You are here... and so am I...
"This is Radio Free Milky Way, coming to you live a few hundred thousand miles above the Karman Line. What about Earth, huh? Love it. Coolest planet in the galaxy. Woo."
Mohs talked to nobody as he flicked through radio channels, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. In hindsight, this was probably his own fault; All those times of screaming something along the lines of 'What is that?' before turning his radio off during spacewalks had been a leading factor in the decision to make his EVA incoming transmissions-only. He wasn't naturally mischievous; he just tended to get bored. The only times they were brought out of Cryo was when something needed to be fixed- or now, at the end of their journey, drifting the final stretch back to the cradle of civilization, his favorite planet in all the colonized universes. It made a crewmate antsy.
Still, this all felt a little mean.
Finally, a crackle of static sounded in his ear.
"Mohs, this is Ursa, come in."
Mohs laughed pathetically. "Uh... Good morning. Are you... at your console?"
"Affirmative. I'm looking now, I can't seem to find you."
"Check my suit's camera."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Mohs?"
Mohs gave a wave to himself, slowly and tediously in the heavy hoof-sleeves. "Yeah, Ursa?"
"Why did you perform a spacewalk without supervision?"
"Well, the tether breaking wasn't part of my plan."
"You're behind us. We've passed you."
"I know. I'm watching you leave."
"We can't turn around. It's a space station."
"It's a ship, technically."
The sigh that came through was deep and crunchy, mutated by the poor audio quality.
"Did you pre-breathe?"
"No ma'am."
"Did you decompress?"
"No ma'am."
"How long did you spend inside the airlock before exiting?"
"About ten minutes. The damage wasn't far. I thought I could fix it in a few minutes and return back." Mohs paused, psyching himself up for the most embarrassing admittance, even in the face of almost certain death. "I also took a lot of painkillers."
"What I'm hearing, Mohs, is that when those painkillers run out, you are very soon about to hallucinate, itch across your entire body, and possibly die in your space suit as a result of the severe pressure change, all while drifting farther and farther away from us."
"Yes ma'am."
A beat.
"And why is this?"
"Because the damage was minimal and near the airlock, we're hours from reaching earth and soon to begin reentry, I didn't have a day to spend prebreathing, I didn't want the ship to rip itself open upon reentry because of one stupid mistake, and the new captain has banned the usage of EVA pods for being, and I quote, 'dorky'."
Mohs liked his EVA pod. It was a cute little thing, with funny little twig arms. He had named it Spitfire.
"I'll inform the captain." The radio sighed.
"I'll try not to kick too much."
The radio fizzled off, and Mohs took in his surroundings.
The space ship Cronus was divided into two sectors, the sphere and the rings. The sphere was the central hub of communications, quarters, and operations; the rings were twin circular discs attached to it by a select few elevators and halls. There were two of them, perpendicular to each other with the sphere in the center like the nucleus of an atom, and they contained very few rooms to traverse them with. Their main purpose was the satellites, arms, God Drive, and transmission discs to maximize ease of living space for the crew in the central sphere. It had been a space station; it had housed the Sunset team, a crew meant to orbit and research a planet many systems away, but their job was considered done. It was time to return to earth, and as long as it had been moving between galaxies, it was now a Spaceship. This had been vehemently debated before.
(The name was a bad joke from one of the central engineers. Cronus was full of Suns.)
Even outside of FTL speeds, as it had just left a few hours prior, it was exceedingly fast, and when the tether broke, Mohs had immediately noticed it passing beneath him, approaching the blue sphere that loomed closer and closer each day.
And so Mohs waited on the inevitable news that his rescue was impossible and the ensuing space funeral with nothing but the view of Earth below. And his non-communication radio.
But they all disappear... From... View...
Four hours til Reentry
Finish your food now
It was at that moment Mohs saw Heinlein's Folly for the first time.
Heinlein's Folly was a pirate ship, as amazing as it was. Two masts bearing vast white sails inflated on a non-existent wind, a powerful bow slicing through the void adorned with a figurehead of a large titted-Diamond Dog, and an anchor dangling behind on a teetering chain, threatening to snap off at any second. It looked almost comical trailing behind Cronus, a spaceship so efficiently designed for the stars, but against all odds it still carried on valiantly towards Earth. And, strangest of all, it clearly carried on by far more than just momentum- judging by the fact that it had appeared out of thin air next to Mohs, very nearly avoiding splicing with Cronus, it must have also been capable of FTL travel, and Mohs suddenly became very interested in the type of spaceman who would install an FTL drive in a pirate ship and somehow, somehow, make it work.
Luckily, he seemed soon to. As the ship soared past him, a golden glow seemed to encompass his drifting body, and he had to squint to make out a pair of bright white orbs buried in the haze of light.
"You seem lost."
"You could say that." Mohs gargled out. "What are you doing?"
"Sitting on a very comfy seat."
"To ME."
"Ah, of course." The orbs blinked, and he realized they were eyes- looking even closer, he could see the violet furred face they were set in. "The space you tread is fragile, this close to an entire station, but I think I can help you out if you stay still."
That wasn't hard; moving was a chore. "Ship. And I didn't know you could tread space."
"It's not much different from water when you get used to it. Don't sneeze- our captain will be pleased to meet you. I suspect a rather severe issue has risen."
The vacuum around Mohs thickened until it threatened to crush him, and with a final push he shooped out of visibility.
Cetus' chambers were a makeshift shrine to her. She sat on her pillows in the center of the room, with several donations made all around her in the form of empty plates that had once been meals brought to her in gratitude, cool rocks pulled off the surfaces of the planets the Folly had visited, and at least one plush cat bought on the road, currently leaning against her as she meditated. Cetus herself was a violet unicorn with sea blue hair, and as she sat vigil, a golden aurora surrounded her head like a lazy mobile. The golden energy drew the shapes of nebula arms and tiny stars that hovered around her. The only thing that seemed to be actively moving was the golden, intricately detailed magical hologram of a koi-fish sized whale that swam around her. Her eyes were milky white lenses, almost pearls resting in sockets, but somehow an outside observer always knew where she was looking.
When Heinlein's Folly skidded to a stop a few hundred thousand miles above the Karman Line, it had been for a reason: In space, it was awfully hard to run into anything without trying. Of course, Cetus certainly tried- she enjoyed looking at planets and macroorganisms as they drifted by- but running into another space ship unintentionally was a surprise made only slightly more likely by the fact that they were near a civilized planet.
The aurora very briefly broke and dissipated as a powerful discharge of magic took up precedence in her horn, only to shimmer back when Cetus relaxed. The next moment, a fully suited astronaut fell to the floor in front of her, with a loud bang and an audible ow. Mohs caught his breath, craning the EVA's helmet to look up at the strangest creature he had seen that week.
"...Hello." Mohs said.
"Hello." Cetus replied simply.
Mohs went to work awkwardly presenting himself, detaching the sleeves over his hooves and using his newfound flexibility to flip up the golden visor from his helmet, revealing the clear plastic underneath. Still unable to rotate, he rolled onto his side to more politely face Cetus as he worked at removing his helmet.
"I really hope this is a rescue." He admitted.
"I can always dump you back out if you're not pleased." Cetus affirmed. "You may call me Cetus. I am the ship's resident Psychic Space Wizard. Welcome aboard Heinlein's Folly."
"Yeah?" The helmet came off and rolled towards Cetus' pillows. "I have a few friends who are unicorns. They're in space, and they can do some spells. Are they also Psychic Space Wizards?"
"They are." Cetus nodded. "However, I'm the psychicest."
"Right." Mohs decided not to argue the point with the magic-maybe-blind girl. Instead, he argued a different point. "It's, uh... a hell of a ship. Why isn't the deck covered? Who goes outside?"
"Who normally goes outside of a spaceship unprotected?"
Mohs wormed out of his EVA's lower half. "Complete lunatics."
"Of course! And Psychic Space Wizards." Cetus added, then to punctuate the point, nodded at the whale orbiting her head. "I'm calling him Lavender. He'll spend the next several centuries looking for a mate. As soon as he reproduces, he'll die. His corpse will promptly be mined."
Mohs spent a good three minutes faltering to come up with a way to respond to that sudden prediction. "Right." He quietly filed that under 'lunatics'. "Well, you're not in the best position right now. If you wanna board our ship and plunder us for gold, it's gonna be hard. If you just want to get to Earth, that's gonna be even harder. Two objects entering the atmosphere and undergoing controlled freefall within a few feet of each other is a recipe for sure disaster."
"I'm the FTL drive, I'm afraid. Navigation isn't my forte, but you could always tell the good folks up front, where the wheel is."
"You use... a wheel? To steer a spaceship? How do you go up?"
"The same way I travel faster than light."
Mohs quirked an eyebrow. "How do you travel faster than light, then?"
"I pick up the ship with magic." Cetus began, sentence trailing off. "...Then I move it."
Mohs waited for more clarification. When he got none, he prodded. "You move it?"
"Very fast." Cetus nodded.
"And what about the crew?"
"They grab something and hold on."
"And that gets you faster than light? With no energy spent?"
Cetus nodded. "Not everybody can do it. It's a taxing maneuver, and requires intimate, intimate connection between your mind and the physics of entire star systems at a time to chart your path and ensure you don't collide with anything." And she smiled. "I've done it five hundred and twelve times in my life. I don't think it's had any severe effects." She sneezed, and her nebula vibrated.
"I think I understand the people I'm among even better now."
"That's good. That's very good." Cetus agreed. "Because you're about to meet one."
The door dilated open. Mohs hadn't even noticed there was a door: the milky eyed mare with the galaxy floating around their head sitting on a pile of pillows was a bit too distracting.
"Hey, Cetus! We're about to touch down, gimme the lottery numbers for tomorrow's-"
The new visitor, a large shaggy yak about twice Mohs' size with a thick green rug over his back imprinted with the shapes of pyramids, froze.
"Are you a space pirate?"
"I'm starting to think they don't exist."
"Then bring out the fine china, friends. We have a guest."
Ursa hovered outside the door to the CIC with sealed lips, mulling over the protocols. Already from inside she could hear arguing, and didn't particularly look forward to the news she was about to deliver. Space deaths tended to be costly, and lowered morale. To make matters worse, the body had long since been left behind. What were they going to do, turn around a spaceship? No matter. Deliver the news, loudly and clearly. Whatever was going on, this trumped it. Fight to be heard.
Ursa repeated a few more mantras to herself, before taking a deep breath, summoning her courage, and enacting the ancient pony tradition of entering dramatically by slamming her head into the door.
"Mohs is-"
"We're on collision course."
Okay, that trumped it.
Captain Horse was two weeks new; He had been sent in during their return to take over for the last stretch of the journey after their previous captain had been eaten by a space dragon, and the fact that he was only intended to chaperone for a few days until they hit Earth was probably the only reason they had agreed to him.
Perhaps Captain Horse was a good leader. Perhaps he made tactical decisions that kept them all safe in times of turmoil, if such times existed beyond arguments about stolen lunches. Perhaps he was the smartest, most capable captain on all the force.
But he knew nothing about space travel, and 90% of all conversations with him involved someone explaining something to him.
"We're on route for another spaceship, we begin reentry in a matter of hours, and as if that wasn't enough, the ship is facing the wrong way." Captain Horse growled, first to nobody in particular, then directing his vitriol at one of the navigators.
"It's been facing the wrong way for months now. It has to face the wrong way. There's no friction out here, so halfway through the trip back we need to turn it around and apply near equal force going the other way so we don't slam into Earth at full speed." The navigator informed, graciously omitting 'You Rear Echelon Motherfucker' from his explanation.
"Why 'near' equal force?"
"Because if it were equal force, we'd come to a stop."
"And what about that last bit of speed when we're coming in?"
"We use it to keep any parts from burning up in reentry."
"Why can't we burn up in reentry?"
The navigator stared at him for a very long time.
What the rest of the meeting room held could barely be called a meeting- the tactical suggestion had been made by one of their own to hold them in the Combat Information Center, citing its expansive space and fancy tables and chairs. Captain Horse had lauded this as one of their best suggestions, and so had the crew, for a different reason- freedom to move around the CIC meant they could keep doing most of their work while the Captain kept blabbering. The party who suggested it received many, many second helpings in the following weeks.
"Mohs is-" Ursa began again.
"Whatever!" The Captain blew off. "This close to home, we can't share our airspace!"
"There are no airspaces, Captain." Someone informed from across the room. "Because... the planets move."
"This close to home, we can't share my personal bubble! Who are these people? CSP? Mars? Some miners?"
"Their ship isn't designated, captain. Only named. Heinlein's Folly."
"Stop swearing and show me the camera feed."
Cameras outside along the rings of the ship pivoted with mechanical whirs, and their feeds were lined up and matched as needed to provide a mostly-wholly-complete view of the outside, ran back to the CIC and projected onto a flat screen.
There was silence.
"What in Celestia's green fields of space is that?" The Captain finally boldly broke the silence.
"It would appear to be our problem." Ursa sighed, giving up and taking her usual seat. "And for the record, Mohs is dead."
"Who's Mohs?"
Three Hours Til Reentry
Please finish packing
Mohs was far from an expert on naval ship design, but if he had to guess, he'd say Heinlein's Folly wasn't among the greatest. There were no rooms for equipment, or resources, or beddings. There was only a sealed metal door at the front, the chambers he had just emerged from, and what appeared to be an interplanetary mead hall filling the rest. Drinks were spilled, tables were broken, and all of the occupants seemed keen on a contest to find who could most expertly toe the line between 'horseplay' and 'deathmatch'. As he watched, one griffon lifted a newly filled mug and threw it full force at a sleeping hippogriff somehow managing to nod off through the rest, only to wake up blearily at the mug bouncing off his forehead and squawking in surprise at the phallic symbol drawn on his beak.
His new yak friend wove through the crowds with ease, making his way to the center with Mohs clutched under one arm. As soon as he reached a table still standing, he lifted both of them onto it and stomped to get the attention of the crowd, who began cheering for the apparently popular crewmate.
"Ladies, gentlemen, changelings, and whoever else we invited, we have a guest! Tell them your name, friend."
"Mohs," The titular said hollowly.
"Moss here is a very special guest from the official Equestrian space program. Mohs, you can call me Batu." Batu held his hoof up triumphantly as if he had just won the super bowl. "How about we explain how we got here, for a guest?"
As the cheers began again- continued, more like- Mohs found words back in his mouth again. "How we... got here? You mean, a non-affiliated independent spaceship?
Batu nodded eagerly and began, "Centuries ago, Equestria created the first designated space station to explore the stars, Starship Ponyville! A crew consisted of 100 ponies and 100 other species. That's me quoting them! 100 accumulative! And it didn't get much better than that! But yadda yadda yadda, you know all that. The question is, do you know what we did?"
"Made your opinion known?"
"VERY known! The race was on, they had beaten us to space but they wouldn't beat us anywhere else! The dragons were second, when good ol Erythris flew directly into space and survived for a recordbreaking minute! From there, we could only go up!"
"Agreed." Mohs squeaked, silently wishing Batu was quieter and spit less.
"And guess who the second starship was made by? The yaks themselves, baby, with Starship SPCDIFFBAMFAJSKLDNWQLFAAS, the Starship Starship Ponyville Can Drag Its Fat Fucking Balls Across My Face and several more letters that escape me. With nothing but their STRONG muscles, willpower, and a pair of wooden oars, we made it to the moon!"
"I've never heard about that one."
"I'm not surprised! It was basically the most embarrassing thing to happen to the Space Race at the time. They even got a Darwin Award for being so smart! From then on, for centuries after, it was a tradition to keep besting it. We used Volkswagon Microbuses, Slingshots, Giant guns, any old thing that can stay afloat, but the Folly is our greatest accomplishment yet. One fully manned and operated mission to the furthest distance ponies have traveled and then one inch further, shoot our flag out of a railgun, and make it back in time for Snildarfest! And guess what? It's a day away!"
Whoops, cheers, cries, and one dangerously uncontrolled celebratory plume of flame filled the air.
"They're calling! They're calling!"
The sniggers of little girls at a slumber party were sucked out of the room as everyone gathered around a gramophone with a potato on a metal wire sticking out of it, hushedly listening.
"Heinlein's Folly, this is Cronus, Sunset Team 8086, Please acknowledge and abort route. You are not cleared to land, I repeat, you are not cleared to land. Please acknowledge and state your agency."
The closest changeling cleared his throat. "Copy, complying. This is Heinlein's Folly For agency Zuhconma Ovvy, I repeat, Heinlein's Folly for Zuhconma Ovvy."
"Please elaborate on your last. I don't recognize Zuhconma."
The changeling licked his lips and answered clearly, "Zuhconma Ovipositor, motherfucker."
The cabin erupted in peals of giggles as the other end exploded. "Celestia damn it all, piece of-" And went out.
Captain Horse panted in his chair on the other side. A crewmate awkwardly prodded him, and with glistening eyes he turned away shamefully.
"They got me." He whined. "They got me good."
Two Hours Til Reentry
Please report to the CIC
Mohs knew he had spent too long here already when the sight of a unicorn surprised him.
"Good morning. Mohs, is it?"
The captain's chambers he had been brought to when prank calling got old to the residents were starkly bare, a sore thumb against the cluttered bar just next door, and the only item of interest past his desk and a few bookshelves was the massive floor to ceiling window behind him, through which Mohs could see the edge of one of Cronus' gargantuan rings. Then he noticed it, lying on the captain's desk- his very own EVA helmet, apparently retrieved from Cetus' chambers.
"Good morning, captain."
"You may go, Batu. The bar will be wanting you back." The Captain himself was a pale white-coated pony with silvered hair and bright blue eyes, who held himself courteously with his movements. In short, he seemed strikingly professional compared to his crew.
"Would you like a drink?" The Captain offered a clearly recently prepared pouch of coffee with a capped straw attached, some crewmember having taken the liberty of painting the side bright colors and messily scrawling 'CAPRI SUN' on it.
"I would love one. That's a strangely... rational way of carrying it. You're not what I expected." Mohs took the coffee happily, sipping from the straw.
"What did you expect, a bugbear? I'm Captain Winchell." He stood and offered his hoof. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mohs. I see you've already familiarized yourself with our beloved Cetus."
Mohs shook it gracefully. "I have. She's... about as interesting as everyone else here."
"Without her, none of this would be possible. Remember that." Winchell sternly reminded as he turned to face the window. "Now then, I'm sure you have some concerns. I know I do. Reentry begins in a matter of hours; I'll admit, I'm at a loss as to how the much larger and less Aerodynamic ship just outside plans on doing it."
"They're going to detach; various rooms are going to break off from it with the express purpose of Aerobraking, and they'll leave the rest of the ship to crash into the ocean. Sir, if I may speak my mind, those windows seem..."
"Structurally superfluous? Of course. Pony scientists struggled for years to make them fit without providing unsoundness to the frame and risking breaking before concluding it couldn't be done. I asked a yak to do it, and they pulled out duct tape and had it done within the hour."
"I studied space travel and vacuum physics for years. There's no way it's that easy."
The captain waved an arm impassively. "Right? Why even try? The truth is, Mohs, space is the future of every civilization that could ever evolve on a planet like ours. We were going to reach it eventually. The difference between us and Cronus is that we cared less about the method. I know this is impossible. I know none of this could logically, should logically be able to keep us afloat. But I'm having fun, and so are my crew. Who am I to spoil the party with a physics textbook? They were nice enough to let a pony resident of Yakyakistan onboard and elect me captain. I let them do their work. I just make sure to reel them in when we get too explosive."
"And that works?"
"It's certainly the more accessible program."
One Hour til Reentry
Prepare for detachment
As the remaining crewmates filed into the CIC to help with the sudden crisis, Ursa began clicking through cameras.
"We have no idea how a ship like that would land, and they don't seem keen to cooperate. I suggest detaching an empty room and engaging aerobraking procedure, to test the waters and see how they react." Ursa called to the captain.
"I've got a better idea, decided by yours truly, shipmates." Horse commanded, tearing his face up from his lap and snapping a glare forward. "Let's show these stick shaking bastards Equestrian ingenuity."
Coms were opened again, and Horse humphed imposingly into the mic.
"Attention! You are obstructing an Equestrian fleet from its course. Back away now or prepare to die, harlots."
"No."
"Open fire."
Lights turned red, and all the screens shifted to show vectors and sweeps as split-second calculations were made by computers and crewmates alike to ready the first shot. On Cronus' rings, a hatch slowly opened, and the nose of a torpedo was prepared and loaded into place.
The red button was hit.
Everyone waited patiently, for a good two minutes.
Then, someone called out, "Miss."
There was a smattering of polite applause.
Everyone waited patiently two more minutes as Folly fired.
"Hit."
There was a smattering of annoyed mutters.
Horse waved his arms in annoyance. "Enough, enough! Where are the explosions?"
"Why would we use explosions? We just puncture."
"Alright, cut that plan, that's not sexy at all. What we need is a way to test the waters."
"Copy that," Ursa sighed and began running detachment protocol on the outermost bedding chambers to let them float towards Earth before standing up and heading back to her Spacewalk surveillance station. Insubordination got things done sometimes.
"I'm impressed our missiles didn't work either, Captain." Mohs admitted, bemusedly watching the brief weapons exchange.
"What do you mean?" Winchell asked.
"Well, you know. Everything else on this ship works miraculously. I'm surprised they didn't, like, make a working nuke out of paperclips and fire it at pinpoint accuracy or something."
"It's creativity, Mohs, not handwavium."
"Well that's not very creative at all."
"It's very creative, actually."
The missile Folly had fired, a completely unexplosive hunk of metal with LOVIN INCOMIN painted on the side in black, collided with a solar array on the horizontal ring of Cronus and lodged itself deep into the glass before stopping. With a pop, a Kirin with a glass bowl on his head detached himself from the missile, and with a roll of duct tape clutched in one hoof, delicately strapped himself to the nearest panel.
Biding time waiting for his next instruction, he took the peace and quiet to enjoy the sights of the rotating ring as it seemed to part ways for a chunk of the Sphere to remove itself mechanically, jettisoning towards the Earth.
"He's the most reliable weapon onboard." Captain Winchell said proudly as he took a sip of his own coffee, Mohs staring out the window in shock.
Startling him out of that shock was a crackle of radio from his helmet. "Mohs, if you're still there, I'd recommend swimming."
"Ursa?" Mohs rushed to his helmet and slapped it on unceremoniously, teetering beneath the weight until he readjusted himself.
"Good to see you can still talk."
"You sound so thrilled."
"Sorry, things have been happening. There's a massive ship that just came out of FTL in front of us, and nobody knows what to do with it."
Mohs sighed.
"But I guess you know that, being out in space."
"Ursa, I'm onboard."
"Well get offboard, we're gathered in the CIC."
"Ursa, how does our FTL travel work? It seemed out of my jurisdiction." He ignored the last comment.
"We use the God Drive."
"Yeah, I know, but how does it work?"
Ursa took a breath. "It... Uses a god particle- one of them, anyway- to eliminate mass in a clear path ahead of us so we can speed up exponentially. Essentially, it's a cowcatcher."
Mohs froze. "And that works? How?"
"Magic."
"That is the stupidest, most unscientific sentence I have ever heard a scientist say. Who invented it?"
"You know, I'm not sure. Give me a second to google it."
Mohs waited patiently, a sort of sense of cosmic understanding of the universe dawning on him, only confirmed when he heard Ursa's next words. Of all the interpretations of the universe and life, he wasn't sure he liked this one too much.
"Go figure. It was first theorized by a yak."
"Of course. Ursa, I have a plan to fix our spaceship dilemma. Two, actually, and I need your help for one. Is anyone in the room with you?"
"They're kind of preoccupied. I've got a minute. Hey, Mohs?"
"Yes, Ursa?"
"I'm glad you're alive. Even if it's onboard an entirely different ship."
"You were shooting the bull when you told me to get to the CIC, weren't you?"
"I was. You're the only member of the Sunset Team who knows what a joke is."
30 Minutes til Reentry
Try not to think about Apollo 1
"You shot off our bedroom!"
"Already? That wasn't supposed to happen yet."
"I can see it flying off! It's gone! Kaput! Those are Equestria's Celestia Blessed Beds, and you just tore them off with a missile!"
"He's nicer than that. Don't diss our missile."
Captain Horse growled, watching the room fly through space towards Earth below. "We've given you more than enough chances to break away. This is your last chance. Back off, or we pull out the big guns."
"Oh?" The disinterested changeling on the other end teased. "And what would that be?"
"We're aerobraking with the entire ship. If you come after us, you splat on the side."
"I think that sounds like a challenge. A micrometeor clipping your hull could spell death for all of you if you're undergoing reentry. Imagine what a pirate ship crashing into it would be. Yak ingenuity lasts."
"Pull us closer to Earth." Horse commanded.
"There's no way you're actually thinking of making good on that threat." A crewmate spat in disbelief.
"They'll back off once they see we're serious. We've only got to wait them out."
On Folly, Batu cleared his throat anxiously. "So, do I get the Psychic Space Wizard? Pull us back?"
"Nah. They're baiting us. We're keeping trajectory. Nobody's bullheaded enough to actually land an entire space station." the Changeling reassured.
"Nobody's bullheaded enough to actually risk my bullheadedness. We'll be on normal schedule in a matter of minutes." Horse reassured.
A half hour later, Ursa entered the CIC only a few minutes later, with a prepared coffee pouch. Surely, surely not enough time for something to go wrong.
"What happened while I was gone?" She muttered to an officer.
"We're falling through the stratosphere. Folly is about to blow us all to bits." She was told.
Ursa's coffee pouch floated out of her hoof.
Reentry
Please Buckle Your Seatbelts
Winchell had previously described his job as 'reeling in when crewmates got too explosive'. He was starting to think he had failed at that.
"Horse, this is Captain Winchell of the Heinlein's Folly. Disengage now, and back off."
"Winchell, this is Captain Horse of the Cronus. Put your money where your mouth is."
The ship's noses- or as close to a nose as Cronus had- were facing almost exactly horizontally as they began running loops over the Earth, circling it over and over again and slowly closing the gap between each other like an arrow crashing into an asteroid.
"Horse, Winchell. Pulling out of an aerobrake could be a death sentence for either of us, but staying in an aerobrake raises the odds from 90 to 100. Your ship is pinpoint adept, you need to be the one to take charge."
"My ship runs on the same physics as an Asteroids arcade cabinet, like all Celestia fearing spaceships. If you think disengaging is easy, I invite you to come here and try."
The much larger Cronus was above Folly now, threatening to squish it like a bug and just as instantly get stung.
"Your idiocy and cowardliness is going to cost all of our lives."
"Cowardly? I'm riding a space station like Major Kong."
"That makes two of us. Flip on your magic and live."
"Flip off your bullshit and die."
"Magic, science, and bullshit are the same thing!" Came a new voice.
There was little noise but the whistle on the wind as both UFOs gained speed, and the Folly- many of whos inhabitants were gripping loose floorboards or nails to stay where they were- fell silent as Mohs stumbled his way forward to where Winchell stood over the microphone.
"Captain Horse? Captain Winchell? I'm Mohs. I'm an engineer, tasked with fixing parts of my own ship, the Cronus. I've been taking a bit of a break, as I'm sure you can tell, and I've learned some things.
"See, I'm a big fan of sci-fi. From the beginning, when I was a little filly, I've had a deep fascination with all sorts of old fictional stories, more than I cared about the nonfiction. I'd engross myself in the stories of Venus' bogs, or Mars' insect-shaped alien spaceships. Metropolis to Forbidden Planet, it was all the same to me, and for me that smoking-in-a-spaceship physics was science.
"Then I got older, and I started looking at science less like a kid and more like an adult. I looked to the actual stars, and I busted my flank getting here so I could work with the people of the same goals and ambitions as me. When I've dedicated this long to it, I know it's my way of doing things.
"So now here's an entire civilization that does things the other way, and I've done my share of scientific comparing and contrasting, and I've come to a conclusion. Who cares? If I was the type of soapboxer to stand around griping about everything here that blatantly violates physics we would've died. Neither of the ways we're doing it are wrong, and when we're preparing for collision above the ocean, there are far more important things than 'who's the better rocket physicist'. For both of you." Mohs leaned back from the mic, inhaling deeply.
"Very well spoken." Captain Winchell nodded in respect.
Mohs beamed. "Thank you! Now who's gonna back off first?"
If he hadn't known any better, Mohs would've wondered if he hadn't accidentally shut off coms in the middle of his speech.
"I'm sorry, they're just so annoying." Winchell sighed.
"And they called me Captain Whore." Horse gruffly added.
"Did they really?" Winchell perked up. "You've got to admit that's a bit funny."
"It is, but that's neither here nor there."
Mohs threw his hooves up in frustration. "Alright, well, I didn't want it to come down to this. I guess violence is the only answer people understand. Ursa, mess him up."
There was a yelp on the other end. Then, Ursa's voice.
"Everybody's okay with this? Yes? Good. Mohs, for the love of Celestia, you better have more of a plan than that."
Mohs grinned despite himself. "First things first, get Cronus off our tail. Is the crew in the CIC?"
"Everyone who can work, which on a space station, is everyone."
"Spaceship. Detach it."
"Mohs, if we detach, all of this tech becomes paperweights. Are you absolutely, positively-"
"Detach it."
Ursa complied without a second question. "Okay. Your call."
Mohs began fiddling with the radio, annoyedly trying to switch frequencies until Batu helpfully punched it, killing the static instantly.
He found himself missing his EVA radio.
"You still there, buddy?"
"Sure am!" The chipper voice of one duct taped covered kirin strapped to the side of a spaceship falling out of orbit rang through. "You don't sound like the captain. I'm Azure! Have we met yet?"
"Er... Good morning, Azure. Are you facing the sun?"
"I am! But it just left. There it is! Goodbye. Hi, sun!"
"Okay, you're rotating. You're on the ring; it makes sense. What you need to do now is wait until you see the large, disc shaped metal chunk flying through the air, and as soon as you're facing away from the sun, detonate. Can you do that?"
"Oh, that's easy! I'm already on fire!"
"Sounds great." Mohs nudged Batu to switch frequencies again. "Ursa, confirm, how are things over there?"
The CIC was tumbling through the air, with the remainder of the quickly crumbling Cronus trailing behind them. The captain's unconscious body was flying every which way, hitting the seatbelted crewmates. Any second now, Cronus' wildly spinning rings would hit them and kill them all instantly.
"Not too much different, actually." Ursa admitted.
Then Cronus exploded.
Azure had to admit; he hadn't acted immediately. With a view like his, who could blame him? But three spins after noticing the CIC floating separately, he had finally taken the initiative and done what he was born to do.
The parts of Cronus that were supposed to land safely and the parts that were supposed to burn up were still mostly attached to each other. The resulting disappointment to aerodynamics had crossed over cities, land, sky, and oceans for several minutes now. The heat shields were holding, but any good push could destroy it.
With a deep breath, Azure ignited, and he was freefalling.
A single crack in the ring from Azure's detonation spread like wildfire throughout the entire ship as its infrastructure imploded, and a cloud of broken glass, metal, and shreds of duct tape followed Azure as he rocketed head over heels, leaving the corpse of Cronus to break momentum and fall significantly more vertically than it had been previously.
Fire was a god. A tear shot off Azure's cheek. He loved his job.
"How do we steer this thing?" Mohs demanded in a panic. "We need to match his speed and catch him!"
Everyone noticed the change in the air, even through the stench of the entire crew squished into one room and the clouds of alcohol. As one, the gathered crewmates turned to the new guest, leaning unsurely against the wooden beams, emerged from her chambers for the first time the entire trip.
Cetus' horn lit, and the aurora projection of a galaxy far off vanished as she poured her idle energy into reaching through the air. Space was her domain; in an atmosphere, her powers dimmed, but even as they left the stratosphere in the dust, she was among the most powerful unicorns Mohs had ever met. Her milky eyes squinted, her thaums fanned out through the chaos around her, and with a careful twitch and a coalescing around a flailing form...
Azure blipped into existence and instantly collided with the fluffy body of Batu. Spitting hair out, he lifted a hoof triumphantly, just as the ship hit water.
When the two objects skidding across the surface of the water like skipped rocks finally started losing momentum, only the Folly was still standing up. The heavy CIC left a very small monkey island sticking above the water, the rest sinking with weight even as the buoyant yellow filled on the sides to straighten it up. But at the end of the day, both parties were alive, and that was what mattered.
When Ursa finally kicked the hatch off the top of the CIC, she pulled herself atop the floating vessel just in time to see the crumbled remains of the rest of the Cronus hitting the waves miles away, smoke from the explosion still fading from the air. A few stray pieces of debris even made their way to the Folly, one burning pipe tearing a hole in the sail before putting itself out in the water.
A wooden plank was shifted on the deck of the Folly, and Mohs pulled himself through, panting, and looking up at Ursa with a shaky wave.
"Ursa?"
She caught her breath, sitting down on the curve of the floating room. "Yeah, Mohs?"
Mohs searched fruitlessly for a witty reply. "Happy Snildarfest Eve. Somebody get a life preserver for her."
"People are stupid." Was what Mohs later confided in Cetus, alone in her chambers and bringing a pack of salted crackers saved from day 1 for a special occasion.
"Maybe. Maybe. But whales aren't." Cetus would reply.
