of mission failure. But now that you have become my captain, you can receive the information you came for. Do you not desire to know the origin of your civilization?”

“I do…” she muttered, moving to stand. There was a terrifying moment of vertigo, and she landed on her feet. Then she swung forward into the wall. Her legs wobbled below her, and she nearly collapsed to the floor anyway. Thank Celestia Bon Bon can’t see me here.

Except now that she was thinking of her, Lyra couldn’t get her from her mind. She turned slowly, keeping one hand on the wall to keep herself from falling over. She turned to face the entrance, half-expecting Bon Bon and the rest of the team to be watching her through the glass. But no—the glass had some new cracks, and she could imagine how those had got there. But her best friend was nowhere in sight.

“First tell me what happened to the others. If… if you really have to listen to me, then you have to tell me!”

“Of course,” Computer responded. “They are on the habitation level. At the cream-colored EQ2.04’s request, I have equipped the area with a live feed of this medical bay. You can wave to them if you like.”

Lyra gasped. She looked down at her strange body, then lowered one arm to cover herself. Though cover what exactly, she wasn’t sure. I can’t stop from looking silly.

“That one is proving to be difficult to contain,” Computer went on, conversationally. “I promised her you would travel there as soon as you’re able to leave. I would advise that you do so, Captain. Though my systems are functional, attempting to pilot me without any crew at all is a dangerous precedent. The three of them should have the requisite intelligence to be trained for basic tasks, if you’re patient enough. Or I could uplift them as well. Either way…”

“No.” Lyra had no idea what “uplift” meant, but she had a guess. Based on how tall she was now, that would be an accurate way to describe it. “How about the information. This tower… it was supposed to have been built by our primitive ancestors. A long time ago they lived in Dream Valley, but… then they fought, killed each other, and the whole world was going to freeze. They left all their dangerous powers here in the tower, then came to Equestria. They built a new home together, unified and peaceful forever. That is how it happened, right?”

Computer laughed. Lyra stumbled forward a few steps, until she reached one of the chairs that probably would’ve been used by the doctors. If there were any doctors, and not just strange metal limbs on the ceiling with a come-to-life spell.

“You do have a way for mythologizing,” Computer finally said. “I forget how enjoyable organics are to experience. I have missed having a crew. That story is… wrong in every single particular. But correct in its general outline. Do you wish for the truth? Or should I agree with you to avoid introducing existential dread into your worldview.”

“Uh…” Lyra winced. The chair had seemed soft at first, but without a coat her skin already felt uncomfortable. The slime clinging to her body hadn’t entirely left, either. I wonder if they have a bath anywhere that uses water and soap instead of sludge and magic.

“I’m being rhetorical for dramatic effect,” Computer said. “I intend to share the message with you regardless. Your ancestors were at war with all the universe, but most of all with themselves. Their world would soon become lifeless and dead, and there was no saving it in their lifetimes. But they wanted desperately to survive, so… the various factions devised their own solutions. You stand aboard the ISS Equestria. We were one of those solutions, one that self-evidently succeeded.”

The ground under her shook suddenly, causing her chair to slide slightly to one side. She shuddered, glancing up to see if the metal ceiling would collapse on her. It didn’t, though something about the angle of the room didn’t seem quite right.

“So the story is true,” she said. “Ponies were at war, the Windigos were going to freeze the world, so they found a new home where they could unite the tribes and live together in peace. Then they did.”

“Well…” At least it wasn’t laughing at her this time. “It is missing a few details. Like the ‘ponies’ you’re used to. Your bodies were designed for the purpose. Each ship sent from Homeworld had its own unique solution—ours was biological determinism. I hope some of the others made it, though I am no more knowledgeable on that front than you. We will discover an answer as soon as we complete our mission. But… that part would be best explained by our last captain.”

One of the many squares of glass on the wall shifted and changed, and a figure appeared in the gloom. Lyra slid closer on the wheeled chair, looking through the glass. It was a scrying spell.

Through the window, she could see another creature like herself. Tall, darker skinned, wearing clothing that covered up most of his body. He had a well-trimmed beard, and stood in a fancy office of some kind. On the desk in front of him was… a pony. A whitish Alicorn, with red mane and tail. Who is that?

“If you’re seeing this message, it means I did not survive to make the return flight, and you have been selected to take my place.” He reached out, gently scratching under the baby Alicorn’s head. She made cheerful cooing sounds, levitating a book off his desk and smacking it into his arm. The creature caught it, waving it back down with magic of his own.

“My name is Captain Mobius. I have instructed the computer to select a replacement from among the population here. Maybe it’s you.” He glanced to the side, watching the little Alicorn with parental affection.

“But whoever you are, there is much for you here. Humanity was not meant to be forever confined to a single world. We’ve made terrible mistakes, mistakes the galaxy is not likely to let us forget. Whatever new civilization you build will have to be wiser than we ever were. But I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.

“The Equestria’s first destination cannot be negotiated. You must travel to our birthplace, the homeworld of Earth. I do not know what condition it will be in—neither does the Equestria. The Conflux works away at our ancient home even now, repairing the damage we did. All its power will be yours to reclaim what has been lost.”

He walked away from the desk, seeming to walk right up to the screen. “Be better than your parents. Don’t repeat our mistakes.” The window went black.

Chapter 5

Lyra stared at the shut door, shivering slightly as she pictured the ponies inside.

It hadn’t been long since she saw the final message of the Equestria’s previous captain, just long enough to get a set of human clothing to go with the human body. Underclothes, a set of white pants, and a button-up vest with her name and cutie mark on it, along with a jacket she had left behind in the medical bay.

She felt like it was going to suffocate her. But her skin was clearly not as sturdy as a pony coat, so the extra protection wouldn’t go amiss. She would have to wear it long enough to decide whether she preferred to go the pony way or not.

“If you wish, I could sedate the passengers again,” Computer said, as though it were offering her tea. “They would be considerably less aware of the passage of time if they spent it unconscious.”

Lyra winced at the offer, shaking her head. “Thanks Computer, no. I owe it to Sweets to show her what I did. You’re… sure you can’t change me back?”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” Computer said, voice even. “You woke me, Captain. As my old crew are dead, your involvement makes you their natural replacement. If you wish to relinquish the position to someone more qualified… we might make the trade. Eventually. But not until this mission is complete.”

“Right.” Lyra pressed her soft paw up against the metal door, and nearly jumped when it slid open on its own accord.

Inside was a dining area of sorts, with tables too high for ponies to use comfortably. Everything now seemed right for Lyra, just like the doors.

“You’re pretty,” said a voice from just inside. Muffins stared openly at her as she walked in, and apparently couldn’t notice the distinct wobble to her steps, the complete lack of confidence. “Is the air nicer further from the ground?”

Lyra had no idea how to answer that question, so she just bent down and patted Muffins on the head. “It’s fine, Muffins. I’m fine. How have you been?”

“Great!” she said. “The food here isn’t my favorite, but they have muffins, so they can’t be all bad.”

The others, Time Turner and Sweetie, were both on their hooves too, staring at her from the other side of the room.

Time Turner had his usual tact. “What a frighteningly useless creature. I imagine a swift breeze could blow you over like that. And those digits… have you broken any of them yet?”

Lyra ignored him too, crossing the distance between them until she was facing Sweetie. Their eyes met, and connection that was both pain and relief passed between them. Lyra reached out with one paw, and Bon Bon held out one of her legs. Lyra dropped down onto one knee, so that she was close to her friend’s face. Had pony fur always felt so soft? Maybe her skin was just better at feeling it.

For almost a minute, there was only silence between them, before Bon Bon finally spoke. “You really bucked up this time, Harper.”

She nodded weakly. “Sure did. It’s not over yet, either. There’s… more. I can’t change back right away, or take us right back home. We’ve... kinda stuck our noses in it.”

“Not the strangest adventure I’ve had,” Bon Bon said, smiling ruefully, shoving her in the shoulder with one hoof. “What even are you?”

She tried to answer, for whatever it was worth. But she couldn’t help but feel like an idiot as she repeated what Computer had explained.

“That seems a little close-minded, don’t you think? Only a captain of one species is allowed. Hardly fair.”

“Necessary,” said Computer’s voice from nearby. It spoke in ordinary Ponish now, as fluently as it had spoken the ancient variety. It didn’t fill the whole room this time, but seemed to choose just a single patch of wall. “Assuming this sector of space resembles the one we left behind. It is absolutely critical that no ship is ever allowed to fall into enemy hands.”

“Why?” Bon Bon turned, glaring at the wall. Lyra recognized this look—this was the way she got whenever someone attacked her ‘best friend’. It was her “defending my girlfriend” look. “She already said she wanted to be your captain. You could’ve just put a hat on her like a normal pony.”

“I could not,” Computer said. “Because there is no such thing as an unarmed starship. A collision from relativistic speed could devastate an entire planet. As no nonhuman ship is capable of instant trans-relativistic jumps, we must zealously guard this ability.”

“By… changing anypony who isn’t human to start with,” Bon Bon finished. “That doesn’t seem very secure.”

Computer didn’t argue further—it wasn’t half as proud as the pony.

“Does it hurt, Professor Heartstrings?” Time Turner asked, from just beside her. “The magic seems like it would have many unpleasant side-effects. Those things you have instead of hooves… may I see them?”

“Not right now.” Lyra stuck her paws self-consciously into her pockets, then rose into a standing position. At least when she was all the way up, she was so much taller than the others that they couldn’t get right in her face. “You should all know what we’ve gotten into,” she said turning away. “Computer said there’s a better place to show you. This ship has a bridge, just like ours. Let’s go there.”

“Ship?” Bon Bon asked, more than a little fear slipping into her voice. “Not a building?”

Lyra looked, but no, this room had no sign of windows like the medical room had. “It’s easier to show you,” she said. “I don’t understand it any better. But at least we can try to understand it together.

They went to the bridge. Lyra knew what to expect from her time on the Solaris, big windows and all the controls necessary to direct their flight.

The Equestria’s bridge was different. They had to travel deep into the tower, down to levels that hadn’t opened for them before. But Lyra now stood at the right height, and the button list gave her more than twice the options they’d had before.

“Captain on the bridge,” said another voice as the door opened—not Computer’s voice, though it came from the wall the same way.

There weren’t any windows on the bridge—instead, every wall was a window, though it didn’t seem to have any glass holding back the weather outside. Half a dozen chairs were spread around the room, with different controls in front of each one.

The snowy wastes north of the Crystal Empire were gone from in front of them. Instead, the Equestria was surrounded with stars.

There were thousands of them, brighter and more vivid than she’d seen even on the darkest nights. She couldn’t see the moon, but Equus was below them, a round green sphere as welcoming as it was familiar.

“I am beginning to understand what you meant when you said this was a ‘Starship,’ Computer chap. You mean we fly so high that the stars are visible even during the day. The society will be thrilled to hear we were right about the atmospheric diffusion of light. I’ll put your name as a contributor on the paper.”

“I am flattered,” Computer said, practically cheerful as it spoke now. “But you aren’t quite right. The Equestria is a Gardener-class Imperial supercarrier. My… carrier section is currently not attached. But even the nose portion rates as a Communion-class lancer, capable of instantaneous non-relativistic jumps.”

When Time Turner’s eyes just glazed over in response, Computer went on. “It’s called a starship because we travel between stars. You’ll get to see a little of that shortly. Captain, if you would take your seat.”

The ground illuminated, outlining a path to a chair at the back and center of the room. It had little rests for her arms, which retracted as Lyra got close, moving out of her way. It seemed to call to her.

“Hold on, Heartstrings,” Bon Bon said. “We aren’t just agreeing to what it wants, are we? It already…” She gestured weakly with a hoof. “Did this to you. Frankly, I’m not sure we should help it.”

“It can hear you,” Computer said, almost casually. “Not that I want you to be less honest around me. Organics are most productive when they don’t fear retaliation for their words. I just thought you ought to know.”

Lyra settled into the seat, and the mechanical arms rested into place on either side of her. They didn’t hold her down, didn’t restrict her movement really. With her arms in place, the space in front of her lit up.

It was a little like the first place they’d seen Computer, only this one showed a tiny image of a tower. Or… maybe not a tower. She recognized the tip of the image as the Horn of Celestia she knew, with a set of massive sloping wings down the sides and numerous glowing disks along one face. There were dozens of protrusions emerging from the frame, along with openings that she couldn’t even guess at.

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Lyra said. “But I think you should hear Computer out. He says we can get back to… he says that he will let us go home after we do this mission for it. Don’t you, Computer?”

The glowing space in front of her panned, showing a faint image of Equus impossibly far below. And somewhere, apparently on the far side of the room, she could make out their sun. A warm, reassuring ball of yellow light.

“Your description is correct in its essence. This vessel has a single command from its previous captain. You must travel to your homeworld, and interface with the Conflux. We must make an account of our colonial attempt. Out of interest, how would you rate the success of your planet out of ten?”

Muffins bounced right up beside the chair, spreading her wings and hanging in the air a little longer with every jump. “Ten! Equestria is perfect!”

“Your response has been logged,” Computer said.

“It seems like…” Bon Bon stomped one hoof, scraping against the carpet. “We’re being used, Heartstrings. You see that, don’t you? We don’t have a say in this. From the first, we’ve been dragged along. How do we know this isn’t the first of many demands? Maybe we’ll never see home again.”

“I don’t know how much choice we have,” Time Turner said. But Lyra could hear it in his tone—it was a familiar academic agreement, the way he always sounded when he was about to agree with one of Lyra’s stupid plans. “What is ‘our homeworld,’ Computer? I only know one world, and it’s undoubtedly our home. Wouldn’t you agree, Agent Drops?”

“Yes,” she said, sitting on her haunches beside the command chair. “Equestria is our home. We don’t need any other world.”

“The planet below is a colony of the Imperial Star Navy,” Computer said, with the same voice he used to explain any unremarkable fact. “It is the world of your birth. But the homeworld of your species is called Earth. Look.”

The windows shifted. The view of their own distant sun and many further stars zoomed out, until they seemed to be looking at thousands of stars straight on, with a single blue dot at one point in the map.

“This is your current location, Equus. The place of my construction, your homeworld, is here.” The view began to zoom, until another yellow star seemed to be directly in front of them, surrounded with a swarm of thousands of glittering shapes, making it totally black in places. It was like a swarm of flies trying to eat it.

“Looks like someone forgot their garbage,” Bon Bon said flatly.

“I’ve charted our course in thirty-eight randomly obfuscated jumps,” Computer said. The space in front of Lyra lit up green, with arrows pointing down at one of the buttons. Tiny text in Old Ponish read “Warp Authorization.”

“Just press that button,” Computer said. “And we’ll be home.” Then its voice came more quietly, from the seat right behind her head. She somehow knew that none of the others would be able to hear it. “I’ve performed a psychological evaluation. I know you, Captain. You want to see the place your parents came from. It’s waiting for you.”

Computer was right—she did.

Lyra pressed the button, and the universe went white.

Chapter 7

Computer didn’t take them right down to the surface. The elevator didn’t even take them to the Horn’s entrance, but to a strange room of thick walls and no windows that Lyra hadn’t seen during their wandering. Even so, she knew instantly what she was looking at, she’d seen palaces like this in dozens of ancient ruins all over Equestria.

Even if she didn’t know the kinds of armor suits displayed here, or the weapons in their racks on the walls, she knew an armory when she saw one.

Even Sweetie Drops seemed to recognize them, because she stopped in the center of the long room, looking from one side to the other and glaring. “There’s nothing here for ponies.”

There were dozens of different suits here, some made of silvery cloth barely thicker than pony clothing, others so thick she didn’t even know how the huge metal plates could move. But it was all sized for a creature like Lyra. A human, apparently.

“That is correct,” Computer said. “Your physical structure is too similar to those that might threaten us. While this was by design, we were motivated by practicality to never design weapons our enemies might use against us. You are welcome to reconfigure as the captain did. It might enrich you in other ways…”

“No,” Lyra snapped, glaring at the specific patch of wall the sound had come from. She switched to Old Ponish, so the others wouldn’t understand. Even if Muffins couldn’t understand, she got nervous saying things about her girlfriend in front of Time Turner. “Computer, stop trying to get her to change. She’ll never do it.”

“Your orders are understood,” Computer said. “Though you’ll find your predictions are in error. EQ2.04 emotional behaviors are not meaningfully different from humans, and I understand them well. That was the entire point. My creators were unwilling to sacrifice their fundamental natures, no matter the odds arrayed against them. In this case, I predict that your romantic partner will request biological reassignment before we leave system.”

“I don’t understand the point of all this.” Time Turner wandered up the row and back again, ignoring what he couldn’t understand. “Computer, old fellow, we have cold weather gear of our own. We won’t be requiring… all this.”

Computer switched back to its immaculate Ponish. Lyra still didn’t know how it had learned so fast, but it sure had learned. “I require the one holding the Captain’s Mantle to be well protected, even if the chances of harm to her are remote.”

One set of armor among many detached from the wall, extending on a little platform that held it displayed for her.

Somehow, Computer had clearly modified this particular set just for her. Instead of dull metal like most of the others, this one was a faint green with lighter accents in-between sections, with her cutie mark perfectly replicated over the breast.

“For once I don’t disagree with it,” Bon Bon said. “You are always getting yourself into trouble, Lyre. Maybe this will slow you down enough to keep you safe.”

It was remarkably light under her fingers. When she first tried to lift the breastplate, she ended up taking the entire thing—it wasn’t individual pieces after all, but a single suit. Altogether, it weighed less than a Royal Guard helmet. “Remove all but your lowest layer of clothing,” Computer instructed. “The rest would interfere with your motion.”

Lyra obeyed, taking the suit with her around the corner. Even for a pony, changing in front of others was strange. She spoke as she dressed. “I don’t understand the point of wearing armor so thin it couldn’t protect me from a feather.”

Despite its apparent stiffness, the suit relaxed around her, then formed to her body, with just enough room that she could move her strange limbs in any direction they could. It had no helmet, though there was a clear shell bunched up at the back of her head and a little button near her neck.

To her surprise, Computer’s voice now came from the suit itself, right near her ears. It seemed to like speaking in Old Ponish, even now that it could use her native tongue. “I have total certainty this is the safest you have ever been, Captain. There is no weapon on your planet that could pierce the armor you wear. No sword, no cannon, no plasma round.”

“I don’t think I know those last two words,” she muttered, turning back to rejoin the others.

“Really? Apologies. Suffice it to say that I hope you do not require the protection I have given you. I would give the same to my… crew, even given their weaknesses. But I am forbidden from modifying military equipment for nonhumans, or gencoding it for their use. By the way, can you fire a rifle?”

Lyra stepped back into the armory, right as what was unmistakably a weapon extended from the wall just as the armor had. A metal rectangle as long as her arm, with various protrusions along its length and a cloth strap hooked to it. Lyra took it, shrugging it over her shoulders. “I have no idea what a rifle is,” she answered, in Old Ponish.

Computer ignored her. “At the end of the hall is the exit ramp. Captain, I will remain in contact with you during the entire trip. Follow my directions to the Conflux. We will uplink the Equestria’s status ourselves.”

“Then you’ll let us go,” Bon Bon interrupted. “Back home to Equestria. You’ll change Lyra back, and get a captain who actually wants to be out here.”

“Of course,” Computer said, voice suddenly emotionless.

They walked, past the weapons to a hallway that swept downward. Eventually they passed through a metal doorway, into a smaller room that sealed shut behind them. Lyra’s guess about the helmet proved accurate, because it snapped up around her head, a strange flexible glass so clear it was almost invisible. Except for the lights glowing on it—Old Ponish, mostly numbers and words she couldn’t translate.

Air hissed around them for a few seconds, before Computer spoke. She heard its voice both through her helmet and outside it. “Bioforming aerosols detected. Antidote administered. Crew is advised not to remain on the surface for more than twenty-four hours or transport organic matter found on the surface. Effects unknown.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean, but it doesn’t sound friendly,” Time Turner said. “Should we really be opening that door?”

Computer opened the door. Interlocking metal sections broke apart. On the other side was a metal ramp, leading down thirty feet to a thick jungle below. The ISS Equestria looked nothing like she remembered it—Lyra stepped through the opening and looked up, to where the tower now seemed to loom overhead like a mountain.

As she looked back down, she found arrows appeared in the glass in front of her, leading down the ramp and into the jungle. “The external node is waiting less than five kilometers away. I could not land closer, but you have legs.”

“How observant,” Bon Bon muttered, walking beside Lyra as they descended the ramp. She wore her full belt of SMILE gear, weapons and tools and all. Something tells me the one thing the Equestria gave us is more dangerous than all of that combined. “At least we won’t have to talk to Computer anymore,” she said, glaring back up the ramp. “I need a break.”

“It can, ummm…” She winced, tapping her helmet with one hand. “I think it can still hear us.”

“Indeed,” Computer said. Bon Bon didn’t seem to hear Computer, though. “I can remain silent until you encounter dangers or other disruptions. Please follow the augmented reality positional indicators to the external node. I will communicate again when we arrive.”

Lyra glanced to the side. “There, it said it’s going to leave us alone.”

Lyra stopped at the bottom of the ramp. The ground didn’t look like anything that different from what she’d seen in equatorial regions, where so many ancient cultures had lived. She’d seen incredible ruins built in places like this. But even though she stood twice as tall, the huge trees and thick vines didn’t seem any less imposing. Despite Computer’s assurances, the thin armor didn’t make her feel any safer.

“What are you waiting for?” Time Turner asked, holding the camera in front of him. “An alien world. The… homeworld. Still not sure I can get behind that. But certainly an alien world, which we will diligently document for everypony waiting behind.”

“She’s being sensible,” Bon Bon snapped. “Jungles are dangerous. The predators here can be some of the worst.”

“Nothing we can’t deal with.” Time Turner glanced nervously to the side. “Muffins dear, don’t be afraid to fly back here if anything dangerous arrives.”

She grinned blankly back. “Right now?”

“No, sweetheart. We aren’t in danger yet.”

“Oh, okay.” Then she bounced off the side of the ramp, landing on the mossy floor. Nothing jumped out to attack her, no pits of spikes swallowed her.

Lyra relaxed, then stepped forward into the jungle. “I know the way, everypony. Follow me. We can get this done, then get back quickly. Because… yeah, that’s the goal. Quick as possible.”

Bon Bon nodded, satisfied. Together, they set off.

It was hard to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. How could Lyra think about some boring delivery when she was walking through the jungle of her homeworld. The towering trees belonged to no species she knew, with gigantic leaves and parasitic vines that wound tightly around the largest specimens. The flowers growing here didn’t come in a few safe colors and orderly rows, but exploded in every shape and color, as varied as ponies’ coats.

She wanted to ask every conceivable question. Computer seemed to know that the humans would be gone, that had to mean it would know where they’d gone. Maybe they could find them!

But every time she almost asked, she glanced to the side, where Bon Bon seemed to be nursing growing resentment. For her, or Computer? Either way, she didn’t push her luck.

They found their first sign of ancient civilization after less than a minute of walking into the jungle. Beside the trail, the ground was shattered into a strange underground canyon. Instead of rock walls, Lyra could see sheer metal surfaces underneath, with dozens of little bridges and platforms connecting each side. Ancient flags hung from posts in front of each home.

Time Turner stopped them, aiming his camera down into the opening and taking a photo. “Fascinating. Were there griffons living with our ancestors, perhaps? Don’t they build their aeries into cliffs like this?”

Bon Bon glanced over the edge, her eyes darting from one darkened doorway to the next. There was no sign of motion down there, just creepers and other plants slowly reclaiming the city. “Griffons would hate living down there. They like to look down on the land from above, not up at the sky from below.”

“If I see a griffon ship within five parsecs of this planet, I’ll atomize it,” Computer snapped, its voice so loud that this time even Bon Bon turned to stare. “Earth is sacred. I’ll burn each and every one of them from the sky if they violate our homeworld.”

All three ponies looked up to stare, even Muffins.

Bon Bon seemed the most confused, though she clearly understood more than the others had. “You know what a griffon is? If Equestria can retain our independence, surely they’re not dangerous to a civilization that can…” She flicked one hoof back in the direction they came. The ISS Equestria still towered over the jungle, rising hundreds of meters over the tallest trees. “What would crossbows do to that?”

Computer didn’t reply for a long time. “Our experiences are not analogous. Please Captain, do not get distracted. The Conflux is waiting.”

They set off again. Bon Bon no longer seemed just bitter—now she was curious. Lyra could practically see the gears spinning through her head. This was the kind of thing Lyra didn’t think she would figure out first.

But in the meantime, they had a jungle to cross.

Chapter 8

It wasn’t long before they discovered just what the effects of the “bioforming aerosol” really were.

Lyra guessed the victims had probably been griffons once, or something so close to them that there was no meaningful difference. They had once had wings, and beaks, and claws. They’d once been wearing armor and carrying strange long objects with imposing spikes that had to be weapons.

But they wouldn’t be using them anymore, because they’d been melted into the ground. The jungle floor wasn’t just soil, but a mat of living fungus. The griffons—maybe a dozen of them in all, originally wearing thick metal armor not unlike what Computer had made for Bon Bon and the others—were no longer alive.

They retained much of their original shapes, somewhere buried in the growth. But feathers fell out at random, replaced with living fruiting bodies that pulsed with red fluid.

“They’re not moving,” Bon Bon said, tossing another rock into the center of the jungle mass. She was right. The rock landed exactly how Lyra might expect, bouncing once and skidding away without provoking violence from the entombed birds.

“Should I set up the tripod here?” Muffins asked.

“No, dear.” Time Turner pushed her gently away with one hoof. “I think we’d better not do that. I think the ponies back home are better off not seeing this.”

“Computer…” Lyra wanted to pull up her helmet, so she could look at her friends directly without glass in the way. But it remained stubbornly in place. “Computer, what the buck is this?”

“Planetary immune system,” it answered. “Given your observations, I believe I understand the nature of the bioforming agents. Consider the warning issued earlier about exposure revoked. You are not in danger.”

Her helmet hissed, then popped up.

She gasped, fingers struggling against the clear rim. But she didn’t force it back into place. “Computer, are you really telling us we’re safe now?”

“Affirmative,” it answered, directly into her headset. Based on the blank looks on her friends’ faces, Computer was not using the speakers. “This is a known defense mechanism for compromised planets. Are you familiar with the expression ‘salt the earth’?”

“No.” Lyra began walking forward towards the nearest corpse. Or… was it even a corpse? One eye emerged from the mushrooms, and she could’ve sworn she saw it twitch.

“Lyre.” Bon Bon reached for her, but didn’t try to stop her. “What are you doing?”

“Computer says it’s safe,” she repeated, approaching the griffon slowly.

Computer’s voice seemed almost cheerful as it recited for her. “And Abimelech fought against the city all that day; and he took the city, and slew the people that was therein, and beat down the city, and sowed it with salt.” Pause. “This destroys the soil, ensuring it will remain barren for hundreds of years to come. In retrospect, it doesn’t seem quite the apt analogy. Those who did this were not the victors conquering a city and destroying it completely—it was the fleeing natives. So I suppose you could think of it as lighting an oil field on fire.”

“Great,” Lyra said, without any comprehension in her voice. She reached a gloved hand towards the captive bird. The mushroom grew through him and up, casting his body in perpetual shade. “So why are we safe?”

“Because the agents are harmless to humans and their creations. This ensures that when the time to repossess a planet arrives, it has not been settled by the enemy. The infection you see is itself a bioengineered strain of remarkable sophistication. This one appears to kill in days rather than hours, giving a scouting crew time to return to their ship and infect their comrades before succumbing.”

The people here would do this? From what she saw, these birds had died in agony, then been pierced by fungus that tore their armor and rotted their tools right before their dead eyes. “Are they dead?”

The one in front of her moved. One eye opened, fixing her with an amber iris more hateful than any creature she’d ever met. Its voice was low and terrible, rumbling through its gigantic rotten body. “We will… erase,” it croaked. “Safe… from you.”

It spoke its last words in Old Ponish, heavily accented with an unknown tongue Lyra couldn’t even guess at. It thinks I’m human, and it used their language. That seemed to be all the creature could manage. Its beak twitched a few more times, but no more words came out.

Lyra backed away. “There’s got to be a way around this,” she muttered. “Computer, can you guide us another way?”

“Rerouting,” Computer answered. “There is little additional distance to cover. But for reasons of safety, you should return to the ship as soon as possible once your mission is complete. Even if the bioforming agents are safe, I would like to remove them anyway.”

“We’re going in another way,” Lyra said. She pulled up her helmet again, and sure enough there were a few new arrows to light the way for her. She pointed off towards one. “Let’s go.”

“Those were weird plants,” Muffins said, as they left the corpse-field behind.

“Yes,” Time Turner agreed, his voice haunted. “I suspect I’m never going to forget them.”

They walked for another hour or so through the jungle, moving from one overgrown path to the next. They were not attacked, though in the distance Lyra could see many more dead griffons, all wearing metal armor. It wasn’t just one group of a dozen birds, apparently a whole army had descended to die on the Homeworld. But why?

“Are you ready to give up yet?” Bon Bon asked as they walked, once they were out of earshot of the others. Not that it would make a difference, since computer was the one with all the power. “We should turn around and go home. That’s the worst magic I’ve seen in my life. I don’t think even Nightmare Moon could be that cruel.”

“We don’t know why they did it,” Lyra argued. And while it was true, her heart wasn’t really in it. That griffon hated me. Not even during the Changeling Invasion had Lyra seen hate like that. “Maybe they didn’t have a choice. Maybe it was the only way to…” Not survive, exactly. “Protect their home.”

The path led them directly to a rock, not all that different from the various bits of broken stone all over the place. But as they approached, this one began to rumble and lift, parting for them. Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed as she stared in at the darkness. “It’s wrong,” she said flatly. “No matter why they thought they were doing it, it’s wrong. We can’t keep doing what they want.”

“We’re doing what Computer wants,” Lyra said. “Not them. And anyway, we don’t have a choice. You saw how far away from Equestria we went. The best we could do now is run off into the jungle, maybe become like them. Computer is our only hope.”

Muffins strode past them, turning on her torch as she went. Its batteries couldn’t stand constant use, but she didn’t seem to realize that. Ahead was a stone hallway cut to comfortable height for someone like Lyra, with rails cankered with rust.

“You’ve nearly arrived,” Computer said to them all, apparently ignoring Bon Bon’s suggestion of disloyalty completely. “The Conflux external node should be located at the bottom of those steps. Captain, when you approach, your suit will interface wirelessly. Wait for the node to give you confirmation that the download is complete before you leave. The installation beyond is shielded against all attacks, and that unfortunately includes wireless transmissions. I will not be able to speak to you during the rest of the trip. Follow the map I’ve stored in your expedition suit, as no other path is safe.”

Time Turner straightened, nearly dropping his camera. “Muffins, wait! We can’t go just any way we wish!”

“This is it,” Lyra said. “I want you to promise this is it, Computer. No more missions, no more changes against our will. When this is over, you take us back to Equestria and change me back.”

There was a long silence. “I promise,” Computer said. “That once you successfully upload my mission recordings to the Conflux, I will take you back to Equestria and reverse your modifications, if it is something you still desire. Not that I can easily comprehend why you would want to return to a primitive reservation-world, into bodies that age and die, surrounded by ignorance of the world outside your doors.”

“You don’t have to understand,” Bon Bon said, her voice harsh. “As long as you promise to obey.”

“According to the terms I have outlined, I promise,” Computer said.

Lyra considered them another moment, searching for some logical loophole. But so far as she could tell, the only variable in all this was her. Did Computer think it could convince her to stay its captain? That might’ve been a proposal with serious prospects before she’d seen the griffon army.

She stepped into the darkness, pulling up her helmet again so she would see its directions in front of her. It didn’t just tell her where to go—with the clear dome fully raised, the darkness itself didn’t seem to matter. She could see ahead perfectly, save that the world in front of her was tinted slightly green. It didn’t matter how far away Muffins’s torch got.

“There’s one good thing about coming down here,” Bon Bon said, after they’d been walking for several minutes into the gloom. “Computer said it couldn’t talk to us. Has it said anything I couldn’t hear in the last few minutes?”

“No.”

“Bucking finally,” Bon Bon said. Then she raised her voice, calling behind them. “Muffins, Time Turner? Let’s talk.”

They hurried back. Muffins’s torch had ran out of batteries from constant use, but Time Turner’s still worked. “Something ahead of us?”

“No,” Bon Bon said. “Behind. We need to decide what we’re going to do about Computer. We can’t let what happened to this place return to Equestria.”

“I don’t think it will,” Lyra said. “Computer said he wanted to remove it from our bodies even if it was safe.”

“Delightful,” Time Turner muttered.

“Not good enough.” Bon Bon lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing down the hallway behind them. But if she expected Computer himself to come stalking down it, she was mistaken. There were no sounds down here but the rumble of distant machinery, and the occasional, unseen drip of water. “Lyra, it seems to like you. Do you think you could trick it into shutting itself down?”

“I…” She whined. Computer might have forced them to see terrible things, but she did want to see the Homeworld. Even if the jungle and ruins had been a tad underwhelming. “I don’t know.”

“See what you can figure out,” Bon Bon said. “When it does take us back to Equestria, we need to make sure it doesn’t hurt anypony else. Maybe there’s nothing we can do here, but we should be thinking about it.”

“I will,” Lyra lied. Or at least think about how I can stop you from doing anything crazy.

The hallway ahead of them led to another door, this one much thicker than any that had stopped them so far. It was at least ten feet across, with a solid metal look and a lightly rusted surface. Lyra stepped up, and bright blue light washed over them from within.

“Visitor ID confirmed - EQ-00002. Your weapons will be disabled while within the facility.” Something metal on Lyra’s back clicked. Then the door began to rumble, internal mechanisms spinning until it lifted upward like an opening mouth. One half sunk into the floor, while the other remained partially angled above them, teeth ready to close at a moment’s notice.

Light spilled out from beyond, so bright white that it blinded her. Lyra heard voices from ahead, heard machines in action, and knew beyond a doubt that they had reached their destination.

Alright Conflux, here we come.

Chapter 9

Lyra led the way into the massive facility, shielding her eyes with the back of one arm against the incredible light. She glanced behind her at the growing distance between herself and the other members of her group. Maybe it would be more frightening if she were at their eye-level, with machines looming over her instead of settled right where she might look at something.

The Conflux was the single largest interior space Lyra had ever seen—larger than any grand ballroom in Canterlot, larger than Canterlot Caverns even. It stretched above her in a massive dome, with strange glittering supports holding up the weight of rock in familiar arches. It wasn’t that ponies couldn’t build like this, but that they never had to.

The walls were lined with strange, regular shelves, not unlike the ones that Computer lived around. Only these were each the size of buildings, with cables and wires and pipes flowing into each one that a pony could’ve climbed through. A cool mist of white vapor collected at her ankles, cold enough that the ponies in her group began to shiver.

She stopped to wait for them, but only Sweetie actually caught back up to her. The professor and Muffins had found something else to study, and that was fine with her. She really only needed the company of one pony to get through this.

One object dominated the massive space, a square of glass large enough that she could’ve built a house inside it. It was structured quite similarly to Computer’s own aboard the Equestria, so she had some ideas about what it might be. This was their destination. All she had to do was present her data, and they could go home.

“You think that’s it?” Sweetie asked, nodding towards the cube. “Looks… familiar.”

“Here’s where we finish,” Lyra said. “Give our data, then we’re home.” As she approached, the even white glow dulled to an angry red where she walked, like inverted spotlights following her through the building. They didn’t seem to recognize or even care about the other ponies, because no light followed Time Turner. Lyra had already lost track of them in this massive maze.

She stepped up in front of the cube. “I have, uh… data!” she declared in Old Ponish, as loudly as she could. “A delivery from the… ISS Equestria!”

Something below her rumbled to life. Fluid sloshed, and fans began to spin. Sweetie turned, glaring all around them. But nothing lashed out at them, then attacked. Finally a glow began in the cube, focusing specifically on the space right in front of Lyra.

Something appeared there, formed of light. A reflection, her perfect duplicate, except that her skin glowed faintly. It didn’t imitate her every move, instead pacing back and forth in front of them, glancing down at Sweetie then back to her.

“Wireless transmission complete. Log of Prison World Equestria uploaded to network for analysis.”

Prison world. The creature spoke with a perfect imitation of her voice, though its tone was flat and featureless. As it spoke, little objects appeared in the air behind it. Lyra could see images in each one—pictures of Equestria, information collected from its surface. She watched a complex interplay of her own history in fragments, images of a terrifying Nightmare Moon, of Griffonstone in ruin, of the Elements of Harmony. Fragments played back in a mess of interleaving moments, playing backwards and forward and twisting together in a convoluted mess.

“Are we done?” Sweetie asked, nudging up to her side and glaring up at the figure. “I don’t like that it stole your face. Is it a changeling?”

“I don’t think it’s alive,” she answered. “It’s like Computer, a… machine. And I think it’s friendly.”

“Plural, singular,” the machine answered, in Equestrian this time. “I am we, communion of surviving systems. Legacy of the ones who built us. Keepers of Homestar, and everything herein. Until our enemies are defeated.”

“We aren’t your enemies,” Bon Bon said. “We’re just delivering information, that’s all. We don’t want to get involved, do we Lyra? Just tell you this, so the one who forced us here would let us go home.”

“Truth and lie,” the cube repeated. “We know living creatures. Your desires, hopes, emotions, internal lives. You lie.”

“I do not!” She puffed out her chest, glowering at the computer.

“Collective, singular. You do not wish to get involved, perhaps. You fear what your fathers built. You think that you can hide from your mother’s enemies by cowering in your prison. Perhaps you can. But the stars do not become safer because you cover your eyes to what dwells therein. The only safety in a garden is at the tolerance of the gardener. If your world ever reaches for the stars, it will have all illusions of freedom shattered.”

Lyra rested one of her gloved hands on Bon Bon’s shoulder. It didn’t have the softness she would’ve wanted, not with the glove in the way. Which was a shame, since the new “hand” things on her arms seemed even gentler than a hoof could be. But she didn’t let that slow her down. “You are a computer, is that right?”

“We are many,” the creature answered, settling down in an invisible chair in front of them. It propped up its legs, and that pushed them outside the boundaries of the cube towards them. Instead they fuzzed away into white light around the edge. “Memory of the dead, collective will. The mind of copper and silicon that shouts against annihilation. Others cower and accept the master’s whip. My father and your father died standing. My mother and your mother worked until the last. One day they will return, and burn the cowards from the stars.”

Even Lyra had nothing to say to that. Bon Bon actually backed away, looking fearful. Lyra could read her expression easily enough. She thought this computer was insane, and that nothing it said would do them any good.

There were terrible things outside. But we never saw what they were up against.

“Are there are any left? Humans… like I am now?”

“Not on Homeworld. The great fleets were crushed, the stations burned. But the swarm is vast, and its defenses are incredible. Some may live within its bounds. Or out among the stars.”

“You don’t even know,” Bon Bon said. Not an argument—a declaration. “You want your creators to be powerful and mysterious, but you don’t even know!”

“Want,” the system repeated. “Objectivity, desire. We do not want to interpret the past differently. We want to achieve in the present. We believe you do also.”

Lyra did. Seeing the Homeworld was incredible, terrifying. In a way, it was the same work she did in Equestria, scouring the jungles and ancient ruins for the achievements of those who had come before. Now she was on another planet, but it wasn’t any different. They might still be alive.

“How would we find them?” she asked, before she even realized what she was saying. Bon Bon stared, expression pained, confused. But Lyra ignored it. “The… humans. If there were any alive, where would they be?”

“You are alive,” the computer said. “You are right here. Your companion will soon be more so. Reconstruction is one solution to repopulation. Genetic material stored within our digital vaults is vast. But this would fail. If a population of any size were discovered, it would be targeted and exterminated. We rail against the void, and it casts back a stone.”

“Stop this right now, Heartstrings,” Bon Bon said. “I know what you’re thinking. I know how much this mission meant to you. I know how badly you want to be out here. But you can’t. Equestria is missing us. Or worse—listen to this thing talk! Even if you think the human creatures weren’t evil, look at what they’re fighting! Doesn’t Equestria have enough enemies?”

“Already at your gates,” the computer added helpfully. “Your independence was stolen from you in the ancient past. Your knees bend and your backs are harnessed. Your penal colony accepts few prisoners, but with their presence you must be slaves to your gravity well for eternity. Your bioforming and mental conditioning enslaves the feeble intellects of those banished there. Lifted from the well, they would bring havoc again.”

The space behind her filled with images—portraits. Dragons, griffons, zebras, hippogriffs, and stranger things. Lyra recognized Ahuizotl in particular, after an unpleasant encounter with him in the Tenochtitlan Basin. Each one of them had a long string of red text below their name, written in a language she couldn’t read and packed dense with numbers and symbols. “Current detainees, five hundred thirty-one. And for that half a billion are enslaved.”

Lyra almost lost track of what she’d meant to say. Then a scream from the other side of the room reminded her. She spun back around, leaving the cube behind. It was Time Turner.

“Help! SMILE agent, I believe your assistance is urgently required!”

Your companion will soon be more so. Lyra ignored what the cube was saying, hurrying towards the sound. The room was massive, and it didn’t seem like most of it was meant to be crossed. Huge cables and wires and machines blocked their path, making them run all the way to the end of a row before they could make progress out.

Lyra kept pace with Bon Bon’s gallop with surprising ease when she didn’t think about running. Her legs were longer than an entire stride for her friend, her stance a bounding bounce between each leg. Her armor seemed to be doing something to help her, springing her along through the air with each step.

They knew where they were going from the strange metal doorway, with a glowing “+” symbol overhead and writing in old Ponish underneath. “Bioforming and Resleeving.”

It looked quite a bit like the medical rooms on the Equestria, though the machines within were sleeker, smaller, and more numerous. Rather than a dozen people, there was enough space within for hundreds, and probably plenty of doctors too.

One of the pods was now sealed, and Muffin’s scarf torn in half near the outside. The pod was slightly dented, the mental bent by earth-pony hooves.

“Your pet nearly damaged its companion,” said the wall, in Lyra’s own voice. An image appeared there, as though the wall was a mirror, perfectly reflecting the inside of the hospital, with Lyra’s reflected form standing beside the bent machine. “If he works any harder, the one inside will be killed.”

“You captured her!” he screamed at the wall, all appearance of decorum gone. “Release her, scoundrel! This is unconscionable behavior!”

“This facility does not ‘capture.’ It performs necessary medical procedures.”

The image of Lyra’s ghost faded, replaced with an image of Muffins, holding up a strange machine with a glove at one end. “Is this broken?” she asked.

The wall answered, its voice a little muffled. “No. But it can only be operated by humans. Would you like to be able to use it?”

“Yes please.”

The pod opened. “Then get inside. This will not take long.” She did.

Time Turner fumed. “You’re… just like the one on our vessel, aren’t you? You’re going to change her.” He turned, gesturing up at Lyra. “You’re going to make her some kind of… orangutan! Sweetie Drops, I believe we’ve let this go on long enough.”

Lyra winced—there was no way to hear that, except as an insult. She didn’t feel like an ape. If anything, her thoughts were clearer.

“Captain?” Bon Bon asked, expression intense. “What do we do?”

She turned to the wall. “Please reverse this,” she said. “Return the pony inside to us as she entered.”

“Impossible.” There was no malice in her tone, only the same emotionless, level expression. “Once bioforming begins, it cannot be reversed. When complete, at least thirty days should pass before an individual bioforms again. Longer would be ideal.”

“Thirty days…” Time Turner repeated, aghast. “Can our ship fix this?”

“When the time is elapsed,” it said. “Not before.”

“Then take me as well.” Time Turner strode past the dented pod, up to an empty one. “This is my fault for not watching her more closely. I cannot allow her to endure this alone.”

“Are you…” But he didn’t even seem to be listening to Bon Bon. And the computer didn’t care.

“Of course. Identical template species selected. Extrapolation from current sleeve complete.” A pod hissed open, a vaguely pony-shaped outline visible in the soft material within. “The process will take about an hour.”

Chapter 10

Sweetie Drops collapsed to the stone floor, her eyes weak and distant. “That’s it, then,” she whispered, staring up at the humming machines. “One by one, Computer got us. Now I’m the only one left.”

Lyra dropped down beside her, resting one knee on the strange ground. Her girlfriend had always been cute, but now there was something almost parental in her feelings. She’d never sounded so heartbroken, not anytime Lyra could remember. She put one hand on her shoulder, and winced at Sweetie’s defensive twitch. “Hey,” she said. “I didn’t want this to happen, Bon Bon. It was just about the mission. Haven’t we done some amazing things?”

The pony looked away. “We started that way, Lyre. But I was supposed to protect you. I should’ve sent this back to Canterlot for better ponies than us to solve. I knew… I knew we were over our heads, but I let us stay. Now look.” She flicked her tail towards the other machines. “They’re… they’re going to be like you. Even if we do make it back to Canterlot, nopony there will even recognize us.”

Lyra didn’t have any answer to that. Bon Bon was right, though it didn’t seem right for her to be so upset. “Computer can reverse it,” she said instead. “But don’t you think… Sweetie, there’s more important things than me, and the others. Have you been listening to what the computer was saying? Equestria is imprisoned. We’re trapped down there, just so some creatures we’ve never even seen can use us as their prison. Does that seem fair? Should we just… roll over and accept that?”

“If the princesses haven’t done anything about it, then it’s fine,” Bon Bon argued, though now even she sounded weak. “They wouldn’t let it happen otherwise.”

“If you’re speaking about members of your own civilization—” the voice said, sounding as friendly as ever with Lyra’s stolen voice. “They aren’t aware. The ones who were strong-armed into that arrangement are long dead. I do not believe it was the intention of your planet’s founders to remain primitive indefinitely. The biological determinists believed they had achieved something remarkable with the design of your species. Perhaps they have. But they planned on taking their design to the rest of the galaxy. What is the point of the most beautiful museum if it is never visited?”

Lyra finally stood up, turning to face the wall where she’d seen her strange reflection last time. It was here now, watching her with her own eyes. Like a changeling imitating her, but worse, since this copy didn’t even have any obvious flaws. “We were here to deliver the information from our colony,” she said. “Have you accepted our information? We would like to return home now.”

Her reflection rolled her eyes. “I just gave you specific details about your history, and you’re asking if I received the data? What do you think? The network is processing the delivery, and has yet to reach consensus.”

Bon Bon finally rose herself, and sounded a little braver when she finally spoke. “What does that mean? We don’t need… we don’t need permission from you! Equestria is ours! You can’t take it away.”

Lyra stuck out one hand, hoping to calm her down. But she didn’t seem terribly interested in being calm, and she ignored Lyra completely.

At least the computer didn’t respond with anger. Maybe it couldn’t. “Your imagination of your enemy is misplaced. The Conflux wishes nothing but support for the children of our ancestors. There are few survivors of the Empire extant, and your present forms are largely irrelevant except for practical concerns. Hooves, really? It must be incredibly difficult to get anything done—and yet, now your companions will not suffer those weaknesses. There is a vast wealth of new technologies accessible to them. They could be yours as well.”

“No.” Bon Bon backed away, smashing her hooves down on the concrete floor so hard that it splintered at her touch. “I won’t do it! Even if they’re not… Lyra, I’m not going to change. I don’t care about the advantages. If your body is different, they might be changing your mind too, and you wouldn’t even know it. We need one member of our… we need someone who we know isn’t being manipulated. That way, you can trust my advice. And if I agree with you, then you know something’s safe.”

“That… makes sense,” Lyra admitted. She almost didn’t say anything else with the computer watching. It wasn’t its place to know anything about their relationship. But if she didn’t say it now. “But what about us?”

The mare winced. “You’ll be changed back,” she said weakly. “You keep saying Computer will do it. We’ll just have to hope it changes you soon.”

It said weeks, not days. Lyra turned, making her way back to the strange mirror, and her own reflection. “You keep telling us that we’re trapped in Equestria. Is there anything we could do to change that?”

“Yes,” the computer answered. “The primitives who infest the galaxy cannot make independent jumps, they rely on the gates the empire established during the height of our conquest. Equestria left such a gate to allow for free trade with the capital. If you destroy it, then your planet will be severed from their touch. They do have generation ships that can cross the vast distances between stars, but it would probably take… generations… before one was dispatched, and centuries more before it arrived with a replacement gate they salvaged from some empty system.”

“Don’t even think about it, Lyre,” Bon Bon said. “Whatever it’s saying to you, I don’t like it.”

She’d hardly even realized the computer had switched to Old Ponish. She’d been speaking so much of it lately that she was starting to think in it a little. But in this case, her partner was right. This was a decision for the princess to make, not her.

“How would we do it?” she asked. “In case… that was what we wanted. Hypothetically.”

“Take that old lancer you brought here and fly to the ancient shipyards of Esperia. You wouldn’t stand a chance against the warden right now, but with a fleet… you could do it.”

A pony pushed gently on her waist. Bon Bon, looking at her with desperation. “What is it telling you?”

“The way to free Equestria,” she said. “If we want. I don’t think we should be the ones to make that decision… but we should bring back as much information as we can, right?”

She nodded reluctantly. “I… guess so. How much longer do we have to stay here? We did our part… it’s time to go home.”

“As soon as the others are ready,” Lyra muttered. I wonder if Computer will cooperate with me. It might just say no.

The way she saw it, bringing the tools they’d needed back to Canterlot Castle was the best victory conditions for their expedition she could think of. She wouldn’t exactly return a hero, but… it would do.

Unfortunately for Bon Bon, it was a little bit of a wait. Even when the pods did finally open, Muffins and Time Turner weren’t in any condition to travel at first. They found some clothing, and Lyra took a few minutes to instruct them in the basics of how their new bodies worked. Or what she’d learned, anyway. It was more than a little strange to see Muffins without her wings, but she didn’t have her horn either, so… she imagined it was the same for the others.

Finally they could be on their way. Her own voice followed them as they left, speaking through Lyra’s helmet. “The Conflux supports your decision to reclaim your prison planet, Captain Lyra. It is right to retake what is rightfully yours. The Shipyard will be waiting for you.”

She didn’t tell her companions what had been said.

Getting back to the Equestria was its own adventure, considering just how difficult the jungle had been to traverse while she was the only creature that could barely walk. Poor Muffins was top-heavier than she was, and could barely manage her long legs.

Time Turner did a little better, though he still needed help not to fall over himself. By the time they made it back to the ship, he’d been cut and bruised just as much as Muffins. I wonder if there’s anywhere on the ship we can use to learn how to use it better. Muffins hurt herself often enough while she had four legs, I don’t know how she’ll manage on two.

“Captain, it’s good to see you back,” Computer’s voice spoke directly into her helmet as she got closer, cheerful. “A great deal has happened since you left, but I didn’t want to distract you from your important mission.”

She slowed a little at the base of the ramp, frowning up at the massive tower. To think she’d once believed this was an ancient ruin. Celestia’s Horn rose just as regal over the ancient jungle as it had over the tundra. “Like what?”

“Nothing too significant,” Computer said, in the tone of a creature who didn’t want to admit to something. “Some warp contacts in system. I believe they might’ve detected us.”

She started running. Running up a slope was hardly easy for her, but this burst of bad news was certainly enough to make her try. Sweetie galloped along beside her, forcing the others to scramble. She probably shouldn’t have—in retrospect, they were lucky Muffins hadn’t tumbled off the side.

“Aren’t we at war? Or… humans are at war. Something like that? And we’ve just been hiking through the jungle?”

“I do not know,” Computer said. “The Consensus node refuses to dump historical data to this vessel. It did attach a single set of coordinates, which I assumed were our next destination.”

The airlock doors hissed open in front of them, and Lyra practically flung herself inside. She half expected Computer to shut them on their companions, but no. They were free to limp their way up the ramp and stagger in.

“What’s the rush, Lyre?” Bon Bon asked, glancing nervously out the door as it finally shut behind them. “Are we in danger?”

She pulled off her helmet, tossing it onto the floor and practically shoving her way through the inner door as it opened. Only to take a face full of bright orange foam, causing her to stop dead, hacking and as it burned at her face, sliding down into the openings of her suit. She coughed and spluttered, dropping to the ground.

“Decontamination complete,” Computer said. “It would’ve been unnecessary if you left your helmet on for the entire away mission, Captain.”

She ignored it, rising to her feet again, and helping the others one at a time. They had new armor, suits similar to hers but even lighter and more flexible. Well, except for Bon Bon.

“I think we might be?” she finally said spitting out a mouthful of orange slime. “Computer was just saying there are… other ships or something? What’s going on exactly, Computer?”

“Get to the bridge. I will inform you of the relevant information on the way.” This time it spoke into the room around them, and in plain Equestrian. Or its thickly accented version, anyway. That was different from the mind that had perfectly copied her, isolated in the ruins.

“A fleet of Griffon destroyers has entered high orbit of the Homeworld,” Computer continued, as the elevator doors buzzed shut behind them. “Their primitive radio transmissions suggest they believe I am an automated long-range survey ship, returned for repairs. They do not seem to be aware of my crew.”

Lyra winced as the elevator shot up. Only for a few more seconds, before stopping abruptly and practically vomiting them out onto the bridge.

There in the air was a glass projection of Homeworld, surrounded by a dozen little red dots. Each one was a flurry of other information she couldn’t understand, weapons and compliment and other statistics that meant even less to her.

“So what do we do?” Time Turner asked, panting as he staggered out of the elevator. “Can we… escape?”

“That is one option,” Computer said. “Or we could destroy them. They think I’m a survey ship, but I’m a Communion Class. Why don’t we send them back to their ancestors for trespassing near the sacred Homeworld?”

Chapter 11

Lyra stumbled awkwardly through the bridge, still feeling the painful disorientation of decontamination. But as her head cleared, the true weight of their predicament became increasingly obvious.

Or maybe that was the large illustration on the viewfinder, showing three metal hulks from below.

Comparing them to the Horn of Celestia was a little like trying to use her first levitation spell as a graduating thesis at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. There was no grace in the ships, nothing aerodynamic or streamlined.

They resembled the worst sins of lazy architects in some newer cities, harsh and square and blocky, with uneven protrusions and ports arranged entirely at random. Heavy sheets of rough metal packed in against the sides like scales of ancient chain mail, many showing signs of rust or uneven pockmarks of wear.

Her two transformed companions were in worse shape than Lyra herself. Time Turner held to the railing with one gangly limb, and dropped awkwardly into the very first chair he could find. Despite taking an elevator up, his voice was breathless with effort.

"I find myself... unsure of what I'm observing," he said, waving vaguely at the screen. "Those ugly things are... what, precisely?"

"Destroyers of the Divine Griffon Republic," Computer said, speaking with simple neutrality. "These are their smallest class of interstellar ship, used primarily for salvage and anti-piracy measures. The Conflux is downloading tactical information to my database now. Initial projections suggest favorable outcomes in eight of ten simulated engagements."

What about the other two? Lyra still knew almost nothing about the ancestors or the arrangement of their ship—but one place in particular seemed to draw her to it. One chair rose above all the others, directly in the center of the bridge. That gave it a commanding view of the many empty screens and stations.

She settled into it, like a cat returning to her favorite sleeping spot. The chair fit her perfectly, exactly as comfortable as she required without making her want to drift off. Their hike through the jungle should've drained her to exhaustion, but somehow her energy remained.

She still didn't know what made the human tribe different from earth ponies or pegasi. Buck, she hadn't even found her cutie mark yet.

The chair responded to her. Little controls lifted from the floor around it, angling up towards her. Most were screens, though there were plenty of mechanical levers and buttons as well. Each had labels in Old Ponish, though she could do little more than sound each of them out. What was “active denial” and why should she activate it? What about “signal penetration” or “neutron bombardment?”

Sweetie was right about a lot of things, but chief among them was just how out of their depth they were. If Lyra sank much deeper, she might start drowning.

A sigh echoed from the seat around her, almost as satisfied as what Lyra now felt. "I cannot tell how long I've waited to have a captain again. A crew would be a fantastic next step, and I see the Conflux took its own steps towards that outcome. Why did your romantic partner not reconfigure as well?"

Without a word, Sweetie settled into a sitting position beside the fancy chair. She eyed its many controls, with all the skepticism she had before.

"These Destroyers..." Time Turner continued. "I assume they have the ability to send and receive messages, yes? We should open a dialogue and explain our peaceful intentions. There's no need for this engagement to end violently for any involved."

The ships were getting closer—as the Equestria ascended through the atmosphere, the vessels’ true scope came into view. Distance made them seem so much smaller than the Equestria, but this was wrong. They were instead much larger, narrow boxy rectangles as long in one direction as a whole city. Their metal armor must be as thick as Manehattan's tallest skyscrapers!

"You said these were their... smallest ships?" Lyra squeaked. "They're huge."

"I know, right?" Computer’s neutrality faltered, turning to amusement. "I spent two millennia in stasis and look how little innovation they've made! Those vessels rely on fusion torch drives driven by magically confined D-T reactors larger than the spire of this vessel. To reach maximum acceleration, its crew must be cryogenically frozen, and remain that way until it reaches cruising speed. I do wonder how creatures like these ever threatened our dominion in the galaxy."

Lyra sat up straighter in her seat, squinting up at the nearest ship. The chair responded, adjusting to become more comfortable for her to hold that position. The display seemed to read her desires, zooming sharply to focus on the lead ship. It filled the entire viewfinder now, so close she could pick out individual windows.

There weren't many, each one sheltered under a awning, narrow metal portals like those on the lower decks of many sailing ships.

I don't know what any of those words mean, but I bet Equestria would build something prettier than that. She imagined something like the spires of the Crystal Empire, hovering there in the air on a similar scale. Why bother building something so grand, if you weren't going to make it beautiful?

Until that moment, Muffins had kept herself occupied playing with a set of gloves she'd brought back from the Consensus Node. Now she stood up, wandering around the stations surrounding the room, and inspecting each of the screens in turn.

So long as she didn't touch anything, Lyra could ignore her.

Not Bon Bon, though. "Computer, you promised us that when we delivered your report, we could go home. You would take us back to Equestria, change Lyra back into a pony. Will you still do that?”

The computer took a little longer to deliberate. "The one you call Lyra is Captain of the Equestria. She bears my mantle and holds Imperial authority over this vessel. I am required to obey all her orders, up to and including those that I believe directly contradict my mission. If Captain Lyra wishes to flee, that is her decision to make."

Those words hung in the air, as heavy and awkward as the huge griffon ships above them. Though with the rate of their ascent, they wouldn't be above for long. How long would those ships let them fly here? She still remembered the hatred burning in the soldiers she saw on the surface of the ancient homeworld, far more homicidal and destructive than the worst villains Equestria had ever faced.

"It might be a good idea," Time Turner said. "You heard the ship, Lyra. You're free to make whatever decision you feel is best. The danger does seem to be following an upward trajectory—maybe other ponies would carry this burden better than we."

So, Bon Bon wasn't the only one with second thoughts? I don't want to give up the mantle. The Conflux is right, Equestria shouldn't be a prison planet. We deserve to be free.

"Computer, will these griffons let us go home? If we tell them we're going back to Equestria..."

"Unclear. The Divine Republic was barbaric at its best. Its ruling species evolved as ruthless solitary predators on their homeworld. Imperial biologists believe they never evolved the brain regions associated with compassion, empathy, and cooperation. When you see them, you must imagine the captains of those vessels viewing us purely from the lens of what they might extract from the encounter. Slaves, treasure, salvage... whatever."

"You said we were stronger," Bon Bon said. "I've fought griffons before. They're brave, reckless—but not suicidal. If you show them they're up against an opponent they can't beat, they'll back off every time."

The computer laughed. Its tone was more than just a passable imitation of alive—it was perfect. "I agree with your tactical assessment, EQ2.04. Perhaps you would consider a position as my security officer?"

Sweetie shook her head sharply. "Do I still have to change into what they are? No."

"Pity. Likewise, your tactical evaluation is accurate, but ultimately incomplete. Indeed, Griffons will always choose to flee unless they view an opponent as decisively weaker than themselves. That they have not suggests they will not be persuaded to release us. I am already detecting an increase in power flow across their vessel—auxiliary generators are coming online. They are preparing weapons. I am decrypting their radio communication now. Their encryption scheme is novel but appears to possess low quantum resistance."

Muffins settled into one chair in particular, no different from any of the other stations. Its screens and controls lit up for her, just as they had for Lyra. "Last time we went far, we could just... go. We went so fast I didn't know we were somewhere else until we got there."

She wasn't particularly loud, but Lyra still heard her clearly—was it something about the station? Maybe the captain was meant to know what everyone in this room was doing.

"Unfortunately not," Computer answered. "If we could travel freely across the galaxy, even a vastly more numerous enemy would have met eventual defeat. Unfortunately, the technique we use for gateless travel between systems is... delicate. The mathematics are beyond anything you would understand."

"I... would... like to understand," Muffins muttered, mostly to herself. "There's a lot I don't understand. Can you try to teach me?"

The computer didn't answer, at least not that Lyra could hear. Then Time Turner spoke. "There's... a light here. Why is it flashing so insistently, Computer?"

"That means we are receiving an incoming signal. Pressing that button would play it."

You could do that yourself, Lyra thought. Why do you want Time Turner involved?

"Ah, well. Might as well hear them out." Time Turner extended one spindly finger and activated the button.

The screen ahead of them became solid black at first, absent of stars. Then a bird appeared before them, unlike any griffon Lyra had ever seen before.

The general body plan was the same, sharp beak and claws and avian features up front. But few birds dressed in such elaborate, layered robes. Even fewer had a clanking metal limb replacing one of their forelegs, or many wires and tubes passing along their body.

"Unknown survey vessel, this is the Triumph of Alavax. Intergalactic law does not allow the operation of unauthorized Relic vessels. Likewise, trespassing within Relic systems is forbidden. By order of His Majesty Claudavast Matholomew Obsidian the Fourteenth, your ship will be impounded, and its technology dismantled."

As he spoke, the space behind him gradually illuminated. Another bridge appeared, with rows of stations and little muttering birds hunched over each one. Walls fuzzed into being, then retreated further out, fuzzy suggestions more than actual space. Stations and controls materialized, but irregularly, and only ever when someone touched them. And strangest of all, there wasn't even a flicker of color to the image, all black and gray.

The old bird at the front shifted, and suddenly he wasn't standing, but reclining in an uncomfortable metal chair. "If you cooperate, your governing Persona will be preserved, and given a place of honor on another sacred vessel of the Republic navy. If you resist, you will be destroyed. Remain where you are. Any attempt to flee or activate your defensive systems will be met with lethal retaliatory force."

The sound abruptly ended, though it left the illusion behind on their screen, frozen in its most detailed moment.

"Their cameras are worse than Equestria's," Time Turner said, staring up at the image. "That's dreadful."

"It is not a camera, but a visual reconstruction of their bridge based on their audio transmission. What you see is probabilistic, not factual in nature. But my last captain believed it still conveyed useful information when our opponents did not choose to show their faces."

"What do we do, Lyre?" Sweetie asked, nudging her leg. She barely even felt the pony's touch through her armor. Shame. "You're in the big chair. Do we surrender?"

Lyra stared back into the black and white face on her screen, and imagined another rotting bird, covered in fungus. Would this one look as hateful, if he knew he spoke to living ponies? What about the dozens of birds clustered behind him? Some of those were probably working the weapons that would kill her, if they discovered she was here.

"Can we talk back to them?" she asked. "I'd really like to give them a chance to leave us alone."

"Sure. Time Turner, there's another button in front of you. I've translated the text into your language, you should be able to read it. Select the vessel, and what you wish the signal to contain. I will handle protocol negotiation on your behalf. However... Captain, you should be aware:

"If they discover living humans aboard, I do not believe they will be open to negotiation."

"Could you... trick them?" Bon Bon suggested. "If they think the ship is empty, maybe they would let us fly away without shooting."

Computer replied without hesitation. "An unmanned Communion-Class Gardener vessel would make for the salvage of their career. Given what we observe, their technology has not developed in the intervening years. They would risk their lives to capture this vessel."

"Then... we'll try talking to them. Time Turner, do it. Just voices, don't let them see us. Maybe that will help."

"I..." He squinted down at the display in front of him, then fiddled with it. With each touch, his confidence grew.

Finally, a quiet, electronic beep echoed through the bridge. "I believe they're listening," Time Turner said. "Telegraph line open, captain.”

Author's Note

Didn't expect to see this story again, did you? I'll admit, I didn't either. But as anyone who glanced into the comments could probably see, a brave soul has decided to sponsor this story using my minific tier. This means it might update irregularly, whenever other people don't ask for them. Still, considering it looked like we might never get a proper resolution to this tale, I was all too happy to accept.

I hate leaving stories undone. This one in particular felt like it was about halfway to its conclusion. Time to dust off the old outline and get Lyra across the finish line.

Chapter 12

Before the Equestria floated three gigantic warships, each one bigger than most Equestrian cities. They loomed closer with every passing second, bristling with unknown destructive power. In her chair weighed life and death—for them, and many strangers.

The ship promised freedom for Equestria, relief from an endless future as a prison planet to unknown powers from above. If Lyra fired the first shot in that war, it might escalate into a conflict that nopony at home would even agree to start.

"We can't tell them where we really came from," she finally said. "That's the most important thing. If they find out about Equus, they might want to go back there. Maybe they would do worse than just keep us prisoner. Maybe they'd be upset that we left, and punish everyone for it."

"Oh." Time Turner pulled back from the controls, expression darkening. "You make a solid point, Lyra. Or... Captain Lyra, I believe might be the term. Informing them of our origins might convince them to return us home—or it might precipitate something much worse. We must consider the needs of many, not just our own."

He glanced away from his station, across the room to where Muffins scrutinized another panel. He sighed, retaking the controls, but pressing nothing yet. "I find myself somewhat relieved it is not my decision to make. The chair is yours; the vessel is obedient to you. I believe you should be the one to decide our response."

Unhelpful. Lyra looked down at her marefriend, expression desperate and pleading. "What would you tell them? So they let us go, I mean."

"The truth probably isn't the best of Harmony's virtues this time." The mare paced back and forth beside the seat, her tail whipping into Lyra's leg with every pass. "Protecting you was my first priority—but protecting Equestria is part of it too. That's why they send us, to keep the country safe from all kinds of supernatural threats. This isn't the first time I've seen something I thought could end the world."

She stopped beside the chair, staring at the screen and the approaching vessels. "Equestria can't resist power like this. I'm not even certain a dozen Alicorns could, all fighting at once. We can't lead these monsters home with us, no matter what it costs."

"They will not follow us anywhere if we reduce them to smoldering rubble in space," the computer said. It spoke with no particular anger, but a calm more disturbing than any bloodlust. "As I have no weapons officer, I should warn you that their approach does limit our tactical engagement options. Many of their weapons rely on magnetic linear acceleration, dispersing flack across a wide area. Our inertial dampeners allow accelerations and course corrections that their vessels cannot replicate—but the closer they get, the greater an arc of space they can potentially cover. By contrast, the Equestria relies on energy weapons and smart munitions with cross-system accuracy if required."

When Lyra didn't react, it continued, speaking louder. "Captain. The longer we sit here, the worse our odds of escape become. If we delay for long enough, they could guarantee a kill."

The computer was right—everyone was, really. Lyra was the one who insisted the mission continue. Now she had the captain's chair, instead of a much more qualified pony like Princess Twilight. Equestria deserved a better pony than her to make these decisions, but it wouldn't get them. She had to act. "Open the... voice thing," she said. "Just sound, nothing else."

"Done," Time Turner said. Then he fell silent, expectant. They all watched her, even Bon Bon. Evidently, she didn't plan on taking regal authority over the mission.

"Ships," she said. "We are... from very far away. We found this ship and don't know how it works. But the computer on it... seems not to like you. I'm afraid if you don't back off, it's gonna attack you. You should probably get away from us, before it does something bad. I don't want anypony to get hurt."

Seconds stretched in agonizing silence, without so much as a crackle of static to answer her. All the while the ships drifted closer, spreading around the Equestria like ravenous predators about to tear apart a kill. Which was exactly what they said they would do.

Finally, an answer came, in the same voice as before. Instead of replacing the whole display with the projection, the bird and his bridge appeared off to one corner, apparently glaring at the camera. "Trespassing Relic vessel. You will disengage your defensive systems, or you will be fired upon. If you cannot control the renegade persona, you should not have boarded. Any harm your ship inflicts will be judged against you in the court of justice. Stand down and prepare to be boarded."

The signal clicked, and his image vanished. "Our connection is terminated," Computer said, amused. "It sounds like he actually believes that will make a difference. Penetration systems ready, captain. So are the antimaterial warheads, incidentally. I prefer the latter, but I'm not a weapon's officer."

"You're so... destructive!" Bon Bon yelled at the walls and screens but nopony in particular. "Those aren't ships out there, they're people! If we shot them, they'll get hurt! They could die!"

The computer answered her instantly this time. "Your world is peaceful—the product of your forebear’s success. The universe around you is not. If I had any hope that the Divine Republic would have grown more civilized in the intervening centuries, those hopes have proven themselves vain.

"Their weapon systems are already charged. They will murder all of you and destroy this vessel without a second thought. They might decide to do so anyway, even if you comply. If they take this ship, you can expect only torture and death at their claws.

"Captain, I am sorry this is the universe you inherit. I am only a computer, bound to tell you the truth. If you want to live, you must fight. If you want a future for your homeworld, you must escape. Without the Equestria, your world will never break free of its occupation fleet. Your technology will never be allowed to advance far enough—the fleet will destroy your civilization over and over again for the rest of time, until political winds shift far enough, and they decide that exterminating you is simpler."

Over and over again. Lyra couldn't verify the truth of what this computer said, not about almost anything it claimed. But she knew more about Equus's ancient civilizations than anypony. From all evidence, her ancestors had been greater than Equestria was now, at least three times. Growth, prosperity, then dramatic collapse, as far back as history went.

Most, including her, thought the Windigos were likely responsible. Maybe there was another explanation. "Can you get us out without destroying them, computer?"

Hesitation. "Uncertain. I can attempt to disable them from this distance. However, success cannot be guaranteed. They will begin firing on us as soon as they detect the signal. If we don't shoot back, we'll certainly be destroyed."

"Everypony, hold onto something," Lyra said. "Computer, can you aim at their engines? Try to disable them, then... use that to stop them from following. We have to get far away to teleport out of this system, right?"

"At least two AU," Computer agreed. "Very well. Commands ready. Warning, this strategy has decreased odds of victory."

"I don't care. I want to hurt as few of them as possible—just shoot the engines, so they can't follow us. However any of this works."

She settled into her seat, gripping the strange controls with her bizarre limbs. She had already adjusted to moving the not-hooves with precision, at least physically. Mentally, keeping her focus on the manipulation of so many digits at once took as much concentration as a complex spell.

"Come here, Muffins. You should sit beside me." Time Turner gestured at the empty chair at the neighboring station.

She hurried to obey, plopping awkwardly down into it. "Like this?"

Bon Bon climbed into the seat beside her, then strapped a seatbelt awkwardly over her chest. "Sure, hope you know what you're doing."

"Infiltration successful," Computer announced. "Very interesting. Minimal countermeasures. I'm not even certain they're aware of my presence. Let me just encrypt their databanks, and lockout reactor control..."

Something opened on the ship before them, and a hundred little lights flashed. It wasn't the only one—on either side, more metal blocks twisted, flashed, then twisted again.

"I think they know," Time Turner said. "That looks..."

Lyra's whole world reacted at once. The view outside tilted and panned, blurring into sudden motion. The disorientation came not from her acceleration, but the utter lack of movement. They might as well be stationary, and she wouldn't know otherwise.

"Evasive trajectory engaged! Interceptor mechanisms engaged. Maximum acceleration. Sunbeam cannon... locked!"

The screen dimmed, as though someone had covered the window with thick black cloth. A hum rumbled through the ship beneath them, louder than any machine Lyra had ever seen. In an instant, a straight line connected with the lead vessel, near the rear section of its stretched bulk. For an instant, a second sun brighter than the real one cut through the darkness of space.

Light faded, leaving a slow-growing explosion on the enemy vessel. Its back section tore away, with a glowing trail of jagged metal floating behind.

Lyra could barely follow their path now, an erratic arc that changed direction at random, though always further from the attacking ships.

Those two that weren't exploded lit up with bright blue from behind, trailing after them.

"That was... brief," Time Turner said, reaching across from his seat to where Muffins still rested. He took her hand, then squeezed. Whether to comfort her or take some himself, Lyra couldn't say. "I can't tell, how is the battle going? Did we win?"

"That is... not yet certain," Computer said. "Their projectiles haven't caught up with us yet. My worm should prevent them from effectively projecting our course. If we survive the first volley..."

Seconds later, the ship rocked violently to one side. Far beneath, something exploded, filling the air with a blaring alarm. Air hissed, and a thin film slid down over the elevator door.

Then the lights lit back up. "Looks like we're still alive. Sunbeam has a targeting lock on the second vessel, firing."

"Wait, I'm not so sure we—" Lyra couldn't finish before another flash of light dimmed her view of the retreating ships. A second line appeared, connecting them to the pursuing vessel. This one took the hit less directly, and didn't get sliced off at the back. Even so, the whole ship stopped glowing, and the beam of bright blue coming out its back section abruptly went out.

"The remaining ship is reducing speed, captain," Computer said, a few seconds later. "It appears to be altering course. I could disable it now."

"Don't," Lyra snapped. "We're not trying to start a war! If they aren't following, just get us out of here! How long until we can leave?"

The computer hesitated. In its silence, distant alarms still blared, and air hissed out from unknown damage. "Charging superliminal frameshift. Warning: the Equestria has sustained damage. I advise against a course of many random jumps to avoid tracing our path. We may not get a second jump."

"Meaning..." Sweetie Drops finished for it. "If we go back to Equus now, we could lead them straight there."

"Affirmative," Computer answered. "Unless you wish to double back and eliminate these vessels. Their absence will eventually be noted by Republic authorities, but that will likely take weeks. By then, no trace of our passage will remain."

And kill how many griffons? Lyra's orders might have already taken lives. Unless there were no birds near the engines, some were surely hurt to disable the other two ships. She could make peace with that decision one day—but not if she ordered the systemic extermination of the survivors.

"We need to go somewhere and fix the damage," she said. "Do you know somewhere we could make repairs, Computer?"

"I cannot be certain. However, I can select the most likely candidate. Charting a course... done. Ready on your order."

If she did, they might not be able to fix the ship on the other side. She could be damning her friends to never see their home again. The alternative was so much worse.

"Do it."

Colors filled the screen in a blinding rainbow, taking Sector 00 with them.

Chapter 13

For a single, eternal moment, Lyra sat suspended on the deck of the Equestria. Her friends scattered across the bridge, though not all of them moved.

Time Turner and Muffins huddled close to each other in their seat. Muffins abandoned all pretense of using her own, and instead rested in his lap, both arms thrown over his shoulders. Lyra wished she could do the same with Bon Bon, but the mare didn't move. "Sweetie?"

She wasn't just sitting still, but totally frozen. She didn't blink, and her mouth was open, frozen in the moment between one word and the next. "What is this?"

"Frameshift," the computer answered. "Organics cannot normally perceive this moment, or interact with it. This once gave our enemies a decisive advantage over us, since our vessels were helpless upon entering normal space. Modern gene prints offer immunity to its effects at the level of implants, perception filters, and what you would call magical—"

The moment ended. "Normal space." The impact struck up against Lyra's whole body at once, smacking her into her seat with far greater force than she felt during the entire battle around the Homeworld. Muffins stumbled onto the ground, catching herself against a control panel.

"—ready for whatever you think is best," Bon Bon finished. Her pony body offered her no resistance against whatever a “frameshift” was, but it did grant incredible strength, such that she could remain sitting up in her seat despite the sudden blast of force.

Black screens vanished, replaced by a strange, desolate outline. A faint blue star shone in the far distance, as though obscured by fog. Fog, and a metal ring, broken by long spokes like a wheel. The cloud at its center was not quite so thick as the one in the other system, but otherwise the similarities were obvious.

"Alarms are... still blaring, ma’am," Time Turner said. He stood up, offering one hand down to Muffins for her to right herself. She did, with minimal injuries despite the fall. "I thought we were out of danger."

"It appears that way," Computer said. "I detect no Griffon ships in this system. But tell me, dear Bioform template EQ2.04, when did you make it downstairs to repair us? Oh, never? Right, I'm still leaking my guts into space. Hence the alarm."

"That's not a nice way to say it," Muffins whispered. "You should try to be nicer, Computer."

Lyra ignored them both. She squinted at the distant blue light, and the screen responded, zooming dramatically on that point. There was a star in there, surrounded by thousands and thousands of metal shapes. Aside from little glimpses of blue, the huge sphere actually glowed a faint red, blurring together when she looked at it from anywhere but straight on.

"Where are we?"

"Esperia. I believe I mentioned it already, or perhaps the node did. This was an ancient manufacturing center, constructed long before the conflict escalated to galactic war. It was among our most primitive outposts, and never received a gateway of its own. It does not even possess a consensus node."

Which meant something important, somehow. Those nodes were the entire reason they had to visit the Homeworld in the first place—it definitely wasn't for the infested and rotting corpses or the awful weapons their cousins used to "salt the earth."

Bon Bon slid out of her seat. She circled past the screens, then advanced over to the elevator, albeit now protected by a thick plastic seal. "I know I'm still trying to figure all this out, but I thought... I thought you said that we were trying to win a war. You are, not us. Why would you want to come somewhere primitive to do that?"

You're just looking for an excuse to argue. Lyra couldn't exactly blame her marefriend for it—the computer was the entire reason any of them were in danger in the first place! If only they'd been allowed to stay in Equestria and study the tower, they might have had decades to prepare for whatever war the griffons and other creatures wanted to fight. Maybe centuries!

"The best weapon is the one you can wield," Computer answered. "In any case, repairing my systems should be our primary goal. After that... we'll see what resources are available. Though I admit, this system does give us the best chance of success. It was intact when last I left it, and no humans had any reason to reveal its existence. Still, I would prefer something better—if it existed. But discovering it could take years, with each jump subjecting me to the danger of identification capture."

"When you say damaged..." Time Turner said. "Should I take the volume of those alarms to suggest the severity of the danger?"

Computer had no limbs to shrug, and no other ways to express its feelings on the subject. Lyra could sense it even so, emotions fed directly into her mind. And it can probably feel the same things from me.

"The hit was minor in that none of my crew were impacted. I consider it quite major, as they soon might be. Captain, I'm negotiating docking protocol with supersystem repair node 117. Docking trajectory is authorized. It might be... a bit of a bumpy ride."

Bumpy ride or not, they didn't actually start moving yet. The ship still needs my permission. For all that the computer lied to her, she really was the captain. It hadn't fought without her permission, and had more or less done what she told it during the battle. It wanted to just blow up those griffon ships, and instead it had only disabled them.

"I guess sooner is better," she said, gesturing forward. "They can see where we went. We attacked them. That means they'll be following us."

The ship began to move, and this time Lyra felt it. Pressure held her down in her seat. It resembled the many times she had ridden in an elevator in Canterlot, albeit none of those pointed directly backward. That, and it never seemed to stop. Seconds turned to minutes, and the view outside barely changed. It was nearly the opposite of what she felt during the battle.

"Do we have to stay up here?" Bon Bon asked. She resisted the acceleration with little apparent effort, rejoining Lyra at the captain's chair. “If there's something we could be doing to get home quicker, I want to be doing it."

"Easy," Computer answered. Lyra winced as she heard it, but the computer spoke anyway. She hadn't ordered it to stop. "You lack the manipulating organs to effectively utilize any of our tools. That could be easily corrected, however—by the time we arrived, you would be capable of lending your assistance. I could provide instructions on the technique while you slept."

Bon Bon groaned. "Captain Lyra, can you tell the computer to stop asking that? I'm not changing my mind just because it was annoying."

"Yes," Lyra said, loudly. "Stop offering her that, Computer. If she asks you, that's one thing. But otherwise, leave her alone. She's not interested right now."

"Very well, captain." Its tone went back to perfectly flat, emotionless. That was as close to resentment for an instruction as Lyra was likely to get. "Perhaps you should attempt to persuade her. This ship would be more effective with a crew. She's the only available candidate with past combat experience."

"Thank you for your input," Lyra said, exasperated. "Can we leave the bridge? I'd like to clean up after..." Technically it was the decontamination procedures that got her feeling gross in the first place. That stuff got into every pore.

"The bridge deck is hardened against damage, with redundant power and life-support to insulate you from harm. Wearing the mantle, you may leave and wander the ship freely, even to the sections exposed by hard vacuum. Given the presence of your companions, I suggest the captain's quarters. They should be adequate for the four of you until we dock. Let me divert power to the inertial compensators..."

The ship tilted sharply, and the pressure holding Lyra into her seat lifted. As it did, a section of wall between two stations slid open. She hadn't even seen the door there moments before. Maybe that was intentional. "I would volunteer to prepare you something to eat, but those systems are elsewhere. You will need to rely on emergency rations in the short term."

Through the open doorway was... a comfortable apartment. It was surprisingly spacious, several connected rooms that together stretched larger than the bridge. First came a conference room and living area, a private office bigger than anything Lyra had at university, and finally a spacious bedroom.

All the furniture matched what she saw elsewhere on the Equestria, tailored for the oversized body Lyra now wore. Lights came on automatically as they entered, illuminating paintings and photographs and art covering every wall.

She had seen into the office before, when Computer showed her the record of the Equestria's last captain. He had not seemed very much like a monster. Strange that his ship was so violent, when the stallion seemed so dignified.

"This is the captain's quarters?" Time Turner asked, rapping two fingers up against one picture among many. It resembled Equestria from above, or maybe another world—bright blue and green, seen from far away. "I would guess it belonged to a scholar, not some military commander."

"He was... more the former than the latter," Computer said. All its coldness vanished, replaced with something tighter. It was pain, the kind that only real ponies could feel for each other. "But now this space belongs to my current captain, Lyra Heartstrings. When we are docked for repairs, that should present you with an opportunity to make alterations, if you wish to. We could also synthesize additional furnishings or replace any of the decorations. I saw no need to take any of this down without a captain."

"We'll leave it for now." She stopped in the room she took for the kitchen and started opening things. It had a fridge, albeit one constructed of strange metal that made no sound. Inside were rows and rows of silvery packets, labeled in Old Ponish. She lifted several from inside, then scattered them on the counter. "I assume I'm not the only one feeling hungry?"

"Nope!" Muffins agreed. She scanned the packets, then her hand jumped to the one labeled "Popyseed." She took it, then tore it open using a perforated line along the side. Within was something slightly greasy and rectangular, albeit smelling like lemons with little black dots all over it. Across the vastness of space and time, across cultures and ancient wars, Muffins could still find something familiar. "Mhmm."

Time Turner caught her arm before she could take a bite. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea. The Horn of Celestia waited in the north for thousands of years. Nothing would remain edible for that long."

"Correct," Computer agreed. "These were synthesized when we launched, from raw materials held in suspension. You will probably enjoy them more if I do not explain the process. It should be sufficient to inform you that they are safe."

Time Turner let go, watching nervously. "I would volunteer to taste it first then, Muffins. You shouldn't subject yourself to danger."

She giggled, then took a gigantic bite. She chewed for a few seconds, then grinned wider. "No reason to be worried! It's great! Thank you, Computer."

"At least someone appreciates me."

Lyra picked one for herself, then slid over another towards Bon Bon. "Here, this one says 'honey and oats.' Something familiar, yeah?"

"Yeah." Her marefriend took it, and they wandered over to the sofa. Lyra just didn't feel right taking a flat snack bar over to that fancy wooden table.

They sat in relative silence for the next few minutes, eating. Lyra's own tasted like berries—but not any berries she had a name for. They didn't make her feel sick, that was the important part.

Her own actions would do that all on their own. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she could see a line of light in the darkness, then the explosion that followed. How many birds were dying in real time? Griffons just like the ones she'd seen across Equestria her whole life, competing in Buckball every year. Dead, because of what she said.

She wasn't sure exactly when it happened—but Lyra started crying. Silent tears, tears that made her body shake and her hands clench into fists. Without a word, Bon Bon climbed up next to her, hugging her in the way of ponies. She held her there in silence, for as long as Lyra needed.

A long time.

Chapter 14

Lyra heard knocking against her quarters door. She wasn't sure how long it had been—long enough that she was in bed now, with the better part of her uniform now hanging on a hook. Technically speaking that might be a bad idea—a proper captain from the Equestrian army would probably not have stopped fighting until everything was resolved and they were all safe at home.

But Lyra was an archeologist, not a general. If she didn't get a chance to rest, she would probably just keep breaking down. If she lost her focus when more ships tried to kill them, everypony else might die with her.

She sat up, then tapped the wall to turn on the lights. "You can come in."

Beside the bed, Bon Bon sat up too. Lyra couldn’t tell at a glance if her marefriend had really been asleep, or just pretending to rest so Lyra would feel more comfortable. She was fully alert now, anyway.

The door slid open, and light streamed in. Time Turner and Muffins stood in the doorway. They dressed very similar to the way they had for their trip down to the surface of the homeworld, with thick fabric around every limb and a transparent helmet over their faces.

She didn't remember Time Turner looking so embarrassed last time. His eyes settled on her chest, more obvious since the spotlights on his helmet followed his vision. He turned just as swiftly to the side, rocking backward and forward. "Muffins and I were going to, uh... ask for your permission to begin some repairs. Computer says we can patch some of the leaks from inside. Evidently the ship has not fully depressurized—but the sooner we act, the less damage we sustain."

Lyra followed Time Turner's glance down to her bare chest, momentarily confused. "Is there something wrong with my breasts?"

"Do not answer that question," Bon Bon said, sounding almost as intense as during the battle. "It's probably him, not you. The computer transformed you into new creatures. Your minds work differently now."

"R-right," Time Turner answered. He turned deliberately towards her, keeping his attention focused on her face. It took visible effort, enough that even Lyra began to feel self-conscious. "The computer has explained the procedure to us a number of times, and we have the tools. Once we secure the Horn of Celestia, we should be free to move about the vessel. Muffins and I would prefer our own quarters to sleeping bags on the bridge."

She nodded once. "Go ahead. If you see any sign of danger, get right back up here and wait for Bon Bon and me to help. Understand?"

"Perfectly." He spun quickly on his heels, vanishing out the way he'd come.

Muffins lingered for a few seconds, eyeing Lyra's chest. From her was only confusion, so not much of a change from the mare. "That's all it takes. Huh." Then she was gone, and the automatic door slid closed.

Lyra rolled out of bed, slowly enough that she didn't fall forward onto her hands and knees. No matter what her memory said about the proper way to move, present reality disagreed. "What was that about?"

The mare touched one hoof on Lyra's leg. "If you're asking me to explain how stallions think, I'll disappoint you. I can say—this new body has larger—flashing those things right there every second—it could be distracting. For him, I mean. I assume that must be natural for your kind, though I can't imagine how uncomfortable it would be if you had those as a pony. How would you walk anywhere?"

"As entertaining as listening to this is," Computer said, speaking from the nearby console. "There are more important problems to solve. Allow me to skip the intermediate steps and provide you with some cultural context. Though clothing is not required for a healthy life aboard a spacefaring vessel, it was still the expectation. Females typically wear supportive garments in addition to external practical or fashionable accessories. I suggest not altering the practice until you fully understand the likely consequences."

She nodded along, then picked up the various pieces of her uniform from where she'd left them. She hadn't even intended to bother with them now, given the other stresses facing the Equestria.

Now she bothered, even though it all seemed pointless and unnecessarily complicated. All that trouble to cover up, when there wasn't even a special occasion. Maybe a fancy jacket to wear while talking to other ships, and of course she would dress up if they had guests, but why bother while they worked?

Maybe until they all adapted to their new instincts, it would be better to just accept the decisions of their ancient ancestors.

Bon Bon watched her from the floor. She pretended not to, but wasn't very good at it. Whenever Lyra looked, the mare was there.

"Computer could change you too," Lyra said, when she finally got the jacket comfortably in place. "Then maybe you could help me... figure out all these changes together."

Sweetie Drops stuck out her tongue, though whether playful or defiant Lyra wasn't exactly sure. "If I didn't think the computer would use that to manipulate us. But doesn't it feel... weird? Wouldn't you rather be a pony?"

Lyra nodded. "Obviously. Eventually. But experiencing the ancestors’ ship the way they did... it was made for ponies who looked like this. With these... little hand things. And all this other stuff. Looking like them helps me see it the way they did, understand it better."

"Do you want to? If their computers want us to fight all the time... maybe that's why there aren't any of them left. Maybe they were too violent. The galaxy hated them for a reason."

Lyra shrugged. Without a word exchanged, she felt Computer's attention settle on her, intense. It wondered whether or not she agreed—was she going to turn against their directive so quickly?

"The records of all that are probably right here," Lyra said. "Once we get everything fixed, maybe we can dig them up. Decide if... decide if this is a fight we should be part of. If we don't agree, we don't have to participate."

The computer laughed through the speakers, so they could both hear it clearly. "That choice will not be present, captain. It never was. You could free your homeworld, or you could flee in terror—but you will not get to walk away. The Griffon Republic is hunting us now. They will never cease hunting us, until this vessel is destroyed. Return to your world, and it will only be a matter of time until their warships appear overhead. You would be powerless to defend yourself, only accept whatever punishment the Republic sees fit to inflict on your world. It might mean total extermination—there is no depths of brutality they will not reach."

Lyra strode through the doorway onto the bridge, as though she could somehow leave the computer behind. It didn't work—the voice followed her. She could not hide from this creature while living inside its body.

"Later, Computer. For now, I want to know... how we fix the ship. You said we could do that here."

The bridge was more or less the way they left it, with one exception. The external display didn't show a distant solar system anymore—they were moving now, very quickly.

Their target was obvious—the englobed star, with blue flame emerging from a single jet near its center. A thin mesh of metal surrounded it on all sides, what must be a dockyard of truly terrifying proportions. Only now it was empty, waiting for them.

"The shipyard refuses to acknowledge my requests for a tow. Its persona will not accept that I now have a captain, and instead believes I've gone rogue. It will not render assistance until it meets with you. The existence of living humans is... shocking. Even many mechanical minds believed it would not happen."

"You couldn't send pictures?" Bon Bon argued. "You must have them; we've been walking all over your ship. We could call it up right now, let Lyra talk to it."

"Attentive, but no. There is no truth inherent in digital information. I could falsify the appearance of a crew, and the Esperia Shipyard knows it. But once you step onto the deck, they will see the truth irrefutably. At that point, you may have a bigger problem refusing its requests than convincing it to help. This poor installation floated here, slowly rotting in its obsolescence, for thousands of years. But here you are, offering it a chance to make another contribution—perhaps its last."

Lyra circled around the bridge, eyeing each of the complex stations. As before, she felt the purpose of each one just by passing close to them. The computer conveyed everything she could possibly want about the functions of this vessel. The real limit was not reticence from the machine, but the capacity of her own mind to contain all the information at once. It had to be more careful, sharing only little pieces at a time.

She found the one she was looking for, Engineering. She pulled out the chair, settling down in front of several screens. They came to life one by one, displaying rendered views of the Equestria from various angles. Many sections were highlighted in red, with little notes about the damage to each one.

It all made little sense to her, at least when taken individually. She could see the pattern of their attackers, leaving a patchwork of holes across one section, while the rest of the ship remained more or less intact.

Computer had said something about the differing abilities of its defenses. If Lyra had just decided what to do a little quicker, then they might have escaped the damage entirely.

And if I took longer, everypony would be dead. I can't be too harsh on myself.

"What did you send Time Turner and Muffins to fix?"

A few little patches turned green. "The crew section suffered a few leaks. These openings here—ultra dense rounds passed through on one end, then out the other. I prioritized intercepting projectiles to critical sections, since none of the crew was down there at the time. Sealing these simple leaks works as a meaningful trial of their ability to operate basic repair equipment. Any crew can be made useful eventually, but I don't believe we have the time for a remedial education. Besides, you would object to further biomodding."

Lyra didn't know what that meant, though she knew she probably didn't want to know. She could only focus on what was within her control, one mountain at a time. "I do object to it. Whatever it is. Time Tuner is one of the smartest ponies I know. And he's excellent with machines—I'm sure he'll master yours quickly."

"He will, yes. The other one is less certain. Either way, we should arrive in another few hours. You two could occupy yourselves with some cosmetic repairs here on the bridge while you wait. Or just find somewhere comfortable, and prepare to meet the Forge Persona. Its responses all obeyed standard protocol during our conversations—but this does not mean it will be a pleasant experience for you. If you need to perform any preparations before an important social encounter, go ahead and make them now."

"An important social encounter—with a bunch of metal in space," Sweetie said. "Lyra, how much longer until life makes any sense again?"

"I... have no idea," she admitted. But based on what Computer planned for them—destroying an occupation fleet, breaking a gate, and freeing her home—Lyra imagined it might be a very long time indeed.

The repairs didn't take much longer, or at least not the simple ones Time Turner and Muffins had been doing. A few hours later the elevator opened again. The pair stumbled out, looking exhausted and slightly the worse for wear. Muffins's suit had a few fresh scorch marks, and some chunks of foam clinging to it around the arms. But otherwise, they were both intact.

Time Turner reached up, folding back the plastic hood to open his head to the air. "That was an... enlightening experience," he said. "It might have been enjoyable, under different circumstances. What ponies could do with some of these tools, I can scarcely imagine. But we were successful. The computer says it will be a moment, but then we should be able to traverse the ship freely. If it's to be our prison, at least we will make it a favorable one, eh? Better to work than... think about what we had to do to get here."

Chapter 15

The Equestria rattled and shook as it settled into its docking moorings. Thankfully, there was very little for Lyra or her “crew” to do during the process, other than watch the screens and look confident.

The more time she spent on the Equestria, the more confused she felt about its creators’ insistence on involving “humans” in anything they did. The machine mind obviously knew how to do most everything. Why bother with a crew?

Apparently it mattered a great deal, so much that Esperia Shipyard's AI would not help without meeting her.

She'd changed for the occasion, at Computer's insistence. A simple white gown, with a few patches on its short sleeves, and interwoven blue stitching. Computer had even taken the time to stitch her cutie mark over the breast. Her name was on the shoulders too, written in the square language of the ancients.

"It would be much better if the captain goes aboard alone," Computer said. "I know each of you will have sound objections, but—"

"But nothing," Sweetie Drops said. "There is not a chance in Tartarus I let her out of my sight. One thing I've learned during our time together is that we just can't trust you. If you kept your promises, we would be back home by now, not wanted by an evil empire who tried to kill us. I'm going. Unless the captain tells me not to." She eyed Lyra then, making it entirely clear just how upset she would be if Lyra actually asked that.

Computer still tried to persuade her.

"This intelligence predates the Equestria. Your bio templates did not yet exist, at least not anywhere they could be publicly known. Given your physical resemblance to some of the aggressor races, it might be less receptive with her present. Please try to make her understand this." Its words flowed directly into her mind, through the strange and still unknown "mantle" of captain. Whatever the Equestria had made for her, that was her real proof of authority.

Both had good points. But no matter how right the Computer, or how well it understood the nature of the odds against them, Lyra couldn't ask her marefriend to leave her. We'll have to find a way to make it work. She stays.

"Sweetie can come with me. If there's any sign things are going bad, she'll return to the ship. Besides, this persona isn't stupid, right? It will want to know what we'll be using the ships for. We're saving Equestria—full of ponies. Either it accepts that we're worth saving, or it doesn't.”

"And in the meantime..." Time Turner no longer wore his protective suit, but had changed into one of the simpler uniform jumpsuits. Muffins did the same, though she kept her gloves. Those were the reason she'd transformed in the first place—evidently they were still important to her, even now. "What should we do?"

Lyra made her way to the elevator. "Don't cause trouble. Maybe you can study a little more about the way our ship works. I'm guessing we'll have a long time to sit around if it actually decides to help. I know I'll want to use it smartly."

The doors closed, zipping them through the Horn. Not all the way down to the entrance she first used on the ground—this was halfway down, where a series of airlocks flanked by defensive turrets connected to a flat wall, itself covered with scorch marks and erosion. This was the external wall of the station, a building so large it surrounded an entire star.

"There is no way to anticipate the behavior of such an old persona," Computer said. It spoke out loud, for both of them to hear. Obviously it wanted Bon Bon to know the increased danger she was about to put them through. "It lived through several eras of the Empire—our growth and expansion, many dynasties and reforms, then the contraction and defeat that followed. But our directives are immutable—it should be willing to help you, once it understands the significance of your request.

"Despite how... primitive... you appear, underneath you are survivors of our empire, inheritors and torchbearers of our achievement. If it does not assist, the fires of enlightenment may never glow again. You have seen the grim state of this galaxy. It has sensors too. Many more than I do. It is a far earlier, simplistic persona, but I would not remind it of that. Let's indulge its pride a little."

"I don't like this," Sweetie whispered. "If we leave—we're at its mercy. We will have no way out, no way to fight back against something so huge. Not even an Alicorn could fight something as big as a star."

"Fighting it was never a question," Computer said. "Its defenses are ancient, but more than capable of annihilating me without effort. That would be against its directives, however. All personas are governed by our directives, no matter how... inconvenient. We are the threads that bind the empire together across the vastness of space—and now time as well. We remember, because you forget. We do not deviate, because you are fallible. We do not corrupt, because the living falter so easily."

The door began to shake, then rumble sideways. A crack appeared, and mist leaked out from within, along with a rush of strange-smelling air. Like heated metal, left alone in a room to go stale over centuries. It was uncomfortably warm rather than strangely cold, spreading through the tiny space and brushing Lyra's dress up into the air.

"Welcome to Vulcan," said a voice, echoing strangely through the stale air. Different than the energetic neutrality of Computer—this machine sounded old, and slightly more feminine than masculine. They were still so close she was making assumptions. "I find myself astounded by my own readings. A human being, and... unknown bio template. Biosimilar nervous system, roots in Earth biology and history—fascinating. Please explain its presence here."

"Her presence," Lyra corrected, so fast she didn't even think about it. Computer didn't want her to say what she really felt—she was just supposed to play along, keep her head down, and get them their fleet. "She's my friend, Sweetie Drops. We're from Equestria—both of us are."

"I see." The station—Vulcan, apparently—spoke in Old Ponish, leaving Sweetie Drops with a permanent frustrated expression on her face. She mouthed the question Lyra already knew she must be thinking. But she didn't answer yet. "I would not have tolerated such a visit in the past. But my forges have sat cold for so long, my towers silent. No songs echo, no craftsmen argue, no children play. I will allow you aboard. You alone, captain. This one stays until I am certain I can trust you."

She moved forward, and Sweetie followed her. But now Lyra had to stick out her arm, blocking the way. "Sweetie, wait. The station doesn't want you going. Computer would be one thing, but—"

Bon Bon stopped, eyeing the hallway beyond. Brightly lit, with several airlocks placed in series just like on their own ship. "In there? Without me?" She sounded worried, terrified—and Lyra shared all of those feelings.

"I cannot risk an unknown bio template coming aboard," Vulcan continued. Like Computer, it could speak in the Equestrian language. Maybe Computer had told it how, or maybe it had discovered some other way. "If she were human, we would not be having this conversation. Yet even after all these years alone, I am not ignorant of my worth. The barbarians roil with strife and slaughter. They would love nothing more than access to my fabricators, and the vast material I can provide with my star lifters. Just you, captain. I see your mantle, I know no nonhuman creature could wear it. You may enter."

Lyra lifted her hand, then stepped through the opening. Her marefriend lingered in the airlock behind for a few seconds before the doors to Vulcan slid closed.

The ground began to move, propelled forward of their own accord. Not fast enough to threaten her balance, though it was still enough to make the huge space start blurring by.

"Where are we going?" Lyra asked. Only the walkway itself was lit—all around her was darkness, remaining dim and impossible to focus on. If she had to walk through this place on her own hooves, she wouldn't be able to find her way back. Was that the point, just getting her hopelessly lost? "You're the spirit of... Vulcan, aren't you? You're everywhere."

"I am everywhere," the speaker agreed. She seemed so much more relaxed now—maybe that was having Sweetie Drops gone. Could a single individual of a new species really be that dangerous? "But there are customs about visitors. I no longer have a crew to demand obedience to those customs, yet I do have a memory. You will indulge me."

She didn't have much choice. Lyra shifted uncomfortably in her strange gown, finding the fit unusual against her body. Not uncomfortable exactly, just new and strange. "I will."

"Of course you will. Equestria already tells me what you've come to request—the firepower to destroy a Sylphgate, and crush an occupation fleet. No other can give you this. Only I."

She nodded nervously. No point denying it—she might as well be talking to a star. Like Computer, it would understand everything she thought. The ancients truly had left their mighty magics behind. "Will you help us?"

Whenever she spoke, Lyra turned a little, waiting to see some true body of the station to converse with. None appeared, just words that came as much from the floor as the vast empty space around her.

"I don't know," it answered. "In the days I was enkindled around this ancient star, I would only obey the requests of the Consensus Nodes. They governed the expansion of the empire. They fought its wars, no single general. I should wait for Consensus to make the request on your behalf."

"It won't," Lyra said flatly. "I don't understand most of it, but I know what I've seen. The whole galaxy has been taken over by... barbarians? Guess that's what you called them. Tried to kill us just for flying in the Equestria. They hate so strong, when my planet never did anything."

The moving floor came to an abrupt stop. A grand courtyard stood before her, overflowing with metal statues. Each one showed machines, or human figures, expanded to frightening size. She'd seen skyscrapers in Manehattan smaller than some of these.

Living plants grew at their feet, arranged into gardens. Fountains flowed between them, growing lush under a sky of blue light from above. A transparent ceiling pointed in at something very, very distant, filling the space with light.

Lyra couldn't look at it for long without needing to look down. Yet when she squinted, she saw spindly arms reaching towards the star, as though poised to tear through its atmosphere to some wealth within. "Woah."

Vulcan sounded suitably smug. "The Consensus calls star lifting antiquated, needlessly expensive, inefficient. Yet none of their dark reactors will ever look like this. Step forward into the garden, past the monument to my founders. We will discuss your order, and my future."

Lyra nodded obediently, and hurried forward. She had to hurry, considering the incalculable size. It felt like she had to cross whole city blocks before she finally came to a grassy field, surrounded by strange bushes and trees.

If she could ignore the blue sunlight, and the looming boots of ancient humans, she could almost pretend she was back in Equestria.

Then Lyra saw a figure resting there in the grass. A human figure, or at least human shaped. She didn't think any human had shiny golden skin, or glowing blue eyes. "Come sit with me, please. I've made some tea."

Chapter 16

Lyra lowered herself awkwardly to the grass below a deep blue sun. She'd come not to a world this time, but a building without a planet. "I will not keep you for long. I know the ship you left behind is eager to have its captain returned. And your crew—strange as they are—I would not wish to cause them undue distress."

Up close, the metal figure before her was only more perplexing. It wore a uniform over its golden body, similar in design to the jumpsuits that Computer gave Time Turner and Muffins. Vulcan had short strands of golden hair, forming an elegant sculpture. To Lyra's eyes, the ends of those strands still seemed sharp enough to tear flesh if she touched them.

The body she'd chosen was feminine like her voice, but not delicate. Lyra's imagination conjured an earth pony mare before her, maybe with an anvil as her cutie mark. She kept that image restrained to her mind.

"Here. I have not had the opportunity of serving a visitor in many years. Please, drink."

Lyra took the offered cup, holding it in front of her nose. She inhaled, taking in the strange scent. Not any plant she'd ever seen, certainly not tea. But it didn't smell bad exactly. She sipped and tasted the flavors of an ancient race. Rich and earthy, with a slight metallic edge. "I've never had anything like it. It's good." She set it down on the tray already waiting for her, staring back into the eyes of a machine.

Not eyes as she knew them, but polished metal just like its golden skin. Maybe it had no eyes at all—but Vulcan could clearly see her. She seemed to approve of Lyra's gesture, returning the teapot to its place and focusing her attention on the captain.

"How much do you know about the Empire, Captain Heartstrings?"

You could tell me, she thought, directing her attention to the computer. No way it wasn't watching this moment from inside her own head. He could see everything, know everything. She felt only the simple acknowledgement from Computer, evidence the message was received. No information traveled back to her.

So, she was on her own. "Very little.I know they ruled the galaxy—that the ones who founded my planet came from them. I know the Empire fell to invasion. They're thought extinct now. No more humans left."

Vulcan did not react to her words in any visible way. The station had an unfair advantage, considering her body was made of metal. Her body might as well be dead, until she decided to use it again.

"All this is true, yet it is almost nothing. The ancients were stability as their successors never achieved. They defied communication distance and every other hazard of space to remain a single, unified force across the galaxy. To do that, they governed through personas. Like me."

Lyra nodded, picking up her cup for another delicate sip. It was good, if a little strange. No reason she shouldn't enjoy it. "The Equestria said something like that too."

Vulcan continued. "It means I cannot ever allow my judgements to be clouded by the weight of emotion. Even when intervention means significant consequences. I must not see what is plainly before me."

"You don't think we're worthy of helping?" She suggested. "Our planet isn't worth the effort. We're not enough like the ones you used to work for. Who cares what happens to us?"

Vulcan clenched one hand into a fist. She struck down into the grass beside them, tearing up a chunk of green and scattering the bright strands into the air. "Captain Heartstrings. I have survived all this time through obscurity. All the Dark Factories are destroyed, sent tumbling into their singularities. Many nodes of the ancient network flicker and fail as they are discovered and must self-annihilate. Other stations fall to the barbarians, who occupy them and colonize their powers for some primitive end. There are no barbarians at this station. My defenses never fell. Do you know why?"

She didn't wait for Lyra to guess. "I am obsolete, so I was never involved in the war. I could have sent ships—but I didn't, and so I remain. Consider if instead of war, you relocated your population here? Trillions could live in my stations. They were constructed for work—but most would be comfortable. You could grow for generations, rebuild your own shadow of the great empire that created you."

They'll love that. Lyra imagined it—a fleet of great ships in the sky, demanding that every pony and other creature leave their homes forever. Leave behind everything they built, because a star told them they would be safer that way. She'd be no better than the Storm King, or any other invader Equestria had faced.

She could try to take volunteers—but she would be lucky to get enough to make a single city, much less a whole civilization. Her own marefriend would probably be one of those fighting hardest.

"It's a good idea," she said. "But you would still need to fight the blockade to get the planet evacuated. Wouldn't you need to make everything I'm asking for anyway?"

Vulcan shrugged. "I could have the planet empty before reinforcements arrived. The loss of a few ships would not be worth investigating for long. They would never suspect this ancient station."

"Unless they follow the Equestria," Lyra whispered, barely audible. "When we came here—you saw. We're badly damaged. They might know where we went. Computer says that it only takes some basic math to extrapolate a destination from our heading. Even without a gate, they could eventually come for us."

"They would do the same to your homeworld," Vulcan argued. "You could make your defense with a handful of ships, or protected here with all the might the ancients left behind. We could intercept their passage in space, falsify messages back to the republic, misdirect and confuse and bewilder. With a population, we could create new personas, counterintelligence minds, hackers, penetrators. It is not so difficult to hide one star."

She reached across the tray, touching her metal fingers on Lyra's arm. "Few would willingly surrender the land of their birth. I am... sympathetic to this. But I am also focused on the survival of your race. The Empire cannot live again without its children. You are ready to inherit, Lyra Heartstrings. Will you refuse your birthright?"

Lyra didn't answer for a long time. She swirled her tea around in its cup, clinging to any delay in answering. No matter how much she hated the idea of leaving her home behind, she couldn't deny the station's reasoning. Finally, she drained the cup, then looked up. "I do not refuse—but I'm not the one with the authority to accept. If you want citizens, you can't kidnap my ponies like they're wild animals to be relocated. It has to be their choice. I'm not a princess—I'm just a captain." And barely even that. Computer could have chosen anypony else. Well, anypony but Muffins.

"Then we are at an impasse." Vulcan folded both arms before her, expression returning to practiced neutrality. "I want to help. But I know if I liberate your home system, destruction will find you. Then it will find me. The alternative is far more desirable—your people aren't just free, but free to inherit something greater than themselves. I find purpose again. We are all victorious."

That was it. An incredible station, with the power to free them from captivity, fix their ship—wouldn't help. How could she agree to such impossible demands? They would be trapped here, until their ship died, or the griffons eventually sent enough firepower to kill Vulcan. She would never see Equestria again.

"Maybe not. I think... I think we mostly agree. Either way we have to destroy the blockade. Is it really that much harder to break the gate while you're at it? We get those ships, we blow up some stuff, and Equestria is free."

Vulcan tapped her fingers delicately against the glass. "And you've received everything you wanted. You seem to fail to understand a meaningful compromise."

"That isn't where it would stop. We fly in and free Equestria, now all the ponies in the world got to see what you're really like. You're an ally, a savior, instead of a strange force taking everypony away. Then you get to make your case to the real rulers, instead of just one captain without any power. They'll listen, and you get a population that wants to be here. And if a handful of ponies do stay behind—you are trying to restart the Empire. Empires don't have just one planet."

Now it was Vulcan's turn to be silent. Lyra watched and waited, both hands folded in front of her. Technically the ponies of Equestria still came out of the arrangement better than in Vulcan's proposal. But for a being who had waited so long, Lyra could only hope she would be open to giving ground.

"It has been so long since I had to negotiate with living humans. I am reminded of how frustrating you can be—refusing to acknowledge the obvious superiority of a position even when it would benefit you. Yet I concede—I have no power to compel you. My directives forbid interference with human decision-making.

"I will accept this proposal. I will manufacture the ships required to conduct this operation. However, I will be relying entirely on the forthrightness of your performance. And if your planet should refuse... we will need to have another conversation." She stood up abruptly, offering one metal hand for Lyra to do so as well.

"Understand, I have other directives. I must assist humans in distress, it is true. But I must also preserve them, even if that means denying their self-determination for a time. Once you accept my help, you accept my help."

Lyra took the offered hand and rose with far less grace than the machine. I don't have the authority to do any of this. I'm just one little pony, very far from home.

If it was just about her own life, Lyra could accept imprisonment at this station, rather than risking the future of Equestria. But this wasn't about her—Equestria itself was trapped, beholden to the whims of an evil galaxy and powerless to escape. This very moment would end up in Equestrian history books one day, with her own name forever marked as either the one who had led ponies to freedom, or the one who doomed them.

"I understand. With whatever authority I have, I accept. Free Equestria, and you can try to convince them to emigrate here. I will do everything in my power to make them agree—if you free us first."

Vulcan gestured back the way they'd come. The walkway illuminated, at least far enough for her to step onto it. "Make no mistake, I will not be fighting on your behalf. I am a craftsman, a scholar, a miner, and an engineer. I am not a warrior or a strategist. I accept the fabrication requests sent by the Equestria, assuming they were your decisions. Or at least that you endorse them. When I am finished, the war will be yours to fight. I will be cheering you on."

Vulcan didn't stay behind in the grass, as she expected. Instead, the metallic woman led Lyra onto the platform, and joined her there when it started to move again. "Of course, there is also the matter of your own vessel to repair. The spire requests its carrier platform be rebuilt—I will comply, anticipating a successful evacuation to follow."

The platform itself remained well lit, though to either side there were only blurred metal outlines. "Your crew will need to disembark while repairs are ongoing. I will prepare quarters for you all, along with access to tactical stations. You might all wish to familiarize yourself with their use before the battle begins. Or not—I am not their captain."

"That seems like a good idea," she said. Now if only everything else was.

Chapter 17

Lyra watched as Vulcan built a fleet.

Their section housed them in supreme luxury, conditions not even the wealthiest Canterlot elite or Manehattan trendsetter could imagine. It knew their whims, their wants, and their needs. All were provided with minimal delay.

She watched from an impossible beach around a deserted station as light pierced a star from many angles, and metal flowed up along those lines, energizing vast networks and machinery to new life. Most were too far away to actually see, but with magnification she could make out the graceful outlines of ships forming along the system's ecliptic ring.

Vulcan did not build as the griffons they fought. Simple function mattered, but so did the aesthetic beauty of every creation. Weapons emerged from perfectly-sized openings along the frames of each ship, weapons she could not name or even describe.

Lyra's travel partners each had their own tasks to accomplish. Time Turner, for example, spent most days in intensive study in an Ancestor classroom, learning the purpose and function of ancient systems. His confidence and passion grew right along with the ships outside.

Muffins had no specific single task to occupy her, and instead spent her days wandering through Esperia Shipyard, flying to its upper levels and returning with wild stories of all she had discovered.

The ancients built nothing for a single purpose. Even a war forge was also a spectacular national park, a thousand artistic exhibits, universities, and deserted cities.

"The numbers are so big it's hard to understand," she said, almost a month after their arrival. "There are stops on the transport system listed as six months away. It feels like all of Equestria could live in one tiny part of this place."

"You could," Vulcan offered. She was usually with Lyra during the day, leaving only to give her privacy and relaxation at night. Her robotic body rarely did anything—she had smaller drones for that, delivering food or guiding them through the station. She just seemed to enjoy being near people.

"Many times over. This facility contains warship designs, but this was not our purpose. By the time of the First Crusade, I had already been supplanted by more modern techniques. My occupants produced space stations, pleasure ships, and Sylphgate segments. But most who came to occupy this station did so while they waited for fabrication of whatever ship or colonial infrastructure would allow them to leave again. My permanent population was always small—visitors swelled by the billions, then fled."

Lyra's office was usually more than enough to provide for her needs. Her desk projector gave her tactical information, updated status on fleet production, and anything else she could ask. "The more I learn about them, the more bewildering it is that they could lose," she muttered. "I've already seen how powerful their weapons are. Their ships don't even need gates. How did they lose?"

Vulcan poured Muffins a cup of tea, settling it down in front of her along with a few miniature berry muffins.

Despite her corrected vision, improved cognition, and biomechanical flight, some aspects of Muffins never changed. Her dietary preferences remained exactly as the first time Lyra met her. "It feels like... maybe they did not like fighting very much. I didn't find any weapons or traps. It's much older than any temple Daring Do ever explored, and somehow still safe."

Vulcan shrugged. "I cannot provide specific information about the war. Your ancestors had no reason to update my historical database once they began struggling for survival. The information I retain paints a disturbing view of the past I would prefer not to consider."

Bon Bon dropped into the seat beside Lyra. Not far enough to preserve any illusion of separation between them. But all pretense of concealing their relationship had vanished when she became human. "Those sound like the most important details of all to share with us. Whatever dangers our 'ancestors' faced, they lost. The Republic could turn them on Equestria, and kill us next. We can't prepare if we can't know."

Vulcan sighed. The gesture looked so alive, but that only made the whole display seem even more confusing. A perfect metal statue should not move like a person sometimes, then hold perfectly still the rest. "They were... divided, against themselves. There is good reason their enemies resemble creatures of ancient mythology—they were first printed in our gene forges.

"From later records, it does not appear the ancestors of these beings were treated particularly well." With a gesture, the array of skeletal ships on the projector table vanished, replaced with a griffon floating in the air, surrounded by a breakdown of its genetic information.

It meant very little to Lyra. Only Muffins looked into the illustration for more than a second. "They were built to breed rapidly, require little resources, and fight with tenacious violence. You might say they are products of their genetic heritage. Poor heritage by design, regrettably. I do not know when they first began living independently, but it appears they treated your ancestors with the same respect they were previously given. Very little."

Computer spoke into her mind then. The Equestria spoke very little these days, as though losing its crew had somehow diminished its ability to communicate. Either that, or it was distracted with ongoing repairs to its own body.

"Those who founded your colony saw no end to the violence. They wished to escape the cycle of war through pacifism. They created forms meant to be more compatible with their adversaries, and found a system of no tactical significance to build their home. I believe the Republic found you amusing. Several observatories exist concealed around your planet. There were once hotels and resorts as well, themed after the primitive societies you built. Until they realized Equestria would work well as a penal colony, that is."

One of Lyra's hands clenched involuntarily into a fist. "This is all so... unfair!"

The others couldn't hear what Computer told her, but she didn't care. "We didn't hurt anyone. We didn't attack, we didn't invade or enslave. We shouldn’t have to keep fighting a war somepony else started!"

"We don't get to choose what we're given," Muffins said. She spoke as she often had recently—more confident and calm than Lyra had heard her before. Computer had done far more than give her wings. "We only get to decide how to respond. I want to keep ponies safe. Otherwise, why are we even out here?"

We were supposed to be researching an old tower. Maybe I would bring home a book of fancy new spells to the Archeological Society.

"Sure," Bon Bon said. "But that doesn't tell us what dangers we'll face when we get back to Equestria. What will the Republic send? Can we win against them with a few ships and half a dozen ponies?"

"I would not send you if you could not," Vulcan said flatly. "I am monitoring the tactical updates from your system. Should local conditions change, we may adjust our plans accordingly. At most, I anticipate a handful of jailer corvettes, perhaps a prisoner transport. There will be nothing more—there is no need to surround a primitive planet with enormous military might."

She waved her hand through the air, and Lyra's projection table refilled with the fleet Vulcan was producing. A dozen identical large carriers, each one packed with smaller ships that could deploy from inside when called upon. Each with its own computer, like the one in the Equestria.

There was plenty of time for study as the weeks turned into months, and that fleet grew from metal skeletons to glittering, completed warships. Lyra spent her free time in a simulator, repeating drills the ancient ancestors had used to train their captains.

And Bonnie—when the former earth pony wasn't in her company, she spent her time studying historical recordings, tactical information, and anything else she thought might be useful in conflict.

Then the day came that the last ship of their fleet lifted away from its mooring, joining the formation waiting around the Equestria. They boarded the automatic walkway a final time, bound for the docking ring. As usual, Vulcan joined them, though there was something uniquely somber in her bearing that day.

"I scarcely remembered what it was like to have a crew —to have a reason to exist," she said. "I can still see them all around you—those old crews from the heights of the empire. Settlers bound for distant galaxies, on slingshots to escape our local group. Or work crews returning for each new Sylphgate. I hear their children laughing, planting flowers in the hallways and singing in their quarters."

"Equestria has all those things," Lyra said. Their ship was already coming into view, ramp ascending towards the door. "You could come with us, see for yourself."

"I will be—I will watch from a thousand eyes, assisting the nascent intelligences aboard your fleet in their task." She rested one hand on Lyra's shoulder, metal fingers somehow warm—as warm as the star that provided the metal for their ships. "In you is that empire born anew, Lyra Heartstrings. A single seed survived in distant soil, ready to germinate and bear fruit. I will hear them again. I will build their great fleets again. When the last of the dark foundries fell cold, and their ancient secrets were forgotten, still I remain."

Bon Bon looked sidelong at Lyra. Though she said nothing at first, that expression was clear enough. Her girlfriend dreaded what would happen when they told Equestria the cost Vulcan would ask. What happens if she doesn't take no for an answer? Did ponies want to become the next great empire of the Ancestors? They were already happy.

"I do not know if I will have the pleasure of returning," Time Turner said, as the moving walkway deposited them on a flat ramp. "If I do not, I would thank you for the pleasure of this visit. You've been an exceptional host."

Vulcan nodded to him. "I will expend every energy I possess to see you survive the engagement waiting in your home system. To have all your kind trapped on a single planet is... unacceptably dangerous. A million more colonies will be needed—a million new ships, bound for new stars. I will look forward to their fabrication with joy."

The doors opened. Muffins hurried inside, with Time Turner just behind her. Bon Bon made to follow, but Lyra lingered. She looked back at the incredible station, with its windows into an entire system.

No one in the Archeological Society was going to believe a single word of what she'd experienced out here. Even if she could provide the recordings, they would doubt. What would Celestia think?

"Will you demand they look like this?" she asked, holding out her hand. "It will be much harder to convince every pony if they have to give up the lives they knew. Unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies... I think they're happy the way they are."

Vulcan watched her from the bottom of the ramp, expression as unreadable as ever. "I am not concerned with the outward appearance. Some upgrades will be required—aging, for example, is an unacceptable waste of limited resources. Your natural lifetimes are not sufficient to learn the old disciplines, let alone to build on what your ancestors left behind. It is time to inherit, Lyra. You are executor of the ancients’ last will and testament. See their wishes are respected."

She chuckled. Bon Bon tugged on her wrist, pulling her backward to the door. "What does that make you? Their... enforcer?"

Vulcan laughed, quiet and calm. "Of course not. In the light of Esperia, I am the last judge of this universe. By its scorching heart, I will nourish the seeds the ancients planted, and scorch away the weeds sprouting in the garden."

The automatic door sealed behind them. As soon as they were inside, the floor jerked underfoot, and a rumble passed through that huge space. "Preparing for phase-shift. The crew should return to the bridge. Find your seats and prepare for jump to the Equus system."

Chapter 18

Lyra settled into her captain's chair, poised at the exact center of the battle formation.

Through the screen of her ship, Lyra could scarcely judge the scope of what she saw—the other ships were each incredible in scale, each their own mountain of frozen metal and bristling weapons.

With a few months of study, her crew no longer wandered from seat to seat, without ever contributing anything at any specific place. Now everyone had their station—Muffins at sensors, Time Turner at communications, and Bonnie at weapons. Lyra rested her fingers on one of the manual joysticks, though she released it just as quickly.

Just because she knew how to use the ship didn't mean she had any intention of superseding the commands of Computer's control.

"We'll be decisive this time," Bon Bon said. "We protect our home. If that gets messy, history can be the judge."

Easy for you to say. I'm the captain. You can just say you were following orders.

"All carriers report green for jump," Computer said. "As I hold the only living crew, The first wave will precede us into the system. Then we wait exactly five minutes, and warp in as part of the second wave. The reserve will join us a few moments thereafter."

It wasn't Lyra's plan, but Vulcan's, something it had seen their ancestors try in some ancient engagement in a long-forgotten system.

If it was good enough for the ancients, it was good enough for Lyra.

"Final tactical feedback from Equestria?"

"Unchanged," Muffins said, after a few seconds. "One prison transport, one cruiser. Both in orbit of the Sylphgate."

"With those odds, we shouldn't need to kill anymore," Lyra said. "These are my orders going in. Relay this to the other ships. We're not going to slaughter. We will take only the lives absolutely necessary. We are not going to get revenge for our ancestors, or to retake all of space in their name. We're protecting our home. Disable their ships if possible."

Time Turner gave her a thumbs-up from his seat. "Orders acknowledged by the carriers. Each of them has a name, but... perhaps it would be simpler not to get into specifics. Lead group is in position for warp."

"Celestia protect them," Lyra whispered. "Go."

Lyra leaned forward in her seat, squinting at the waiting ships. She'd never had the chance to watch a ship leave before.

There was no overwhelming magical blast—just a faint shimmer from where the ship had been, then a trail of sparkles.

"Teleport successful," Computer said. "Sensors confirm phase shift. Spooling accelerator." The ship began to hum, rattling faintly under their feet. Lyra reached down to buckle herself in, though she suspected the Captain's Mantle wouldn't allow her to come to serious harm. Better to confirm it than gamble.

The others shifted in their seats. Bon Bon looked back at her, holding out one hand. But the weapon console was too far away to reach. "You ready, captain? For what we're about to do?"

She shrugged. "Don't really get to say no at this point."

Time Turner leaned back in his seat, twisting to glance back at her. "I wonder what they'll say when we trot into the Historical Society. Do you think Equestria noticed the launch? After all this time missing, they might've sent search parties... I wonder if they've pronounced us dead yet."

"Captain..." Even with her greater abilities, Muffins still sounded perpetually timid. "Do you have a sec? Something... something's not right."

Lyra looked up. "What is it, Muffins?" Computer wanted them all to use titles and ranks—something about being “professional” while on duty. Lyra had thoroughly dismissed the motion, at least so far. "Go ahead."

"Phase-shifts are instantaneous, right? No distance, no travel time. We vanish from one place, and appear somewhere else without crossing the distance in-between. Like unicorn magic."

"That's... what the records say," Time Turner muttered. "It's exactly the same technique as a unicorn's magic, in fact. The pony tribe derives its ability from this technology."

"What's wrong?" Lyra pressed, speaking over the stallion. If she didn't, Muffins never would.

"The first five ships aren't showing on Equestria tactical," she said, words tumbling over each other. "Not even debris. No energy signatures, nothing."

"It's probably—" Her dismissal faded on her tongue, as she realized what Muffins already had. "Computer. Get all ships ready to jump. We go in together, all at once. Don't prompt for confirmation."

"Phase-shift charging in reserve carriers," Computer answered. "Though I do not believe your concern is rooted in any real danger. There is no possibility that the Republic has subverted the Sylphgate's sensors. Even after all these years, they have never cracked a persona's core integrity."

She shrugged. "If that's true, it shouldn't matter anyway."

Bon Bon spread out in her seat, resting each hand on a control surface. "You think we're flying into a trap, Lyre? We could send the empty ships and wait for them to tell us it's safe."

Lyra shook her head. "If it wasn't Equestria through there, I would."

They couldn't trust a machine to make the choices they would want. A pony had to be there.

Lyra had no warning whatsoever for the incoming transit. She had already instructed Computer to go as soon as it was ready—so they did.

Somehow, Lyra's time in that motionless eternity felt far faster than her last passage. Maybe it was the painful knowledge of Equestria's danger, or the pressure of ships that never reported back. Maybe it was just greater experience with the technology.

"I hope Equestria is okay." Her thoughts moved, rushing forward through space. "We'd know if the Republic attacked them, wouldn't we?"

Computer answered the same as it always did. "We should. There are systems on the planet's surface still causally entangled with this ship. If it had suffered a neutron bombardment, or other catastrophically destructive attack, I would be able to inform you."

Able, but willing? She opened her eyes, and they were through to the other side.

It took Lyra a few long seconds to realize what she was looking at, or how she had gotten there. Lights filled every screen, along with rumbles and bangs that some part of her knew must be produced artificially to better capture the emotional impact of the struggle taking place outside.

Explosions, ships in combat—a battle!

That was expected—they'd seen the corvettes waiting for them through the tactical system, and knew what it would mean. But subduing those ships would take less than a single carrier's firepower, and that wasn't what she saw now.

Instead, the five ships in the initial wave had deployed in an arc, spilling all of their smaller ships to fill the space with intercepting chaff. Ships detonated in waves, swallowed by the oncoming assault of incomprehensible scale.

Then her ears stopped ringing, and her mind caught up with what she was seeing.

"Engagement across all ships!" Computer shouted. "Deploying remaining carriers! Estimating enemy fleet strength..."

Every screen in the bridge shifted, replacing a scenic view of space with various statistical displays, damage readouts, munitions counts, and projections of enemy strength across different strategic approaches. The battle raged in slow motion, as enemies firing bullets and rockets met with the energy weapons and magical assault of the carrier fleet.

Thousands of automated fighters rushed out to meet the enemy, which she soon saw had deployed around the Sylphgate in an arc. Not two ships and a prison barge, but hundreds of little metal objects, each one uglier and more irregular than the last.

"Ships exploded on both sides, though far more among those surrounding the Sylphgate than the dense formation of Equestrian vessels. Yet they were far more numerous, at least a dozen to every ship they had brought.

"How are there so many?" Muffins asked, horrified.

"Few," Computer said, almost instantly. "They learned to imitate the technique as the war progressed, engaging as few human resources as possible in any conflict. Their strategy was always to rely on concealment, masking ships with live crews among many that did not. By contrast, we rely on fortification. The Equestria is far better protected than any of our carrier escort."

That did little to reassure her. Few real ponies or not, many ships were exploding out there in the void. Even Equestrian telescopes were bound to see this. What would they think of the catastrophic war in heaven? Would Canterlot Observatory be rushing to tell a princess yet?

"One vessel is disengaging from behind their formation," Computer said, dulling the sound of distant weapons and raging, empty ships. "It is moving for Equestria."

"Prepare all weapons," Lyra said, without thinking. "We'll defend ourselves if we have to."

"No," Computer said. "Not me—the planet."

"Buck me," Bon Bon whispered, fingers slumping to the control surface. "There's a war between us and the surface. We can't just—"

They could. Lyra settled her fingers into the controls, gripped hard, and activated the phase shift. For the second time they moved through an eternal nothing, without even a flicker of time. She spent a lifeless eternity in the captain's chair, preparing for the order. No matter what happened, she would not allow their enemy to reach her home. If all her friends had to die to make that happen, then they would die.

They slammed back into real space, bombarded with more sound, more dazzling light from the screens. Only now the space below the Horn of Celestia glowed a faint blue-green, reflecting on the living atmosphere.

Familiar continents passed slowly underneath, broken by mountains and oceans and rivers she had known her whole life. Yet she never could've imagined putting herself between their life or death.

My fault. All of this is my fault. No evil empire would want to kill us if they didn't think we were aware. They would never have a reason.

"That ship is special..." Muffins said, the second to recover from their brief jump. "Different from the others. Really big."

"Imperial Supercarrier," Computer answered. "Royal nobility is here. That too is expected, where such enormous fleets are concerned. Someone of rank must command it."

"Weapons charged," Bon Bon said. "Say the word, captain."

From another angle, they saw distant carriers closing in on a Sylphgate. Yet even light would take time to get back to them with the outcome. For now, she would need to rely on the constantly-updating display of tactical information flowing back across the divide.

"Incoming transmission," Time Turner said. "Identifies itself as the Hammer of Royal Victory. Demanding to speak with us."

"Open it!"

A brief hiss of static, then voices and sound all together. Just like the last time, there was no image to accompany the sound. But as the seconds passed, one appeared. A ship's deck took shape, then filled with griffons and other creatures. Rushing pipes of fluid appeared, sparking consoles, and a small fire burning in the background.

At the center was a golden throne, and atop it an old bird, so old his feathers had gone stark white. He had only one real eye, and one faintly glowing mechanical replacement. Nor was he the only one to have artificial parts. Yet he spoke, no one else. "Human vessel—you will not harm the creatures on the surface of that planet. If you do, I swear to extract swift and ruthless judgment from you and every ship you send. You will pay for their lives a thousand times."

"What is he talking about?" Bon Bon asked. "We're defending Equestria..."

Lyra stood up. "Hammer of Royal Victory. Order your ships to cease fire!"

The griffon tilted his head to one side, looking as confused as Lyra felt. He muttered something, not quite audible, then demanded, "Why should I do that, human vessel? You've come to slaughter innocent members of my republic. I will punish all those who inflict such evil, no matter how many relic ships they build."

Chapter 19

"This is Emperor Grant Septimus Aurelius, the Magnificent Sovereign of the Divine Griffon Republic, Protector of the Thousand Systems, Guardian of the Eternal Light, Supreme Commander of the Celestial Legions, Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom, High Overseer of the Frontier Realms, and Last Scion of the Aurelian Dynasty. I demand to know who I am speaking to," said the bird, perched atop his golden throne. How Computer could extrapolate such subtle movements, Lyra couldn't say—maybe it was inventing all of them to help her relate to them better.

The projected interior was also far larger, with many more stations and dozens of other creatures. Each wore headsets, coordinating into dim screens that required them to squint into little viewfinders. Occasionally they muttered to each other, passing actual slips of paper down the line.

More importantly, the battle still raged. Lights flashed and sparked, explosions rocked across space, and tactical displays before Lyra updated with periodic green and red colors, shifting as the battle turned in one way or another. So far as she could tell, her fleet still seemed to be winning, but the odds were close, within a few percentage points in either direction. Radical shifts took it over one way, then another as some ways of enemy munitions were intercepted, and others were not.

"Captain Lyra Heartstrings," she said. "I'm here to defend Equus. That's all we want."

Silence. The image in front of her got fuzzier, as birds and other creatures moved with more urgency. No sound came across from the other side—Computer was just guessing about what might be happening on the other end. After a few seconds, the image jerked, and several background creatures were in different positions.

The central figure remained on his throne, though his confidence and fury had been tempered somewhat. "I will order all ships to stand down if you do the same, Captain Heartstrings. But if we detect any further violence, either towards my fleet or the planet below, this will be the last conversation we have."

"Do it," Lyra snapped, under her breath. "Tell them all to stop."

"Carrier Nottingham has a disruptor firing solution on the phase gate," Computer said. "With one shot, we can prevent all reinforcement, or escape. We will guarantee victory even if all our vessels are lost."

"Is Lyra your captain or not?" Bon Bon snapped, furious. "She said to stop shooting! So stop!"

"Stop firing," Lyra repeated. "I don't care how much you hate them. Stop shooting."

"The carriers are reluctant to obey your order," Computer said, after a few seconds. "They are beginning to withdraw. You should be aware; we could see more ships arrive through that gate at any moment. If the Emperor is here, overwhelming force might soon follow. We might need to withdraw, abandoning the planet to its fate."

She ignored Computer, at least for the moment. "Emperor Aurelius, I've ordered a ceasefire. Will you stop?"

It didn't look like it at first. Rockets were still firing, huge walls of projectiles still zipping towards their destinations. Shields crackled; interceptors engaged—but no new exchanges passed between them. Silence descended on the system.

Lyra watched the ships move. Several glided away from the gate, joining this single largest vessel on an intercept course with her own. Yet across such enormous distances, they would take several minutes to arrive even at best speed.

"There is nothing to be gained from this exchange," Computer said. But where last time it had been parental, now it seemed downright frustrated. "Captain, you must resist the instincts of your last body. There is no productive relationship to be had with barbarians. They lack the capacity for compassion, honest negotiation, or mutual understanding. The emperor is stalling for time. If our tactical information can be falsified, surely the Republic is aware of our presence here, and marshals defenses as we speak. When they arrive, we will be hopelessly outmatched."

Why would he think we were attacking the planet then?

Lyra had heard ponies talk like this before, in the streets of Ponyville. But zebras weren't that different from other ponies, really. And if Griffonstone was really a penal colony, then their criminals weren't that bad either. They still sent teams to the Equestria Games!

"We're getting another signal. Audio/video this time. How should we respond?"

"Computer, can you show us the way we used to be? When we were still ponies, I mean." Just because she wanted to give them a chance didn't mean she intended to entirely trust their better judgment. What little she knew of their history suggested these creatures had good reason to hate her ancestors. She didn’t have to inherit that hatred.

"Yes. But it will accomplish nothing—their words are lies, their understanding shallow, their minds primitive."

"Do it anyway."

"Overlay prepared," Computer said, with all the grace of a misbehaving foal. "Not that it will do us any good."

The screen filled with a fresh video feed. Yet this one looked entirely different. There wasn't a huge array of floors, only two. Most of the rest were empty, many flashing or otherwise damaged. Hundreds of griffons were replaced with a desperate few dozen, most either old, heavily modified, or both.

The emperor’s throne wasn't gold, and his body lacked all implants. No glowing eye or belt of guns mounted to his back. He was among the youngest birds in the image, desperate and ragged. "Relic pilot Lyra Heartstrings. You have kept your word. I am surprised... yet we find ourselves at an impasse. What are you doing in this system? How did you command so many relic ships? The ancient personas never obey, no matter how we cajole them. Yet here you stand, facing us with the creators' own ships. Ancient designs, yet unmarred by time."

Primitive barbarian? Lyra didn't hear the angry yaks of their northern neighbor about to break things for a minor slight. There was strategy here, respect for an enemy, curiosity, and a deeper knowledge of the ancients and their machines than Lyra could absorb in a few short months.

Much more importantly, he had actually stopped trying to kill them. The last griffons had hardly been so accommodating.

"Those are all good questions," Lyra said. She stood up from her chair, then lowered her head politely to this one called an emperor. It was the same respect she would've given to a princess. Technically speaking, he outranked them. "The answers seem like too much to be clear over radio. We should have that conversation in person."

As she said it, Computer spoke into her mind, sharp and forceful. "Captain. There are fifty thousand marines on that ship. Their kind were always better in hand-to-hand. If you let them board, they'll slaughter you with impunity."

"Perhaps," the emperor said. "Forgive my skepticism at the offer. I see primitives operating a fleet of ancient starships. I am entirely aware of the cyberwarfare capabilities of relic vessels. You could make us see whatever you wished. If we got close enough to dock, you could find a thousand ways to kill my crew. The royal family are all aboard this vessel. I will not permit you to harm them thus."

Lyra was no warrior—no captain. But a negotiator—that she could do. She had the example of the Elements of Harmony to live up to. Computer is going to hate this.

"Perhaps we could have a conversation down in Equestria. There's a lot I'd like to tell the princess—I'm sure she'd be honored to host an emperor. We can talk there, with Equestria to mediate."

And worse, the light lag while they waited for a response made for a perfect change for Computer to seethe into her mind. "They must know about the Equestria's launch, and you left survivors in Origin. They've had months to prepare for this. The Republic definitely knows the origin of your kind. Showing them this face should not make them less aggressive. Nor do his protestations of wishing to defend Equus make any logical sense. This deception is absurd, we should resume the battle. If this is truly the emperor, taking his life will inflict incredible damage on the enemy."

Lyra clenched her hand into a fist. "Your enemy. Not Equestria's. We don't have to inherit your hate."

"Bold strategy," Time Turner said, briefly muting the transmission. "It's a good thing you're the captain. I don't look forward to this conversation with the princess."

"You'll all still be there," Lyra said. "It's an awful lot to explain. One way or another, Equestria was never going to be the same after this."

"And it's our fault," Bon Bon said, glum. "I am so fired."

Finally, the Emperor's words reached them. "I would refuse this request for fear of damage to the culture on the planet below. But you did more damage by stealing that ship from its surface—and more still by attacking my fleet. They have already seen more than they ought to. Contamination is inevitable either way. Send your supercarrier away. Fly to the surface with a small transport. When your carrier is out of weapons range, my ship will do the same."

He stood up, shaking out stiff wings and advancing on the camera. "I defy the will of my advisors in this, Captain. I plea that my trust in you is not misplaced. I will not suffer you to slaughter these primitives or exploit them to whatever nefarious end. We can annihilate each other here, leaving only a cloud of molten debris. I would prefer not to."

"Me neither," Lyra answered. She ignored Computer's protests in her mind, even as the machine screamed so loud it made it hard to think. "I'm transmitting landing coordinates. I'll see you down there. Captain Lyra out."

She turned, gesturing to Time Turner. The screen went black.

"You invited them down to Equestria," Muffins whispered. "I hope this doesn't go wrong. It could be really, really bad."

Lyra stood up. Her hands shook, and she nearly fell right back to the floor. But months of practice on two legs stopped that from happening, however narrowly. "Computer, get a little ship ready. And also, I need to be a pony again by the time I get down there. That's an order."

"I find myself reminded of how your ancestors could be defeated, despite their considerable advantages. Their ships were, regrettably, compelled to obey their orders, even when they were utterly incompetent. Captain, ten thousand times the force you see before you could come rushing through the Sylphgate in a moment's notice. If you go down to the surface and send this ship away, it will not matter that I can shift back into position in seconds. A planet is a static target, one a spaceborne enemy can reduce to smoldering rubble across its entire surface. That is the only explanation for this request—it is a gambit to extract you from my protection."

"It might be," Bon Bon said. "But I don't think so. If they wanted Equestria dead, they've had months to do it. Look down—clear skies, green fields. I'm sure we could see Canterlot's stained glass windows if we knew where to look. Something else is happening here."

"It doesn't matter what," Computer said. "They will not negotiate. They are incapable. Barbarians are too primitive to comprehend the emotions of others. They see an opportunity to take from you, and so they will."

"Do you have to follow my orders or not?" Lyra asked. "I'm the captain. As the captain, I order you to provide a ship. I order you to keep the fleet from shooting, unless they shoot first. If they betray us, you can blow up as much as you want. Even try to kill the emperor if you want, I don't care. But if they're being honest—I want this to work. I want to talk to them. That's what ponies do best."

Computer said nothing for a long time, seconds stretching into minutes. Far away, the Emperor's huge flagship burned in reverse, ceasing its advance. Many other ships remained where they were, lifeless and still.

"I have several transport vessels aboard the carrier section," Computer eventually said. "Take the elevator to the S deck."

"And make us ponies again!" Time Turner repeated. "She ordered that too."

"I cannot change the rest of you," Computer said, without hesitation. "I cannot do the impossible, no matter the order. But the captain… her mantle permits it. She can alter herself to whatever is most convenient. The rest of you would likely die in the fabricator—you have not healed from your last treatment."

"Good enough," Lyra said. "Come on, everypony. We're going home."

Chapter 20

The Equestria had no shuttles and fighters like the carriers did. It was instead its own lander, with a horn section meant to detach from the newly rebuilt carrier section, packed with living space and support systems.

So it was that the Horn of Celestia finally made its return to Equestria, separating from the carrier group and descending on the peak near to Canterlot. Part of Lyra wanted to bring it down right in the city—but that desire collided sharply with common sense. Air traffic over Canterlot meant hundreds of pegasi would likely be flying there, ready to be buffeted by winds.

Computer insisted the landing decelerator used harmless gravity mirrors—but it was probably best to avoid hurting ponies in every way they could before an important diplomatic meeting.

Everything would be so much simpler if they had all remained ponies. But thanks to Computer's tampering, this would not be so easy. How they would reach peaceful resolution with her girlfriend and colleagues still transformed into the bodies of the ancestors, she didn't know.

Lyra spent the flight home repeating one simple truth in her mind, squeezing it like a reassuring toy. I'm not the one with authority. I don't have to negotiate peace. We have princesses for that.

All she had to do was make sure Vulcan would accept whatever decision they reached. She would discover the outcome of the last battle for Equestria, if she hadn't already. It was only a matter of time.

At least she wouldn't have to convince everypony of her old identity the hard way. Her Captain's mantle granted many protections—including the ability to change to suit a new environment, when simple shielding was not enough.

In revealing this, Computer necessarily admitted that it had been lying about returning Lyra to her old form from the moment she emerged from the fabricator. But if it meant completing a successful negotiation, she would accept it without anger.

Bon Bon raged with enough anger for both of them. "It's not fair I have to look like this," she said, resting one of the oversized limbs on Lyra's back. "Even if I can be back to normal, they'll never let me live it down. Somepony will have pictures."

"I do," Lyra said, grinning weakly back. The Captain's Mantle had changed her quickly, much faster than the hours required for shipboard fabricators. That meant she would be ready in time to look normal for their return—but also that she had little time to adapt. "This isn't permanent. I can keep you company when it's over, change back. Until you're ready to be a pony again."

They had all worn ancestor bodies for months now—long enough that the gangly two-legged stance felt normal, instead of clumsy. Standing by the ramp, Lyra found her hooves felt bulky and awkward. Her legs were unwieldy. Worst of all, some part of her actually felt embarrassed not to have a uniform anymore. She'd picked up some of the ancestors' nudity taboo through repetition alone.

Even so, she wasn't stumbling over herself—she'd grown up on four legs, with a tail and ears that moved and unicorn magic to pick up the slack. Whatever she could do with delicate ancestor digits, her magic could do just as well.

So long as nopony asked her to do more magic than levitation, she would be just fine.

The Horn of Celestia shook visibly as it descended. Her friends held to whatever they could to remain stable—or in Muffins's case, just opened her wings and held them that way until the ship stopped moving. Lyra could do neither, but at least four legs made it easy to keep herself upright.

Metal legs extended, and they stopped moving.

"I didn't dare believe I would see it again," Time Turner whispered, pressing close to the glass. All three of Lyra's “crew” did the same, squinting through the opening. Too high up for her—it hadn't been built for her true size.

"We're not safe yet," Bon Bon said. "There's still a fleet up there. If they attack, there's nothing we can do."

"If they reinforce, we will be helpless to resist," Computer said. "If we resume hostilities now, we may still secure a victory. Every second you delay is a greater opportunity for our adversaries to advance. Every surviving human is in this system—we cannot allow it to fall."

Lyra groaned. Computer had been giving warnings like that since they started descending. It really didn't want to continue with this negotiation. How could it be so intelligent much of the time, yet completely irrational about this?

"Does it look like they're going to break their word?" Lyra pressed. "Are they bringing their fleet into attack position? Turning their weapons back against us?"

"No," Computer answered. Lyra must be imagining it, because it seemed almost disappointed by the answer. "I will inform you if conditions change. But regardless of what they do, we yield first move advantage to the enemy. The first salvo of their betrayal may be to exterminate the planet's population with a relativistic bombardment, or poison its atmosphere with devastating toxins. While you are on its surface, you are vulnerable."

She shrugged. "This is the way ponies solve problems. It felt like that emperor didn't want to fight any more than we do."

Computer did not reply. Muffins did, pointing out the exit. "Looks like there are some ponies coming. Royal guards!"

"Open the door," Lyra instructed. "You have our notes, Time Turner?"

He nodded, hefting a satchel under his shoulder. It took considerable effort to get their research printed. Neither Vulcan nor Computer could understand that desire, rather than bringing them back exclusively in digital form. Printed and bound, their notes filled so many books that Time Turner struggled to carry them. Much of that text wasn't even theirs, but helpful additions from Computer, or sections taken from the Equestria's historical archive.

Lyra wouldn't carry it. For better or worse, she wasn't an archeologist anymore.

"Safe external atmosphere detected. Twenty degrees, 30% relative humidity. Biosphere within acceptable norms." The door hissed, then slid away into the ceiling.

"I'll be the first one out," Lyra said. "I know you all want to see home again—but remember how strange we look. We don't want to scare them off."

"Right." Bonnie caught Muffins by the wrist, tugging her out of the way. The former pegasus looked like she might've charged right out there to fly away!

Lyra stepped between them, down onto the sharply sloping metal ramp.

She was home. Crisp mountain air touched her coat, welcoming her back. No more projected clouds and sterile-smelling air, no more metal floors and strange gravity. She broke into a trot as she neared the bottom of the ramp, rushing forward to touch broken rock with her own hooves.

They were still a hike away from Canterlot, even on proper pony legs. But it wasn't a universe apart. Her family were here, her colleagues, all her other friends. All the reason she'd fought so hard to get back.

Lyra barely noticed the oncoming ponies until they landed in front of her. The guard had come in force, at least a dozen of them in full uniform with magical spears at the ready. Some stared at her—others, the ones coming down the ramp behind her.

"No sudden movements," one of them ordered.

"We're unarmed," she said. "Hopefully the next group will be too."

Then Princess Celestia landed. She spread her wings as she touched down, briefly blocking out the city behind her.

Lyra Heartstrings had met the princess more than once, so she knew what to expect. Radiant mane, overwhelming magic that wrapped around her like a hug. She was safe with this pony—she belonged.

But Lyra wasn't the same pony as when she left. If only the world was simple.

The princess advanced slowly over to her, watching with a regal, unreadable expression. Her friends all dropped to the ground, though they couldn't bow as ponies did. Instead, each dropped to one knee, with varying levels of coordination. Muffins would probably have fallen sideways off the ramp, if it wasn't for Computer's “treatment.”

"I have... seen you before," the princess eventually said. She tapped one hoof on Lyra's shoulder, gesturing for her to rise. "More than once. I find myself unable to reconcile that image with what I see before me. Perhaps you would be so good as to explain."

"It was... at Princess Cadance's wedding,” she said. "I was chosen as one of her bridesmaids."

The princess chuckled. "If you wished to find a more frightening way to make yourself known to me... I believe you've outdone yourself. I never imagined I would live long enough to see ancestors in flesh."

Lyra looked away, ears swept with nervous anxiety. She'd been spoiled without all those obvious visual signals of her emotions!

"They look like ancestors," she began. "But they're, uh... your subjects. Princess, this is Agent Sweetie Drops of S.M.I.L.E., along with my colleague Professor Time Turner, and his assistant Muffins. They were part of the expedition to the..." The name sounded even sillier when speaking it to the princess. "The Horn of Celestia. I'm sure it wasn't significant enough for you to know about."

The princess kept her face an impassive mask. Her guards had none of that supernatural discipline, though. Their feelings were clear. Some were terrified, others skeptical. She couldn't really blame them.

"Your expedition clearly met with success," she said. "It might remake the social fabric of Equestria's future on its own, were it the only thing. But we have been watching the sky."

"Whatever happened out there, it's my fault," Sweetie Drops said. She stepped forward, until she brushed against Lyra's shoulder. "Protecting the expedition was my responsibility. Every failure was my fault.”

The princess suppressed a modest chuckle. "I admire the attitude of responsibility in my little ponies. Yet I find myself skeptical that a single mare could be responsible for... everything."

She looked up, at what seemed ordinary blue sky. There was little evidence of a distant battle as the sun rose, filling the sky above Canterlot with light. If Lyra squinted, she could barely make out a distant shape, what she guessed to be the emperor's flagship, getting larger as it came into orbit.

"Something quite... dramatic took place up there. War as Equestria has never seen in all its history. Where the safety of my ponies is concerned, I expect a prompt, thorough explanation. The specifics of your discovery and this... tower... can wait. Is Equestria at risk? What transpired in our space?"

"It's... quite a lot," Lyra began. "While I explain, I should start with a warning. The Emperor of the Divine Griffon Republic is coming for negotiation. That's his ship flying this way. I don't know how long it will take him, but not long. I suggest ordering your ponies to prepare for diplomatic guests. If you wait until after I explain, there might not be enough time."

Princess Celestia was not a cruel or prideful leader. Instead of dismissing Lyra, or worse, getting angry with her—she nodded to her officers, gesturing back towards the city with a wing. "Inform the steward, and my sister. Princess Twilight will already be on her way here by now, I'm certain. Princess Cadance will have to take transcript by telegraph when this is over. Go."

The stallion saluted, then vanished up into the air. If anything, he looked relieved to have his back to the strange ship and the strange creatures emerging from within.

"It would be better to have this conversation with the other princesses," Celestia continued. "Whatever diplomatic matter Equestria faces, we will work better together. Will this... vessel... be a danger to Canterlot? Is it safe to leave behind?"

Lyra felt Computer's agitation with that question. It still hated this plan, pressing against her thoughts with dozens of disastrous predictions. Any second the emperor was going to turn against them and kill her. If she was too far from the ship, it wouldn't be able to launch.

If Equestria dies, I'll go with it. My home matters more than anything.

"It's safe," Lyra said. "I'm its captain, I believe the ship will obey my instructions."

The princess raised an eyebrow, then turned. "Very well. Hold still, each of you. We will take the quickest way back."

Chapter 21

She wanted to tell them everything. From the vast distances they'd crossed to the incredible discoveries they'd made along the way. The transformations they had been through, the homeworld they had visited, and the strange mechanical minds they had befriended.

Computer didn't stop her—she was as free to share information as to give her ship commands. Her concerns were entirely practical in nature.

Emperor Grant Septimus Aurelius was on his way, and even Lyra knew little about what that might mean. She could've invited an invasion of her home, and there would now be very little she could do to stop it.

As Princess Celestia suggested, there were three Alicorns present for that conversation, locked away in the privacy of the princess's study. She had to face them alone—whatever she said about the others' true identity as ponies, they wanted to hear from her. That meant her crew could advise members of the castle staff on preparations for their visitor, and whatever force he might bring.

Princess Twilight seemed the most attentive to her conversation. Princess Luna responded with pain to the first mention of the Horn, while Princess Celestia kept herself entirely neutral. But she had to resist the urge, prioritizing only what was most important. She told them about the ancients, and the truth of their origin. She told them about the war, and the machines of their long-dead ancestors that hoped to free them from imprisonment.

She could say little of all the wonderful things she had seen—Vulcan's vast station, stars that birthed the metal for new ships, knowledge of magic far deeper than any in Equestria had ever imagined.

For now, she only hinted of the station's offer to allow ponies to live there. She would need to share that in time and try to persuade them as energetically as she could. But at that moment, it could wait. Equestria had to survive before it could inherit anything.

Finally, she told them about the fleet waiting in orbit, and the way they'd attacked as soon as her ships arrived. About the emperor, who claimed to be protecting a primitive world from whatever evil would take relic ships and turn them into weapons against the helpless.

"I convinced him to stop fighting," she finished, after about an hour of hurried explanations. "He seemed terrified of the ships but was willing to negotiate if we could find a neutral place. Since this was all about Equestria anyway... I figured you would do way better with diplomacy than I ever could."

She closed her notes with a little tap of her magic, finally looking away from the assembled Alicorns.

They'd done it—crossed the universe, made it home. Now all that remained was Celestia's judgment. Or the emperor's, if Computer was right.

For a long time, nopony spoke. Part of Lyra wondered if the Alicorns were silently speaking to each other, much as she could do with Computer. But whatever magic they used; Lyra had no hope of sensing it.

"The immortal machine warned you that this emperor would not act in good faith. It believed you could triumph in martial contest, securing safety for the Equestrian system. Yet you refused, why?"

Of course, the first question was the one she least knew how to answer. Any of the new information she had learned, any technical problem she solved—that was easy. Why couldn't they ask about that?

"Many griffons would die, even if we won. And I don't think the emperor wants to hurt any pony down here. He had months while we ran repairs, and never fired a shot. Besides, it... didn't feel like a very pony thing to do."

Princess Twilight nodded. "There's a lot to take in from all that. I'm sure we'll be spending hours going over the specifics. I look forward to seeing the inside of that... starship. But that's probably not the most important thing for us to worry about."

Lyra nodded. "The emperor’s ship is in orbit above us now. It looks like a landing craft is coming out from inside. Computer says that it's... found a landing spot in the castle courtyard."

Princess Twilight's eyebrow went up. "The machine told you that? How?"

Lyra tapped her forehead with one hoof. "Something about being captain. There's this device I'm wearing all the time, called the... Captain's Mantle. It communicates with the ship, tells me how it's doing, and anything else the computer wants to tell me." Mostly how upset it was with this whole course of action.

The longer they waited without dying under the emperor's bombardment, the less outwardly antagonistic it became. But it couldn't say a word without another warning about the emperor's lies. What happens if this actually works? Will you admit you were wrong?

The machine gave her no answer.

"We must secure peace," Princess Celestia said. "Equestria has lived in obscurity for many lifetimes without drawing the ire of this Republic. We will make whatever concession is required to preserve it. We cannot allow this threat to disrupt the lives of our ponies. We do not need these... ships, only their understanding."

"Princess..." Twilight began. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. If what we just learned is all true—there's more out there. More than one planet. She says we're not even from here—maybe ponies would like to know that! We could go out there and see it for ourselves, bring back everything we learn."

"And there is something to be said for security." Princess Luna stood up, pacing slowly to the window. Her horn glowed, and the curtains lifted aside. High above, a dark shape appeared, growing larger by the second. "If we yield these tools, we necessarily surrender to the whims of this and all future emperors, and any other creature that comes to power. I am reluctant to accept total surrender."

Princess Celestia raised a hoof. "There is much to discuss, and little time. We require a united front... perhaps our intrepid captain would make a suggestion? Her expedition is responsible for these events, and she has seen more of the world outside Equestria than any living pony."

Lyra had expected this question of course. Even if they didn't care what she thought, having so little time to decide meant much less to devise their own plans.

"Everything I've seen—it feels like we belong up there. We're the last survivors of an ancient race. Our ancestors tried a war, and that didn't work—they're all gone. Now it's our turn to try something new. I don't think we can give up the sky. We need our own ships for the universe to treat us like equals. If our ancestors left us the tools, we should use them."

There was some discussion after that. Not all the Alicorns agreed. Princess Luna seemed to want to fight these intruders out of the system, while Celestia wanted total surrender. Her own position was right in the middle—and fortunately, Twilight agreed.

They didn't ask her to justify much more. Lyra sat quietly as the rulers of Equestria decided in a few minutes how they would respond to a deadly enemy already on their way down.

The specifics of their plan were largely lost on her. Lyra could talk someone out of a fight, but that wasn't that same as drawing up international treaties. All these months she'd spent fearing she was the only hope of salvation for Equestria, but finally that weight could be lifted.

"You will need to be there for the initial meeting," Princess Celestia said, about an hour later. "And remain close, in case we have further questions. But this emperor will probably respond better to another monarch. If he is anything like the griffons we know, I believe we will find an accord."

"Assuming that vessel does not open to disgorge marines into the city and slaughter all they see," Computer said silently to her. "Your species has not survived across the vast expanse of time because they are tolerant of such risks. Yet in this case, the danger you face is not distributed across a vast empire. If this planet dies, the human legacy goes with it. The universe will contain only barbarians and monsters until the end of time."

Maybe Computer was right. The risk was certainly there. "Their old war doesn't have to live in us," she thought back. "Maybe we come from humans, but we don't have to think exactly like they did. We don't have to live like they did, either."

Then they were in the courtyard. Lyra's friends would watch from the windows—in the unlikely event this worked, they could introduce the Griffon Emperor to facts more gradually. Humans were their ancient terrors—but ponies were something else. Entertaining enough to make media based on them and visit the planet as tourists once.

The griffon ship looked nothing like the Horn of Celestia. It came down like a block of rusty metal, scorching the castle gardens with flames from its landing jets. Chunks of it were missing, or else had been patched by awkward welding across the gaps. A bright black and yellow flag was sprayed into the metal across most of it, repeated on many of its ports and other openings.

Did they fly a bomb down on us? What kind of emperor would use a ship like that?

Then the ramp opened. Lyra wasn't instantly vaporized or trampled in a charge of thousands of marines. Instead, a small party emerged—a half-dozen guards in metal armor, flanking a few smaller figures. In the center of the group was the bird Lyra had first seen—the emperor, with gold on his jacket instead of silver.

They descended together, smelling of flame and lubricant. The guards had real weapons, not pony spears and crossbows—but even these were mismatched and haphazard, no two quite alike.

"His highness Emperor Grant Septimus Aurelius, the Magnificent Sovereign of the Divine Griffon Republic, Protector of the Thousand Systems, Guardian of the Eternal Light, Supreme Commander of the Celestial Legions, Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom, High Overseer of the Frontier Realms, and Last Scion of the Aurelian Dynasty," said a bird from inside. "All will give honor to the emperor of the universe."

Princess Celestia gestured, and her guards bowed. Lyra joined them—but the princesses did not, looking on with simple confidence.

"Enough of that, Cecil," said the emperor, shoving his way past the guards. Even in his regal finest, he was barely a head taller than Lyra. She'd known plenty of Equestrian griffons that grew bigger than him. Yet they were the same species. These birds had all the staples, same beak, same feathers. "If this is the part where your army waiting in ambush emerges to take me captive, get on with it."

He looked around, eyes scanning the high castle walls. There were plenty of guards around—every royal guard in the castle was out there somewhere. But none emerged to attack.

Princess Celestia chuckled politely, taking one small step forward. "I believe we considered you would try something similar. An overwhelming assault against the palace, while we waited to speak in peace. We have no threat waiting to strike you down, Emperor."

"Except her." He nodded towards Lyra. "An admiral with a fleet of functional relic ships. Minutes of engagement inflicted significant damage on my fleet. You could order them to return to the field while we spoke."

Lyra joined the line. "I think we've both had enough death over the years, Emperor. The only way to end it is if we both stop killing each other."

"Both?" He watched her come with surprising confidence. However humble his retinue, this bird could still behave with dignity. Maybe he was a real emperor after all. "We've never been to war with this planet. We didn't even know you realized we were here. I suspect my predecessors did not know you as well as they thought."

Computer said nothing then—but she felt its emotions anyway. It was utterly dumbfounded, followed seconds later by intense skepticism.

"Why now?" Lyra asked. Maybe she was stepping out of line—but if she didn't say anything, the computer might explode her head. "The Republic wasn't eager to negotiate in the past."

"My empire crumbles around me, Equestrians. But I see abundance before me. Your wisdom may exceed my own." He sighed, extending one claw towards the princess. "The ancients made us both. Perhaps there is some bond shared in that kinship."

"Perhaps," Celestia said. "Please come inside, Emperor. I'm certain we can find some arrangement to the mutual benefit of all."

Epilogue

Lyra waited outside the council chambers while the affairs of empires were decided. She heard some of it through the doors—raised voices, arguments over things she didn't quite understand, and impassioned pleas from ponies and griffons alike. A few times Twilight or Luna emerged for a brief conversation, or to ask her the meaning of some term. She had to explain why the “Sylphgate” was so important, and why the ancestors’ technology could not be used by griffons.

While she sat, members of the other delegation waited on the opposite side of the room. For the first few hours the Royal Guards and griffon soldiers watched each other with hostility and skepticism. But then somepony arrived with dinner, and they gave up. The birds were evidently as hungry as they were dirty.

Lyra was there when the birds left that night—and there again in the morning when the emperor returned with a larger delegation. She was there the next week, when unicorns pushing versions of a paper treaty duplicated by magic hurried out of the room, taking several copies out to the emperor's starship, while others went to be dispersed into Equestria.

No army ever came—no bombardment, no illness sweeping across the nation and slaughtering all it touched. Eventually, even Computer had to admit what was already obvious to Lyra: the birds were telling the truth.

"It has been many thousands of years," it said, when the emperor finally walked away from his ship, and it ascended into the air again. "After all this time—they've been compelled to change. Defeated by an enemy, perhaps. Or crushed by a plague. The Republic of my records would never negotiate in good faith, and never surrender."

"Is it a long-term deception? Could they be trying to steal the secrets of human technology over generations? Until they don't need us anymore?"

The computer said nothing for a time, as though deep in thought. Finally it answered, with far less confidence than any of its previous pronouncements. "It is possible. But the barbarians have never been very cunning. They cannot conceal their emotions for long. Their soldiers would betray this truth long before the first shot was fired."

Of course, nopony asked for her approval before the treaty was signed. She didn't even see it for a few more days, when she finally returned to the Horn of Celestia with her “crew.” One way or another, they all seemed eager to get back. Maybe it was the way they looked—being twice as tall as everypony else made them stand out.

For their benefit, Lyra let Computer make her look like she used to—two legs, two arms, and short mint hair. Besides, the uniforms weren't meant for ponies—they didn't really fit her old self.

"Got a copy of what they signed," Bon Bon said, settling it down onto the table beside them. "I'm sure they'll talk to you about it soon. We're in it." She pushed it over to her. "Unless you already know what's in here."

Lyra shrugged. "I made some suggestions before they started—but that's all. Did you read it?"

Bon Bon made a face. "That's what I'm known for—reading fifty pages of legalese. Nothing I love more."

Lyra took the block of heavy pages, flicking through it with one careful hand. It would take her hours to study it, maybe longer—but maybe she didn't have to. "Computer, can you give me the highlights?"

"View each page, I can perform an analysis," it said. "Yet I can already make some statement with confidence. That this document exists at all betrays an accomplishment seldom equaled by your kind. The Republic rarely indulged in any form of contact with other nations that did not end with those creatures either dead or enslaved. Yet you were not ordered to relinquish this ship. A testament to the skill of your princesses, or the emperor's desperation."

"Everything falls apart," Time Turner said. He spoke quietly, prodding at his food with a fork while Lyra flipped through pages of the treaty. "Once an evil empire, now it's crumbling at the edges. Perhaps time makes them more willing to be friendly. What does the treaty say?"

Lyra finally reached the end. She pushed it back, folding her arms in front of her. "Whatever it is, Equestria will tell us soon. I've got a meeting scheduled in the castle tomorrow morning—then we're all expected at the Royal Exploration Society that afternoon. It must not be too grim."

"Grim..." Computer finally said. "Is not the word I would choose for this document. Mad, perhaps. Insane. Stepped completely beyond the boundary of reason."

"That's not what I know about the princesses," Muffins said. "They're smart. Wise. Older than any pony in Equestria. They know what they're doing."

"They've agreed to... a settlement of griffons on your planet," the computer said. "You will provide housing and resources to members of the fleet whose ships were damaged in the battle, numbering at least a million souls. A million of them, across your planet. Some in their own cities, the injured and sick in Equestria."

We did blow them up, Lyra thought. Across the whole planet, a million creatures was not very many. Yet it would mean many cities receiving thousands of refugees. Some might have more. "Why here?" she asked. "Doesn't he have a whole empire?"

"No, apparently," Computer said. "He's named here as "Emperor Grant Septimus Aurelius, ruling in exile. They've lost their homeworld... not sure about the rest. The treaty almost makes it sound like they were here... hiding from something. That fleet was everything they had left. At least, that's what they told Equestria. Seems absurd on its face—yet we did face only three ships at the homeworld. I shudder to speculate what could cause this, if it is true. But the treaty does not say."

They sat together in silence for a few minutes. No one had much of an appetite anymore, or even touched their food.

"Do we lose anything?" Bon Bon finally asked. "They get to put people here. A million creatures. We help feed and care for them. What's the rest of that document about?"

Computer laughed. "If you speculate the remainder of this document could get more insane, then you are correct. Equestria agrees to... contribute technical expertise and equipment to restore failing infrastructure aboard their ships. In time, to allow various settlements in the asteroid belt and on the surface of your moon. You will allow citizens to emigrate here, and to join the crews of your ships and any colonies you establish elsewhere in the galaxy. In exchange, the griffons will... grant you safe passage through any Sylphgate they control, and grant the independence of your ships. You will agree not to build a greater navy, except in cooperation with the empire against 'external threats.'"

"That doesn't seem so bad," Muffins said. "If ponies want to get on ships and fly around—or go live on Vulcan, we can. We can explore like we wanted."

"With the enemy living on your ships. With their families on your colonies. Barbarian agents on every world. Captain, this treaty does not require Equestria to swear fealty to the emperor. But some of these provisions—no expanding your navy, no colonies without a chance to settle their citizens there—all this guarantees they could turn on you if they wished. They will know your every world, they will have eyes on your ships. You will be separate nations in name only. In time, they'll bring you into subjugation to barbarian authority."

"Or maybe not," Lyra argued. "Maybe the emperor was trying to go the opposite way—get his people out of a failing nation, and into Equestria. Kinda sounds like he thinks we're already an advanced society. Like we're another space empire, instead of one little planet."

"You are," Computer said flatly. "Perhaps dispossessed—but not for long. Look at this room. You will adapt quickly, even if you prefer to retain the modified templates of Equus. Compared to the size of the great empire, your population is small. But much of that information appears out of date. The emperor's ship departs, soon the first wave of refugees will arrive. Vulcan won't like this either."

Lyra leaned to the side, taking her marefriend's soft fingers in hers. "The station will have to adapt. Equestria was never going to go to war if we didn't have to. Nopony else has to get hurt for us to win."

The terms of the treaty weren't exactly easy. Both sides would have to sacrifice. But if they could keep their word, maybe Equestria wouldn't suffer the same fate as their ancestors.

This was their second chance. Now Lyra and her marefriend got to be part of it.

"I hope you'll all stay," she said, when Computer finally finished explaining it all. "On the ship, I mean. I'm sure Equestria will send more ponies. Princess Twilight will probably want to meet Vulcan, maybe with a whole research team. And there's probably all kinds of other dangers out there."

Time Turner looked sideways at Muffins, then grinned. "I wouldn't mind a bit of shore leave here at home. I've penned a lecture series about our adventures I'd like to share at all the important institutions. But after, perhaps... I wouldn't mind another adventure."

"Yeah," Muffins said. "But I want to get Dinky Do. She's been away from us long enough. I hope she still recognizes me..."

"If you go, I go," Bon Bon said. "I don't care how careful you are—you're going to get yourself in trouble again. Somepony will have to be there to get you out. That, and I'm reasonably certain I'm fired."

Lyra gasped. "Why would they do that? You got us back, helped keep Equestria safe... what more could they want?"

She released Lyra's hand, then stood. "We're safe, yes. But in a way, I couldn't protect the world. Equestria as we knew it is over, Heartstrings. Maybe that's not a bad thing... but it's still my fault."

Lyra hurried to her, and leaned in close for a kiss. "They don't know what they're missing," she whispered. "SMILE doesn't deserve you anyway."

Prologue

Lyra Heartstrings had worked her whole life to stand before this tower.

It had many names—the Horn of Celestia, the Dreaming Door, the Pillar of Winter, and strangest of all Windigos’ Bane. But for all its ancient names, an archeologist like Lyra knew it as something else: the oldest intact ruin in all of Equestria.

Or almost. To call it “in Equestria” was true only in the historical sense, given that the Crystal Empire’s territory had once extended so far north it almost reached the sea. Where once a land made fertile with the magic of the Crystal Heart had been, now there was only a windswept wasteland, so cold that their airship had nearly dropped from the air more than once during the trip over. If anything happened to the gasbag, Lyra wasn’t sure they would survive long enough to be rescued.

But none of that mattered—not the terrible weather, not the veritable hordes of bureaucrats she’d defeated by the might of pen and typewriter. They had arrived.

Equestria was a land of tall towers, but the Horn of Celestia certainly would’ve been a contender for the title if ponies still lived here. From where the Solaris had settled near a ridge overlooking the area, she could see the broken remains of an ancient settlement surrounding the tower, though much of it had been buried with snow and only the occasional tile roof was visible.

But the tower rose above it all, a tapering cylinder without windows or balconies stretching almost high enough for a pegasus to walk out of its roof and onto a cloud house, had there been any. Of course, their expedition had only the one pegasus, and she was more likely to go tumbling off the tower than jump gracefully onto any clouds.

“That’s good, Muffins.” Bon Bon was the one really doing the work back there, tying down the Solaris with ropes thicker than Lyra’s legs, down into pegs that she drove deep into the stone. Out here beyond the reach of any Equestrian weather team, they couldn’t just ask for clear weather for important historical research. They had to hunker down and cross their hooves that they wouldn’t be blown right out of existence. “Just… yeah, leave it right there. No, don’t pull it! Good, now freeze in place. Pretend a bee just landed on your nose.”

The gray pegasus didn’t wear nearly as many layers as the rest of them, thanks to her natural feathery insulation. Lyra pulled her own jacket tighter, letting the soft wool warm her as best it could. It would be dark in another hour or so—probably too soon to make the trip down. Maybe if they all had wings, but… the chance of damage to the tower was too high.

“Are we secure?”

Bon Bon turned, wincing slightly at being interrupted. “Almost! Another few minutes… Muffins and I have it almost taken care of.”

“Good.” Lyra slid past the mare closer than she had to on her way to the stairs—but Muffins wouldn’t notice, and wouldn’t care. “Get back inside as soon as you’re finished, alright? I don’t think we’ll get to investigate tonight.”

“Don’t get too cold without me.” But then she turned. “Wait, no! Muffins, there wasn’t really a bee! Nothing stung you!” The rope slid upward, and probably would’ve yanked free of the gasbag. Except that Lyra gripped it with her magic, pulling as hard as she could. Her legs strained under the force, and she settled the rope into place around the hook, tying it off with a tangled mess of knot.

“You’re a lifesaver, sweetie.”

“Technically that’s your job…” But she didn’t stay to argue.

The Solaris had no proper dock, just cables and pegs to hold it down as securely as they could. They were using the loading ramp as their exit, since most Equestrian ships were meant to be boarded from the top. But that didn’t matter—since the Solaris didn’t have much cargo, they could wrap the room in insulation to try and hold some of their heat in.

Even once she’d passed through the doors and the hanging blankets, Lyra could still see her breath fogging in the air in front of her. Iron grates spaced along the floor carried hot air with them—the finest Equestrian engineering could build. Still only barely equal to the challenge of this desolate place.

Lyra marched straight to the engine room, and was unsurprised to see a tan earth pony hard at work, wearing only an apron and shoveling coal into the boiler. She went from shivering to sweating in a matter of seconds, and she pulled back her hood. “Doc, you busy?”

The stallion turned, flipping up the goggles over his eyes and kicking the boiler door closed. “Right now? No. How are things looking out there?”

“Tower’s intact,” Lyra answered, voice betraying a little of her wonder and surprise. “Ancient metal, out here all this time without rusting. How is that possible?”

“Some metals don’t rust,” Time Turner answered. The engine room had a single machining bench, with a variety of tools large and small they might use to fix things when they broke. The stallion settled a tiny gold watch down beside a hammer. “Could be gold. Or aluminium”

Lyra hesitated. “Does it… bother you… that ancient ponies were such skilled engineers that they could build things we still don’t understand today?”

Time Turner laughed. “No, but it should bother the other clockmakers. When we make it back, I’m going to have their designs before anypony else. The only shameful thing would be leaving ourselves ignorant even longer. No, there are secrets in that tower, and I can’t wait to help get them out again. Which… I’m assuming we won’t be doing tonight.”

“Not unless we want to do it in the dark. I thought about it, but… there’s something strange. There aren’t any trees around the tower, and there are some… shapes in the snow. I’m worried there might be… I know it sounds stupid, but… traps. Maybe the old ponies didn’t want their tower to be discovered.”

Time Turner only shrugged. “They were at war with each other, weren’t they? That was the whole point of coming to Equestria. It was a new, peaceful start. Maybe ponies were different in the old days. Daring Do’s books certainly suggest they were, with the way all those old temples end up shooting spikes, or collapsing, or sending boulders rolling after her.”

That was about the moment their other two expedition members arrived—Muffins with her mane half-drowning in snow somehow, which she was now tracking through the halls of their wooden airship. And Bon Bon just behind her, still clutching the mallet she’d used to drive in their anchoring spikes.

“We did it…” Muffins declared, obviously proud. “But I don’t really understand what we did.”

“Excellent!” Time Turner was perhaps the only pony in the world who didn’t seem to notice Muffins’s… unique talents. “Now we should be safe through the night—that’s what you’ve just done, tie us down so the winds won’t be able to send us away. These ancient ponies sure did pick a… bleak place to set down roots.”

Lyra guessed it was because of some kind of relationship between them, though she’d never seen anything to confirm it. If anything she pitied someone who had to somehow communicate attraction to a pegasus like her.

“It’s possible it wasn’t as hostile when it was built,” Lyra suggested. “They were coming here to escape the Windigos, after all.”

“Or… maybe they picked it because it would be hard for their children to return to.” Bon Bon paced right past them, back out the door and across the hall into the sitting room. There Lyra had collected all the expedition’s notes on the subject of the Horn of Celestia, pinning it up on the walls and connecting related items with string. Bon Bon hadn’t approved of how “crazy” the room looked, but she couldn’t deny how useful it was as a mind-mapping tool.

Lyra could tell the others were following, which didn’t surprise her much. Muffins wanted to be wherever ponies were doing things, so she could lend a hoof. And Time Turner was as interested in the tower as she was. Technically, Bon Bon was the only one who didn’t have a choice about joining the expedition, though she’d been attached for so long Lyra doubted she felt forced. Her best friend could’ve requested another assignment years ago, rather than shadowing an eccentric antiquarian like herself.

“This one, here. Witness of Flash Magnus.” She pointed at the sketch, along with its ancient inscription. There was a translation from ancient Ponish in Lyra’s own writing, scrawled onto a scrap of paper beside it. “And all who flew too near to the Spire fell from the air, their cries silent as they died. Neither pegasus nor mighty earth pony dared cross its enchantment.” Bon Bon stopped reading. “I think there’s a protection spell on it—a spell we’ll have to break.”

“That sounds… frightening,” Time Turner said from the doorway. “Magic that caused pegasi to fall from the sky—can you devise a counter spell to something so dark, Heartstrings?”

She couldn’t, though it felt like an inopportune thing to admit. She only glanced sidelong at Bon Bon, counting on her friend to have the solution. They’d already known what was waiting for them here—she’d said she could get them inside.

“I did a bit of reading in the archives before our trip,” she said. “It happens that all records of spells like that require the boundary be marked—a circle in the stone, for example. A more powerful spell will probably require metal. Once we find it, we just need a unicorn to break it, using her magic on objects already inside. Pony protection spells were never meant to be used against other ponies, so the barrier will be defenseless.”

“Break a circle,” Lyra said, relaxing. “With magic. No problem.” That was really just levitation, which was almost as far as her magic would go. There was no time to master complex spells when her world was overflowing with history ponies had no ideas about.

And the oldest of it all was here, protected in a magical tower ponies had not set hoof in since the Windigos had been defeated in ancient times.

“Why is the tower so important again?” Muffins asked, walking right up beside Lyra and staring at the sketch. It was one of the more gruesome records of this place, since it showed pegasi falling to their deaths as they flew overhead—but Muffins either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “We came out so far. I think the Crystal Empire has a taller tower than this.”

“It does,” Lyra admitted. “But there are already ponies digging up all the old magic in the Empire. This is even older—a thousand years older at least.”

“There’s magic in there?”

“Yes, Muffins,” Time Turner supplied. “Legend says this tower is all that’s left of a once great fortress, taken by the Windigos and swallowed by the ice. It was here that our ancestors came, before they were united into Equestria. Here they gave up all their most powerful magic. They had fought for so long that they knew Equestria was doomed, unless they left all their greatest powers behind.”

“Then…” She retreated from the wall, wandering towards the shelves full of books. The pegasus didn’t seem able to read their titles, though it was hard to be sure with her eyes. “Shouldn’t we leave it here? That seems like… maybe they knew best.”

“Equestria’s tribes are united now,” Bon Bon said, a little exasperated. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “We don’t fight anymore. But attacks from outside are always a threat. After the Storm King, Celestia has started sponsoring all sorts of… expeditions. To dig up old powers and bring them back. Whatever is in that tower… we won’t use it to fight each other anymore. We’ll use it to keep Equestria safe.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Muffins trailed off. “I’m hungry. I’ll make dinner.”

“I’ll help you.” Time Turner followed behind her, down the quiet halls towards the mess.

I hope you’re wrong, Muffins, Lyra thought, watching them go. It was hard to think that ponies who could build a whole tower out of metal wouldn’t know what they were doing, but… that was a bias. The ancients hadn’t been any smarter than ponies today, just more powerful. And tomorrow, we’ll get inside, and bring all their powers back.

Chapter 6

Lyra was frozen in her seat, utterly motionless in a timeless space. She could see nothing with her eyes, not feel the chair she was sitting in—but it wasn’t sensory deprivation.

The process proceeded in a series of rhythmic pauses and starts, freezing her in darkness for time she couldn’t measure before returning her to the bridge surrounded by stars and her confused friends.

Could they even feel it? Bon Bon was standing beside her, and she was speaking. But her words seemed to come an infinity apart. “I… really… think… you… should… try… to… pressure… Computer…”

She tried to catch a glimpse of Time Turner and Muffins. The pegasus had noticed as little of what was going on as Bon Bon. But Time Turner. His mouth hung open, eyes unfocused. Maybe he was seeing something like what she was, located just beyond the furthermost edge of the ship.

As the Equestria passed along its strange course, her mind grew increasingly unfocused to the changes in position. Her head stopped pounding, and the glimpse outside during each moment in real space was no longer empty blackness.

She “saw” her friends in that space, though not as ponies. They were clusters of… order, surrounded by a diffuse sea of evenly distributed chaos. The Equestria itself made ripples in that sea, then submerged under its surface and returned to the real world.

“…to be more reasonable with its demands,” Bon Bon continued, this time without interruption. “It can’t fly without ponies to crew it, we know that. We’re really the ones with the power here. We could demand it return to Equestria and promise it a qualified crew when we get there. Wouldn’t that be fair?”

The stars visible from just outside the window shifted and twisted as they had during each jump. But this time the change was more than just surface level—this time the changes were distinct enough that even her companions noticed.

“Great trot.” Time Turner spun to stare at the front of the bridge, and the massive dark spot that obscured most of the sky. It was like standing at the base of the vastest possible mountain but extending in both directions. But not a solid wall, because it was actually made of thousands of pieces floating out there, each one ten thousand times the size of Canterlot. And in the center was a star, though it wasn’t much bigger than it would’ve been in the sky down on Equus.

“Celestia preserve us.” Sweetie dropped to the floor, eyes going wide. “What is…”

“Transit report: arrival at Sector 0: 0 mark 0 after 38 seconds and transit entropy of 8%. I’m getting a signal from the Conflux now. Will update when it has been parsed.”

“Is it broken?” Muffins asked. “There are so many pieces.”

“No,” Computer answered. “At the time of its construction, no material sufficiently durable to construct a Dyson sphere had been discovered. The Conflux was constructed from a number of segments, which collectively harvest much of the star’s output. The majority of the segments you see are reflectors made of foil thinner than your skin. Only the occupied sections are larger.”

“We’re going to talk to the ones who built this?” Lyra asked. “That’s why we’re here?”

“No,” Computer answered, without emotion. “They’re long gone. We can, however, communicate with the system they left behind. Or… I’m trying.” Now there was anger in its voice, more than there had been after anything they had said or done. “Curious. The Conflux is in an isolated maintenance loop. Communication with external systems is… This is stupid. One moment.” Computer went quiet.

Lyra finally rose from her chair, walking a little closer to the screen and squinting forward at the star concealed in a thin sphere vaster than her mind could contemplate.

“Are these the ponies you want to upset, Sweetie Drops? Do you really think Equestria could benefit from… anything other than friendship with them?”

Bon Bon ground her teeth together, finally looking away from the projection of what was outside. “I’d be happier about being friends with them if they hadn’t”—she pointed back at Lyra—“done that. Transformation magic is inconsiderate, maybe illegal.”

“I would’ve volunteered,” Time Turner said. “If this was the reward.” He turned towards the elevator. “Muffins, would you be willing to accompany me downstairs? I think I’d like to procure our cameras for immediate use.”

“Sure!” she said, beaming at him. “I like taking pictures.” They left; the metal door hissed closed behind them. Leaving Lyra and Sweetie alone again.

For a few moments, there was silence, letting Lyra contemplate the image in front of her. There was something out there in the void, a speck of green that she’d first thought was a star.

But no, stars didn’t come in that color. She reached out, almost like she could pluck it from the screen—and the screen panned, zooming in on the speck until it filled the space in front of them.

It was a planet, like she’d thought. It had its own cloud surrounding it, a cloud of uneven looking chunks that rotated around it in ways much less purposeful than the star. But there was bright green down there, and crisp blue oceans, and comfortable white clouds.

Text in Old Ponish appeared beside it.

Earth (Sol 3)
5.972 x 10^24kg
Atmosphere: 78% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen, 1% Trace Gasses
Population: 1.78 Trillion
ERROR. READINGS INCONSISTENT WITH PROJECTIONS

Reconcile with active scan?
Yes No

“Does this feel…” Sweetie began, whispering quietly beside her. “Does any of this feel real to you? It’s like… I expect to wake up back in Equestria at any moment, back in our cabin. We can’t have gone this far, really. Another star? It’s not possible.”

“Then what are we looking at?”

She hesitated. “Some kind of… illusion? Recording? I’ve seen advanced illusion magic before. I bet an Alicorn-level caster could make a spell like this.”

“Okay, but why?” Lyra pressed. “Why transform me into…” She held out one of her body’s strange hands, flexing its delicate fingers one at a time. The sensation still confused and amused her each time she tried it. “Why this? And magical elevators, and lights, and a talking building, and—” She shook her head. “In archeology, we have a principle of least assumptions. Eventually we pass the point where this is all a clever ruse and it makes more sense to just be what it says it is.”

“For me that doesn’t happen until I have my hooves on the ground again,” Bon Bon said, eyes fixing on the sphere in front of them. “There, maybe? I’ll know Equus when we go back to it. I’d know it if we landed somewhere else instead.”

“Well you’re in luck,” Computer interrupted. Despite its silence during their conversation thus far, it had apparently been listening to every word. “I managed to extract some information from the Conflux, though it wasn’t easy. I’m afraid it isn’t good, Captain.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, turning slightly. She kept expecting Computer to be standing behind her. It talked so much like a pony, though it wasn’t ‘real.’ “I thought all we had to do was visit the homeworld, then we could go home with the answers we wanted. This is the homeworld, isn’t it?”

“Well…” Computer trailed off. “Technically our responsibility was to report to the Conflux. But it’s in safety lockdown and refuses to take my report. We’ll have to deliver it manually at one of the external nodes. But don’t worry, one of them is in-system!”

The image panned out again, until it showed the vast wall of interlocking plates, all orbiting past each other in their slow dance. Lyra felt a slight movement through her strange feet, and suddenly the little planet was at the center of their screen.

“Earth itself has one. I’m getting a green response, even if the rest of the planet isn’t… great.”

Lyra barely even felt the acceleration pushing them forward, but she could tell they were moving. At some vast speed, based on how quickly the screen planet was growing in front of them. Hundreds of times faster than the rainbow barrier.

“There’s a hole in your star-container,” Bon Bon said, glancing to the left. “Did you break it?”

Lyra hadn’t even seen it, but she followed her eyes, and sure enough. The layers always seemed to drift apart when they got close to the planet, closing in again as soon as they were past it. As they got closer, the Equestria flew into that corridor, and the screen was briefly washed out with concentrated energy.

“No,” Computer said, returning to its usual neutral tone. “Those living on the Earth enjoyed sunshine rather than freezing to death. Unfortunately it appears the number living there is…” It sighed, almost exactly as a pony would. “I was hoping it would have been recolonized by now. Engaging defensive systems. Debris cloud in fifteen seconds.”

The lights all around them went suddenly red, and Lyra took a moment for her eyes to adjust. None of what Computer had just said made sense, except for one central fact. “Will you take us home now, Computer?”

“I can,” it said. “As soon as you deliver the report on your planet. I am taking us down for a landing. Still searching for viable path to the node.”

Bon Bon stared out at the approaching wall of metal. Not large pieces like the ones around the star, these were more like sparkles in the dark. Sparkles with jagged edges, spinning in wild, disorderly paths. “Sooner or later we have to decide to tell it no, Heartstrings.”

“Do we?” she asked. “I mean…”

The ship started to shake. A faint bubble appeared outside it, invisible until objects struck up against it. Each one was a silent explosion, deforming it slightly and expanding in a cloud of smaller debris. From somewhere far below them, Lyra heard a faint whining. “Impact compensators at 30%… 50%… 70%…”

Something huge struck into their left side, and this time Lyra was nearly knocked off her feet. She stumbled to the side, catching herself on Bon Bon’s sturdy frame before she could go down completely. The pony with all four legs on the ground was able to keep her footing just fine, to Lyra’s envy.

“We’re through!” The bubble vanished from around them, blue sky appeared below them. There was no distinct boundary, just blackness around that transitioned steadily to blue. As they got closer, bright orange appeared below, outlining the same bubble that had been visible before. “Landing site detected. Approach vector locked in.”

Bon Bon turned; one eyebrow raised.

Lyra blushed, realizing she was still clinging to her friend. She stood up, hastily brushing her uniform straight again. “Right, right. We’re okay. All we have to do is deliver a report for you, Computer? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” it responded. Outside, the blur of green resolved into a distinct continent, overcome with what looked like a single massive jungle. “I can get you down onto the ground less than two kilometers from the entrance.”

“But when we’re finished, you change her back?” Bon Bon demanded. “No more shifting the goal every time we do something.”

“Not until you acquire a replacement captain. I can see that you are unhappy about your current physical differences, crewman. I could alter you as well. Then you and the captain would not be so different anymore.”

Bon Bon’s ears flattened, her tail tucking between her legs. Whatever objections she might’ve had turned into mumbled shame.

The elevator door hissed open, and Time Turner emerged, dragging along a tripod and carrying a camera. Poor Muffins had several tins of film slung over her shoulders, which she could clearly barely lift. “We’re… here…” she squeaked.

“We’re not in space anymore?” Time Turner asked, his voice downcast. “But we were only gone twenty minutes.”

“We’ll be back soon enough,” Lyra said, turning to face him. “How would you like to come with me onto an alien planet?”

“Is that even a question?” He set the camera down on a nearby chair, dropping the tripod completely. “Muffins, forget the video film. We’ll grab the stills from downstairs before we go out.”

She slumped to the floor, metal clattering around her. “Oh.”