Salvage a Better Life

The dangerous majesty of hyperspace crowded the Initiative flotilla. The Akira led the way with the three drone carriers following an hour behind them, huddling in as close as they dared. Bringing up the rear was Flurry Heart’s personal cruiser: Tough Love. Where the carriers were long, rectangular heavy weights, her vessel was as light as the Akira, boasting shielding far above what a frigate should possess at the expense of her guns.

The queen herself however, was aboard the Akira with the excuse of familiarizing herself with its tech. With the Lilian system still three days away, she had plenty of time to do so.

Presently, they were in Akira’s sickbay. Flurry Heart was watching over the six volunteers from her crew who she both couldn’t easily replace and that could be de-cyberized before they arrived. The rest of both the Akira and Tough Love’s crew had been swapped out with those who were safe from the fuhai. A task only possible on such a short time table due to Flurry’s influence and the portal network.

Morales was sitting at his station, passively watching his patients’ vitals, but he was more focused on the unintrusive scans Flurry Heart had allowed of herself. A few days ago, he half thought the queens’ unspoken perfection of the ponish form was hyperbole, propaganda, or a tightly controlled genetics program. But here and now as he read over his findings, Morales was left a believer.

She claims to be older than the Fall, and yet her cellular structure is as robust as Wiggly’s. There aren’t any markers of artificial tampering either. Her metabolism is on par with a mare Wiggly’s age, provided Wiggly matched Flurry’s size. Neurological patterns are immaculate as well. I’d wager these queens were altered by a greater civilization, but we surely would have run into them if such a nation existed.

Sitting at a different terminal, Wiggly was perusing a catalog of potential genetic enhancements. They ranged from simple color changes to tribe swaps. Only now, there was a price tag accompanying each one.

As Flurry Heart leaned over Wiggly to keep browsing, the pegacorn called out to the geneticist. “Hey, doc, what’s with the prices?”

Giving a helpless shrug, Morales leaned back and reminisced on his all-too-short vacation. “My part in the mission is done, and to be honest, I’d rather not make the journey back to the homeworld. The danger isn’t worth it a second time, and it shouldn’t be too difficult to convince my superiors to promote me to ambassador or more likely a lowly diplomat. Provided I get a license to practice medicine within the Initiative, I can offer my services along with you and your brother. That is…” He pulled forward again and adopted a mildly pleading expression. “If you’ll have me.”

Flashing a great smile, Wiggly cheerfully replied, “What kinda question is that? You’re always welcome here.”

“I second the motion,” Flurry Heart announced with easy confidence. She carried a knowing grin that hid an unspoke jest. “May the friendship between us never waiver. As for your practice, I’ll ensure you have a license.” Her tone quickly turned from friendly to simply polite. “The enhancements however, will need to be curated. If your own history is anything to go by, it would be the height of foolishness to allow a repeat of such a civil war.”

While Morales had nothing to give but a silent nod of agreement, Sprocket gave a tactful rebuttal. “We’ve always had different tribes though, as long as we avoid getting six legs, five wings, and two heads, we should be fine.”

Flurry Heart ached at the sentiment. In her last life she was vehemently against anything but lifesaving genetic work. To see such a flip… “Ponykind has had only two civil wars. While I was not alive to see them, one required our near extinction to resolve, and the gulf the second created between our people was so vast it took going into space and completely abandoning our old identities to fully heal. Our tribes are natural, so they are easily accepted. Artificial tribes must be handled with care.” Flurry fixed a firm eye on the younger mare. “I would suggest reading up on your own tribe’s history. In spite of no genetic tampering, pegacorns were not always seen as a real tribe, and were not treated as such.”

Not having the words for a counterpoint, Sprocket was left dissatisfied. That was until Morales spoke up. “I - I am pleasantly surprised by your wisdom.” That earned a shocked look from Wiggly, but a systematically pleased one from Flurry. “To be honest, I was so freely offering my services in this because I believed it is what would be expected of me. Strand weaving has been with the cathrex for so long it is forever part of who we are. To turn back on it now, even after what it’s reckless use has caused, would be as easy as holding your breath.” He slowly tightened his fist. “We could do it for a time.” He squeezed it tighter. “We could try so desperately to hold on that restraint.” He released his grip, leaving red marks on his palm.

“But we will inevitably surrender and take that breath. So we control ourselves. If a diplomatic position doesn’t work out, I would be more than happy to profess the lessons the Combine have learned onto you so the Initiative does not suffer a similar fate.”

Thaddeus and Felin crept through the dead hallways of what once was the police headquarters. A group of fifteen survivors comprised of beggars, debtors who had their chrome repossessed before the attack, and a single doctor who had been too squeamish to get any implants. The Commodore’s reign had reduced the police department to a slave market. Thaddeus made his way to the traffic controller whereas Felin moved to the slave pens past multiple security doors. It was an easy, if gruesome task thanks to a guard being found dead outside with his keys. Yet even with the survivors following after her, the still quiet surrounding them was somehow more disturbing than the rattle of chains and cries of fear that once filled these grim halls. Dead slavers and guards put up no resistance to her swiping security cards. If there are any more survivors, it’ll be here.

She was about to reach the first cell block when a sight stopped her cold. Still tightly held in the claws of a griffon was a trigger device. The slaver’s thumb was loose over the button, and a closer inspection made its use impossabke ti kmpw. It was then she finally stopped to listen. It had been days, so she had hoped the silence was simply a sign that the slaves had given up and were silently waiting for death. Waving the others onward, they passed through into the cell block. Felin and the others stopped at the gruesome fate that had befallen them. “Anyone still here!” she cried out. Shockingly, a few feeble limbs and heads rose up in response. “Survivors! Quickly, get them out of there and give them some water. Selina,” she tossed a key fob to a fellow drake. “Get those bomb collars off. The rest of you check the other pens.”

Felin retreated to the main hallway and keyed up a radio they had found earlier. “Admiral. We’ve got survivors down here. Have you found anything?”

“Yes, and good work. There’s enough reserve power for a local sensor sweep. Let’s hope our guests don’t take offense.” They had gone out of their way to reach the slavers as the former police station was one of the few places that had both direct access to the moon’s military network, and long-lived reserve power.

While Felin continued to search for survivors, Thaddeus keyed into the network and linked into the southern docking spire. There he bypassed a corvette’s security with the Commodore’s codes and linked into the vessel’s sensors. Good, it still has power. Let’s take a look at these twice damned ships. Four Waylan vessels hovered right over the dome. One was much like the heavy scout that he had seen earlier, while two others were easily the size of destroyers, and the last was easily the largest weighing in as a medium cruiser. Yet each of them were unique classes.

Filtering down into the dead moon were dozens of smaller craft. Most were patrolling the moon, looking for the smaller domes across its surface. What worried Thaddeus though were the ones that had disgorged hundreds of pony sized drones. The moon was blanketed in the things as they crowded around both bodies and anything with a computer. On rare occasions, weapons fire would ring out as isolated survivors were found.

It wasn’t enough to kill us, they’re taking trophies too? Too disgusted to continue watching them, he turned his focus to the ships above. A quick check saw the scout was very similar to the original. One of the destroyers was built around a single spindle mounted weapon with three PD weapons ringing the center. A kinetic weapon I’d wager. The other destroyer looked more balanced, carrying three dual turreted laser cannons with room for a forward firing missile rack.

Yet most of his focus was the cruiser. It was bulbous and bristling with sensor and comms masts. It bore no guns or lasers that he could see. Instead it carried enough missile tubes to tear the Lilian shipyard apart. It also possessed a launch bay that split its nose from port to starboard.

Thaddeus took every detailed scan he could of the various weapons and other details. However, he barely started scanning the balanced destroyer when it turned its guns on the corvette he was using and fired. Both shell and laser fire slagged the corvette in a single volley. It then proceeded to repeat the attack on every pirate vessel in the dome. The patrolling drones joined the attack, blasting away with pulsed laser fire. anything and everything looking remotely like a warship or fighter was ripped to pieces.

The police station was rocked by the assault, and Thaddeus retreated to the doorway for protection. Felin called on the radio with tempered alarm. “Admiral, what’s going on?!”

Dust was falling loose from the ceiling. The police station was only four city blocks away from one of the naval spires which was starting to sunder from the assault. “Our guests don’t much care for me sticking my nose in places they don’t like. They wrecked what ships we had left.”

Felin found herself at a security door without power, so she used a hand torch to sever the lock. “What about the old starliner in the Deanna dome?”

“You mean the Commodore’s pleasure yacht?” he corrected with disgust. “Even when I was back in his good graces, I wanted nothing to do with the Phallus, let alone be caught dead in its corridors. Should I ask why that particular ship came to mind so fast or would I be better off not knowing?”

“Yes, yes, it is morally corrupt just to set foot inside, but is it intact?” She emphasized the last word as she heaved the security door open.

Dragging a hand across his face, Thaddeus sifted through the network to locate the Commodore’s private berth. “It’s been powered down and the dock AI claims our guests haven’t made an appearance yet. The Waylan seem to be focusing on our dome exclusively.”

Felin walked down the dark empty hallway leading to another set of slave pens. Her mood souring with every step, so she took what humor she could. “We should count ourselves lucky our guests are as prunish as you are. The Phallus will be our salvation.”

Thaddeus was already leaning heavily on his experiences to keep going amidst the death of his home, but adding this salt on the wound is cruel. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

Giving only the barest of grins as she surveyed yet more cells filled with survivors barely clinging to life, Felin pulled away. “Perhaps, and I suspect it is the one genuine moment of good humor this place has seen for far too long.” She shook her head at the quiet, echoing pens. Hoping to never see such sights again, she departed the last dormitory to locate the kitchens and medical for supplies.

“Ever the realist.” Thaddeus lingered long enough to realize the station’s center control was both not going to fall apart and still had power. So he took his seat again and continued his work. “I’m not going to risk our exit plan for more detailed scans. We can only hope the Innies can leverage what we managed to get.”

High above on the local control and command vessel, the Waylan puzzled over its findings. “Genetic sampling of local cathrex complete. Analyzing…

“Number of xenotypes present is twelve. Genetic markers for known cathrex forms averaging 5.21%. Expected marker percentage is 10% even with extreme modification. Statistically improbable, considering the number and differences in phenotype among present xenotypes.”

Uploading this anomaly to the central consciousness, the local controller pondered further, its coolant system working overtime. “Hypothesis one. Present organics have diverged so completely that they fall below threshold for cathrex classification.

“Second hypothesis. This colony is the territory of an unknown civilization. Alert: ongoing contractual obligations are restricted to cathrex and/or child xenotypes.”

The intelligence pulled information from the other sets of probes. “Observation. Native machine code incompatible. Problems with interchange. Many factors obstruct request. Hardware inelegant. Language primitive, obtuse. Assessment from scout XS-154 congruent with current findings.

“Addendum. Planetary system also lies outside of projected inhabited areas. Probability of second hypothesis being correct upgraded to 94.7%. Requesting revision of directive from Central.”

…

…

“Received. Liabilities for attacking present unauthorized targets will nullify all profits for the last nine years, and void all tax write offs. Any further actions against the moon would nullify defense contract. Withdrawal mandated.”

To the last, every drone and probe retreated from the moon, and back inside the command cruiser within an hour. Shortly after that, the cruiser launched a buoy broadcasting the details on how to get in contact with the Waylan’s legal team.

Much to the astonishment of Thaddeus and the rest, the Waylan turned, and retreated to the exit point beyond the orbit of the host planet.

However, as the ships were departing, Central sent one last message. “Battlegroup Theta is to maintain position in hyperspace for three standard weeks to relay any and all inquiries into legal compensation.”

The Akira was a day off from returning to Lilian. It was right before dinner and Wiggly and the others were leaving the command center so the night shift could take over.

Her belly growled before she could start stretching to get the kinks out. Live Wire was the next one out and heard the deep rumble that left her red-faced. He faked insult and huffed with exaggerated flair. “You never growl like that for my food.”

Spying Morales stepping out next, Wiggly waved an accusatory hoof at him. “Because I can’t eat any. This guy eats it all.”

“Hey now, I leave a few crumbs just for you, Captain.” Smoothly sliding past the siblings, Morales didn’t miss a step towards the mess hall. “Speaking of which, it's filly cheesesteak night, see you there.”

“Wait, it is?!” Wiggly was hungry before, but now she was a mare with a purpose.

All three of them bolted for the mess hall, leaving Winter and Mote with an empty hallway after they finished briefing the new shift. Mote glanced about, not even hearing departing hoofsteps outside of some passing crew. “Declaration. Maybe we should wait until they empty the food line so I can get first dibs on a fresh batch.”

“You can wait if you want, but the line’s only going to get longer once the officer half hour is over.” Winter chased after the rest with the expected grace of her lineage now that it was known to the crew.

Live Wire won that race, and had just enough of a lead to walk into the mess hall with the dignity expected of a bridge officer. The ‘dignified’ rush came to a crashing halt upon seeing Flurry Heart was already present, and he put much more effort into his manners.

The high queen just finished preparing her plate from the chow line, and that very image still produced an odd dichotomy in the siblings. Flurry turned her head at the sound of hooves pounding the deck. “Ah, Live Wire, Wiggly, I’m glad you could make it before the rush. Come, come.”

The last few days had diminished their reservation at sharing the high queen’s table, even more so since she had left her honor guard behind on her private cruiser. The bridge crew shared respectful greetings with her and claimed their plates.

Once the last of them, Mote included, took their seats, Flurry Heart’s horn glowed and a previously invisible box appeared in the middle of the table. It was faded red with a purple bow keeping it closed. “Before we dig in, I would like to share a few words.” Flurry Heart stood up and cast a grateful smile at her small audience. “While my mother and aunts like to give medals and ribbons to heroes of the Initiative, I prefer to give something more personal.

“To start,” Flurry looked to the two cathrex, “Back on the homeworld, Twilight Station has a line of grand statues honoring all of the species who have agreed to everlasting friendship between us. To date, only six were made, with one being taken down: ourselves, kirin, hippogriffs, sphinxes, and zebra. As soon as we repair Lilian’s portal station, I will be commissioning twin statues of you both in honor of our new friendship.”

For the first time in decades, Morales’ food laid forgotten. Mote ws equally stunned by the announcement. “Statement. You honor us too much,” she began with a shuddering breath. “We are no diplomats or officials. We’re just who survived.”

“Which is why I find myself more trusting of your people’s character.” Flurry Heart huffed in distant annoyance. “I find diplomatic doublespeak to be tiring. Which is why I leave that to my mother. An honest conversation is the most constructive one.”

“Then I shall endeavor to always do the same,” Morales said after finding his voice. “And may our bond remain until the stars fade.”

Turning to Winter Gale, Flurry Heart developed a mischievous smirk. “I’m sure my aunt already threatened you with a promotion. I talked her down into moving you to squadron leader instead.”

A look of supreme relief fell over the fighter pilot. “You’re most kind.”

“Ahh, you know full well I couldn’t possibly stop there. Which is why I am assigning you the very latest fighter craft that finished its test flights four months ago. Its controls are much like your current craft, so cross training should be trivial. As a matter of fact, I have it docked with my ship should you wish to use it in the fight to come. I brought the operating manual with me.”

Winter Gale practically jumped out of her chair, her excitement running wild. “You mean the SF-76 Dagger!”

“The same.”

Barely remembering herself, Winter looked to Wire and nuzzled him. “Thank you, but my place is here.”

A knowing smile crossed Flurry’s lips. “Just so. I’ll leave the Dagger with you once Lilian is secure, as a private vessel. I trust you will keep its secrets safe.”

Turning her gaze towards Live Wire, Flurry continued on to allow Winter to quietly freak out over her new fighter. “Mr Wire. I'm extending you an open line of credit for your restaurant. While I have no doubt you will be financially successful, I want you to truly express yourself in your creative vision.” Flurry’s eyes went distant as she gathered her memories. “A theater that only opens when it rains. A museum of sound. A seamstress who never repeats a dress or suit. Make your restaurant a slice of immaculate culture in a way no normal business can afford to.”

Live Wire felt as if he had been slapped with a desire he never knew existed. The chance to be a memorable experience beyond what he could put on a plate lit a fire in him. “You have my word, your highness, that I will do just that!”

“Excellent. I insist on being your first customer when you’re ready.” Flurry Heart took the cylindrical box into her magic and positioned it between Wiggly and herself. “And finally, we come to Miss Sprocket. To you, I grant something very dear to my heart.” She pushed the box closer to Wiggly until it just barely touched her plate.

Curiosity claimed the pegacorn, and she handed her plate over to her brother before bringing the box in close. She undid the ribbon and popped the lid. What she found made her jump back. “You’re pranking me!”

“I certainly am not.” Flurry Heart half expected this, and firmly held her ground. “It is yours to take if you want it.”

Seeing how animated his sister had gotten, curiosity overwhelmed Live Wire and he tilted the box so he could see inside. “A hat?”

“One just as memorable as a queen’s regalia,” Flurry Heart commented in a slightly worried tone, hoping he could identify it after being taken out.

Wiggly went back to the box and carefully removed the article with such reverence that the cathrex assumed it was a holy artifact. It was a beautiful, feathered, light blue, satin hat of a venerable design. A half-gear played as the left side of the brim, which matched Wiggly’s destin mark. Pale red pegasus feathers adorning the sides. Lastly, twin white velvet horns served as tie points for a band across the crown.

Holding the hat like it could shatter at any moment, Wiggly showed it off to the cathrex. “It’s the symbol of office for the Imperial Engineer. The office has only had two other ponies: Shining Light, and Twilight Sparkle herself!”

It is far more than that, Flurry Heart kept to herself while addressing the aliens. “It’s forbidden to replicate the design. As only myself or another queen can give one out.”

Sprocket carefully placed the hat down on the table. “I can’t accept this. I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t?” Flurry challenged with projected surprise. “See, we queens each have our own tasks. While we are all well versed in warfare, Celestia and Luna are the problem solvers. When a planet gets too corrupt or beset by a crisis the local government can’t handle, they correct it. My mother is the final word on all diplomacy.” She leaned in to faux-whisper to the cathrex. “She likes you, but was too tied up to visit us at Victoria.”

Flurry Heart straightened back up to finish speaking to Wiggly. “My job is seeking ponies of great talent and offering them the patronage they need to become giants. You, Wiggly Sprocket, are one such pony.”

Flushing so red that Wiggly was partially light headed, she started wringing her hooves and her wings fidgets constantly. “I’m honored, seriously. But the Imperial Engineer?! I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”

“No?” Furry Heart projected a magical hologram of a lime green pegacorn mare with a square cut mane. “When she was granted the position, Shining Light had discovered the method to make the skip-drive viable, allowing us to spread beyond our home star. Before her, Twilight Sparkle had invented the first commercially successful method of aluminum forging and co-developed the first pegacorn wing glove.” Flurry rocked her head a bit. “And a few other things. You, Miss Sprocket, have the greatest understanding of cathrex tech among anypony here. Without formal education, you rebuilt not just a ruined freighter, but this vessel as well with no dock-side assistance. On top of it all, you did it all without the benefit of an aristocratic childhood like your predecessors enjoyed.”

Flurry Heart watched the young mare carefully. She could see Wiggly was thinking it over, so Flurry turned the screws by leaning forward. “See, the position of Imperial Engineer is not given to somepony well established in their field. No directors, no professors, no chiefs of the sciences. It is given to somepony who I see has the potential to be a pillar of technological progress. I can see that in you. I ask that you trust me, but it is still your choice to make.”

For a long moment, Wiggly sat in silent contemplation, her eyes never leaving the hat. The others may have seen it as a great honor, but Wiggly saw so much more.

Imperial Engineer. It wasn’t a position. It was a calling. It was history. It was responsibility, opportunity, an admission, an inflection point, and… a cloud. Wiggly touched the brim of the hat as though she stood on a cloud with the ground miles below her.

For what felt like an hour, she felt so alone, standing on a tiny cloud with no one to catch her. But then, Wire placed a hoof on her shoulder. He did no more than that, and did not need to. For in that moment Wiggly remembered she wasn’t alone, and that she never would be. That somehow, Live Wire would always be there.

It was enough.

Wiggly spun the hat around, and with care, placed it upon her head. As its weight settled, a lavender flame appeared in her vision. Just long enough to register what she was seeing, Wiggly saw Tea standing beside Flurry Heart. The fiery mare looked just as surprised as Wiggly was. She hastily nodded approvingly at Wiggly before vanishing once more. The ghostly mare unsettled Wiggly to the point of staggering a bit and briefly wondering if the hat was haunted or hexed.

The delay gave Winter an idea, and she leaned over her coltfriend to speak into Wiggly’s ear. “If nothing else, it'd be such a shame to squander such a fine piece of headgear just because you have an inferiority complex.”

The verbal jab snapped Wiggly out of it, and she snorted at the thestral before donning the hat. She let its weight settle on her brow before looking back up at Flurry Heart. Some small part of her felt comfortable with the weight. “What would you have me do?”

A massive smile split Flurry’s face, and she couldn’t bring it under control before speaking. “Only what you already plan to do. A mare like you simply needs the backing necessary to achieve great things. Follow your heart and your whims, and you will honor your station. Should you need guidance, I am always willing to lend an ear.”

“You mean I can still run a fix-n-dine?” Wiggly had been hopeful, but didn’t expect it.

“I wouldn’t have offered you the position if your dream would clash with it.” Flurry Heart magically took the box back in a subconscious attempt to ensure Wiggly wouldn’t try to abdicate in a moment of weakness. She was about to say more when a two tone alarm sounded.

The voice of the night shift command officer chimed in. “Alert! Bridge crew tune into channel seven theta.”

Brief confusion predicated a mad dash for everyone to find the nearest connection port or for Wiggly and Flurry Heart to wirelessly check it out. A screen interposed itself in front of their vision. The farthest edge of the scouting probes’ sensor range had reached Lilian. Waiting above the fringe transit point of the system sat four idling vessels.

The ponies were instantly on edge by the vaguely familiar coloration and profiles, but it was the Cathrex who jumped out of fear.

“They’re here!” Morales exclaimed with fear tinting his voice.

“Observation. One scout, two destroyers and a command cruiser.” Mote latched onto the controls of the probes and narrowed their sensors to get a picture on what sort of armament they had. “I don’t believe we can break through that.”

“Don’t count us out so quickly,” Flurry Heart cautioned. “My ship can relay all commands from the carriers to the drones, and between the Akira and Tough Love, our ships have no cyborgs. My regalia does everything chrome would otherwise accomplish.”

“That would even the stakes a bit,” Morales admitted wearily. “But if I learned anything about war, a fair fight is the last thing you want.”

“Perhaps, but we hardly have a choice.” Flurry Heart got up and sent a command to her ship to send a shuttle over. “If there is anything more on the Waylan you haven’t shared with me yet, I need it all. Weapon styles, battle tactics, who made them, everything.”

“You’ll have it within the hour,” Morales replied hastily.

“Good. Alright everyone, let’s kick them out of our space.”

Later, as Flurry Heart was on her shuttle going back to her ship. She was busy reading up on Waylan battle tactics when a transmission came through. Irritated by the interruption, she answered it anyway thinking Morales might have more information.

So it came as a suprise when Cadence’s hologram appeared in the cabin. “Mama?!”

“Hello, dear Heart. I’m glad that entangled comms work in hyperspace.”

“So they do.” Flurry turned her attention back to Morales’ data. “Come to wish me good luck?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would be the one wishing me luck.” That got Flurry to look away from her work. “Luna appraised me of the situation as she knew it.” Cadence looked fatigued. She wasn’t masking her appearance, and she was sagging a bit all over. “So when I heard not too long ago that you put the Tough Love in combat alert, I had to step in.”

Flurry Heart grumbled like a moody teenager at the elder alicorn. “Momma, you’re worse than Aunty Tia. I can handle this on my own.”

“If we were already at war with the Waylan, I’d leave you to it. But we’re not. It behooves us to seek out a diplomatic solution first.”

“It could already be too late for that,” Flurry countered with more alarm than she wanted. “The Waylan are right on top of Lilian. They could be waiting for reinforcements or have just finishing wiping out the colony.”

The added trouble did much to drain what energy Cadence had. “Do you know this for sure?” Cadence eventually replied with a tired sigh.

Holding her tongue for a few moments, Flurry relented. “Not yet, no. The probe is making its way to an egress point now.”

Nodding slowly, Cadence then asked with a careful tone. “Be honest with me. You are the commander in the skies, do you think you can win against what forces are in front of you?”

Gritting her teeth, Flurry Heart let her nervous energy leak through. She had to play the fearless leader for the others, but her mother was another matter. “If this was a Ruby battlegroup, it would not be a question. But…” She sighed out of forlorn hope. “All it would take is one, just one of their fighters or drones slipping past us to kill our carriers, or diving into Lilian to end the colony. Being left with just the Love and Akira… Maybe if we had been able to link up with the Rainbow Dash we could stand our ground, but without it? I don't know enough about the Waylan to safely say one way or the other.”

She didn’t want to fully answer the question anymore, and Furry averted her gaze. Cadence nodded slowly. “Then let me do what I do best. Down a gallon of coffee and talk it out.”