Salvage a Better Life

by law abiding pony

Rating: teen
Tags: Science Fiction, Adventure, Violence, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Original Character
Length: 144350

Survivors of a post-war star system must salvage what they can for a better life. Yet there is no telling what they will find.

Survivors of a decade long war that ended two years ago, Wiggly Sprocket and Live Wire have fended for themselves after war claimed their parents.

While the United Pony Space Initiative proved victorious, the Lilian star system was left nearly in ashes. The warp nexus allowing access to the wider UPSI still sits as a ruined mess, leaving the small planetary colony and two stations to fend for themselves against resurgent piracy.

Wiggly Sprocket has dreamed of leaving the system since her parents were killed, and taking the first shuttle when the nexus is repaired. However, money is sparse and the breaker yards only pay enough to keep her and Live Wire afloat.

That is until happenstance sees a battered but functional ship fall into her hooves. Trading the safety of a steady job for the potential riches floating in the void, Wiggly and Wire never could have imagined what they would find in the midnight sea.

Reading the 1st book is not truly required, but it will give context you might otherwise miss.

Published 2023-12-05 21:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-07 12:39:46 UTC

1: An End to Drudgery

Cut and sort.
Cut and sort.
Cut and sort.

That has been Wiggly Sprocket’s life for years.

She was a ship breaker for Trireme Station, and was mentally on autopilot as she cut a ruined fighter apart. Stretched out over a few kilometers were sixteen other breakers in their own docks.

In the cold weightless vacuum, her cutter’s deep groaning traveling up her legs was partially drowned out by the classic violin music in her helmet. Twin beams of energy rhythmically moved back and forth as the razor thin cut was made. As the cut finished, the segment lazily started drifting away. With tired drudgery, she angled her wrist mounted scanner over the piece she had just removed, and let it see if the internal component she wanted had survived intact.

Trireme station loomed behind her, and the formerly marble and gold colors of the once proud mining station had been dulled and marred by solar winds, war, and neglect.

Thankfully, the war was over, and the dying was done. But picking up the burnt and scattered pieces was neither quick nor easy. The gateway station linking the Lilian system to the rest of the United Pony Space Initiative was in ruins. Of the previous seventeen colonies and habitat stations, only a few facilities remained. Small farming towns on the lone habitable world, the foundering shipyard in orbit over the planet, and Trireme station that orbited just star-side of the first asteroid belt were all that had survived. For the navy, four warships and a handful of strike craft were counted among the living. Their enemies however were broken, and those that were marooned in the Lilian system had turned to scavenging and petty piracy.

All of the wrath, ruin, and the drudgery of her work kept Wiggly feeling as if she was in limbo, never able to see a return to real joy or Harmony.

With her scan showing all green, Wiggly used a repulser to launch an intact sensor array down to the recovery barge, then turned back to the half chopped-up fighter. She pulled out her scanner once more to plan the next cut, and had it outline dangerous or expensive components that would violently disagree with her cutting tool. She marked the best cut lines which remained on her visor as she secured the scanner. She halted the retrieval of her cutter when the music stopped in her helmet and a low whistle played. A massive grin cleaved her muzzle as text scrawled across her visor ‘prepare for end of shift’. Drudgery could wait.

Her stomach protested her negligence. “You and me both.”

Moving her repulsor to her back, and allowing the magnetic clamps to secure it, she spread her wings and used the rcs thrusters to gently drift back to the transport belt. It was little more than a series of metal hoops moving on a conveyor belt that went from the edge of the pier to the station airlock.

Once there, she pulled a lever and a low powered holding beam blanketed the chopped up fighter for her to continue tomorrow.

More text scrawled across her visor, ‘lockdown complete, breaker may depart. Please remember to return all rented tools to the kiosk before clocking out.’

Sprocket saw a few other breakers sail by with one of them waving at her. With a grin only quitting time could bring, she grabbed a waiting rung and was pulled along at great speed.

Trireme station dominated her view now. It was a ruined drum shaped station. There used to be a massive cylinder that housed natural greenery and habitats easily the size of a megalopolis. But the war had seen to the end of that. A gaping hole had been blown through one side and secondary damage had destroyed fully half of the drum.

Thankfully though, the central spire survived, and with it a sizable portion of the population. With the asteroid mining ships all destroyed and the great foundries still as cold as the void, Trireme had been reduced to feeding on the plentiful carrion left by the war. The last two years had seen enough repairs to stabilize the structure, but hopes to return it to its glory days were decades away when the repair crews were sent to rebuild the shipyards.

Wiggly Sprocket was brought to an airlock at the central spire where she and a few others waited for it to cycle for them. The local radio was abuzz with chatter and music from ponies that were coping as best they could. She looked up towards the great wound and saw a small tug dragging in a new derelict.

A shoulder bumped Sprocket causing her to turn to a friend of hers. “Hey, Sprocket, you down for drinks for Pieday?”

“I can’t, I promised Live Wire I’d take him up-spire to a restaurant with actual food.”

The airlock clanked open, the sound of it traveled up their boots. The stallion tsked in disappointment. “Yeah, that’s right. You two’s birthday is today isn’t it? Well, tell your brother I said hi for me.”

Air hissed into the lock, making all of the jostling metal and fabric become audible. “Will do.”

As everyone chatted and bragged or groaned about production numbers all while shedding their space suits, showering, and surrendered their tools. Sprocket kept her cutter and scanner, as she had bought them to avoid rental fees. Lugging the fairly heavy tools across her back, they were made lighter by the one third gravity the station could maintain. Sprocket opted to skip returning home to drop her equipment off, and instead made her way to her brother’s workstation.

It wasn’t that far from the breaker locker rooms anyway, and it felt nice to stretch her wings and legs as she danced between running and flying over groups or other obstructions along her path.

However, it was not feathers that gave her flight, as she could not grow them. Sprocket was a pegacorn, a daughter of magic and the sky while naturally lacking the talents of either. Her horn would have been uncontrollably discharging lightning throughout the day, igniting the oxygen in her suit had she not possessed a wire mesh that ran along the spiral of her horn.

Her wings were partially encased in threads of metal that hummed whenever she wanted to fly. Due to the war she had not been able to buy ones that fit since she was a young teenager. Her current set was a jerry rigged mess that barely hung on to the three long fingers of her wings, and hummed at different pitches when she used it. Were it not for the low gravity, she’d be unable to fly at all.

Unlike the truly vast open area of the wrecked cylinder, the hallways she walked through were cramped and worn out. Repair teams were never in great supply after they left for the shipyards, and less traveled places like this corridor were held together by slap-patches and hasty welding.

Sprocket rounded a foggy corner and spotted her destination. Live Wire’s posting was once one of five teller front offices where ponies would go to remotely buy and register ships bought from the colony shipyard. Now though it was where salvage shipmasters would go to have wrecks scanned and sold upon delivery.

Unfortunately, such large tugboats were easy prey for pirates, and were getting few and far between now. As such, Live Wire was the only one still present. He looked intensely bored at his teller station until he saw his sister’s approach, and waved tiredly at her. “Wiggs, how was today?”

Wiggly leapt over the counter and tackled him into a crushing hug, an act made worse by the tools on her back. “Wirrrrrrre!” She cheered happily as she buried her face into his neck. All through her life, the unicorn always made her feel safe in his embrace, like she was protected from the world’s woes. Where Wiggly possessed a pale red coat and a rich blue mane that had a streak of orange off the left side. Live Wire was a sky blue unicorn with a shock of vibrant red and orange mane spiked up. He bore a number of scars in spite of his fairly young age, with the worst being across the left side of his face. In place of an eye, he possessed a cheap orange implant that contrasted with his natural emerald eye. It had been worn out before he got it, and it couldn’t properly use his metabolism to power it for very long.

Chuckling sheepishly at the security camera above his head, Live Wire returned the crushing hug with one of his own. For his part, Wiggly was like a little sister to him, someone to guide and protect at all costs. He stroked her mane, knowing she needed a release from the tedium of her work. The act caused her to briefly go limp in his welcome embrace.

Reluctantly, Wiggly removed herself, and knew he would chastise her if she didn’t float back over to the customer side of the kiosk. She leaned against his desk with fatigue settling over her joy of visiting him. “Are you ready to get out of here for our birthday?”

Wire groaned, and started typing on his console. “I wish, but a tug just came in two minutes before closing for the night, and I drew the short straw. Shouldn’t be waiting too long though, I doubt he wants to wait long.” Live Wire checked the time in his eye. “The hour being what it is, docking fees will start in twenty minutes if he doesn’t sign it over.”

“Well that’s good, because you still haven’t chosen where you want to eat. It’s my treat tonight, birthday colt.”

“I told you what I want,” Wire asserted softly. “An extra pack of synbeef is more than enough. We need to save that money for the tickets out of here once the gate’s repaired.”

“Aww, but that could be a decade from now, and your birthday is today,” Wiggly punctuated with a light jab of a hoof. “I can pull some overtime when the next one is offered.”

Wiggly dug her hooves in and continued to insist on a restaurant, knowing full well how much her brother loved to eat. Live Wire continued to deflect, trying to find some alternative cost-free activity they could do, and could never bring himself to be insistent enough to give Wiggly pause.

Unbeknownst to them, barely ten feet away on the opposite wall, a rat was gnawing on electrical wire near a leaking methane pipe.

A short time later though, he was about to exhaust Sprocket’s ideas when a new face cleared her throat behind his sister. Sprocket turned to see a craggy old salt of an earth mare in a tattered trenchcoat and a patchy mane. “This is ship registration, right?” she asked with a snarl of impatience.

Live Wire perked up, and nosed his sister’s hooves off the desk. “That’s right. I heard you come in, so I went ahead and readied the forms. You can sign off before the dockyard starts charging you.” He magically withdrew a touch pad and pushed it forward. Wiggly wanted the shipmaster to finish quickly, and cleared the way, giving a polite greeting as she retreated.

The corner of the earth mare’s lips turned up at the expediency, but shoved it back. “‘Fraid you’re going to have to change forms there, sonny. I want to register the boat under my name to fly, not sell it to be scrapped.”

“Oh!” Wire was taken aback, and one look at Wiggly revealed she was no less surprised. “You actually found a spaceworthy derelict?” He reclaimed the pad, and inserted it into his console while trying to remember where those particular forms were.

“I wouldn’t exactly call her spaceworthy just yet. Found a… courier shuttle that was chewed up by some PDC. Found the crew still strapped to their seats with holes in them bigger than a hoof. But whoever killed them missed the engine and enough important bits that it can be patched up in a day or so. I just need to find a crew for her.”

Live Wire pulled the pad back out and presented the new forms. “Well congratulations, that’s a hell of a find, if a bit grizzly.”

While her brother may have been playing the smiling clerk act, Wiggly Sprocket felt like the world was growing distant as opportunity loomed over her like a mountain. The shipmaster was about to grab the pad to allow it to scan her retinas to confirm her claim over the salvage when Wiggly practically launched herself at the desk, startling the old mare into dropping the pad. “Miss Shipmaster, ma’am! I’ll join your crew! I’ve worked as a breaker for eight years. You need a piece cut off, and it’ll be done before the words even leave your mouth!”

Grumbling at having to bend down to reclaim the pad, the earth mare snorted at her. “You don’t even look twenty-” The shipmaster paused after noticing Sprocket’s featherless three-fingered wings, and remembered her tribe could look eighteen and be in their eighties. “Well, I ain’t looking for breakers… Then again, you pegacorns are supposed to be mechanical wizards ain’tcha? Why are you workin’ the yards instead of the engineers or repair crews?”

“I did, at first,” Sprocket admitted a bit too quickly for her liking. “My boss at the time almost flooded hab block seven with carbon dioxide. I tried telling him that, but he didn’t believe me. So I maybe - sorta - had to be a bit punchy to get him out of the way to fix it. ‘Course he took offense to that and blacklisted me for his mistake.”

Sighing in disappointment, the shipmaster turned away from Sprocket to read the tone print on the form. “A common enough story, a bit too common,” she added with dismissive disbelief, “but I ain’t in the mood to take a risk on somepony who’s been blacklisted. Doesn’t look good to other possible crew and all. And as I said, I don’t need a breaker.”

Desperation set in, and Sprocket pushed herself into the shipmaster’s face. “Oh come on, ponies aren’t going to care since you’re the boss and not me. I can do it, I just need a chance! You won’t find a better crewmember, I swear it, please!”

“You don’t know the first thing about runnin’ a ship. Get off me ya stupid girl!” The earther bodily shoved Sprocket away, and using a mechanical hand on her hoof, she quickly drew a plasma pistol and aimed it right at Sprocket’s forehead. The only sound for a second was the whine of capacitors charging. “Touch me again, and I’ll melt that empty dome of yours.”

In an instant Wiggly’s whole demeanor changed. Gone was the desperate young mare, and nor did a panicky one take her place. No, Sprocket’s eyes reflected something old and unfazed by staring down the barrel of a gun. The firm, unwavering expression both impressed and unnerved the shipmaster, and her aim retreated barely a touch, but a noticeable touch. “I’ve stared down larger barrels than that.”

Live Wire lit his horn and a caustic orb threatened the shipmaster. “There’s no need for that. We’re a polite society here, yeah?”

Keeping a tense glare on both of them, the shipmaster watched Sprocket’s expression closely, looking for something. A few moments pass before a wiry smirk crosses her lips. Slowly and deliberately she flipped the safety on the pistol and holstered it. “That’s right. Real polite.” She kept her gaze on Sprocket. “You have an old soul, girl. Good on you for listening to it, albeit a bit late… Perhaps you got what it takes after all. We all got to start somewhere, you want to work? I’ll run you like a dog, but you’ll earn a fair wage.”

Even if the weapon was out of her face, Sprocket couldn’t shake her tense demeanor. Still, the opportunity was on the table, and the risk was inconsequential to her now. She needed an escape, and a testy boss was good enough for her. “Fine by me.” Wiggly raised her hoof, and the shipmaster shook it.

“Excellent. I parked my new acquisition on dock 42A. You can show me if you pegacorns are as good as they say by getting it spaceworthy.”

Live Wire was floored by both the turn around, and that Wiggly agreed to such a thing without even looking at him. Resolving to fuss at her later, he let go of the spell and resumed his customer service smile. “If you two are done, I’ll let security know there is no need for their services.”

He pressed his hoof down on the panic button twice to disable the alarm. Yet in doing so, the frayed wire sparked.

Boom

The floor and opposite wall exploded into the hallway. Wiggly Sprocket’s world became a typhoon of blinding heat and light. She was slammed against the wall, and cut up by whizzing shrapnel. She was left conscious, but dizzy and her ears were ringing like a school bell. The station AI reacted quickly and cut off all gas, electrical, and fuel lines to the section. The fire went out just as quickly as it started, leaving Wiggly to shakily gather her wits. Pain throbbing on both sides of her. Bleary, she picked herself back up. What she lacked in magic, she made up for with durability. She cradled her head with the only wing that didn’t burn with pain. She looked at her left side and she had raw burns and deep gashes along her flank, wing, and foreleg, but nothing felt broken. Her cutter had fallen off of her, and aside from a new dent on the handle, it looked intact. “Wire? Wire?!”

Fumbling on unsteady legs, she lurched over the counter, the red emergency lights illuminated her brother who was moaning from a concussion, but he had been shielded by the desk and-

Sprocket hastily looked to the shipmaster. The old mare was covered in a heavy steel beam obscuring her forward body. The upper segment of the beam was still attached to the ceiling which was the only reason the shipmaster wasn’t completely crushed. Flashes of Trireme’s sundering rushed back. Although her focus was impaired by her fresh injuries, pain, and old scars she still acted with clarity.

Wiggly reached for her cutting tool, and stumbled from the weight of it and her injuries. Grunting with supreme effort, and wheeled it around, nearly stumbling in the process. Flicking a pair of switches, she hefted the cutter and eyeballed a quick cut plan. But she stopped short upon finally seeing something that she had first missed in the dim emergency lights: brain matter that was splattered against the wall.

With biting regret, she realized there was nothing she could do for the dead shipmaster. Wiggly was about to go to her brother’s side when she saw the data pad resting face up near the corpse. Fumbling to return the cutter onto her back, she used a hoof to drag the pad away from the dead mare and looked at it. It suffered spider-webbing cracks and part of the screen was black, but the ownership form was still active with the green scan button dutifully sitting there waiting to be used.

Cold logic and ambition took hold. She’s too dead to make use of it. Sprocket glanced up at the camera, finding a chunk of metal had cleaved it in two. With desperation gripping her heart and starting to break her focus, she looked down both ends of the hallway. She could hear shouting and oncoming hoofsteps, but no one was visible yet. In a rush, she hit the button and held the pad up to her face. She was half surprised the gentle red scanner still functioned and it scanned her eyes. With a happy chime that felt out of place, the pad changed to show the vessel at docking bay 42A was to be transferred to her name, and all it needed was one last button to confirm. Come what may, with a firm grimace she hit the submit button.

The next day Sprocket woke up in the infirmary. She groaned, and sluggishly sat up to find her brother sitting on the foot of the cot she was on. The stallion was recovering nicely as well, but his eye implant was darkened without power. He put down the practically ancient magazine he was reading and gave her a relieved smile. “Glad to see you back, Wiggs.”

She hissed from a combination of deep aches and swaths of shallow burns. Bandages covered far more of her body than she remembered bleeding from. She had no privacy from other patients, save for a lime green curtain.

“What happened?” She rubbed her sore head. And narrowed her eyes against the harsh lights above. “Last thing I remember was… Umm.”

A bemused lifted eyebrow was all she got at first. “You dragged me about one step before collapsing right there behind the desk. At least that’s what the paramedic said.”

Sprocket paused to think, eventually her eyes widened. Everything rushed back to her between the gun and fleeing the area. “I went Wigglinanas again…”

“Completely.” Live Wire fumed with an annoyed scowl. I still don’t get where she came up with that name. What even is a ‘nanans’? “Wiggs, I get that we agreed that if a chance popped up for you to fly that you could jump at it. But I didn’t think that included signing up with a pony who drew a gun on you like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wiggly sputtered, hoping for forgiveness. “It’s just - I was as surprised as you were that she switched frequencies on me. I figured if I hesitated she’d reconsider and say no.”

“You should have said no after that.” Live Wire shook himself and had to force himself to let go of his anger. Come what may, she was the world to him, and staying mad always felt weird to him, like his brain being dipped in oil. “Well,” he started with a much calmer tone. “Doesn’t matter either way, our would-be captain is dead.”

Two sets of armored hooves thudded on the metal decking, quieting Sprocket’s bemoaned reply. The hooves came to a stop in front of her curtain which was drawn away to reveal two station security officers. The front one was a hard edged pegasus stallion who was a passingly familiar face to the siblings, although neither of them could put a name to his face. The dark gray earth mare behind him was more of a surprise.

“Boss?” Live Wire asked with a surge of worry. “W-what brings you here with s-sec?” Live Wire gave the hard nosed administrator a sheepish grin.

“Verifying some facts before an arrest is ordered.” The administrator locked her harsh gaze upon Wiggly who cowed away. “Miss Wiggly Sprocket, as per 24 U.P.C § 1771, I am here to inform you that Trireme feels aggrieved about a possible case of grand theft astra, and first degree fraud.” The mare did not stop while the siblings looked pale enough to blend in with the bed sheets. “Know that if you decide to remain silent and invoke an attorney, I will move forward pressing the already stated charges. Am I understood?”

Wiggly’s lip was quivering and it took serious effort to make it stop. “I do.”

“Very good.” The administrator mentally commanded a drone on her back to activate. It flew up to be level with her head and projected a hologram of the old shipmaster between herself and Wiggly. “Yesterday, Shipmaster Cherry Sweet made her intentions known to the dock controller that she was delivering a derelict for her use. Her death was registered at 1945 hours station time.” The hologram changed to the damaged pad. “Yet the SAI logged the title transfer of the unnamed freighter to you at 1946. Care to explain this discrepancy?”

“Ah - yes I can.” Sprocket paused and closed her eyes to try and recall the night as perfectly as she could. “You see, she - Cherry Sweat that is - agreed to sign me on as her second in command. When she died, her ships and possessions fell to me in lieu of a will, right?”

The administrator appeared unmoved by the defense. “If you were officially recognized as part of her crew, then yes. However, there is no crew whatsoever listed under Cherry Sweat.”

“It was a verbal agreement we settled that very night.”

A very faint uptick in the administrator’s lips gave way. “Is that so? Then care to explain this?” The drone switched to video playback. It was the security camera from the night prior when Cherry arrived at Wire’s kiosk. It was silent, and it stopped when Cherry pulled her pistol on Sprocket. “Does this look like the actions of somepony wishing to sign you on as a crewmember? Let alone a first mate?”

“I - I well umm…” Wiggly’s memory of everything past that point grew hazy, and she didn’t know how to argue it.

“I thought not.” The administrator turned to the police stallion. “Officer, make a note of the time. Resident Wiggly Sprocket is hereby charged with-”

“Wait a minute, where’s the rest of it?!” Live Wire cried out, stopping his boss, who turned to him with grave irritation. Live Wire was unmoved by the baleful glare, and he tapped the side of his artificial eye. “You forget I was there? All cybereyes record the last forty eight hours in a secure partition. It’s all part of the terms and conditions after all. I can provide everything else up to the explosion. Cherry did invite my sister to her crew.”

“A recording from an implant? You could have doctoring software,” the mildly perturbed mare explained as if she was the only one speaking the truth.

“Then perhaps I can forward the file to a third party at the shipyard, or planetside by chance.” Live Wire was running on dreams and hope. He had no way of even contacting such a person, let alone affording to hire them. “How about it?”

Sighing heavily at the resistance, the administrator inclined her head. “Very well, forward the file to the drone.” After doing so, the hologram revealed the rest of what happened that night up to the explosion itself including everything he had heard. Although outwardly calm, the administrator was fuming, yet it was not directed at the siblings. “I see I was not given the full recording. Even so, a verbal agreement is not solid legal grounds. I am willing to forgive the grievances.”

“I can keep my ship?” Wiggly asked with growing hope.

“Keep? Hardly. Trireme will acknowledge that you assumed you had legal course to keep the vessels, but you do not. They belong to the station.”

Taken aback, Wiggly climbed off her bed, but stopped short of anything else as the officer moved a hoof over his gun as a warning. “What are you even going to do with the ships?”

“That is no longer your concern,” the administrator remarked before studying their faces. Then a moment passed before the risk of potential litigation threatening her career made her speak further. “But I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. Sweet Cherry’s original vessel will be auctioned off. Failing that, it will be sent to the shipyard, who knows maybe it can be repurposed into an asteroid miner. As for the unnamed vessel…” She checked something in her implant. “The tedious paperwork of registering a new transponder and the repairs will likely see it sent to the breakers. Who knows, maybe you’ll be lucky enough to have it assigned to you, Miss Wiggly Sprocket.”

“If I may,” Wiggly began while bowing placatingly more to the officer than the administrator. “If you’re just going to send my ship to the breakers, why not let me keep the thing? I can fix it up, and then go do what I signed up for. I mean, what’s more useful for Trireme: just one more derelict, or another salvager bringing in work? Because I can tell you, the breakers never have enough work.” It was a thin hope that the administrator lacked intricate knowledge on the breaker yards. Work was getting thin, but the station wasn’t entirely desperate yet.

“You haven’t even seen the freighter Cherry brought in,” the administrator retorted flatly. “What makes you think you can fix it, let alone afford such a task?”

Wiggly proudly flared her three-fingered featherless wings. “It’s in my blood. I know I can do this.”

Humming for a second or two, the mare tilted her head. “Perhaps you can, perhaps not. In either case, Trireme will need to be compensated for relinquishing its claim over the freighter. I tell you what…” The administrator used her authority to check over the siblings’ records. “You two are recipients of the War Orphans Act, yes? Free room and board and a reduction on utility fees.”

Live Wire didn’t like where this was going one bit. “Now wait a minute, boss, you and I both know that what you pay both of us can barely keep up with the rest of our bills. How many times have I had to ask you for an advance or overtime?”

“You will have a ship to live on, yes?” the administrator replied with a matter-of-fact tone. “The long term savings on resending your privileges will save Trireme more blips in the long run. What say you?”

Before Wiggly could even move her jaw to speak, Live Wire roped her into a tight huddle while giving his superior a customer service smile. “Just a moment if you please.” Turning back to his sister, Wire gave her an iron glare. “Don’t you dare. Our rooms are all we have left of our parents.”

Hardly cowed by the display, Wiggly tutted. “Yes, and so far all the station’s given us for losing them is a hole in the wall hammock, not even a proper one either, watery paste for food, and ‘clean’ air given a once-over by the scrubbers.”

“Better that than the void.”

“A ship is an upgrade and you know it!” Wiggly pressed while jabbing him with a wing. “What’s a better gift from our parents? Some rotten hole-for-a-home I can barely stretch my wings in, or a ship we can call our very own. It’s freighter, right? Plenty of room. We can live there from here on out.”

It made sense to Live Wire, even if he didn’t like it. Wiggly would never forgive me if I put my hoof down. His gaze softened as he thought it over. As stable as it was, he had no love for clerical work, and even if he did, he couldn’t stomach working under the administrator any longer. Breaking the huddle, he turned towards his ex-boss. “So long as you waive docking fees for two weeks and give us allowances to fill our tanks to half, you got a deal.”

Humming in approval, the grim mare looked down her nose. “Nine days and one third on the tanks. Given your adequate work history; Mr. Wire, I’ll even add in a single replacement oxygen scrubber, should the vessel require it.”

Live Wire turned to his sister who was practically vibrating with excitement. He jerked his head towards the administrator. It was all Wiggly needed and she thrust her hoof forward to shake. “Deal!”

Arching an unamused eyebrow at the offered hoof, the mare simultaneously ordered the drone to move the offending hoof out of her personal space and send a request to the SAI. “Excellent.” She didn’t need to wait long as the SAI delivered a document to her internal storage. She then redirected the same document to Live Wire and for it to be displayed by the drone. The holographic contract looked like a slightly yellowed scroll with the relevant text complimented by the seal of the United Pony Space Initiative above it. “This is the contract of our aforementioned agreement. Peruse it if you feel it necessary, then sign.”

While Live Wire was able to simply use his soul key, a unique signature created between a pony and their first implant, Wiggly Sprocket was a rare all natural pony. As such she had to let the drone scan her retina after she was satisfied the contract had not been quietly altered.

Once it was all said and done, the administrator hummed in satisfaction. “Perfect. Some advice, if I were you, I’d check yourself out within the hour. Your free healthcare is now expired. Good day.” With a final nod, the administrator departed, dragging the officer with her.

“I think we just spent more than we thought,” Wire worried as he could practically feel his wallet deflating. “Wiggly, if this freighter turns out to be a mistake, I swear on mom’s grave I’ll upload myself somehow so I can haunt you for your entire life.”

“How bad can it be? Cherry was willing to repair it and she was solo.” Sprocket patted her brother’s shoulder with a reassuring smile.

One hasty exit from the infirmary later, the siblings were quick to make their way back to their respective quarters. Wiggly stepped inside presumably for the last time. The once sterile floors and walls were worn down and dirty thanks to the cleaning bots being taken offline years ago to conserve power, only to never be resumed when the issue was solved. What few possessions she had were scarce. Lacking any real bag, she unhooked her cargo netting hammock and used it to grab what few bits she had before the station could claim it all. The five ration bars in a cupboard, a few reused water bottles, some ratty clothes and dolls she had outgrown, but couldn’t bring herself to throw out. The only thing she took real care in preventing damage were two picture frames. She took them off the shelf and gently ran the edge of her wing on the first one. It was her at nine years old. Her proud pegacorn father and unicorn mother were smiling in their old home before the sundering. When the drum was still intact, old fashioned houses made of real wood that had been grown right here in Trireme.

The three of them sat on rich green grass with clouds obscuring the curve of the dome behind her smiling parents as they squashed her in a hug. Tears fell from her eyes and she wiped them away with her other wing. Ever so gently, she nuzzled the picture before carefully wrapping it up in an old blue and white dress. The other photo was of six ponies; her family, and Live Wire’s own in one big group before the war started. They had been neighbors back then, and Wiggly couldn’t remember the first day she had met Live Wire. In fact, her first memory was waking up from a nap right next to him and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that they belonged with each other.

The warm memory faded, the smile on her face did not. She looked over the cramp room she had reluctantly called home one final time to ensure she didn’t miss anything. The creaking vent, the hundreds of tally marks she made hoping the room was temporary, the loose paneling where she hid Wire’s birthday gift once, and the leaky shower that she had to smuggle a tarp to replace the missing curtain.

No, she wouldn’t miss any of it, because none of it was hers. She left that room, that cell, behind.

Some lunch later, the siblings exited the tram which brought them to the dockyard. It was a massive artificial chasm that survived the sundering. Twin exits complete with shielding retained the atmosphere, and twenty ‘small’ docking platforms lined the edges. Eight recessed larger docking platforms sat in the center which allowed through traffic. Presently, three vessels were docked in the center platforms while over a dozen smaller craft took up the spaces lining the walls. The cacophony and pollution of so many ships was carefully regulated by pre-war mechitech, making the dockyard bearable without rebreathers or ear protection.

Wiggly Sprocket took a long slow breath and sighed in contentment. “Can ya smell it, Wire? This is a turning point, I can feel it.”

“Oh yeah, my nose hairs get burnt every time we come here,” he retorted with anxious humor. “But how about we save the ‘this is Elysium’ until after we see the state of our new home.” Leading the way, Wire stepped onto a busy conveyor moving ponies and small cargo pods alike.

“You mean you haven’t looked at the scans yet? I would have by now if I had a sublink.”

Wire shrugged helplessly. “Cherry clearly did some of her own, else she wouldn’t want to keep the thing, but the station doesn’t exactly give those out for free even if we’re the new owners. The only thing I know is that it is a terrapin class light freighter. We’ll just have to be surprised.”

“Oh you know what? All the better!” Sprocket giggled manically as the conveyer pulled them along.

A short time later, they stepped off and were floored by what they saw. Sitting on platform 42A was a mess of a ship. In its pristine condition, the freighter would look like a flying rectangle parked on its thin long side with one drive thruster on both sides of the ship. The cockpit sat high at the front and below that were the sparse living accommodation below it. Two modular weapon hardpoints were visible on the thin dorsal side. The rear section housed the airlock and docking ramp. It had a cheery blue and gold paint scheme with a ‘Happy Trails’ logo of the now defunct transport company.

As the siblings circled the vessel and then searched within it they found that the cockpit had been ventilated. There was only unrecognizable mangled metal where the two weapons should have been. Dozens of cannon holes had over-penetrated from one side to the other. The ramp had been cut open by a pirate’s handheld plasma torch. The transponder had taken a direct hit. Even the registry number and printed name had been deliberately cut away with some pirate graffiti around the removed section as if to spite the poor vessel.

After mentally assessing all the damage, Wiggly tapped her brother’s shoulder. He had been busy plugging into the computer, and investigating matters on that end. “Any luck in there?”

Pulling the connector out of the console and allowing it to spool back into his neck, Live Wire shook his head. “Storage and the CPUs’ were fried, likely by prolonged exposure to solar radiation, but I got good returns on most everything else. I could pilot the thing so long as I’m using my own gray matter, but this rust bucket is dead the moment I unplug. ‘Course, I’d need to find the software first, and figure out how to actually fly second.” He sighed while looking up first at the flight controls ruined first by the attack, and then by hard vacuum. “There’s no way this thing is ever going to look pretty.”

“Says you!” Sprocket twirled in the tight confines on the vessel’s hallway behind the cockpit. “Just you wait and see, once I get all the important stuff in working order, we can decorate to our hearts content.”

“Can you fix it?” Wire pulled himself back to his hooves and fixed her with a half desperate half hopeful look. “Because we’re not exactly flush with funds ya know.”

“If we want to do it down and dirty, and we’re going to have to if we want outta here in nine days, I can do it.” Wiggly ran a hoof along that chipped and cracked plastic paneling along the wall. “We can afford enough slap patches to keep the living quarters air tight, along with making sure we don’t suffer any leaks in the tanks or feed lines. The rest we can fix out in the midnight sea.” A massive toothy grin cleaved her maw at the prospect of fixing it all. “So that just leaves your end.”

“Damn I wish I had your enthusiasm for all this.” Try as he might, Live Wire was stuck with the situation. Not that he had any real love for his old job or dormitory, but there was a sense of stability he knew he’d miss. “My buddy Circuit Break owes me a favor, so I can get a license for the SAI to write me a control program on the cheap. As for piloting…”

He drew a blank, making Wiggly do the same for a time. Eventually a thought struck her. Wiggly slid up to Wire’s side with a sultry look that made him instant suspicious. “Why not ask your maaarrrefriend? She’s a pilot.”

“She’s on rotation with the Rainbow Dash.” He eyed her with annoyance at how strongly she was giving him comically romantic eye flutters. “So she’s a no go.”

“Bull.” Wiggly cut the act to be serious. “Come on, I know how you cyborgs are. You spend your nights in her private lobby doing unspeakable things to each other.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Wire retorted with the certainty of truth behind him. “Navy ships have a total blackout on personal messaging or mingling like that. I’d have to send a message the old fashioned way if I want her to see it.” He recoiled a bit at the flat stare she gave him. “Okay, okay, I’ll send a message. But there’s no guarantee Winter Gale will receive it any time soon.”

Loosing up, Wiggly made for the ladder to grab her list of supplies. “Then you probably should get the SAI to include a simulator with your flight program.”

Live Wire followed after her, and called out as Sprocket stepped off at the bottom. “Just tell me this: do you really think we can do this? We’ve been stationbound our whole lives. We’ve never even been on a shuttle.”

“You want my answer or a real answer?”

Rubbing his eyes as the day’s fatigue and hunger dragged at him. “Your answer actually.”

Flashing a winning smile, Wiggly flared her wings, only to be hemmed in by the confines of the walkway. Not that she let that deter her excitement. “Not only can we do this, but we’ll be famous. I can feel it!”

Author's Note

And here it is, hope you all enjoy the story to come.

I will admit that using both of Wiggly Sprocket's names constantly may be annoying to some people, but I really like using both with her.

2: Cutting Your Teeth

A week went by as Wiggly Sprocket worked feverishly on getting her new home shipshape. Between borrowing money from friends and stretching the definition of spaceworthy, Wiggly Sprocket stood on the docking platform overlooking her new ship with pride.

The same could not quite be said with Live Wire. He swallowed his disgust long enough to continue his clerk job by day, and spending time with his marefriend Winter Gale at night to learn how to be a pilot. To say he was now left little more than a groggy mess would be too kind. Nevertheless, as his father would say... Keep a straight back and a stiff chin. Today made that advise a struggle to abide. “So tell me again why you claim we’re ready to go when I still see holes in the hull?”

Getting a bit defensive, Wiggly grumbled at him with a stink eye. “Look, clown, we had three choices: it looks pretty and we end up in ruinous debt, ugly but flyable, or neither. I tell ya, the choice wasn’t hard for me.”

Letting off a sheepish laugh, Wire waved a hoof placatingly. “Alright, I get ya, I get ya. ‘S not like I had any real hope we’d get that new ship smell, but I was at least hoping you’d have to open a hatch to see inside.”

Wiggly sauntered over to the cut away section that used to be the freighter’s name and started to step inside. “Just think of it as extra windows. Besides, don’t worry so much. Once we get to our first wreck, I can start welding pieces to the hull.” She fully stepped inside, and then turned around to poke her head out. “Come on, you’ve crashed with Sparky all week. Check out our bunks! Hurry, you’re going to love it!”

Moved by Wiggly’s sheer joy and enthusiasm, Live Wire cracked a smile of his own and followed after her. However, he barely took a single step inside the front end of the cargo hold to see a difference. The paint along the walls was clean and fresh. Cargo netting was neatly stowed away, and enough of the internal lights worked to avoid walking into things. Looks like she thought this through. We’ll be able to secure a lot of smaller bits until we can afford actual containers.

“Who did the paint?” Wire gingerly touched the pearly white paint to ensure it was dry before running his hoof along the white and gold wall.

Wiggly stuck her head out from the forward hallway with her signature grin anytime she did something he approved of. “You like it? When Coral heard I was quitting because of our situation, she insisted she got to paint something on it. Given how bad everything was, I may have made a bit of a mistake to tell her to go all out. I did manage to talk her into doing the forward sections and the cargo bay in traditional Canterlot colors. You remember her right?”

“Isn’t she that insane friend from work that acts like she eats batteries?”

“Acts?” Wiggly led with faux surprise. “She’s more ‘borg than pony so she probably does for real. Now come on, there was one other super special thing I asked of her!”

Following her, Wire took note of the increasingly artistic reinterpretation of proper ship painting. Gold swirls and stars started populating the marble white walls and ceiling. Soon, little goldened ponies and starships in scattered unrelated scenes ranging from picnics to space operas.

By the time they got to the quarters, there was more gold than white on the walls. The paintings were highly stylized, but it was all pleasing to the eye. At last, Wiggly all but dragged him to stand in front of their quarters. It was here, three feet from each adjacent door that the artistry stopped with only marble white remaining.

He eyed it all with a sly grin. “Let me guess. Coral started here and then went wildcat after realizing she was working for you and not some corporation?”

“Not quite. She wanted some, and I quote, ‘suspense’.” Sprocket tapped the wall button and his door slid open. The room was smaller than his quarters on the station, yet at the same time was more spacious thanks to not housing a bathroom or kitchenette.

But it was not the extra leg room, larger cargo net hammock, or even actual drawers that stole his breath. Oh no, it was the fully colored and photo-realistic recreation of the midday interior of Trireme’s drum back before the war. The curvature of the ceiling replicated the drum, and it was all from a hauntingly familiar angle.

Nostalgia smacked him in the jaw so hard a tear formed. Wire slowly stepped inside while Sprocket kept her eyes on him and his gaze, looking for both recognition and approval. “Come on, lay down to get the best angle.” She wedged herself past him and pulled the hammock open for Wire.

Blinking away that tear and covering it up with a playful smile. “Alright, alright.” Throwing himself onto the hammock, Wiggly giggled and jumped in after him, rocking them both about. Looking up at the ceiling stole Wire’s breath. It was only now that the picture was complete. It wasn’t just a random snippet from the drum.

“You remember all those days we used to look up from your parents’ rooftop?” Gone was Wiggly’s cheer, instead solemn grief colored her words. She leaned her head onto his, trying to relive those faded memories.

Wire found himself unable to trust his voice. They had been too young to understand the war. Those summer days were spent on the roof to escape their parents’ fearful conversations about the conflict. He had not felt real happiness since the drum was destroyed.

Now though… He wanted to thank her, but couldn’t bring himself to speak for fear of his voice cracking horribly. His tears betrayed him all the same. Yet Wiggly purposely did not look once it was clear he wasn’t speaking to save him that little bit of embarrassment. So instead they held each other, pretending to be on that rooftop once more.

After a spell, he had wanted to ask how Coral painted it all, how much it actually cost, or where Wiggly got the holo-photo to recreate it. Instead he did the only thing he could. “Thank you, Wiggs. It already feels like home.”

Late the next day, Wiggly Sprocket and Live Wire were preparing the ship to leave. The final checks were done, and enough lights were green that the freighter was able to crawl its way into a low hover.

While Wiggly watched everything like a hawk on the lower deck, Wire was tethered to the wall just outside of the cockpit. The canopy was still missing, so he was forced to plug himself into a cable running from the cockpit to mentally command the freighter. Routing it through a wall mounted datajack had proven impossible with their budget, so he was forced to roll a cable from the cockpit through the door and into the hallway. Sealant foam was all that stood between him and hard vacuum. He also dragged a foam mat over so he had something soft to lean into during acceleration. Now that they were going to be underway, he would have to practically live in this claustrophobic hallway lest the ship fall out of control.

He tried not to think about it and focused on the sheer amount of readouts and controls. It had taken a while to get a handle on it, even if it was all in his mind. Wire wasn’t going to try anything fancy. Winter Gale may be a great pilot, but she was a poor instructor. He at least trusted the autopilot could handle most things. Presently though, he was on call with the on-duty flight controller trying to just get out of the door. “I told you, we haven’t been able to buy a new transponder. Do you know how much those things cost?”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” the controller retorted firmly. “No vessel is authorized to take off or return without an active transponder.”

Putting on his best customer service façade, Wire tried again. “I perfectly understand your position, sir. But perhaps we can reach a compromise. “If you let us leave and come back with a working transponder, we’ll cut Trireme a discount on what we bring back. Say… fifteen percent?”

The controller went quiet at first before relying on a dangerous tone. “Are you attempting to bribe an official?”

Fully prepared for that, Wire let off a dismissive laugh. “Not at all, sir. All I’m saying is that Trireme knows how important salvagers are. If you report this discount, I’m sure Trireme will reward you. We get to fix our unfortunate issue, and you get an above board reward from management.”

The controller went quiet and brooded for a spell. Every second made Wire increasingly hopeful. “Half. You want me to bend the rules, you make it worth both management’s and my worthwhile.”

Wire was incensed by the demand, but he managed to hide it behind a winning smile. “Half it is. Of our first haul.”

A side-smirk played on the controller’s muzzle. “Very good. I’ll go ahead and tell the defense commander to ignore your departure. But I won’t bother if you come back without a transponder.”

With that, the controller ended the call. The freighter reported to Live Wire that station control was demanding the engines to idle. Sighing in thread bare relief, he complied and sent the acknowledgement signal. Within moments tractor beams removed them from the dockyard and would soon be shoving them clear of Trireme.

As he waited for control to be returned to him, Wire slumped against his mat as the beams pushed them along. He looked up at the dim lights in the hallway. He idly observed the cockpit door next to him. What a mess.

A new call sprang up in his vision, one that brought more joy. He answered his sister with a more genuine smile. “Heyya, Sprocket.” As a fully natural pony, Wiggly’s face was being transmitted by her console’s camera. He could tell she had just recovered from squealing for joy.

“We did it! We finally did it! We’re real spacers now!” She spun in place, which was quite a feat in the narrow confines of the engineering terminal. “What did you tell them to let us go?! I thought for sure I’d have to fake a reactor leak or something.”

“Oh just half of our first haul,” he stated, trying to downplay it. He saw the outraged tirade coming as her eyes hardened. “But hey, it’s just one haul. We’re flying, that’s all that matters, right?.”

It took serious effort for Wiggly to swallow her anger. Ultimately, she knew it would only upset Live Wire, and she could just scream into a pillow later. “You’re right. Totally right. We’ll live like alicorns in a matter of months.” Having shaken off enough animosity, she rubbed her hooves with anticipation. “So, we’re going after our first mark, right?”

“That’s the master plan.”

After the siblings had registered as salvagers, they had been given the latest map of known wreckage courtesy of the Rainbow Dash and her fighter patrols. Presently, the dead stations were still hot places for quality salvage, and were regularly patrolled by both the navy and pirates. But even the siblings knew the lack of a transponder was a death sentence if the navy spotted them. They wouldn’t even be hailed, simply shot first and not even be scanned for survivors.

So they had to start small. Wire pulled up the map and checked around. Calculating both fuel and water consumption, he found a good start. “There’s a blip not too far from here. No pony knows what it is, but it’s the size of a shuttle.”

“Great! I’ll be ready for it.”

The freighter lurched a bit, rocking Wire in place. Flashing before his eyes, his mental control panel read green. “We’re free of station control. Hold onto your socks, I’ve Ah - this is my first real go of it.”

Letting the computer work up a flight path, Live Wire activated the travel drive, and made for their very first derelict.

Even with the travel drive achieving a few percentages of light speed, it took them well over a week to reach the first wreck. Upon arrival, Live Wire brought the freighter in close to a sorry sight. What had once been a passenger shuttle was a few chunks of broken wreckage with small flecks of metal or plastic drifting about. The freighter used to have several floodlights, but only one still functioned, so he directed it at the remains of the shuttle. The wreckage was even worse after being illuminated. Not only had its reactor exploded, but lately entry cuts. Be it pirates or scavengers, the shuttle was little more than a mass of broken metal.

“What do you think, Wiggly?”

His sister was already in her pressure suit and was getting ready to leave via the hole where the freighter’s name used to be. She couldn’t afford a proper space suit, so she had to tether her pressure suit to an oxygen cable from inside the freighter. “I’ll know in a bit.”

With Wire being forced to remain physically plugged into the flight controls, Wiggly struggled to safely unfurl her lifeline through the open cut. Grunts and small curses escaped her lips until she finally managed to step up to the exit and look at the wreckage properly. Her years at the breaker yards did not paint a pretty picture.

“I’ll have to scan it, but I can already see the damage is pretty bad. I’d put money on the whole electrical system being burned out, so a transponder would be a long shot. I don’t think we’ll be getting much more than metal from this one.”

“Do you want to try anyway, or move on?”

Rolling her neck and psyching herself up, Wiggly spread her wings and gently pushed off. “We’re already here. Even if all we get is metal, I can still patch the hull.”

And over the next several hours, that is exactly what she did. With both scanner and cutter in hoof, Wiggly measured each hole in the freighter twice, then cut the shuttle once. Wire kept the freighter on minimal power, just enough to keep the heat and oxygen running.

For the first hole, Wiggly carefully placed the hull piece into the hole and switched her cutter’s beam. Instead of rapidly slicing the metal, it acted like a welder. Thankfully, her pressure suit protected her eyes until the task was done. A massive, toothy grin cleaved her muzzle as she brushed her work with a boot. The weld was ugly to the eye, but her scanner claimed it would hold just as well as if the hull had never been damaged.

“I’m doing it.” Tears of joy flooded her eyes as she admired her work. It was like she had been chained to a wall her whole life and she was finally cut free. “I get to fix something! To really fix it.” She hugged herself with her wings, trying to blink her tears away.

Live Wire groggily woke up from a nap only to jump in fright at seeing the cockpit door wide open. “Sweet Celestia!” He frantically tried to mentally close it, only to hear Wiggly giggling madly.

He stopped, and actually looked into the cockpit. Instead of being open to the void, a new canopy was present. Jagged weld lines were present all throughout, giving it the look of cracked glass.

Sprocket had been leaning back in the chair, and had turned around upon hearing him shriek. “Like what I’ve done with the place?”

Live Wire dumbly backed away as the seat extended towards him, allowing Wiggly to get off. “You found a - how long was I asleep? How did I sleep through all this?”

“After we finished talking? Eight hours. As for how, you’ve been mostly awake for a week. You needed a nap at the very least.” Wiggly kept jerking her head towards the seat so he would take it. Yet Wire was still recovering and didn’t take the hints. “Me though? I couldn’t sleep, I was on a roll.” Dark circles were under her eyes and her sweat stained mane and fur was a complete mess. The euphoric mare was subsisting on little more than excitement and a single pack of vat-grown fish paste.

Live Wire finally caught on to her insistences, only to tease her and instead squeezed his head and neck past the seat to inspect her work. “Was the shuttle in such bad shape all you found were pieces of the canopy?”

“Sadly enough, yeah. But hey, I got all the holes patched, except for the back ramp and name panel, so we can finally pressurize the forward sections.” She resorted to patting the extended cockpit seat with a hoof, and was too distracted and tired to realize he was playing with her.

Pulling himself back into the hallway and coming to a stop above his original spot, he earned a supremely exasperated scowl from Sprocket. Wire went about filling the repaired sections with atmosphere. “It’ll be nice to have more than a three by ten hallway to look at from here on out. Coral’s art is great and all, but I can only stare at the same scene for so long.”

Sprocket rounded on him and gave him a stink eye he feigned ignorance of. “She did get a bit carried away. But hey, you can get a great view from the cockpit.”

Wire took a long look at the seat in question, mostly so he could grin without her seeing his face, and then turned back to his sister. “I don’t know, I kinda like just floating about. Who needs a cockpit anyway when I can just plug myself in out here?”

Finally cluing in on his teasing, Wiggly pounced him, and play-bit his ear with an exaggerated growl like a character in an old show. “You are going in that chair, mister!”

Dramatically overplaying the pain, Wire tried to pull free. “Oww! You’re going to pull my cable out if you keep that up. We’ll spin out of control!

Sprocket spread her wings to partially stabilize their movement. “You can just put the ship on standby, don’t give me that!”

“You’ll never take me alive!” he challenged with a quick jerk that got his ear free as she tried to speak again. “Captain Proton will never surrender!”

Fully getting into the act, Wiggly wrestled with him just strongly enough to try and get him to remove the cable from behind his ear before she could go all out. “You are in no position to stop me now, Captain Prrrroton! Queen Arachnia has caught you in her dastardly web!”

A single alert flag from the ship was all Live Wire noticed before the lights went out. The wrestling came to an abrupt halt as the siblings looked up. The hum from the reactor stopped, and the muffled hiss of maneuvering thrusters pushed them both against the wall and started to slowly spin the freighter as it moved away from the wreckage. The thrusters cut off shortly thereafter.

“Wire, what’s going on!?” Sprocket felt a frightful chill crawl down her spine as red emergency lights winked on. She was still hugging him out of protective fear.

Gathering his wits, Wire quickly saw the issue. “Passive sensors detected a return that didn’t have a transponder signal with it. I set up a panic alert just in case this happened. It’s supposed to make us look like just another derelict.”

Baring their own situation, that only meant one thing in their eyes: pirates. Wiggly pushed herself over to the pilot’s seat and clung onto it to try and look outside. Wire held onto a railing in the hallway to keep from getting jostled about. “Do you think they saw us? Our speakers aren’t blaring that warcry of theirs.”

Wire kept his eyes closed, as it made it easier to focus on what the ship’s sensors were showing him. “Didn’t know our speakers even worked.” The faint blip of color on the thermal sensor kept moving perpendicular to them at great speed. Wire had no idea how to gauge size or distance as his control suite was threadbare at best. His tense expression as the small signature flew past them only made his sister sweat that much harder.

“Wirrrre?”

Blinking, he let go of the breath he was holding. “I think we’re good. Whoever they were, they either didn’t see us or care enough to bother.”

Exhaling hard enough to float up to the ceiling, Sprocket gazed down at her brother who was just as relieved. “Okay, as good as it was to patch up the hull, we need to replace our weapons.”

“Assuming we can find any that would work for us, and that you could mount it with no equipment, and we find ammunition, I don’t know the first thing about making fire control software.”

Rubbing her chin in thought for a short while, Sprocket spread her wings once more to float into the middle of the hallway. Her brother went about correcting the spin and bringing the reactor back online. “We may not know how, but the navy does. I bet the Rainbow Dash has plenty of coders who can help us.”

“I’m sure they do, but why would they help us? Winter Gale is a pilot, not the captain, we can’t just stroll up and say ‘hi can we have some software?’.”

“No… but…” Wiggly Sprocket developed an inspired grin. “If we make it worth their while, I’m sure the Navy would be more than happy to help arm us. Look on the map and see where the closest battlefield was.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Wire asked with growing worry. “Winter once said the navy mined battle areas before and after combat. Tractor mines are no joke.”

“You mean the Starhold Mark eighteens?” Wiggly replied with a smug grin. “I was given a few of those nasty things, but a breaker doesn’t get to choose which job you get. We just cut it and be grateful.”

“That sorta thing wouldn’t fly if we were still linked with the wider Initiative.” Wire shook his head at the idea of a cutting beam going anywhere near a mine. “But at least those you cut were deactivated.”

“True.” Wiggly tapped her toolbelt. “But you’d be surprised just how much my scanner picks up when you jailbreak it. Such as the method of detection. I can get us past the mines if you can get us there.”

Live Wire gave her a look of unfathomable disbelief. “You’re kidding.” A pause did not see her expression change. “You have to be kidding.” Still no change. “By Terra you’re not kidding…”

Author's Note

Merry Christmas everyone! The next chapter is already written and had an edit pass. So it should be out fairly soon.

3: Sword Fall

Drifting above the middle of the inner asteroid belt sat a lone two-seat fighter. It was sizable at roughly a hundred feet long and it’s hard points brought it’s beam to sixty feet. Multiple small cuts existed on its hull, save for the painted symbol of the Initiative. The white, purple, and pink busts of three mares remained crisp and vibrant.

Winter Gale yawned tiredly as her duty shift dragged on. Even the heavy base music wasn’t enough to keep the thestral’s eyes wide open. So she resorted to sucking down a coffee packet and crumbless crackers. The navy had invested much into her, as it did for all pilots. She looked natural, save for fine contours and patches of fur that were artificial if one knew where to look. All told, half of her body was synthetic.

Her earth pony copilot was humming a sea shanty commonly sung on the Rainbow Dash as he continued to observe dozens of sensors and readings. The fighter was a nexus for a multitude of surveillance probes keeping an eye out for any sign of pirate activity. So far, the last twenty hours proved to be mind numbingly boring, as were the last three weeks.

“I’m telling you, Jerrycan, we scared the Cennies from coming back this way for at least another two months. We should be stationed around Ganymede.” Winter’s out of the blue comment compelled her copilot to cut the music and replay her words so he could understand it.

“Oh quit whining and use the downtime to do a hobby.” Though his words were biting, his tone was nonchalant.

Fussing in her seat, Winter chewed on her straw for a bit. “Unlike your lazy tail, my hobbies can’t be done in the cockpit.”

Jerrycan opened a small compartment next to the controls to reveal a bag of mixed fruits and nuts courtesy of the colony. He downed a few and used his cybercomm to talk. “Just means I’ll be free to listen to the news. Did you know there was a parasite scandal with the pig farms?”

Rolling her eyes, Winter shoved the empty coffee pouch into a built-in disposal chute. She slouched in her seat as much as it allowed. “Oh no, pig parasites on a xeno world, who would have guessed. I’d rather shoot something, not waste brain cells on this. Just avoid pork chops for a few months until everything is cleaned up.”

Jerrycan was quiet for a few moments before speaking again in his casual manner. “See that’s the difference between you and me. I can ‘shoot’ all I want on the forums. You gotta follow engagement rules,” he ended with a smug tone. “Did you know that I started the rumor that the Slit Neck pirates are actually led by a Breezie?” Winter craned her neck to look at the cackling stallion. “It got so bad, some of the actual pirates outed themselves to deny it!”

“Pretty sure I’m the one who gave you that idea. You just hijacked it after it wasn’t funny anymore.”

Shrugging helplessly, Jerrycan mentally brushed his newsfeeds away to focus on her. “Oh believe me, it’s still funny. Just imagine a murderous Breezie with three toothpick legs yelling blood and murder from a birdcage of a captain’s chair.”

His deep laughter was infectious, causing Winter’s lips to twitch up, which only annoyed her. “How can I not? You still have that as your avatar in Spacers. Seriously, Jerry, you need to know when to hold back, let ponies calm down and recharge. Life has a way of delivering the jokes right to you.”

“Are you trying to get philosophical on me, Winter?”

“Ha! The only deep thoughts you’re capable of is how you’re going to find the next tail.”

“It’s worked for me so far.” Jerrycan grabbed a smoker pen and took a long drag, and spoke while exhaling, and blew a cloud that could vaguely resemble a ring. The smoke was rapidly drawn away by the vents, clearing the air before the smell could reach Winter. “Speaking of tail. If things don’t work out with Live Wire-”

Before he could get another word out, Winter jerked the controls into a spin. The dampeners kicked in, so Jerrycan was only jostled, but it was enough of a suprise to make him choke on his smoke.

Blinking tears, Jerrycan coughed and hacked for close to a minute. The stupid grin he wore never left. “Don’t know how that Live Wire guy can handle you. Must be because all your visits are in ghost-space.”

Getting a bit defensive, Winter Gale huffed. “I’ve met him in meatspace. Wire’s real.”

“If you say so.” Jerrycan tilted his head as new jabs crept into his mind. “Personally I think that-” Jerrycan stopped short as something on his screens caught his eye. He replayed the event a few times, and took a second quiet drag of his pen.

The sudden silence worried Winter and she grew tense. She studied her own scopes for threats, wary that no alarms sounded. “What is it?”

“Thought I caught a drive burn in sector J12. But it could have been anything.”

Fretful excitement spurred Winter Gale’s curiosity as she brought the feed up on her own displays. “J12… That’s outside of our duty area. How did you even see anything through Sword Fall?”

Sword Fall was a sizable ship graveyard. A swath of space that began below the inner asteroid belt, but time and gravity had dragged it partially into the belt itself. Winter’s map revealed the graveyard sat in between the probe and the heat signature. Jerrycan’s delayed reply prompted Winter to continue. “Could have been some antimatter slipping containment that was actually much closer.”

Slowly wagging his head back and forth, Jerrycan internally debated the idea. “Could be. I’ll flag it and see if something pops up again.”

With nothing else of note, Winter Gale settled back into her seat to contemplate the latest show she was watching. That is until a niggling thought kept bothering her. I told Live Wire about the mines right? Yeah, I know I did. Her eye moved back to the thermal blip. He’s not dumb enough to risk it. Yeah, they’re fine. Stop worrying about it.

Wiggly Sprocket felt the lurch as Wire cut the travel drive. Wire darkened the engines and started slowing using the maneuvering thrusters to cut their speed according to Wiggly’s plan. A buoy blinked in the distance with a repeating warning about the mines filled the radio. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

Sprocket was neck deep into the guts of the central power distributor. Being largely immune to the electrical discharges of her work, the pegacorn knew her plan had to be precise and it was taking longer than she thought. Not that she wanted to tell that to her brother. He’s already an inch from turning around and forgetting the whole plan.

“Wiggly, if you actually die from a shock I’ll find a way to reverse haunt you.”

The comment made her grit her teeth with the time crunch approaching. “As if that can actually happen. Don’t worry about it. We just need to match the mines’ frequency and we’ll be good.” A large arc of electricity ran from the wiring and across her belly. The shock that would kill most other tribes only caused her to squirm and wiggle as if she was being tickled. Yet at the same time, the burning jumpsuit only made it more distracting.

Wire’s voice over the radio grew more desperate. “Wiggs, radar’s picking up the mines.”

The news forced her to ignore the light burn on her chest and stomach to focus on her efforts. “Good, what LiDAR frequency are we getting from the closest one?” Her scanner was linked into multiple wires and it was awaiting input.

A panicky “uhh” precipitated a number appearing on Wiggly’s scanner. “Please hurry!”

Wiggly studied the reading and quickly made the corrections to her work. “Aaannddd…”

“Wiggs,” her brother called with a crescendo of fear. Multiple mines were lighting up, and his virtual hoof was hovering over the reverse command. “Are we good or not?!”

Sweating from the heat and stress, Wiggly was having difficulty getting the frequency just right as it was something her scanner wasn’t made for. “Just a second!”

The freighter shook violently, shoving Live Wire into the wall. Wiggly cried out and was slammed into the nest of wires. Two mines grabbed onto the freighter with tractor beams and started pulling themselves towards the interloper.

Frozen by fear, Wire saw the hull buckle from the force of the tractor beams. “I’m getting us out of here!”

Before he could reactivate the engines, the tractor beams proved too strong for the hull plating and large chunks were ripped off the side. The two mines collided with the pieces and detonated in a blinding flash. The force of the removal threw him into the wall again, nearly pulling the control cable out of him.

Sprocket pressed the command into her scanner. “There!”

The closest mines winked off. The next ones that were about to grab the freighter stopped short. Then much to Wire’s astonishment, the midnight sea was dark once more. Wire went limp as terror slowly bled out of him. “What did you do, again?”

Wiggly sagged in relief, letting the gentle acceleration press her into the struts nearby. Not yet fully comprehending how much damage was done. She was more euphoric than her brother. “The mines don’t use radio signals for identification, only laser light. Since the distribution hub is one of the few places we still have a working cogitator, I turned our running lights into an IFF return. When we were given mines, the navy let it slip they came from multiple graveyards, and after a little sniffing around I found out they all had the same IFF return. So long as you don’t mess with the power output of the refrigerator and sewage processor, or use the travel drive, we should look like just another mine to the network.”

Wire couldn’t speak as he eyed a mine as they coasted by it. The fact that they were being ignored still wasn’t sitting right. “Wiggly, you’re going to get us killed one day.”

“Don’t worry so much, I got us here, didn’t I?” Sprocket pushed herself away from the hub only to finally see the large charred gash in her blue jumpsuit. “Awww come on, this was my favorite jumper!” Scowling as she disrobed, she kept one eye on the screen she had dragged herself over to look outside the freighter. “Quite the viper’s nest. She stopped short after finally seeing the damage alert on a wall screen. She let out a shell shocked whistle. “By Luna’s stars. If it had grabbed us just three feet or to the right it would have ripped the port engine off.” Cringing with a cold sweat, Wiggly huddled around the screen to give commands to shut off various pipes and withdraw whatever atmosphere was left in adjacent rooms that had poor seals. Fully assessing the damage would have to be done from the outside.

Still trying to calm his racing heart, Live Wire didn’t want to look at the damage reports flashing in the corner of his eye. “How bad is it?”

“The cargo bay has two new windows in them. If my math is right… you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Go ahead and traumatize me further with the bad news.”

Rattling from the bulkhead was starting to get worryingly bad. “I would cut the thrusters. We’ll shake apart if you don’t stop soon.”

“Oh lovely. So we’re stuck drifting along until we crash into something?”

“Psh, no. I can patch us up enough with a little time and the spare pieces I kept from the shuttle. Give me a few hours and I’ll have us stable enough to move.” She was already pulling herself to the airlock where she kept her pressure suit. “As for the travel drive… well, like I said, the mines wouldn’t be happy if we used it so that’s kinda moot.”

He opted to not ask too many questions. If I do, I’d probably freak out at how flimsy our disguise is or how truly bad the damage is. The ignored damage alerts still blinked in the corner of his eye. Trusting Wiggly to have the issue under control, he squelched the alerts. Taking several minutes to calm down, he found something close to peace before speaking up. “Well you got us here. Where to first?”

Still sore about losing her clothes and at being too slow with the minefield, Wiggly was in the middle of donning her suit. “Look for the biggest ship you can find. A pony one preferably. The Navy will thank us for returning any idents we find. Plus I can find all sorts of things in a cruiser.”

“Sure.” Wire exhaled the last of the stress he could rid himself of. He pulled himself together and studied the sensor returns. Finding potential targets was hardly a challenge. The differences between Initiative and Centauri warships were stark even to his untrained eye. Pony ships were warships first and works of art second. Gentle curves and smooth lines were a staple. Oftentimes, sensor protrusions, shield emitters, and ablative armor sat on ribbons that ran a meter or so off the hull. Centauri warships were much lighter on armor for maneuverability, and were sleek and highly polished for energy weapon deflection. The ribbons made Wire’s job easy and he guided the freighter on a new course.

Using only maneuvering thrusters to move along, it took them nearly a week to fully enter the graveyard.

What laid before him was a truly vast cloud of Centuari wreckage encompassing a pony flotilla. Hundreds of shattered strikecraft, a handful of ruined Initiative destroyers and two cruisers flanked the broken remains of a fleet carrier. Wire was left in awe of the sheer devastation. “Of all the graveyards we could have gone to, we ended up here. You want me to put you near the biggest hull breach?”

Wiggly wolfed her lunch down and shook herself to loosen up before heading to the suit locker. “Nah, see if you can find escape pods that didn’t launch. If the pod is there, then an actual proper space suit should be close by.”

The idea worried Live Wire, but not exactly for his sister’s safety. I hope she can handle what she’ll find.

Wire slowed their approach as he made the final approach to their quarry, the original flagship of Phoenix Fleet, The Sword of the Stars. The once majestic vessel stretched for just under two kilometers long and had lasted long after its escorts had been sundered. The mighty vessel had to be stripped of all strike craft, and blasted into four pieces before its guns had fallen silent. Such was pony redundancy and damage control that the Centauri were forced to batter the engineering section into two pieces before it was over. Sitting in between all four pieces was a pair of modified tractor mines designed more to keep the graveyard intact as opposed to destroying unwelcome guests.

Wire brought the freighter to a stop next to a hole that was large enough to fly into. He visually scanned the hull, trying to decipher between impact craters and missing escape pods. Thankfully escape pods were pretty uniform among the civilian and military fleets, so he knew what to look for. “There we are.”

He sent a highlighted image to his sister where one escape pod was still in place next to an empty socket. She was running final checks on her pressure suit when she spotted it on a screen. “Perfect, bring us as close as you can.”

Wire hesitated for a bit as his eyes drank in the sheer immensity of the Sword of the Stars. “…Wiggly, should we really be doing this? It’s the flagship of all things. The prince died here. Maybe we should let the Navy take this when they have a chance.”

Sprocket stood at the airlock and watched her chosen entry point grow closer. Gone was her excitement to repair her home. She tried to keep herself in good cheer, recalling happy memories between herself and Wire. Yet her efforts came crashing down when the freighter passed by a defense turret and the barrel moved directly in front of her view. Her mind shot back to that day her world died. Alarms, fire, the hurricane of the drum’s atmosphere escaping. Sprocket began hyperventilating as the images came faster now. She cradled her head with both wings, trying in vain to banish the waking nightmare.

In her mind she felt her father throwing her into the life pod. She banged on the glass, watching with fresh tears as fires engulfed him. Her smaller body was thrown around the tight pod. When it stopped, she rushed back to the window, praying to see her father standing there safe and sound. What was waiting for her was a crippled Centauri fighter. She could still see the pilot’s snarling helmet. The central railgun locked onto her, a final act of defiance before his death. Lightning arced between the rails and her world slowed to a crawl.

Wiggly couldn’t escape the nightmare, not even Wire’s worried calls could break the spell.

She could hear it now. The frightful music that all centauri infected pony systems with during an attack. The drums and chanting could not drown out Wiggly’s heart beating in her ears as the railgun charged to fire. She couldn’t look away, not then and not now.

In twin ribbons of fire, the Centuari was torn apart before her eyes, the railgun was jerked aside as it lit off. Though it was barely a scant second, Wiggly could see her savior fly past her: an Initiative interceptor.

And like that, the spell was over. Wiggly dropped to her belly as tears streamed down her face and terror gripped her heart. She pulled herself away from the window trying to banish the waking nightmare.

Her brother was frantic on the radio. “Breathe, Wiggly, slow and steady.” He dearly wished he could hold her, but distance robbed him of that.

Wire repeated his advice, over and over with care. Wiggly squeezed her eyes shut to focus on where she was. “I’m fine, I’m okay. I’m fine, I’m okay.” With each breath and words of encouragement from Wire, Wiggly’s heart slowed down bit by bit.

The tears ran out, and her breathing sluggishly returned to normal. Wiggly yanked her helmet off and threw it aside in order to rub her head, partially to dry her fur and partially to stretch her face. “I’m good, Wire.” She shakily climbed to her hooves, and looked around to where she dropped her helmet.

“Are you sure? We can wait a while and get some rest.”

Shaking herself, Wiggly donned her helmet and sealed it. “I can, but you can’t. Not so long as you’re the brain of the ship. I just - I just need to… Be ready this time.” Working on instinct, Wiggly attached the umbilical cable to her suit and psyched herself up. “I can take a break when you can.”

“Just be careful out there.”

Taking one last deep breath, Wiggly slapped the cycle button. She hefted her tools and a single power pack. The door yawned open and the looming capital ship awaited her. Spreading her wings, Sprocket sped towards her destination. Wire had placed them quite close to the Sword’s airlock.

With the power out, Sprocket pulled the power pack off and placed it near the airlock controls. A few button presses later, and the controls blinked on. She hit the manual override button which triggered a security alert. It was a common security measure, and she knew it would release the lock once the absent security manager did not reply.

Sure enough, the hoof crank pushed out right on time. Using her wings to offer resistance, she cranked the doors wide open until they locked into place. Retrieving her power pack, she repeated the maneuver for the inner door.

With a final clank, and sweat dripping off the mane plastered on her face, Wiggly got her first look inside. Two suited corpses drifted in the hallway. Litter and loose bits of debris floated around as well. Moving fully inside, the once clean white and silver hallway was dark and foreboding. Destroyed panels and the ruined ceiling were crammed with twisted metal and loosely hanging pipes. Not even the emergency lights were active anymore.

“Wire, do you know where the ident tags are?” She gingerly approached the closest body. The chill of the void and the hull protecting it from solar winds left the body well preserved.

Watching it all from a camera mounted on Sprocket’s helmet, Wire was able to change her HUD and mark things. “Winter said all sailors are implanted with one between the skull and back of the neck on the left side. It should have extended out after death for easy grabbing.”

Wiggly checked the red sailor’s suit and found a pulley tether. Dragging it along, she fastened the body to a wall conveyor before doing the same to the other. Pulling back to look at both of them, Wiggly bowed her head. “May Terra grant you a life of peace and harmony.”

Wire parroted the short prayer before Wiggly went about removing the helmets and locating the idents. The dead faces, frozen by the void, were deeply unsettling. Worried more unwanted memories could surface at any moment, she hastily pocketed both idents before haphazardly replacing the helmets so she couldn’t see them. Resolving to find a proper bag to store any more idents, she hastily bid a retreat.

As much as Sprocket wanted a proper space suit, she was not about to take one off a corpse. What she could take however, was the empty oxygen canister off one of them. Turning around, she grabbed her oxygen tether and found a second socket. She plugged the tank in to refill it. Glad they standardized a lot of this sort of thing.

Pulling more slack for her oxygen tether, Wiggly floated towards the closest remaining escape pod. Upon arriving, she found that it had been punctured, and unsuited crew members had suffocated.

Sitting in between the entryways of two pods, sat an unexpected prize: a suit printer. Provided the sign beside it was accurate. “Oh I’ve heard of these things! They can make suits to fit the individual.” Taking her power pack and placing it next to the controls, Wiggly waited for the printer to boot up. After a few minutes of growing concern that the printer had been damaged, a friendly looking touch interface finally appeared close by.

‘Enter ident’ the readout requested. Sprocket gazed at the two in her hoof and typed in the number from one of them.

‘Denied. Ensign Cloudy Vision already has a suit checked out from this station. Please return the original suit to the depositor or requisition a new one. Would you like to requisition one?

Wiggly hit the green button.

Error. Account is unavailable. Please contact administration to rectify the issue.

“Maybe use an ident from somepony who doesn’t have a suit yet?” Wire offered.

“Could work.”

Looking back into the pod where a few ponies drifted, Wiggly spotted a mare who only had her uniform on. She went about claiming each pony’s ident before using the mare’s on the printer.

Ensign Apple Pie. Suit requisition approved. Error. Dimensions are inaccessible. Utilizing alternative measures. Please stand back and flare wings if you have them.

Wiggly obeyed and a scanning beam shot out and took her measurements from under the pressure suit. Sprocket waited while behind the panel, a standard earth pony suit was modified to accommodate her horn and wings. The power pack was drained considerably, and the printer began to slow towards the end, but the suit was presented to Wiggly before it died on her.

Claiming the suit, Sprocket admired the quality. Small red armor segments on her chest and flank would project a short lived energy shield, while the black mesh everywhere else was stronger by far to her civilian pressure suit. The silver and red helmet contoured tightly to her face. The single gold stripe with accompanying gold star signified the ensign rank. There was no oxygen tank, so Sprocket clipped the one she found into place. There was only one problem that Wire picked up on first.

“That kind of suit is top notch, probably don’t need the shield out here, but the mesh will at least need power to remain flexible.”

“If you don’t think we’ll need the shield, you clearly haven’t paid attention to how dangerous being a cutter can be. Still though, it’s not like I can put it on over here anyway. I’ll come back over and charge it there.”

After a quick snack and bottle of water, Sprocket returned to the Sword with her new suit. The lack of an umbilical cord was a welcome freedom. “So what should I look for next?”

“Check the wall screens for a map. We need pretty much everything. Food, water, fuel, parts, and salvage. A new hull,” he added with a sour tone.

“I got us here mostly safe and sound didn’t I?” Ignoring her brother’s fuming, Wiggly looked about. “You think I might find some good clothes or jewelry?” Wiggly found a panel and pressed her newly recharged power pack onto it. “I’ve been looking to get some ear studs for years now.”

“What good would that do?” Wire asked with brotherly mirth. “You’re so ugly the jewelry would rust off of you after an hour.”

“You’re just jealous I’m the pretty one between us.” The panel was badly cracked by a wedge of steel jammed into the left side, but it winked on after a few seconds of power. It wasn’t hard to find the map option.

Error. Internal sensors are unresponsive. Presenting last known readings.

Huge sections of the amber map turned red with warning symbols blanketing everything. There was a somber moment for Sprocket. The Sword was so large, she couldn’t see just how deeply broken it was. Yet here in this dispassionate map she saw it all.

She traced a hoof across the screen. If it wasn’t for the Sword, Trireme wouldn’t have survived. “You did all you could. Rest In peace, honorable one.”

On his end, Live Wire bit his hoof, desperately wishing he could be at his sister’s side to lend her a shoulder. “Wish we could do more.”

Wiggly’s thoughts drifted to the idents she had collected thus far. “Yeah, but we can lend a hoof.”

Clearing her thoughts, Wiggly refocused on the map. She looked for cabins, cargo bays, machine shops… “mess hall!”

It wasn’t too far. Only three decks down and was listed as intact before all power had been lost. The Sword fell back when we still had contact with the wider Initiative. That means real food! The very thought of having actual food that she could crunch without it being some kind of cracker or bar banished much of the malaise caused by rooting around the dead.

“Oh wow, if you can find some kind of real meat the whole trip will pay for itself.” Wire’s stomach grumbled, but Wiggly’s did so enough to travel through the radio. “How are you always hungry?”

“Mare’s gotta eat too. You may be the pilot, but I’m doing all the physical work.”

“Sure, sure. Anyway I got the map recorded in my internal storage. I’ll update your HUD as you go. Just - ah - don’t try to grab the whole kitchen. Our fuel situation is only marginally better than our food stocks.”

“Right. I better get going then.”

The path to the mess hall was a grim and dark affair that took the better part of three hours to navigate the ruined hallways. With her new suit’s excellent vision however, even her meager flashlight was enough to maneuver around floating debris, collapsed bulkheads, and the ever present dead. It was the latter that gave her a sense of higher purpose beyond finding void frozen food. Every ident she gathered along her path was given a moment of silence. Honoring the dead gave her solace in her journey, and made facing them easier. It was something Wire was just as glad to assist with by offering a short prayer alongside her.

Her entry into the mess hall was through a six meter sized hole. Tables and benches were normally mounted to the floor, but the battle had knocked a plethora of them loose in the chamber which could have served several hundred crew members at once. Projectors on the ceiling used tractor beams to push down on both ponies and food alike to simulate gravity, giving the diners an easier time to eat. Now though, it was a pitch black room, with only her lonely flashlight offering any sign of life. The stillness of it all gave Wiggly pause. The mess hall reminded her of the months and years after the attack on Trireme. An old gym had been repurposed to be a cafeteria and refugee camp.

“It looks like Hope Hall,” Wire chimed in, summoning more unwanted memories. The stench of unwashed ponies huddled together in cramped spaces. The echoes of sorrow of love and life lost from those around her. The horn to tail pain from the injuries she suffered during the attack. But not here. The mess hall was utterly devoid of the dead. The empty nexus of fellowship, shared meals, and happiness felt worse than if she had found at least a few crew members. Idly, Sprocket raised her left booted hoof. She could still remember seeing all of the shrapnel and scars the glancing railgun shot had given her as her pod was fractured. Barring a lost limb, scars never touched her tribe for long, and she was no different. She flexed the joints, scowling at how she could heal so completely, and yet her brother was left maimed.

Wire didn’t care for Sprocket’s silence one bit. He knew her well enough to realize what she was thinking. “Hey, I’m glad I got messed up. I’d never have met Winter if I hadn’t qualified for subsidized cyberization.” He made his voice sound closer to the mic and hot and bothered. “The things you can do in a lobby with your marefriend, Oh momma.”

Wiggly was instantly shaken out of her thoughts and uselessly covered her ears. “Nooo, don’t say another word, not from you!”

A devilish grin creeped over Wire’s muzzle as he imagined Wiggly’s red face. “You feel everything you wanna feel in a lobby. Every. Single. Touch.”

Wiggly shook her hoof in the freighter’s general direction. “So help me if you say another word I’ll make sure to find some pears and shove them in your face!”

“Assuming you find any of those nasty things. So stop moping and keep moving or I’ll project some of my favorite positions on your HUD. And you need a jack or a pad to access your suit, so you can’t stop me. Hahahaha!”

“Okay okay!” Wiggly glanced about for the kitchen, and then flew towards it. “You’re evil, you know that.”

“I’m your bro, it’s my job,” he replied with a matter-of-fact tone.

I am going to shove so many pears down your throat you’ll be tasting them for a week! Begrudgingly reinvigorated, Wiggly slipped into the kitchen after pulling a thin metal door open. The kitchen was largely free of clutter as it had the rare honor of avoiding direct damage. “I guess the knives and whatnot were stored before the fight started.”

“If you’re grabbing food, it might not be such a bad idea to grab cutlery and some kind of cooker.”

Moving around, Wiggly investigated the area. “I don’t think there’s going to be a mobile stove.”

“That’s what the cutter’s for isn’t it?”

Rolling her eyes, Wiggly firmly tapped her ears, hoping the thumping would irritate Live Wire. “Okay, Clown, as soon as I get back there with the food, I’m looking for something that can take over the ship when you’re unplugged. You want big stuff, you can help out. You know what, I’m going to see what kind of food there is before I grab anything out of here.”

It wasn’t difficult finding the freezer nor the dry storage. Within was a treasure trove that left sparkles in her eyes. Bags of fruits, ice busted cans of every food imaginable, real meat still on the bone, and vegetables that looked fresh off the vine, at least before the harsh freezer burn it all suffered.

Giggling madly, Sprocket pocketed a little bit of everything she could stuff into her cargo net bags. All while Wire pointed out one thing or another that would make for a great meal. Wiggly ended up scrounging up several more tote bags from crew quarters and tying them into a train so she could drag that much more. The two hours of effort left her famished, and Live Wire was no different. By the time she was done, Wiggly carried triple her weight in food, and now had to do the slow crawl back to the freighter. Thoughts of eating real food for more than just as a once-a-year treat clouded her thoughts as she shared ideas with Wire about what to eat first.

She was about to leave the mess hall when Wire pointed out, “you know we still have no way to prepare or even cook meat and stew back here, right? Still need that stove.”

Scowling with all the force of an irate mare, Wiggly shook her hoof at her lazy brother. “I am getting you a damned computer or something you lazy loaf!”

Weeks passed on by as the siblings stuffed the freighter’s hold full of a variety of salvage. Food, tools from a workshop and hangar bay, electronics ripped from tattered remains of the bridge and intact computer parts. Multiple bags full of idents, all organized by rank. A pair of plasma carbines, enough pieces for a full kitchen, enough leftover air, fuel, and ice to refill the tanks twice over, and as many spare parts as they could carry out of the repair bays. There was only one truly special piece of cargo, the recovered body of the admiral. Neither of them wanted to leave such a pony to remain here, as they could not honor him like they Navy could.

With the body carefully stored and draped in an Initiative flag, they continued their work. Time was not a factor to them, as the supplies from the Sword could sustain them for years so long as they didn’t use the travel drive. The crown jewels of their efforts were two turrets they cut off the Sword. They were the smallest ones mounted on the mighty vessel, but were just right for the freighter. Removing them at all wouldn’t have been feasible were it not for a lucky find in a machine shop.

Both siblings were sifting around the shop with multiple power packs restoring some light to the room. Unlike all of the other shops on the Sword this one at least still had two walls left, and the tool racks had only been partially destroyed.

Wiggly held a ruined wrench in her hoof, and gave a forlorn sigh at the miserable tool. “Another ruined six inch. I’m never going to find a replacement.” She gently tossed it away so it would drift out of the room.

Using a tried and true crowbar, Live Wire cracked open a drawer and pulled it open. What lay within was something, at least. “Hey, Wiggs, what do you make of this?”

Lamenting at the next wrench having a broken tooth, Wiggly lazily floated over to her brother. Stopping herself by pressing against the rack, the device Wire hefted out of the drawer caused Wiggly to gasp. “Oh oh oh! Is that?! Gimme gimme!”

Ignorant of the value of his prize, Wire dutifully gave it over. Sprocket inspected the tool for damage. It was shaped much like her cutter. One held it like a rifle with a large battery pack taking up the butt of the tool. Four emitters arranged as a box were up front with struts securing them in place, yet the struts look mobile as if the emitters could be detached. Sure enough, even Wire could see a launching mechanism and an oversized magazine taking up the center. Also, almost a dozen stickers covered the thing ranging from a picture of the Sword of the Stars itself to a mare blowing a kiss to the user. Small dings and scraps of missing paint did not detract from its operation.

“Wire! Do you know what this is?!” Sprocket was almost insulted by his unknowing shrug. “It’s a tether projector! This bad boy would go for seven hundred million on the open market before we were isolated. The yards don’t even let us use these unless a real warship was brought in. With this, I can move super heavy stuff without having to break my back.”

“You mean like the turrets you’ve been eyeballing since we got here?”

Wiggly liked to think she was getting better at looking down the barrel of a gun. She had been doing it off and on during the past few weeks to get herself under control. But if there was any improvement she couldn’t see it. “I wouldn’t call it ‘eye balling’ but yes. I think what I really need is a gun or two I can point the other way. Besides, those two are energy canons so we don’t need to worry about creating an armory. Just need to make room for the capacitors.”

“Sure, sure. Say, if these tethers are that good, why not cut pieces of armor off and finish fixing the hull with something stronger than the tin foil and spit you’ve been using.”

Hugging her new tool, Wiggly kissed it through her helmet. A disturbed glare from Wire made her recollect herself. “Look, don’t judge me.”

“The armor?” He said, giving her an out.

“Right. Yeah, not happening. Do you know how heavy capital grade armor is? The frame can’t take it. Not to mention my cutter can’t do a damn thing to it either. We’d need the good stuff that the yards only busted out for big projects.”

Shrugging again, Wire shoved her out of the way so he could pry the next drawer open. “Well if not the Sword’s armor, what about the smaller ships?”

With loving care, Wiggly locked her new tool onto her belt and went rooting around for more tethers. “A cruiser is off the table too. But a destroyer… yeah, I could carve up some armor pieces for the hull. It’d be slow work, but it can be done.”

“We should get started tomorrow then.” Grunting with heavy effort, Wire tore the lock off the drawer with the crowbar and opened it. “Ahh ha, I found the crew’s snack drawer.” He pulled out a bag of tarts to show her.

“Ooh! Dibs on any gummy snakes!”

Acting quickly, Wire discarded the snacks he was holding and snatched a bag of gummy snakes from the drawer and yanked it away from her grubby hooves. “No way, these things are too good for dibs. Finders keepers.”

“Oh that’s not fair!” Wiggly lunged for the bag, only for Wire’s magic to be far more maneuverable than she could ever be. “Gimme that!”

“No!”

“Yes!” Another lunge failed to connect with the elusive bag.

“On one condition.” Wire halted the bag’s retreat, allowing Sprocket to grab it. However, his magic had not surrendered the snacks just yet.

Deep suspicion marred her face. “What?”

“You stop trying to put pears in my food.” A defiant scowl crossed her face. Wire tugged on the bag. “Careful or the bag might rip.”

“Okay okay okay! No more pears. Now lemme have it.”

“Deal.” He let go and Wiggly pressed the bag against her visor with the same eyes as a predator. Drifting back over to the snack drawer, Wire quietly grabbed a party sized bag of gummy snakes and tossed it into his saddlebag with Sprocket none the wiser. All too easy.

With the tether projector in hoof, the siblings spent the better part of a month carving up the Reckless as it was the most intact of the destroyers. Neither of them wanted anything to do with Centauri salvage. On the last day of work, Wiggly was exhausted. Her cutter was worn out, and complained about overheating. She resolved to completely take it apart for a thorough repair, but the job was done. The last cut had been made.

With their freighter close by, Sprocket fired off four tethers between the freighter and the last segment of armor. Once there was enough clearance, she launched two more tethers onto the back of the armor and the hull she had just carved it out of. The tethers were twined anchors that projected a magical cable between them.

Linked with her suit, she controlled how strongly each tether pulled on the armor piece. There was a balancing act to be had, as the sundered destroyer was no longer massive enough to be practically immobile against the tethers. Yet Wiggly controlled it well, and the piece was neatly socketed into place. Whew. Now I just need to weld it into place and boom! We have a completely new hull.

It was no exaggeration, as everything from the canopy to the engine struts were now encased in armor.

After a short break and a bag of dehydrated fruits, Sprocket went inside the freighter to weld the last piece. It took effort to coax the cutter for this final hurdle, but it obliged her long enough to satisfy the job. Once done, she fell back and let herself drift about. Her legs were limp noodles and her visor was having difficulty keeping the sweat from misting over. “There. It’s done. A proper shipwright would probably throw a fit, but I think it’s solid work.”

She drifted for several minutes, taking a brief nap. She might have stayed there for a few restful hours had Wire not shouted over the radio.

“Wiggs, I found one!”

Too groggy from her nap to share his enthusiasm, she weakly wagged her wings. “Found what? Your sanity?”

“I lost that after following you out here. No, I found a transponder. Da da da daaa! I took it off one of Reckless’s shuttles.”

Still too tired to put much effort into her speech, Wiggly grinned anyway. “Great job. Now we can finally leave this place. Once we sell our stuff I am buying a massage shower.”

The installation was easy enough, thanks to the pictures on the side, but there was an issue there as well. Wiggly sat in the cramped dining area of the freighter drinking a pouch of soda to wake back up. A reclaimed pad was floating nearby, and was playing a drama show being broadcasted from the colony. Her belly was full and the joy of having a fully pressurized ship and the toughest work behind her left her feeling lazy. “Three proper meals and no pony to bother us. This is the life.”

Wire floated in, using the wall rails to pull himself along. “Wiggs, we got a problem with the transponder. It’s demanding a new license before we can activate it.”

Waggling her soda pouch, beads of soda popped out. Wiggly gazed at him with a bemoaned sigh. “We pulled the thing off of a navy ship. Shouldn’t it already have a license?” Noticing the beads, she sucked them down.

“That’s what I thought, but when I got all the wires right, the computer said the transponder recognized it’s in a new ship. It’s asking for naval authorization to work.”

Sagging a bit out of mild annoyance, Wiggly unstrapped herself from the seat and table so she could float freely. “Well good luck getting it from the AIs around here. Not one of them is intact enough to just need power, they’d probably try to kill us as intruders if we tried.”

“Which means we need to get it from the Rainbow Dash.” Wire was more than a little excited with that idea. I’ll finally get a chance to see Winter in person in I don’t know how long.

Wiggly raised a half cocked eyebrow at him. “How convenient it is that you tricked me into welding on two extra cargo containers just so you could cram them full of missiles. You do realize strictly speaking it’s illegal for us to even have those things without direct naval approval right? The Dash will probably shoot us on sight before we even come close to the fighter screen. No pony is going to miss the scanners telling them we’re a flying bomb with those things onboard.”

“All the more reason to return them to the navy as a gesture of goodwill,” Wire retorted with a roguish smirk. “I'll set up the radio to act like a makeshift transponder. A repeating message of ‘don’t shoot, we’re salvagers,’ should do the trick. I’ll even let Winter know we’re coming so the Dash knows we’re not pirates.”

Sprocket wasn’t too keen on trusting nervous navy pilots, or Winter’s influence. “Now wait a minute. It was already bad enough you used your veto to get these missiles in the first place-”

“And the big bag of chocolate turtles,” he cut in matter of factly.

“Don’t interrupt when I’m nagging.” She wiggled a wing finger at him as a warning.

“And the whole series of Vampony Chronicles,” he brazenly added.

All she could do was wordlessly grumble extra loud before continuing. “Anyway, when exactly are you going to do this? Staying quiet, which I might add, included not visiting your marefriend was both your idea. All so no pony could trace the signal. Every pirate in an astro unit will come for us. You know they target salvagers above everypony else. Aren’t I supposed to be the one to come up with the ‘harebrained schemes?’”

“When we get close to the Rainbow Dash of course. Don’t tell me you forgot a transponder is more than just an id tag.”

“Oh sure. Let’s go around Trireme with a card that says ‘I’m a citizen’. I’m sure everypony will accept it as legit. This ‘idea’ of yours is all the excuse a fighter needs to blow us out of the sea.”

Wire slid up next to her and bumped her nose with his own. “You got a better idea? Only the Navy can activate our transponder. And even if we did find another, it won’t be a civilian model.”

You really need to put more faith in your fellow pony. Namingly, Winter. Because she’ll be our in.”

“I still think we’re going to die.”

Wire gave her an evil prosthetic eye, one she grew uncomfortable with. “Oh shush. You almost got us killed with the mines. Now it’s my turn.” He pulled back and blew a raspberry at her. “Not only is my plan much safer, but we need the money and a way to activate the transponder. No use fighting it. It’s happening.”

“The things you pull just to get snu snu with your marefriend… Fine, if we survive we’re even.”

Author's Note

Happy New Years everyone!:yay:

4: INS Rainbow Dash

Two ponies stood in a warm grand sweeping meadow. Green grass and golden grain reaching up to their knees stretched as far as the eye could see, with gentle rolling hills and a warm sun above. Laying next to the arguing ponies was a two-person lounge cushion that still had a depression from their usage. All of it was visually realistic at least, but tactical, smell, even the sound of the wind upon the grass was off, artificial. And it was that way by design, so not to allow those within to forget the scenery was nothing but an illusion of data and circuits.

The mare of the two was fuming. She paced around the stallion, mentally clearing the grass away from her so she could stomp around unimpeded. She was so incensed that all she could manage was to feverishly grumble lest she turn and berate the hapless stallion. Yet this effort to spare him her wrath fell apart when he raised a hoof to get a timid word in. She rounded on him with a growl. “What were you thinking, Wire?! You tell me you might have to go dark while salvaging to avoid pirates. I thought ‘fair enough, we don’t have the numbers to escort salvagers anymore’. But now you’re telling me it was to avoid activating a damned minefield? Have you seen what a tractor mine can do to a ship your size?”

“We did actually. Ah - sort of,” Wire offered sheepishly, which only served to spike Winter’s astonishment. “Wiggly’s a bit insane sometimes, but madness and genius are two hooves on the same pony.”

“Well apparently the two of you chopped off the hooves of common sense and rationality!” Crying out in exasperation, Winter Gale went back to the cushion and heavily sat down. “I told you flying a ship with no name was bad luck, but did you listen to me? Nooo, ‘I’ll just name it when I get a transponder’. As if lady luck cares about that.”

“Okay, you got me there.”

“You really need to be able to put your hoof down whenever Sprocket loses her mind.”

“I got some concessions out of it,” Wire replied with careful defensiveness. “Granted the whole affair was - egh - risky, but it worked out handsomely believe you me.”

Leveling a flat glare at him, Winter huffed. “It worked out?” She started with sarcastic disbelief. “And just how close did it come to ending horribly? You need to take fewer risks.”

Live Wire matched her flat glare with one of his own. “Winter, my snow lily, love of my life,” he punctuated by blowing a sardonic kiss. “All this talk about risk is rich coming from the mare piloting an oversized engine whose job is to actively go after pirates.”

“‘Love of your life’,” Winter pouted while chewing her cheek. “You wouldn’t go through a minefield for me would you?”

“That-” he paused, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone and question. He sighed, briefly not knowing how to even respond. “Is besides the point.”

Winter pulled away to stare at him in the eyes. “Please tell me you wouldn’t go after me.”

Blinking in utter confusion, Wire opened and closed his mouth trying to decide how to proceed. “Wwwhy?”

“Because then I’d at least know you have more than two brain cells to rub together.” She looked away, her mood sinking fast. “Wire… The last three stallions I was with died in or because of the war.” Closing her eyes, she did not shy away when he rested a hoof on her withers. “I want to know my coltfriend is safe.”

Quirking a side grin, Wire sat down and wrapped a leg around her into a warm embrace. “Given the explosion last month, I wasn’t safe even with a desk job.”

The attempt at humor didn’t land. Winter pulled out of the hug and shuffled around so she could face him and hold Wire’s hooves in her own. “Wire. I - can you be honest with me?”

“Of course,” he replied readily. “I haven’t broken any laws yet. To the best of my knowledge anyway,” he lied carefully, hoping he could still play ignorant about the missiles.

Still unwilling to be baited by his humor, Winter closes her eyes tight to think. Why are you dating me instead of Sprocket? She couldn’t bring herself to give voice to that question. She had known Live Wire for almost a year, and the best answer she ever got was ‘Sprocket’s my sister’. I know she’s not your flesh and blood, so why?

“Winter?”

Opening her eyes, the bat pony sighed in defeat. “Sorry. I just worry about you.”

“Well I’m safe now. Or at least I will be once we come visit you.” Wire magically pulled Winter over and gave her a crushing hug.

Snorting dismissively, Winter sank into his embrace and hugged him back. He wasn’t like the hotshots she had dated before. They had all died in the war, and she shied away from repeating that heartbreak again. It helped that he was a better hugger than any of them had been. Tears fell from her real face, but she willed them away here in cyberspace more out of habit during briefings and joining up with distant colleagues. “You don’t feel safe on Trireme?” she asked, worrying about him even harder now.

“Not so much that, but more like we want to rendezvous with the Rainbow Dash before we go back.”

“Here?!” She pulled back to gauge his face, and her anxiety spiked upon seeing how serious it was. “Wire, my captain will never allow that. We have to stay on the move and remain agile. If we get ambushed we won’t last long.”

“Yeah, but I also know the Navy’s wallet is getting stretched too thin as it is. What do you think your captain would prefer? Trading parts directly from us, or letting Trireme take a cut?”

Nervously biting a hoof, Winter Gale pondered over the idea. “Did you at least find a transponder like you wanted?”

“We did, but we need a Navy license to activate it.”

Ah, so that’s his angle.

“Plus it’s a good excuse to come see you. We got some prime rib steaks still on the bone from the officers’ mess. Just ignore the freezer burn.”

Winter’s eyes expanded with predatory hunger. “You what?!” She instinctively looked around, sudden paranoia if any of her fellows hacked into her lobby to listen in. “Okay, I will do what I can to convince the captain to let you over. You made a cargo list right?”

“I’m glad you asked. See, I have a good feeling Wiggly and I are about to come into a lot of bits. Even with the Navy discount.” He waved a hoof and a glowing blue envelope materialized in front of Winter.

Still dubious, Winter made to grab the envelope in a hoof only for a translucent red box to surround it. “Gah. The ship’s got to scan it first.” Soon enough the box winked green before vanishing. Now that she could, Winter snatched up the envelope and it disappeared into her internal storage. It proved to be a ledger of the freighter’s cargo. She saw it as an old style blue book with white paper. Instead of turning the page, she simply waved a mental hoof to scroll the text. She grew distracted for only a moment due to the item on the top of the list. “Three thousand idents?!” Winter jerked herself out of the file to stare at him in disbelief. “You took that many?!”

“Recovered,” he clarified with a raised hoof. “We recovered that many.” Wire flashed a proud grin. “I figured the Navy would want them before any Trireme hooves touched them.”

She refocused on the ledger with another surprise waiting for her. “You recovered the high admiral?!” She covered her mouth with a hoof. “No way. You’re joking.”

“Not about something like that.” Wire’s stern expression brooked no argument. “Didn’t realize who we had at first. The other bodies will have to wait, but I suspect the Hero of Shattered Sword shouldn’t be left behind without the proper respects Wiggly and I are ill suited to offer.”

Winter stood up, holding the ledger close. She produced a compass to float between them. “Here’s our coordinates. I think the captain will forgive this breach to claim the body. How soon can you reach us?”

Taking the compass, Wire thought it over, and was helped by his implants. “Ten days hard burn.”

Winter nodded, mulling it over. “Our flight path should still put us in sensor range of you by then. I’ll let the captain know to expect you.”

In her haste to share the news, Wire tugged her into a hug. “Hey now, you’re forgetting something.” He gave her a light peck on the lips.

Giggling, and forgetting the news for a moment, Winter Gale pulled him in for a longer, loving kiss. They fell back onto the cushion, falling deeper into each other. With no need to breathe here, they remained locked together. They tumbled off the cushion as they explored one another, causing Winter to break first. “You know, the captain can wait another hour or so.”

Not too long after, Winter Gale was holding onto a wall conveyor on her way to the captain. In this living warship, the halls were lined with mag-railed conveyors allowing personnel to travel rapidly while the center was reserved for any cargo movement. She kept one hoof on the conveyor and tried to keep her crisp uniform smart and proper. She didn’t know the captain well, so she wanted to make a good impression.

The Central Information Center was coming up quickly, where a single earth marine stood guard. In front of sensitive areas like this, a scanner checked everyone who approached. She let go of the conveyor and used her leathery wings to slow down.

Upon arrival, she dutifully stepped through the scanner much like she did for the launch bay. Unlike there however, the marine held out a hoof. “Hold up, fly girl. You don’t have business here.”

“I need to see the captain, Corporeal. It’s important.”

“Did you make an appointment?” He remained calm, but resolute.

Squaring herself up, Winter tried to project a resolute posture. “No, I just found out about an important resupply fifteen minutes ago. But the captain will need to approve it first, and I’m worried if I go through the proper channels he’ll ignore my request given I’m a pilot and not a logistics officer. And that could end up with the freighter getting blown out of the stars.”

Fixing her with a steady gaze of suspicion and disbelief, the marine checked Winter over in search of any weapons. A pilot’s uniform was as skin tight as fur allowed, but it had multiple pockets that could hold any number of things. “Hold still.” With a mental command, the scanner switched from simply scanning her ident to a more thorough search.

When she came back clean without so much as lint in her pockets, he popped in a plastic toothpick to chew on.

A new marine popped in from a door beside the scanner while the earth pony waved her inside. “This way.” He sent a warning to the captain as well.

“Thank you, Corporal.” She waited for the earth marine to take the lead as followed after him. The CIC was cramped, so much so that hoofholds were all that was needed to move around. The room itself was triangular, much like the ship itself, with a point directed to the bow. Three stations lined the two angled sides each with the helm at the fore. Two more stations sat on either side of the entrance. The captain and executive officer’s chairs were close to the helm while a holographic map filled the remaining space between those chairs and the entrance.

Everything was well lit and manned. Presently, the captain and his executive officer were hovering around the map. Winter instantly recognized it as future deployment plans for her air wing.

The captain was the first to look away from the map to fixate on the intruding pilot. “Ahh, First Lieutenant Winter Gale. Here to comment on your next deployment?” he offered with a curt, yet friendly disposition.

The unicorn captain was young for his rank, barely halfway past his thirties. Yet he both distinguished himself and survived his immediate superiors, so the promotion stuck. He kept his bridge as spotless as his uniform, crisp and ready for inspection.

In spite of his age, Winter Gale was enamored with him as a hero in his own right. If anyone did the name Rainbow Dash justice it was Captain Howling Tempest. “No, Sir!” She saluted sharply after approaching him. “I received word of a salvager wishing to offer us a resupply directly.”

He returned the gesture just as sharply. “Is that so?” He mentally dismissed the plans drawn up on the map. He glanced at his comms officer, who only shrugged. “How did you come about this?”

So far so good. Winter did her best to keep the nervous thread in her voice from surfacing. “I recently got in contact with them, and they’re carrying cargo that I don’t think either one of us wants passing through Trireme.”

Arching a curious eyebrow and glancing back at his executive officer, Tempest rolled his neck. “Alright, I’m listening. What is it? They found an intact bomber?”

“No sir, they…” Winter grew a bit nervous. “They managed to break into Sword Fall and poke around inside the old flagship.”

“They what?!” Tempest nearly yelled, suddenly silencing the CIC as everyone focused on what could cause the captain distress. He cleared his throat and made a conscious effort to keep a poised exterior as was expected of a naval officer.

“Aye sir, they got into Sword Fall and recovered a small freighter’s worth of parts and equipment. I’ve already run the list by the quartermaster, and he’s made annotations on what is in desperate supply. But the biggest thing they found were a few thousand idents, and… High Admiral Gleaming Light’s body.”

A chorus of gasps surrounded the CIC, and Howling Tempest who looked as if he had been struck in the face. “The-?! I wasn’t notified anypony would be salvaging within our patrol areas.” He briefly wondered how she was contacted by them and not his comms officer. “Did this mystery freighter of yours send their ident code?”

Winter grew nervous even though she expected this reaction, the pilot tried to keep calm. “I know who they are, but they have no naval code.”

“No code?” He closed in on her. “Are you telling me some no-pony salvagers managed to canter right into a minefield and did as they pleased? Did they mention how?”

“No sir.”

Heavily rubbing his jaw, Tempest grumbled irritably. “How can they be sure it was Gleaming Light?”

“They sent me a ledger, his ident number, and complete with multiple pictures of the body. They’re transporting him with what care they’re capable of, sir.”

“They’d better be!” He flashed with fuming anger. “The last thing they need is mishandling the high admiral’s body. That aside, if they could break into a minefield, so can the pirates.” He despised making a scene in front of his crew, and upon realizing he was doing just that made him even more irate. So he stopped himself and took a long breath. “All of you, not a word of this leaves the CIC, am I clear?” After a full round of acknowledgments, he jabbed a wing to a door. “In my office, now.”

Howling Tempest gestured for his second to remain in the CIC as he moved through a door at the starboard corner of the room. Beyond was more of a conference room than an office as the stallion rarely used it, preferring to work in the CIC itself. He pulled himself over to the front of the tight room, and left Winter at the entrance. “How do you know these salvagers?”

“The pilot’s my coltfriend. The only other crew member is his sister. Both are civilians from Trireme.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re just leaving sector J12, sir.” Winter was nervously sweating bad enough to stain her flight suit. She had hoped the news would elate Tempest, and his aggressive mood was entirely unexpected. “I told them our position was in G7, and they’ll be there in ten days.” In actuality, that was four sectors off, but still well within intercept range should Tempest so choose.

Tempest watched Winter closely, debating on how loyal she was to this alleged coltfriend over her ship. “Do you vouch for them?”

Winter answered without hesitation or doubt. “Completely sir. The navy pulled both of them out of escape pods after the Sundering of Trireme. They see us all as heroes, Captain.”

Not quick to let his ego be played up, Tempest held firm. “Winter Gale, just as many ponies see us as failures for allowing the centauri to destroy as much as they did. The populace only see Gleaming Light as a hero because he was the best of us and died a hero’s death. Not by his character or sense of honor. By Terra if I was half the commander he was, we wouldn’t have a pirate issue.”

“I’d like to think he’d approve of you, sir.”

Tempest wasn’t about to let flattery lower his guard. “Give me the pictures of the body.”

She offered up the whole ledger which pinged him for acceptance. “Yes sir. They’re included in the back of the ledger.”

Wary of any viruses, Howling Tempest had the ship AI run multiple deep scans of the document before accepting it. He mulled over it repeatedly. “I see. Very well, we’ll meet them at G7. Do you have the transponder code they’re using?”

“About that…”

Aboard the sibling’s freighter, Wire was allowing the freighter to drift as he watched the sensors for the Rainbow Dash. A virtual hoof hovered over the command to activate the long range radio.

Sprocket was leaning over his shoulder gnawing on a stick of jerky, and watching the empty view outside. G7 was completely empty space, making any sort of ambush difficult at best. “Anything?”

“Oh yeah, I see a big return on the limits of my sensors, and a bunch of smaller ones on the way over. In fact…” He flicked a mental switch to allow the radio to play over the speakers.

“Unidentified vessel, activate your transponder immediately,” came a stern voice that promised a swift death if the command was ignored.

Live Wire got a bit nervous and spoke both aloud for Wiggly’s sake, and mentally over the radio. “Ours doesn’t work, but I was given a clearance code. Transmitting it now.”

There was a prolonged pause until the same voice came back. “Acknowledged. Come to a halt and prepare for inspection.”

Exhaling sharply, Wire tried to keep calm. “Alrighty. Let’s hope the Navy’s feeling generous.”

“It’ll be fine. I’m sure they just need to make sure we’re not pirates, and then we’ll all be fast friends thanks to all the cargo we can sell them.” Wiggly squirmed her way back into the hallway wearing a massive smile. “This is awesome, broham, all those years of the Navy watching our backs, and we get to give a little back.”

Wire turned his head back to watch her sonder off to the airlock. “Just don’t expect them to kiss your moldy hooves if you offer up some chocolates and a good time. The Navy’s the one place ponies still regularly get that sort of thing.”

“Booo, who’s going to get the smell out of them then? Your lazy tail is why they stink in the first place.”

Wiggly swung by her quarters and grabbed some smart glasses off the charger. She had picked them up from the graveyard, and they weren’t the worst model on the market. Most smart glasses offered crisp augmented reality, but these were fuzzier and indistinct if you paid too much attention.

With some effort and mistaken commands, Sprocket managed to peer out of the freighter’s sensors and see a small marine shuttle closing in on the port side where the only airlock they had resided. Upon arrival, she made sure the space suit locker was closed right. I’d rather not have them think we pulled these straight off a corpse. Now that I think about it, we probably should get rid of the navy markings on these.

Resolving to remember to do that later, Sprocket waited with eager anticipation as the shuttle arrived and the air locks connected. Once the lights turned green, she slapped the button.

The airlock cycled open to reveal a stern faced lieutenant marine backed by two more. A few others were in the rear, but she couldn’t make them out. “Welcome aboard, good sirs.”

The officer stepped up to the mare. “Citizen Wiggly Sprocket?”

“That’s me.”

He inspected her closely for weapons before moving his gaze to the ship at large. Both the airlock and the rear ramp led straight into the cargo bay. “Before you can be allowed near the Rainbow Dash, we must inspect your vessel for any undeclared personnel. Direct me or my team to any explosives you are carrying as well.”

“It’s just me and my brother in the cockpit. All of our explosives are on the gangly looking containers welded to the outside hull. We are carrying the body in the freezer though.”

The marines behind the officer shared bewildered looks while the officer mentally assessed the mare as a higher potential threat, but decided to remain a firm guest. “The body? Dare I ask who it is?”

“Youuu haven’t been told?” Wiggly eyed the marines for any hint of a clue. “Uh huh.” She coughed to clear her throat. She placed a hoof to her ear.

Instinctively nodding, Wire was wondering just how much he should say.

Seeing how the marines were getting impatient, Sprocket backed out of the way and dipped her head and wings placatingly. “All in good time I guess. We’ll fully comply with your inspection. Which do you want to see first?”

The inspection team did not share the lieutenant's manners. They were absolutely thorough, going so far as to pull Sprocket’s drawers off the wall to inspect the wall behind them whenever the scanners could not give a clear enough picture. Multiple boxes were opened and the contents roughly moved about as the marines checked everything with both eyes and scanners alike. Not even the snack drawer was safe.

When at last the lieutenant was brought to the freezer, Sprocket’s feathers would have been utterly ruffled if she had any. “Lieutenant, was it really necessary to break the stove trying to get behind it?”

The earth pony was mildly irritated that he had to be the verbal punching bag the whole time, and his patience was thinning at her constant nagging for the last two hours. “Miss Sprocket, you’re carrying thirty eight class four missiles and torpedoes. The chances of you being pirate saboteurs must be ruled out. This is all precautionary.”

“I’d buy that if one of your goons hadn’t nosed around my sock drawer.” Sprocket was completely done with the inspection team, and the hapless junior officer would get no mercy from her.

“I would like to think most mares don’t keep a bottle of pear food flavoring in their drawers either. Now, the body?”

Wire chimed in with vengeful glee.

She Grumbled fiercely at the officer’s unrepentant attitude, and her stash of pear flavoring being outed. Wiggly unlatched the freezer and dragged the heavy door open. It was a small part of the cargo hold, still making it quite sizable for its purpose of only servicing the needs of two ponies.

Tied down in the middle of the freezer was a metal box that was too big to be a coffin, yet it’s location made it too conspicuous as to what it was. “I take it your superior still hasn’t told you who we’re carrying?”

Letting a slight scowl marr his lips, the officer claimed the scanner from a nearby marine and pressed forward. “I was informed to verify the identity, not the who of it.” Turning away from her, he kept from opening it in the off chance it was a bomb. As the readings were fed into the officer’s cybernetic HUD, his eyes widened completely open. The reading was clear, the body was a pegacorn stallion, and buried in the right front hoof was the admiral’s second ident. “You-?!” He shut the scanner off and gazed at the pegacorn with utter shock. “You have the…” He forced his mouth shut upon remembering his cohorts were close by.

“What is it, LT?” asked the marine from behind Wiggly.

He was ignored as the officer contacted the Rainbow Dash. A short bit later, he addressed the marine. “Inspection’s over. Clear out and return to the Dash without me. I am to remain here until this vessel docks with the RD.”

The other marine shared a questioning look between his superior and Wiggly. He desperately wanted to know, but he had been in the service long enough to know when he didn’t need to know. “Understood, sir.”

“Very good.” The lieutenant waited for him to leave for the airlock before facing Wiggly. “Inform your pilot they are to permit the flight operations officer remote control as soon as my boarding shuttle departs.”

This was feeling increasingly like a mistake, but Wiggly was in too deep to back out now. “Sure, I’ll let him know. Are you - uhh - just going to float there?”

The officer was still in shock at such a find, and resorted to moving on autopilot. So he didn’t have the wits to soften his tone. “Gleaming Light must be escorted until he is laid to rest. I - I’m sure the captain will have more formal words for you, but… thank you.”

I’d prefer a new pear flavor spray can at this point. Wiggly looked around with bemusement. “I get the sentiment there, buddy, but I think the admiral would understand you doing that outside of the freezer.”

His inexperience in such situations bled through the young officer’s attempt to remain in charge. He looked at her, the impromptu coffin, and then to the steady flow of steam from the door. “I-um, I think that’s for the best.”

Leaving the freezer behind, Wiggly arrived at the cockpit to find Live Wire had already let the carrier take over their ship. The two were largely silent after idle greetings. As the Rainbow Dash came into view, the siblings drank in the rugged majesty of the warship.

As was tradition for every vessel to bear the name, the Rainbow Dash was painted sky blue and white instead of the more traditional colors. The escort carrier was more or less a tiered wedge in space. The armored center line bore one cruiser sized pulsed laser triple turret on the dorsal side with an equally sized missile launcher behind it. The edges of the wedge’s points bore defense turrets that had to be cannibalized from other ships. The launch bay was buried into the forward starboard quarter of the ship. Presently, an armored flap was open, allowing flight operations. Sensor masts were concentrated just forward of the hangar opening and in a larger sensor package sitting above the engineering section. Directional shield emitters created open points in the armor concentrated mostly amidships along the port side. Proudly displayed along the starboard side of the bow with a floodlight illuminating it was the ship’s name.

She was the last deployable warship of decent size left in the system, and she was stunning to the siblings. Sprocket plastered her face into the canopy, leaving a smear. “What I wouldn’t do to be chief engineer on that beautiful lady.”

“Hey now,” Wire warned while gently rubbing the console. “There’s no reason to besmirch our little lady like that just because she hasn’t got a name yet.” Wiggly rolled her eyes while Live Wire kissed the closest piece of the freighter. “That’s right, girl, I won’t let that idiot talk bad about you. Once we get your transponder working you’ll get a great name.” Sprocket let off an annoyed huff. “A wonderful name.” She eyed him with a scowl. “A better name than she concocted, I promise.”

“Pah, the list I gave you had some seriously good ones.”

Pushing his need to tease his sister, Wire waggled his head. “I suppose a few were decent enough.” Mentally pulling up the list, there were multiple ones that were clearly jokes. Stripped Wire, crass even for her. Outlaw Star, sounds like it would invite trouble. The Long Shot, sounds kinda accurate, but feels a little defeatist. The Cloud Jumper.

“Cloud Jumper… What brought that up?” The name sounded haunting familiar, but Wire couldn’t place it.

“I don’t know…” Wiggly Sprocket fell silent as she tried to put her feelings into words. “The words kinda just - they pull on me. Like how you being my sunshine just feels right.” She looked away to some far off star. She knew what a cloud was of course, but Trireme only had facsimiles of them, and she had never set hoof on a planet before. So she only knew of them from movies and vid-novels. And yet, deep down, she felt a connection. “Please, let’s use that one.”

With one ear flat and a wiry grin, Live Wire snorted a bit of a laugh. “Well if you’re that dead set on it then sure. Cloud Jumper it is.”

Tittering off a short laugh, Sprocket hugged her brother tightly. “Thanks, broham.”

The freighter proved to just barely fit the mid-deployment resupply airlock which was able to wrap itself around and seal against the rear loading ramp.

With the freighter on standby, both siblings stood at the loading ramp as it opened wide. The flexible tube was wide enough for whole pallets of supplies to be moved with ease. Floating in from the escort carrier was none other than Captain Howling Tempest in his best dress uniform. A pair of honor guard marines escorted him. The resplendent sight of them stilled any sort of light mirth the siblings possessed. Surprisingly, not one other crew member was behind them. He surveyed the impressively well organized cargo bay before him. At least if he ignored the obvious signs of an inspection that went a little too drastic.

His gaze quickly found its way to the owners of the freighter, who he found the mare of the two trying to hide her irritation behind a respectful mask. “Forgive my inspection team. One has to be extremely cautious these days. I am Captain Howling Tempest, at your service.”

Bowing respectfully, Live Wire was the first to speak. “Name’s Live Wire, sir, out of Trireme. I’m the skipper.”

“Wiggly Sprocket, same place. I’m the engineer and quartermaster here.”

That explains the irritation. “I understand you are escorting the fallen admiral.”

“Yes sir,” Wiggly offered quickly. “This way, please.”

Guiding them through the once well organized cargo bay to the forward ventral corner where the freezer was. The lieutenant saw them coming and saluted nervously as the situation was well beyond his pay grade. “At ease, lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

The stallion hesitated, unwilling to leave his charge. “Y-yes, sir.”

The junior officer’s departure gave the captain a long moment to stare at the freezer door with muffled derision. Ultimately, he decided not to comment on it and waved Live Wire forward. “If you please.”

Leading the way, Wire and Sprocket stepped inside and flanked the makeshift coffin. His manners were certainly strained at seeing a crate for coffee serving as the casket. “I - I realize you most likely had no access or reason to have a proper coffin on hoof, but wrapping Gleaming Light in a flag would have been sufficient.”

Sprocket wrung her hooves and mumbled with an unsure tone. “We wrapped him up in the most intact flag we could find and a bed sheet, but captain, we thought this was still better. He…”

Live Wire followed up where Wiggly went quiet. “He took a huge amount of shrapnel all over the front of him. I’m no doctor, but it looked like he lived long enough for the void to finish him. We thought you’d prefer to clean him up before the cameras started rolling.”

Giving a contemplative hum, Tempest recalled the pictures given to him by Winter Gale. I’d still prefer to see him with my own eyes. He looked to the honor guard. “Let’s see him.”

Both marines stepped up with the siblings making way. They quickly found the latches and popped them open. Within was a body wrapped and completely obscured by green fabric with a tattered and slightly burnt Initiative flag draped on top. The silver and gold flag with the silhouettes of three ancient heroes never looked so somber.

The thin layer of ice powdered and cracked as the marines pulled the flag and fabric off the body’s face. Both they and Tempest were both saddened and appalled by the sight. It was indeed the admiral, but his face was deformed by large pieces of metal and the decompression of the void. His once purple fur was caked in frozen blood.

Tempest nodded to the marines and they returned the fabric and flag. He gestured for the two civilians to join him outside of the freezer while the two honor guards took the body away. He remained silent for a moment as the gravity of the situation took its toll on him in a way the prolonged deployment couldn’t do. “You have done the Initiative a great service. I’ll admit it is embarrassing that the Navy did not have a chance to recover the body ourselves, but you have my deepest gratitude.”

The siblings shared a quizzical look with Sprocket giving voice to their thoughts. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but why didn’t you?”

If there was offense to be taken, Howling Tempest was not one to take it. He paused for a long moment, an explanation was the least he could. He studied the siblings’ faces. “I suppose you two would’ve been too young to pay attention at the time. If I had to blame any one thing it’s be complacency. From the beginning, the Ruby Navy made it a point to raid our logistics. Naturally we took the necessary precautions during the war, but once the civilian government of the Ruby Alliance capitulated, we grew complacent in our victory.

“We had sent our surviving logistic ships out en mass, against my advice, to salvage parts for Faraway station’s restoration. As if to spite us, the Ruby Navy set upon these ships with wild abandon, naming themselves as privateers. With only token escorts, the manticore’s share of our logistics vessels were annihilated. We made them pay for it naturally, but the damage was done.”

He shook his head, unwilling to dwell on it further. “But enough of that. How many people know you reclaimed the body?”

“Aside from that lieutenant you sent over, only your pilot Winter Gale. Full disclosure sir, she’s my marefriend too.”

“So I’ve been told. I thank you for your discretion regarding the high admiral, as I must ask you to keep this quiet even longer. We will indeed be ‘cleaning’ him up before an announcement is made. It will not do to have his visage immortalized like this. But we can’t do that here, so we will have to wait until we return to Felscia Shipyard.

“As for the rest of your cargo, I will have my quartermaster discuss such matters with you within the hour. As payment for your service, will have your transponder activated and I grant you special permission to salvage whatever miltech can acquire provided you deliver it to me or to Felscia Shipyard. If there is anything else you need within reason, bring the matter up with my quartermaster.”

“It was an honor to deliver the admiral to you, captain.” Wiggly Sprocket was both elated by Tempest’s accolades and morose over their somber duty. “I only wish we could have done more than the indignity of his impromptu coffin.”

“You did what you could, and that was enough. I wish we could offer you a prolonged stay as guests of honor, but every second we remain docked to each other is another moment of weakness the Centauri could exploit.” Howling Tempest dipped his head in respect to them. “That being said, there is one point of contention that I can not leave unaddressed.” His face grew dark. “How did you defeat the minefield?”

Giving each other a troubled look, Wiggly spoke up. “Sir, I ah - I would like to tell you, but I’m afraid if we do, you’ll patch it, and then we can’t go back.”

Exhaling slowly, Howling Tempest allowed himself to show thinly restrained hostility. “You’ve done the Navy a great service today, but I must insist. Once word of this gets out, others will look to you to repeat your exploit.”

“Can’t we just say we had a navy access code?” Live Wire offered.

“I can grant you a code, but I need to know how you got in first.”

When Live Wire looked to his sister, she flinched under both sets of eyes. “Okay, okay! I found out how to spoof their IFF frequency using the running lights. Since light is light, it doesn’t matter if we have mounted comms lasers or not.”

That only made Howling Tempest even more distressed. “And how did you learn how to do that?”

Sprocket started nervously playing with her long mane. “Well, I was a shipbreaker for years, and I - I um, may or may not have jailbroke my scanner and when we were given mines to deconstruct I maybe sort of kinda took a little peek into the mine’s code.”

Every ounce of Howling Tempest wanted to throw the mare into the brig right then and there. “You played a very dangerous and illegal game. Fortunately for you, the need to make an example of you does not outweigh our need for salvagers. You will have your code to reenter the minefields, one that will destroy itself should you ever be boarded or lose power. Forward your method to my quartermaster when you speak to him, and as far as anypony else is concerned, you had this code all along, understand?” he ended with sheer iron.

It was more than enough to cow the siblings into hastily bowing their heads. “Yes, sir, I’ll have it all ready for him in an hour!”

“Good, the Navy once again thanks you for your cooperation. I look forward to your next rendezvous.”

Yet before he could leave, Wire spoke out. “Captain. My sister can handle the trades. And since the whole matter with the mines is behind us, may I come aboard and visit Winter Gale? Or she could be given leave to visit me?”

“While you may have toured the pride of the fleet, I would rather you not poke around inside my ship.” Howling Tempest eyed Wiggly Sprocket intensely as he spoke. Slowly though, a cheeky grin spread over his muzzle as he refocused on Wire. “I’ll let her know she is free to board your vessel until the transfer of supplies is complete. Good day.” Tipping his hat, Tempest made for the exit.

Once out of earshot, Sprocket rounded on her brother. “You putz! Not only did I nearly have a heart attack just now, but you put all the work on me while you and Winter stink up the place? You could at least help me fix the cargo up before you disappear.”

Wire used a hoof to tousle her hair, only to make Sprocket pull back and bite the air as a half playful warning. “Tell you what, my little sunshine, when you get a coltfriend, you can dump the work on me one day.”

Giving a sisterly unholy scowl for the ages, Sprocket shoved her muzzle into his. “You’re the worst.”

“Love you too, kisses.” He faked trying to kiss her muzzle, only to make Sprocket jump back in disgust.

“Just you wait until I find more pears!”

In spite of the blackout Howling Tempest put on news surrounding the fallen high admiral, word still got out. Within days, rumors that the Rainbow Dash was carrying the body spread across the whole system. News this big traveled from the star to the outer planets in record time, and arrived at the pirate stronghold within a week.

Built into a large moon, the hidden pirate lair was a haven for the corsairs that ruled the midnight sea past the inner asteroid belt. It would be hard to spot the base from above the moon, as it was all buried into the crust. The facility dated back to the first days of colonization and had survived the war intact, It was filled with vast stores of food and supplies, both produced and stolen alike. Fast corvettes modified to carry short ranged fighters, three frigates, multiple small freighters, and a lone destroyer were docked within an enclosed hangar.

Almost every species from Equiss was present under the surface, ranging from traitorous ponies to drakes, kirin, griffins, yaks, and to the undisputed masters of the lunar domain: the centauri.

Nearly a decade after losing contact with the wider Ruby Alliance, the once proud military base had lost almost all sense of civilized discipline. The lines between the base itself and the surrounding civilian structures had blurred completely. Out along the surface near the docks were a number of bars and saloons. The small domes had not survived wartime bombardment, and post war reconstruction barely made them airtight again.

Now there was a simple hierarchy. Captains were untouchable, trusted and successful officers came next, followed by the crews and civilians, with slaves far at the bottom. Presiding over it all was the Commodore, ruler of the base itself. The Slit Neck pirate gang was the lowest of the low. They were unwanted in other crews, and had to regularly replenish their ranks with slaves because no one else could be hired. The captain was rarely afforded any manner of respect befitting his station.

Here, in the Blackhole Bar, Captain Thaddeus drank away what remained of his coin in miserable remembrance of his glory days. He was a runt of a centauri. Where his race normally towered over any pony save a fully grown alicorn, he was a head and shoulder shorter than that having grown up on a high gravity world. In his hay day, that mattered little in space. Now it was just one more avenue of mockery.

Thaddeus was face down on the bar, a half-drunk bottle of moonshine sat close by. His graying red hair spilled around him. He no longer bothered with a glass. “I used to be an admiral,” he muttered to nobody. “I was the grand admiral that broke the ponies’ backs!” He slammed his fist on the bar and leveled a scathing glare at any of the patrons who might be unfortunate enough to meet his gaze. Blackhole was an unpopular dive already, and none of the regulars wanted to have his fury directed at them. “I killed the damn high admiral!” He slammed the bottle away, causing the metal thing to bounce and spill. “I see your stares,” he growled, still searching for a hapless victim. “I hear your mockery!”

“Captain!” Barked the griffin bartender. “Either sit down or clear off.”

Thaddeus lifted a warning finger, but even in his drunken state, he did not challenge the bartender in his own bar. No one did. Instead, Thaddeus wobbled his head around, looking for his bottle of rot gut. It had rolled out behind a familiar female drake.

The black scaled reptile with sharp emerald eyes was dressed in a threadbare Centauri naval uniform she had carefully maintained. Hard times and no possible resupply had nearly degenerated it into rags. “Captain, may I have a word with you?”

“Ahhh, Commander, there you are. Come, come have a drink with me.”

“Felin,” the bartender called out while wiping down the bar. It may be a miserable dive, but the proprietor was at least going to keep the bar itself clean. “He’s had his last for the night. Drag him off woulda?”

“I need him sobered up anyway.” If Fein was bothered by her captain’s drunken state, she made no show of it.

Thaddeus waved her off like the plague. “Oh no. Don’t you dare!” He lost his footing and fell to the floor and vomited. The half decent gravity offered by the moon made the refuse stick to the ground.

Now that he couldn’t offer resistance, Felin circled around him. She grabbed Thaddeus by the rear hooves and dragged him out to the exit. “See you next time, bar keep.”

“Next time he better pay his tab!” He shouted back as the doors closed. “With interest!”

Once out onto the dirty street, the drake withdrew a syringe from a pocket and jabbed it into the centauri’s arm.

“Ah damn you, Felin.” Thaddeus curled in on himself as the medication burned his veins as it broke down the alcohol and shocked his blood with more oxygen. After a few more minutes and two vomits later, the now mostly sober disgraced officer looked up at his first mate with seething anger. “What could possibly justify ruining my buzz, Felin.” He spat to get the foul taste out of his mouth.

“Sir, you and I both know that was far beyond a ‘buzz’. If I left you in there any longer you’d have started drinking our fuel money.”

Still a bit wobbly, Thaddeus used the wall to climb to his hooves. “You’re the only one who still calls me ‘sir’. I lost even that honor a long time ago.”

“Yes, well, there may be an opportunity to earn it back.” She pulled out a transfer stick. It was effectively an invitation to a private lobby, one that instantly made him nervous.

“Who is that from?”

“The Commodore. There’s been a shake up. It’ll be announced tomorrow, but the Commodore wants to speak with you immediately. He wouldn’t elaborate as to what that entailed exactly.”

“Now?” Thaddeus looked around. The dome they were in was poorly rebuilt and badly run down, and the buildings and people around them were little better. Petty thieves and desperate beggars that were too weak to work the factories or unwanted on ships all landed here. Diving into a lobby was asking to be killed, captain or not. “There’s a flophouse a few blocks down.”

A few choice words and a stern look from Felin led to the pair stepping into their temporary abode. Four bare and cracked walls were all that greeted them. The concrete floors were obscured by a layer of rock dust and refuse, but it would do.

Thaddeus kicked away some wrappers and moldering paper to sit down. As low as he was, he could at least boast his quarters on the corvette were in better shape. Felin shut the door and further inspected the walls, making sure there was no threat of collapse. “I’ll watch the door, you should be safe here, sir.”

Spitting some leftover vomit, Thadeus wished for a drink. “Hopefully, this is just another, ‘we killed some people, be glad you’re too unimportant to do the same’ or some such nonsense.” He tried to fix his jacket, but it was smeared in filth. The once resplendent maroon threads were torn and damaged. His old rank stripes and stars had been forcibly ripped away. His expanded gut forced him to leave it unbuttoned.

Felin remained contemplatively quiet and moved to the door, preparing for a long vigil. When she failed to say anything, Thaddeus gruffed and took the transfer stick, moved his greasy black hair out of the way, and slotted it into the back of his neck.

His consciousness left his body and his world became a kaleidoscope of blues and reds as he was sent through the network. A looming sphere of indigo and black closed in on him. Gateways more akin to angry red screens as opposed to physical gates rounded the sphere. As he closed in, the nearest gate turned green and vanished, leaving behind a white void. Upon crossing the threshold, Thaddeus materialized into a lavish office. Easily the size of a decent house, the single room was decorated in trophies. Pieces of Initiative vessels with the names still clinging to it, heads or whole bodies of vicious xeno beasts, artifacts stolen from various places, and the crown jewel that sat behind the desk was the plaque of Faraway Station, the one responsible for FTL travel out of the system.

The overall décor was opulent gold and silks, the red and whites were holdovers from the days they used to belong to the Ruby Alliance. The desk was a mirror to the real one owned by the Commodore: polished steel with a red cloth thrown on it. The seats in front were all shoved aside and five people laid dead on the floor: two centauri, a minotaur heifer, one kirin, and a griffin. Each of them either had a weapon drawn, or was in the midst of pulling one out. The Commodore himself sat behind the desk enjoying some throat burning amber whisky.

Thaddeus did not appear in his ragged state, instead he looked like he did the day before his humiliation. His resplendent white and maroon uniform complete with admiral insignia gave a sharp look. He was clean, well groom, and his clothes still fit. He approached the Commodore who snorted in derisive mockery. “Well well. I invited you here so I wouldn’t have to suffer your stink, and yet you come here looking like that?”

Looking down at himself, Thaddeus grumbled. “I prefer the old fashioned bottle over drug lobbies, and you have never invited me before, so I never felt the need to update myself.”

“Perhaps it is for the best.” The Commodore wafted the heavy scent of his whisky before continuing. “Cutting off my sense of smell would make this a half hearted experience.”

Thaddeus came to a stop in front of the desk before glancing around at the bodies. Even if he couldn’t place the face, he saw the signs of their rank. “I never took you for someone who entertained revenge fantasies like this.”

“That’s because it isn’t a fantasy.” Downing his shot, the Commodore poured himself another one. “I’ve grown tired of their incompetence. They continued to waste time drinking and bickering amongst themselves instead of reaping what we can from the Innies. They should have focused their efforts on eliminating the Rainbow Dash. Without that ship, the Innies would have broken at least two years ago.”

Thaddeus took a closer look at the bodies. He recognized a couple, and wouldn’t shed any tears over any of them. “That is a formidable ship for its size, I recall nearly destroying it at least three times, but it always managed to limp back for repairs.
Even so, how is it the lynchpin of Initiative resistance? It pales in comparison to Fiery Reckoning or even the Scythe of Terra.”

Flashing a dangerous smile, the Commodore pulled out a long dagger and laid it onto the desk. Death was a real danger, even in a lobby. What appeared as a simple blade could just as easily be an ice spike, a virus of sorts that would cause an electric shock in the user’s own body. “You surprise me. I thought you'd condemn it for being the final brush stroke of your great failure.”

“Why should I? The RD was defending its people as would any sailor.” Thaddeus poignantly glanced about at the corpses surrounding them. “Something lost on us these days I think.”

Scowling at him, even the Commodore felt lesser than he once was. He gripped the knife, his hands straining against the hilt for a few seconds as the Commodore wrestled with himself. In an instant, he let it go, and a casual grin fell over him.
“You always were too much of a navy man. That is not the world we live in, not anymore.”

”So I have seen.” Thaddeus felt the drink calling to him again, and he eyed the liquor on the desk with envy.

The Commodore stabbed the knife deep into the table. ”Come, let us not dwell on what was, but focus on what is. Our work against the Innie’s supplies and scrappers has paid handsomely. None of the Innie’s capital ships have left their shipyard in a year. The Navy that brought you low has itself been ravaged by attrition.”

“Ten years too late it would seem. But why call on me? You did not summon me to give me a command. Were you hoping to see me in my current state, just without the smell?” Thaddeus knew a younger version of himself would be furious at the insult, but now as he closed on his twilight years, he found himself only wishing to partake in the centauri’s whisky.

“On the contrary, old friend, I'm doing you a favor.” He poured himself another glass without offering one to Thaddeus. “News from my sources at Felscia claims the body of your old nemesis was recently recovered.”

Thaddeus snorted dismissively. He had to cradle his head as a splitting headache ravaged him. “And?” he asked through clenched teeth, blaming the pain on his hasty sobering up. “Am I to spit on his name one last time? He died honorably. I may be at rock bottom, Commodore, but I refuse to start digging out of pettiness.”

“Ahh, you are a rare breed these days,” the Commodore replied in a tone that Thaddeus couldn’t tell if it was genuine or mockery. “I’m sure Gleaming Light smiles upon you. Provided Terra hasn't thrown him into a new life yet.” Zeroing in a dangerous stare down, the Commodore waved a hand to reveal two ships floating between them.

The first was the mostly familiar Rainbow Dash. It was certainly more rugged than Thaddeus remembered. It had patches of hull that didn’t look as clean as it should have been, and it was completely missing the usual Initiative shield rings. It also had two large turrets on its dorsal side that it certainly didn’t have before. The second ship was clearly some kind of heavily modified civilian freighter, but it was completely unknown to him.

“In case you’ve been paying the bottle more attention than local efforts, I’ve been building a strike group to take out the Rainbow Dash for some time now. The dead around you refused to participate. Recent events are enabling me to push up the timetable, and they forgot who’s in charge.

“The Rainbow Dash will be forced to return to Felscia to deliver the body of your old friend. The other captains are going to strike after it leaves the protective envelope of the colony and begins its slingshot around Tellous three.”

Rubbing his face, Thaddeus hauntingly missed being clean shaven and respectable. “All I have is a rickety corvette. Have you finally decided to rid yourself of me by naming me the vanguard?”

A humorless chuckle escaped the Commodore as he played with the dagger, gently rocking it loose from the desk. “As amusing as that would be, no. I want you to kill the salvagers who found the body. Since we don’t have the time nor the forces in place to destroy the body before or after it is delivered to the Innie colony, the rite of retribution falls onto the scavengers. By right, you have first claim to the job, should you wish to drag yourself off the dirt and back into a captain’s chair. Granted it’s a loose claim, but I am willing to honor it.” He watched Thaddeus closely, gauging his changing expression. “The frigate Resurgent is in need of a new captain. Obey me in this, and I will personally ensure the frigate is yours.” The admiral he once knew was still there, but he was drenched in the foul muck of failure and the debasement of their once proud navy degeneration into privateers.

Nay, the ponies had the right of it. They were pirates now through and through. There was barely any attempt to rebuild like the surviving Initiative. The centauri had slaves working enough hydroponics and industry for them to waste wheat on booze and brothels, but it was all to support the debauchery of the captains. Thaddeus knew all too well that the Commodore was simply wanting to move his base of operations to the sole habitable planet, rather than sulk on the very fringes of the system.

It pained Thaddeus to be given the choice. For a few moments, he wanted to pretend he was being given a standard commerce raiding assignment. Not exactly a glorious task, but a legitimate one in wartime. But the war was over. He wanted to rebuild like the Initiative was trying to do, but he had no power anymore. Not after his fleet was left broken at Sword Fall and his mistake to send the remnants of it to crash against Trireme. He was a leaf being dragged along a river of nihilism and greed. If I don’t do it, someone else will. I can at least give them a clean death instead of enslavement. “Do we know anything about the scavengers?”

“Very little aside from photos.” Feeling like Thaddeus would commit to the operation, the Commodore put the dagger away, and back into the desk. If nothing else, he didn’t want the threat to distract Thaddeus any further. He waved at the floating freighter. “Apparently they’re piloting a junker. Rumor has it they only recently gave their ship a name: the ICS Cloud Jumper.” The Commodore scoffed just having to speak it. “Such a painfully Ponish name.”

“Cloud Jumper… Let me guess, one of them is a pegacorn.”

A curious grin fell over the Commodore. “Right you are. How did you know?”

“I ran across the phrase while studying Gleaming Light. Twilight Sparkle was a titan of character, and a personal hero to pegacorns. And Gleaming’s grandmother. Jumping off of a cloud was her way of saying to take risks rather than stay safe and untested.”

“You don’t say?” the Commodore asked without wanting a reply. “Go then. As a gesture of… well I won’t say friendship,” he added with a grim toothy smile. “I will ensure you are well provisioned for your return to the inner sectors. I trust you will use that time to clean yourself up so next time you won’t have to lie about your appearance when I see you once more.”

Author's Note

Will Wiggly Sprocket find the hidden compartment aboard the Cloud Jumper? Can Wiggly, Winter, and Wire make a website? Will Thaddeus destroy our thunderous heroes? Can Howling Tempest survive the ambush of kebbler elves!?

Find out maybe one or two of these next time on Saaaaaalvage!

Just fyi, my sister calls me broham fairly often so I just had to use it.

5: A Night on the Docks

Trading with the Rainbow Dash took longer than Howling Tempest would have liked. The Cloud Jumper was not properly set up for proper mid-deployment resupply, and Wiggly knew exactly what they had even if she didn’t know how to make use of it. Nevertheless, the trades were finalized and the papers stamped. What was requested of the Rainbow Dash’s technicians was not as easy as rolling pallets across an airlock. Mounting the two turrets, repairing and installing proper flight controls, and the coding for it all was no small task. It didn’t help that once Sprocket saw just how desperate the quartermaster was for some of the parts she leaned into him.

So it was that the Cloud Jumper tagged along after the light combat carrier to Felscia Shipyard. Upon getting close, the siblings plastered their faces against the screens.

The blue, green, white, and brown marble of New Tranquility was a sight to behold for the spacer rats. Close by, and difficult to make out due to the planet, was the shipyard. In its heyday, the long spindly station was a forest of partially enclosed bays and docks. All manner of ships from the largest civilian liners to battleships to single pony shuttles were in constant traffic.

The war had shattered Felscia shipyard into eight large pieces with a debris cloud that was only recently cleared away. The core of the shipyard had also been made whole once more, as well as multiple docks. However, these docks were lifeless, save for two which housed capital ships that had not left port in years. The heyday of scores of mass freight, commuting passengers, and crowded airwaves of traffic controls had been reduced to a pale shadow. There was a spattering of warships encircling the living corpse, immobilized by lack of supply.

With pirates making the asteroids untouchable for miners, much of the industry had to be moved planetside. However, that was a long and expensive process which was only in the last month starting to fabricate advanced machinery once more. But the order of the day remained rebuilding the industrial base, with the navy taking the scraps. Anything bigger than a corvette was still many years away from being flush with supply and spare parts.

Even so, the shipyard still lived up to the name. The station’s core had repurposed the larger cargo receiving areas into repair bays for small craft. The only dock capable of genuinely servicing a warship was restored for the Rainbow Dash, and she was arriving at this very moment.

The Cloud Jumper pulled away from its escort and docked at one of the repair bays. Much like Trireme, the chamber was pressurized thanks to the atmospheric shielding.

While her brother completed the landing, Wiggly Sprocket was practically bouncing on her hooves as she eagerly awaited visiting the fabled Felscia Shipyard. Once every light turned green she slapped the open button and the loading ramp came down. Trotting on down, she took in the sights. Patrol wings were in various states of repair, the air stank of exhaust and machine lubricants, industrial music pounded over the PA speakers, ponies from front to back edge hard at work keeping it all going.

She took a long deep breath, and exhaled out of satisfaction. Now this is where I belong. Fixing up starships and getting dirty doing it. Her wings quivered at the sight of an interceptor that was pulled open for an overhaul. Her eyes went wide at the instinctual draw to put it all back together and hear the engine purr. Flaring her wings, Wiggly started floating over to do just that. She needed to touch the interceptor, inspect every nut and bolt, to feel the rumble of the engine.

That is, until a hoof grabbed her back right leg and tugged her back down to the floor. “Whoa there, idgit, you’re lucky you got to land here at all. There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near my work.”

Still in the throes of her need to fix things, Wiggly resisted without paying the mare holding her even an ounce of attention. “Just let me touch it, and get me a tool box. I need to see how it works. How to fix it.”

“Hey!” The mare yelled loudly and spun Wiggly around to be face to face. “Snap out of it, Sparky, or I’ll toss you right back on your ship and post a guard to keep you there!”

The derogatory term did the trick and broke Sprocket out of her trance, and she hastily felt her horn to ensure the mesh was still there. Seeing as it was still in place, she fixed the mechanic with a scornful glare. That glare faltered after realizing the mare was a pegacorn as well. The other mare wore a dirty work suit that identified her as crew chief Loose Bolt. “That was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” Loose Bolt retorted hotly. “You got the urge, and you got it somethin’ fierce. Keep your nose where it belongs. If that proves too difficult for you, you can forget about the work order we have with this heap of junk.”

Deeply incensed, Wiggly dearly wished to wring the mare’s neck for the comment, but murder wasn’t on the table yet. So she had to settle for words alone. “My baby is not a heap of junk.”

Seeing that she was getting through, the mechanic chief made a show of eyeing the freighter. “It won’t be after me and the boys have a go at it… Wait a second.” The crew chief had a flash of confusion as she surveyed the interior, then rechecked the work order detailing the scans the Rainbow Dash had on file. “Is this a terrapin freighter?”

Adopting a superior smirk and haughty shaking her head, Wiggly fully expected accolades now. “She is. You should have seen what she looked like when I got her.” Wiggly dearly wished she had her slate with her. “Just wait til I find a picture. I’d like to see you do better on a poor mare’s budget.”

Loose Bolt rubbed a featherless wing along the vessel’s hull, taking a keen interest in the feel and sound. “This is AY-57 grade adamantite.” She scrutinized Wiggly Sprocket closely. “You pulled this off a destroyer.”

The heat in Bolt’s voice made Sprocket grow wearily defensive. “Which was legal by the way due to the right of salvage.”

Bolt groaned, completely dismissing the legality of the issue. “I don’t care about that. I wanna know how two ponies pulled this much armor.” Bolt took several steps back, looking for welding lines. “And as big’a chunks as you have…” The crew chief's eyes dilated completely open. She rounded on Wiggly. “You found a tether gun, didn’t you!”

Alarm bells sounded in Wiggly’s head hard enough to cause ringing in her ears. The tether gun was priceless, and fears it could be forcibly requisitioned away from her surged. “No. Wire and I just had to muscle it over.”

“I’ll pay you for it.”

Sensing it could be a trap, Wiggly held firm. “I told you I don’t have one.”

Not buying that for a second, the crew chief persisted. “I’ll let you help with the repairs around here.”

Starting to sweat as Sprocket couldn’t stop herself from looking around the bay, her mouth went dry. She wasn’t thinking straight anymore. Her wings were slowly flaring as she saw a shuttle, a fighter, then a reentry cargo plane, all of which were just begging for a mechanic’s touch. “I - well.”

Live Wire came down the ramp and bumped Wiggly hard enough to derail her thoughts. “Hey, clown, you square things away with-” He saw the crew chief and recognized her from the picture the flight controller provided. “Oh, hey. I didn’t think you’d meet us at the ramp.”

Seeing how Wiggly was calming down, Bolt feared her chance was lost. “This is my bay, so I prefer to know who's in it.” Adopting a matter-of-fact expression, Bolt made a show of surveying the Cloud Jumper. “‘Fraid you’re going to take a while. The work order for this tub is too extensive to just get you in and out.”

“Ahh, that’s a real shame,” Live Wire started with a disappointed ‘tsk’. “Thing is, we came across a pantry and freezer half the size of our little lady.” He tapped a hoof on the ramp. “I was going to cook up some choice prime rib, fully loaded baked potatoes, and seasoned asparagus. I’d be happy to make an extra plate for whoever helped us get out of your mane that much quicker.”

Sprocket hastily grabbed his head and pulled it close to her own. “What are you doing?!”

“Relax. You don’t spend years behind a desk without knowing how to grease the wheels.”

When the siblings separated without a resending of the offer, Bolt glanced about, knowing full well how quick news of such a deal would spread. “You have all that?”

Wiggling his head back and forth, Wire leveled a sly grin. “It all got a bit of freezer burn, but it’s still top shelf. Sprocket and I have been living like alicorns since we left.”

Loose Bolt hemmed and hawed over the prospect. “Ten heads and tomorrow’s lunch too, and we can get you outta here in two weeks.”

Live Wire laughed happily, and gave his sister a knowing wink. “You got a deal.”

Elsewhere, on the shipyard, a gathering of sixty pilots and other flight crews were celebrating a safe return home. With Gleaming Light’s official funeral slated to happen in a week, now was the time for booze, song, and everything in between.

The fliers of the Rainbow Dash were the guests of honor, while those who patrolled around the colony and shipyard toasted, drank, and roasted them. The middle was a busy dance floor, but since she couldn’t bring Live Wire to the party, she avoided it. The end closer to the center of the station however was the ‘story corner’. Using augmented reality, they visually recreated tales of ‘daring do’ straight from memory.

On the other side of the room rested the bar and karaoke stage. Winter Gale sat aloof on the stool closest to the stage. Presently, only drunken pop rock songs were going on, and it was only mildly more interesting than the thin beer she was nursing. She pined for the songs of her homeworld, and the melodious spirit she shared with all ponies simply wasn’t satisfied by such paltry, drunken off-key singing coming from the crowd.

Jerrycan surprised Winter by coming up next to her and sitting down. The telekinetic pull of the stool kept him rooted. “There you are, your highness.”

“Oh sush,” she lightly chastised her half drunken co-pilot. Nopony really questioned the strange honorific, so she left it at that. She was silent for a spell as he ordered a drink. No matter how many times he addressed her as such, it left her pining to see her family again. “I do miss our home, though. Our sailors knew how to sing no matter how deep into their cups they were.”

Jerrycan grinned broadly at the foamy ale brought his way. “Are you kidding? We had an art to singing in tune while completely plastered.”

She gave a side grin at him. “I’ve heard of that, but never got a chance to see it.”

“Is that so?” Jerrycan laughed uproariously and slammed a hoof onto the bar. “You know what? I’m not surprised at all, given where you grew up.” He claimed his ale and guzzled it in one long go, rivulets of ale ran down his face. It was an act that elicited a distant yet impressed eyebrow out of her. “You remember that one song? Ahhh what was the name…” He clicked his teeth trying to remember. “You know, the one our flight instructor taught us before we were sent out.”

“Fish of the Midnight Sea,” she answered with a smile full of nostalgia.

“Well go on then.” He pointed at the karaoke stand.

Her musical nature warred with her trepidation. “I am not nearly drunk enough to lead a song.”

He leered at her with a bit of annoyed humor. “Since when do you drink enough to get drunk, your highness?”

“My point exactly.”

Snorting at the challenge, Jerrycan spun around and waved down the bartender. “Gimme a blackout stout!”

“Wanting to end the night early?” The barkeeper asked with derisive humor as a few other patrons started to take notice.

A large black mug with a foam that utterly reeked of powerful alcohol slid over to a stop between the two pilots. The stout was tailor made for cyborgs, as there was more to it than alcohol and flavoring. So much so that the more natural you were, the less it affected you.

It might as well have been a glass of cyanide to her. Winter shrank away from such a concoction. “That thing would kill me.”

“Ahh don’t be such a pomp. You're only fifty percent prosthetic. You’ll be fine.” Jerrycan pushed the cup towards Winter who pushed it right back.

“If I drank like you did, maybe. I never got a liver replacement because I don’t need one.”

“You’ll fight a squadron of Rubies, but can’t stand in front of a crowd or drink some proper booze.”

“Proper?” She scoffed. “Proper is a glass of red with sweet meats,” Winter confessed readily.

“Eggghhh,” Jerrycan turned his nose up at the idea. The thought of wine had the whole bar was paying attention. Some were quietly taking bets on if either of them would actually drink the borderline toxic tankard.

Seeing this and not wanting her reputation as a warrior to be tarnished, Winter stood up and primped herself to remove any wrinkles in her uniform. “Singing it is then. But you need to do the chorus.”

“Ah ha! Now this will be fun.”

With the current singer on the stand passed out from drinking, Winter flew up to it and daintily used the edge of her right hoof to shove the other pilot off the stand so it would recognize her as the new singer. A few of the pilot’s friends jeered the previous singer for her poor performance and helped drag her fully off the stage.

Once done, a list of songs appeared in front of Winter. She dismissed them all to focus. She cleared her throat and scanned for Jerrycan. He had taken his place front and center of the crowd. Winter couldn’t help but to grin a bit at the support. “I’ll be singing a shanty from my homeworld.” It was all the preamble she gave before grabbing the holographic mic in front of her.

Her voice came strong and with a steady tempo. “Come all you spacefarers, young and hale. I'll sing you a song of our home from the pale.” She projected the next few stanzas for the crowd to see.

Jerrycan joined in for the chorus, with Winter adding her voice as well. “And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather. When the wind blows, then we're all together. Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow. Out to the galaxy, steady she goes!” With each word of the chorus, more and more ponies joined in.

Winter fell into a groove and sang with strength and comradery. “Up comes the Ruby Fleet in search of our home. Through space to a place that's beneath shade and throne!”

Now the whole crowd joined in with gusto. “And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather. When the wind blows, then we're all together. Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow. Out to the galaxy, steady she goes.”

Winter was enthralled by the love of the crowd, and let the music flow freely. “Through fire and flame, they made to torch us all. Daring and brave, our sailors flew to answer the call.”

“And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather. When the wind blows, then we're all together. Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow. Out to the galaxy, steady she goes.”

Rocking with the melody, Winter matched the crowd’s surging energy. “With honor and valor our guns did speak. We chased them back from every pond and peak.”

Ponies from the dance floor were breaking away to join in, and the bar patrons were rocking their drinks. “And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather. When the wind blows, then we're all together. Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow. Out to the galaxy, steady she goes!”

“Time and again we fought for our home, we found the Rubies wherever they be. Now that it’s over, hold your head high and taste victory.”

“And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather. When the wind blows, then we're all together. Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow. Out to the galaxy, steady she goes!”

With that, Winter Gale took a bow and the words vanished. The crowd cheered with wild abandon. Still overwhelmed by the thrill of music, Winter waved at them all as she stepped off the stage.

The fame barely lasted a minute before a new singer took her place, eager to ride on her coattails. It didn’t bother her overmuch though. As the thrill ebbed, her desire for a quiet place to rest and center herself grew quickly.

Jerrycan weaved through the crowd, and found her awaiting him at the bar. “You changed the words up.”

“Aye. I’d like to think mother would approve.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” he claimed while sweeping a hoof to the crowd. All other festivities had been abandoned as the system’s pilots indulged their instinctual need for song.

Winter was about to join in, only to be pinged with a lobby invitation. Hastily assuming it was Live Wire, she accepted without thought. “Watch over me, Jerry, I got an invite.” Her body slumped against Jerrycan as her consciousness flew back to the Rainbow Dash. She materialized inside the captain’s office again.

Even in cyberspace it was a spartan affair, just a desk and a neutrally lit room. He typically saved it for disciplinary hearings anyway, but tonight he had an approving look on his face. A look that morphed into a wiry grin upon seeing she was still sober. “Ahh, First Lieutenant, my apologies for interrupting your festivities so early.”

What he said next didn’t register to Winter Gale. Being in this office set her on edge. She tried to salute him, but hit her brow a bit too hard. Pain was present, even in cyberspace. “Did I do wrong, sir?”

“Not at all, not at all.” Howling Tempest completely ignored her panicked state and returned the salute hoping it would set her at ease. “Please, sit down.” He summoned a seat cushion to which she tumbled into more so than anything else. “Normally I would have waited until after the party, but time is a bit critical. You’ve received new transfer orders.”

He handed her a sheet of paper, and the mare took it while rocking on her cushion. “A flight instructor!?”

“More of an assistant instructor to start, but yes. Your time on the RD is invaluable to new pilots. Congratulations.” He held out a hoof to shake hers.

Riddled with self-doubt, Winter didn’t want to take that hoof. Her heart belonged to the midnight sea, and to her comrades. To leave the Rainbow Dash felt like she was getting sidelined. Winter didn’t feel like celebrating anymore. “Sssir, is there any way I can decline?”

The side of Howling Tempest’s lips jerked up. “One go around flight school was enough for you?” The tears starting to run down her face was all the evidence he needed that the transfer would end poorly. “In that case, I can come to the reason I called you now as opposed to the morning.”

Howling Tempest manifested a new piece of paper beside him. “Your transfer to flight school would be effective tomorrow, but I have an alternative transfer option, should you desire this instead. I’m afraid either way, you will have to leave the RD. As good of a flier as you are, other pilots need to be honed by carrier deployment as well.”

Sniffing and wiping tears away, Winter worriedly grabbed the page. Her breath hitched upon reading it. Then a second time. A third just to make sure the system didn’t mess with her eyes somehow. “The - Cloud Jumper?!”

“Aye.” Howling Tempest gave a long somber sigh. “I want that ship protected. High Command authorized me to give the salvagers an attaché to aid in their survival. Be it your piloting skill or your talent in EW, I’ll rest easier knowing at least one salvager has a better chance out there. As I understand, they plan to leave in two weeks. I wish I could grant you more time to make a decision, but the school needs your answer by 0800 tomorrow. so I would come to a decision quickly on the matter if I were you.”

The emotional shock was too much and Winter was utterly dumbstruck by the offer. Being at Live Wire's side was already playing heavily on her. She remembered all too well how the mechanic crews were utterly delighted by the supplies the Cloud Jumper had delivered, let alone the reserve pilots were finally able to fly as well as the squadron could be brought up to full strength for a month. If I can save Wire and the freighter alive, I can keep our boys flying. Worried looking far too eager could look back on her, the only thing she could think to do was fall back on her training. She saluted robotically, and spoke loud and proud. “Thank you, sir.”

It was a look he had seen before; himself when he was given command of the Rainbow Dash. “Dismissed, Lieutenant, and good luck.”

Winter pulled herself back into her body, and she woke up with a start. Jerrycan had dutifully stood guard over her, yet that didn’t stop him from sipping the nearly forgotten blackout stout, as he tested to see how much he could handle before the drink lived up to its name. He stopped short of his next swig when she roused. “There you are. The club’s not exactly the best place to go diving into the net, your highness.”

She pulled herself away and blindly smoothed her mane. Her eyes darted around to see if her absence had drawn any mocking eyes. “It was the captain, actually. He had transfer orders for me.”

Sighing in disappointment, Jerrycan set the mug back down. “Well damn.” He shot her an approving snort. “We were bound to be pulled apart at some point. Honestly, I’d rather the captain separate us as opposed to some lucky ruby.”

“Aye,” she added with a forlorn, thin smile. As much as she wanted to be with Live Wire, Jerrycan had watched her back for years. “But who knows, maybe you’ll get orders soon too.”

Giving a wiggling shrug of helpless ignorance, Jerrycan finally shoved the stout away and ordered something that wouldn’t make him drop to the floor. “Ehhh, maybe. Who knows, maybe I’ll be promoted out of the cockpit.” He heavily dropped his head on the bar, uncaringly rattling the nearby glasses. “Instead of dying at sea, I waste away in a classroom.”

Shivering at the thought of new prospective air crew turning to him for instruction was not something she saw for him. “I almost got that fate. But Tempest let me go with Live Wire’s ship instead.”

With a jerking head move towards her, Jerrycan flashed a toothy derisive grin. “You’re kidding me.”

Falling back on a dignified posture, Winter disliked his insinuation by his expression alone. “I’m there to lend my expertise to ensure their survival.”

“Uh huh, and to get busssy!” He laughed wholeheartedly, earning red faced embarrassment out of Winter. “What is it with your family and marrying down? Is it some tradition you’re upholding or something?” She made to reply, but he waved it off. “Oh don’t worry about me. If he’s the one, then don’t hang around on my account.”

Her cheeks returned to normal, and she pulled a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” He rested a friendly hoof on her withers, and shored up as much seriousness as his increasingly inebriated face could muster. “It was an honor to watch over you, your highness, but if anypony is going to take over for me, let it be the stallion who claimed your heart.” He paused for a moment as his face darkened a touch. “Does Wire know?”

She shied away, hugging herself with her wings. “No.”

He gave a neutral huff. “Eh, it won’t matter if we die before Faraway is repaired. So just do what you think is right.” He grabbed a mug and rose it in a toast. “To you.”

Giving a knowing smile, Winter was grateful he only ever went as far as ‘your highness’. She lifted the other mug and clicked his own. “And to you.”

Bright and early the following day, as Wiggly Sprocket tested all of the newly installed equipment, Live Wire was cleaning up the kitchen. The telekinetic pusher they had poached from the Sword’s kitchen made the process much simpler in the microgravity. The facsimile of gravity it created was a blessing all on its own. Several other pushers had been wired into one of the hallways so the siblings could exercise, yet medication still proved to be their ‘go-to’ for combatting the long term effects of microgravity.

He was whistling a cartoon theme song from his childhood as he scrubbed down the stove. Pulling back to admire his work, the stainless steel was as spotless as its name implied. “Nothing like a clean kitchen after a great meal.”

He stashed away his cleaning supplies when the ship itself buzzed him. Imposing itself on his vision was the loading ramp with a welcome sight waiting for an answer. “Winter! I’ll be right there.”

Making his way out of the kitchen and through the cargo bay, Wire was giving off a mad grin to embrace her once more before they left.

He arrived at the ramp fast enough to almost miss hitting the open button. Twisting himself to sail through the top as it barely opened in time. Spotting his unaware prey, he kicked off the overhang and stretched his forelegs open wide. “Rawr!”

Moving purely out of instinct, Winter Gale flared her wings and got out of the way, resulting in Wire nearly slamming his face on the deck. He barely got his legs up to shield his head before the collision.

Winter cupped her mouth with a hoof out of empathic pain and embarrassment. “Wire, are you okay?!” She flew over to keep him from drifting off into the bay.

Trying to suppress the pained tears in his eyes, he tried to wink at her. Yet his protective efforts were for naught as his nose was badly reddened and his forelegs were in agony. “Didn’t feel a thing.”

“You’re such a laudable idiot.” Winter helped him out by pulling him back over to the ramp.

“Laudable, eh?” He joked nasally, trying to distract himself from the pain. “I’ll take what I can get.”

A small part of Winter was glad he had inadvertently clogged his nose. Winter preferred to wear various perfume during their time in private lobbies. Matters were made worse by the stink of hard apple cider saturating her fur. Winter partied with the rest of the crew long into the wee hours of the morning only because it was expected of her. Even though she barely drank, others constantly splashed their drinks on each other as some wasteful tradition. Presently though, she fussed over his bruised nose, idling wondering if he would refuse some makeup to hide the bruising if she actually carried any. “You should know better than to try and ambush a pilot like that.” She pulled out a box of tissues from a small saddlebag, and offered one to him to stop any bleeding before it happened.

“I might get you one day. But - ow - maybe I’ll save the speedy attacks for a lobby.” Hooking a hoof around a handle, Wire more or less secured himself to the ramp. Winter uses her wings to remain free, yet close. “You’re early. I thought for sure you’d pop up around lunch.” Before slamming his nose onto the deck, he had detected the sink clinging to her, but avoided it to keep from embarrassing her.

“I would have loved to clean myself up better, but things have come up.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re already leaving.” Wire dabbed his nose with the tissue and was annoyed it indeed came back with blood.

Giving a wistful smile, Winter nuzzled his cheek to avoid the blood. “My time on the Dash is on hold for a while.” She saw him getting flooded with anxiety in a hurry. So she pressed on to keep him from sinking into despair. “I was offered a couple of transfer options. Can you believe they want me to be a flight instructor?”

“Sure I can.” He nodded his thanks as more tissues were presented for his bloody nose. His elation was strong enough to make him let go and float freely for a few moments. “If even half the stuff you boast about is real, you’ll be great at it.”

Giving off a self-disparaging smirk, Winter looked at the ground. “Hardly.” She held out a leathery wing to flex a knot. “I can maybe teach somepony who is already a natural flier, but those who aren’t? Not a clue.” She didn’t want to hear any more words of encouragement down that path, so she cut him off by placing a wing over his opening mouth. “Besides, I have a better option.” She mentally commanded a letter to appear before him.

As the wing fell away, Wire held his tongue for the moment, as he read the highlighted text. “Here?!” He looked at her utterly dumbfounded.

Giggling behind a hoof, Winter nodded vigorously. “Precisely. The captain thought I could help protect you with electronic warfare if the pirates ever showed themselves.” She held back the flying potential, as she was not one to rob a pilot of the midnight sea.

Laughing with utter abandon, Wire roped her into a crushing hug. “That’s amazing!” They shared a few more moments before he separated. He adopted a stoic posture, but didn’t bother trying to hide his stupid smile. “Then as the skipper, let me formally welcome you to the crew.”

Her own smile faltered however, as concern revealed itself. “Sprocket’s not going to take issue with it is she?” Winter’s imagination of the protective pegacorn getting violent over being around Wire so much started to cripple her resurgent excitement.

“‘Course not!” Wire couldn’t contain himself and was starting to forget to keep the tissues on his snout, even as the bleeding was ebbing away. “We have four cabins, so there’s plenty of room.”

“Oh good.” Winter actually sighed in relief, hoping using separate rooms would give Sprocket time to get used to her. The two mares had never actually met since the all natural pegacorn couldn’t enter lobbies. “I’ll go grab my bag.”

“Let me show you to your room first,” he practically insisted. “You’ll love it, a family friend did some great work on it. They also double as escape pods, believe it or not.”

Using a wing claw to pull an errant lock of hair behind her ear, Winter grinned at the idea. “Sounds fun.”

The couple slid past the cargo bay that was now almost completely bare. Aside from a set of tools and a few spare parts of their own, the siblings had sold just about everything. Not even boxes remained, leaving the cargo room with enough space to host a hoof ball court with ease.

They found a grease stained and fatigued Wiggly Sprocket yawning and floating in mid air. She was wearing a newly purchased Twilight Glove, a metal and cloth mesh around her wings that allowed flight. Her curiosity perked her up upon seeing Winter Gale tagging behind her brother. “Bro, seriously, I don’t need to know when the two of you plan to get nasty. Just tie a sock on the door.”

Winter’s face went tomato red at the comment and she hid her face behind her mane as best as the microgravity allowed. It was one thing to talk about such things with her fellow pilots, but here with the stallion she loved, it was intensely embarrassing. So much so she could only stutter, enabling Wire to speak for her.

“Not a bad idea.”

The redness on Winter’s face stretched down to her neck.

“But no. I wanted to let you know she’s been given leave to join our crew!”

“Join us, eh?” Sprocket’s wings hummed as she closed in. She gave the navy pilot a studious evil eye. “You get one physical date, and you’re already trying to move in?”

Suddenly realizing that’s exactly how it looked, Winter sputtered with half-baked excuses, and her embarrassment spiked.

Rising to her defense, Live Wire magically pulled Sprocket away from his marefriend. “Wiggs, play nice wouldja? You can’t tell me you haven’t been wanting to hire an extra set of hooves. A free set of hooves I might add.”

“Free eh?” Sprocket eyed the blushing mare with a sinister grin. “Didn’t realize you were-” Wiggly was cut short by Live Wire magically clamping her mouth shut.

“Wiggs,” he started dangerously, even as she kept trying to mumble on through shut lips. Wire flashed a sheepish grin at Winter who was starting to have doubts over Sprocket. “Don’t worry, this is how she tells ponies she likes them. Why don’t you go grab your bags, so I can have a small, little, tiny, itty bitty, chat with gnat brain here?”

Winter had not signed either transfer yet, so she glanced between the siblings with a dubious look. Troublesome coworkers she could handle just fine, but if Sprocket’s assumed jealousy was already this bad, it risked Winter’s relationship with Live Wire. And that was something she adamantly wanted to avoid. “Are you sure I should stay?”

“Absolutely, you’ll fit right in.” Wire shared an easy grin with his marefriend. He casually flicked a text her way.

At that moment, Winter couldn’t tell if those two were actually siblings or bantered like an old married couple. She hoped it was the former. Deciding to trust him, Winter Gale exhaled some stress and nodded. “Okay. I’ll grab my bags.” Getting excited, Winter wanted to kiss him, but with Sprocket eyeing her so intently, Winter opted against it and simply left.

Once Winter was fully out of sight, Wire pulled Sprocket in close and leveled his own brotherly evil eye of ultimate doom at her. “Wiggs, she’s a bloody navy pilot and a great mare. If you screw this up for me, I will make your life hell for every month Winter’s been my marefriend.”

Finally tearing her muzzle away from his magical grip, Wiggly tried to snort his threat away. “Oh come on, Wire. If you actually plan to make her part of the family, she’s gotta be able to handle the bants.”

“See this is why you have no friends. Mostly,” he clarified as she tried to open her mouth. “You have to ease her into your Wiggyisms.”

“Oh come on, Wire. She’s a fighter pilot. A navy fighter pilot. I ought to be the one running away red-faced, not her.”

Trying to be patient with her, Live Wire nonetheless was steaming. “You are all foam and no beer. Can ya at least give her a few days to settle in first? If Winter snipes at you first then by all means, but until then, keep the bants to just me.”

“Ugh, sure, fine, okay.” Wiggly folded her forelegs and made an over exaggerated move as if she were coddling a child. “I’ll play nice. But once the game gets going, there’s no holding back.”

Giving his sister a flat look, Wire tried to flick her horn, yet she pulled back in time. “Just try to keep it proportional.”

Author's Note

Looks like the Cloud Jumper is finally all fixed up. Only smooth sailing and joyous times ahead. The song source!

6: Merchant's Creed 285

6: Merchant's Creed 285

A week after departing Felicia Shipyard, The Cloud Jumper was burning at top speed towards the ruins of Ponoplious Station. The long dead industrial heart of the system orbited over the third moon of a pale green gas giant just outside the inner asteroid belt. It was risky venturing past the moderate safety of the inner sectors, but the rewards were too tempting. So tempting in fact that Live Wire had to remind himself repeatedly to be on the lookout for any threats. With the Rainbow Dash still in port when they left, that left the fighter and corvette patrols to protect friendly space. But with the shipyard in the solar north and Trireme in the solar east, that left them dangerously exposed in the southwest. However, with their new turrets and armor, even Winter felt comfortable that they could fend off scout attacks.

Still, he felt more at ease with his marefriend here to lend her experienced eyes. Presently, he was in the pilot’s seat with Winter Gale leaning over his shoulder due to the cockpit being a one-pony place. While he wanted to sneak in the occasional kiss or nuzzle, the mare was in her element and was so focused on instruction that it surprised her each time. The latest nuzzle finally broke her concentration entirely.

“Wire, you are hopeless, you know that?” she said with a light giggle and an easy smile as she enjoyed the constant attention. “I’ve been here a week now and you keep acting like this.”

“Can you blame me? A fool caught the eye of a shining star, and you expect him not to enjoy every moment of it?”

Outwardly, Winter was all too happy to accept his love, but inwardly, she was still surprised with herself. To think I used to curse the day I joined the Navy. Would I have found such a stallion back home, or would I still be a lone soul constantly chasing the short lived and the brave until love became an impossible dream? Considering where they were, the short-lived part was unfortunately still on the table, but at least now she could stand at his side.

Looming in the void beyond was the first gas giant of the system: Discord. It was a mass of green, yellow, and brown gas that sped around in distinct bands, and possessed no less than eight storms that had persisted since before the first settlers arrived. Their destination was in orbit of the brown and gray wind-blown rocky fifth moon: Ponopilous station. It used to be the beating heart of manufacturing for the whole sector. Now though, all that remained was a shattered wreck, and was only the heart of a minefield now.

“Alright, Casanova, we’re close to our approach. As much as it pains me, how about less kisses and more focus?”

His yielding smile faltered and his gaze drifted, a sign to her that Sprocket was talking to him. He winced a second later, making Winter’s heart sink. A few moments of unconscious head shakes and nods later, he ended the call and spoke up with a touch of humor. “Apparently Sprocket was too distracted maintaining the fuel lines to focus properly. Which probably means she was salivating over our destination. At any rate, a water pipe burst on her face. Can you head down there with a vacuum while I manage things here?”

A sullen expression marred Winter’s face, and she pulled back into the hallway. “Why do I get the feeling she asked you to do it?”

Live Wire was not oblivious to the rift between the two mares, and that it was in no small way his fault. He got up off the chair to face her with a pained look. “Winny, I - I told her to watch what she says around you, and apparently she took that as don’t say anything. If you’re that uncomfortable with it, I’ll go.”

Shocked, Winter shrinked back and lifted a forehoof a bit. “I - I understand our first face-to-face was surprisingly crass, but…” She hesitated, not wanting the admonishment on her lips to pass through. He wants me to go to help heal things. Now that she knew his plan, Winter couldn’t bring herself to reprimand him for it. “Stay here, boogie bear, I'll go.” She leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, just to ensure he wasn’t left thinking she was mad.

Several days earlier, an angular and angry red centauri corvette prowled closer to the core worlds. The bridge, if the three person room could be called that, stank of medication. Several bottles of Galatea were scattered around Thaddeus’ seat. It was a ‘beverage’ meant to slowly cure addiction. Whether it worked or not would have to wait until they returned to port. Seated next to him was Felin. If Thaddeus flew and navigated the ship, she was the comms officer and flight director for the three fighters clamped under the corvette. The third seat belonged to a kirin who was the fire director and he maintained overwatch for the corvette’s systems.

They were prowling in the depths while parsing out the latest intel on their quarry. What they had though was paltry at best.

Thaddeus drank the swill of his Galatea, having long since learned to tolerate the foul sticky taste. In a drawer, a dozen pill bottles resided to aid his hasty effort in repairing his addled mind. On his screen was a zoomed out view of Felicia. A single blue line heading away from the shipyard marked his prey. Unfortunately, their flight plan was missing past the first day of travel.

Felin leaned over to him. She had splurged on herself and had a tailor fix her uniform. It was patchy, and not all of the colors were the same shade, but at least it wasn’t going to fall apart. “Have any idea where they went?”

He rubbed his sweating face, trying to ignore the aches, pains, and other much worse side effects of his treatment. “So they went solar south… could make an interception easier.” He furrowed his brow and narrowed his gaze. “Provided they didn’t change course. Just have to narrow down where they plan to go.” He turned his gaze to his trusted second. “Felin, do we have access to the Innies’ comms network?”

The drake cleared her throat, briefly filling the room with brimstone. “The Commodore was not exactly forthcoming about who or what our sources are. As for our intel, what you have now is what we got.”

He grumbled obscenities at the universe. “There never was such truncated information access back in the day.”

Rather than answer, Felin let the sentiment lie. “We do know of what sites a salvager might visit on that heading.” Using her implant, she sent the information to his screen.

Rubbing his forehead in an attempt to stay focused, Thaddeus scrutinized the fifteen new green dots on his screen. He was no salvager, but he had ideas. Battlefields and stations. There's no shortage of opportunities. Humming in thought, he faced Felin. “Any chance we know which ones have already been picked clean by previous savage efforts?”

“Not off hand, but I’ll contact home and see if anyone bothered tracking such things.”

Thaddeus didn’t have much hope in that effort, so he refocused on the map. He had not been in overall command of the war effort, but he was among the inner circle. There’s plenty of battle sites… but still…

For hours he mulled over the data. Felin came through for him just before dinner, and he was able to knock off several sites and two derelict stations off the list. What remained was simply too vast of an area to effectively track a single ship.

It was late, and he still clawed at the problem even as the night shift took over around him. Only Felin remained at his side, deciding to rest only when Thaddeus did the same.

Gah! I’m not getting anywhere with this. Giving up on trying to parse out what location could possibly offer the best salvage, he at last directed his thoughts to his second. “They went to Sword Fall. They obviously have knowledge over naval equipment. So they could be going after Fey’s Rest, as it’s the closest to them. But that means their skipper is a navy veteran, and will go elsewhere to avoid being too obvious with their movements. But on the other hand, Harper’s Folly is twice Fey’s size, so more profit. Further than that, perhaps they will select a civilian station to throw us off. In that case…” He stopped, and grumbled madly.

Having been a student of his as well as his second, Felin had not been mentally idle on the question either. “Sir, perhaps you're missing the nose for the face.”

Giving her a puzzled look, he said, “I don’t follow.”

“During my own investigation, home base stated this was the Cloud Jumper’s first job. It's entirely possible that the ponies want us to think the crew are civilians to throw us off.”

He winced as he thought it over. It wasn’t a bad observation, but he- “Wait.” He sat up in his chair, his mind racing. “Cloud Jumper. What I fool I am for not seeing it!”

The sheer excitement and energy took Felin by surprise. “See what sir?”

“It was the vessel’s first job. That much we know, and the first thing they do is retrieve the body of my erstwhile rival, yes?” Thaddeus grew more animated now, as if he were twenty years younger. He tapped the screen to bring up one of the green dots. “This freighter captain is bold. Perhaps too much for their own good. They want fame. Glory. Tell me, Felin. What could cause a bigger stir than Gleaming Light’s recovery?”

To aid Felin, he rotated the screen to face her. On it was a massive derelict station tucked away in orbit over a dusty moon.

“Ponopilous?” she started, searching his intense gaze for clues. “It was the industrial center of the Initiative before the war. Do you think they’re going there to locate schematics or irreplaceable machinery?”

“Think bigger.” Thaddeus eyed the screen with a certainty known only by the bold, the knowledgeable, or the foolish. “You recall the Initiative was planning on using Ponopilous as a forge nexus for future expansion? That includes creating mass nullifiers for future gateways like Faraway Station.”

Felin was left doubtful. “If I may, sir. If there was still an intact nullifier at Ponopilous, surely the Innies would have retrieved it long ago.”

“One would think,” he conceded with a wave of both hands. “Perhaps our salvagers are testing their luck, hoping to find one. Barring that perhaps they are there to take the machines necessary to manufacture the nullifiers. Either way.” Thaddeus tapped the screen as the old admiral shined through. “That’s where they’re going. And the best part is, we can get there a day ahead of them.”

Back in the present day, the Cloud Jumper was nearing the dusty moon, and Live Wire was easing his way into orbit around it. The minefield around Ponopilous was tight around the old station rather than loosely spread out like it was at Sword Fall, but he readied the IFF code early, just to be safe. With no threats even passively revealing themselves since leaving the shipyard, he was lazily whistling an advertisement tune.

Down below, Winter came through with the vacuum, and was in the crawl space Wiggly Sprocket had been repairing. She dutifully sucked up each floating globule of water, only now it was getting harder to do with the ship decelerating a bit.

Knowing just how dangerous free floating water could be, the mares had barely shared a few words between them before Winter got to work vacuuming up the water. Being so close to Sprocket, Winter wanted to speak up, but the vacuum was a convenient excuse for her nerves to still her tongue.

So they sat there for a few uncomfortable minutes. Sprocket was finishing up her work ensuring the piping was intact, and Winter collected the loose water.

Yet soon enough it was all clear, and the convenient whine of the vacuum came to a close. Part of Winter wanted to give farewells and be done with it, but she stopped herself. If I can face down pirates, I can face her too. Clearing her throat, Winter fell back on her mother’s teachings. “Wiggly Sprocket, I have to apologize to you.” The mechanic twisted an ear at her, but still was still elbow deep in work, so that was the best Winter was going to get. “I want to clear the air between us. I…” She stopped herself. Winter was no idiot. She had seen plenty of ponies like her in the navy, and treating her like she would someone at her home was never going to work. So Winter decided to play her part. “I think you really need a stallion in your life.”

Wiggly Sprocket was so taken aback by the comment she banged her head on the panel’s frame. Rubbing the lump on the back of her head, Sprocket pulled back to study the thestral who bore a jesting expression. “Where did that come from?”

Mother, forgive me for being so crass. Winter fell into the same teasing manner she had used in the locker room. She waggled a hoof, gesturing at all of Sprocket’s soaked clothes and face. “The fact that you’re sopping wet while neck deep in the Cloud’s pipes. Honestly, sister, at least have your lowest standard require a pulse.”

A surprised but an oh so malicious grin cleaved Wiggly’s muzzle. “Oh yeah? At least I don’t scream like a banshee when you and Wire get going. I could move to the last cabin down and still hear you barking like a seal.”

Seeing she was making progress, Winter didn’t let up. “What can I say? Wire knows what he’s doing. You on the other hoof had the nerve to ask your own brother to clean up your mess.” She pointed a wing at the vacuum with a head shake. “That’s just mean.”

Wiggly Sprocket laughed with a humorous, toothy grin. “Alright, I’ll let you win this round. We good?” She thrust a hoof out to shake.

Barely remembering to maintain her casual demeanor, Winter eagerly shook it. “We good.”

Wiggly was about to speak when the lights cut out and turned red with a three note alarm sounding from the hallway outside. Winter reacted first, instantly falling into her training. “We’re under attack!” Winter’s demeanor instantly changed to being firmly in command. “Wiggs, plan A! Take the code box to the cabins!”

The hair rose on Sprocket’s neck and yelled out as Winter stared at her with a demand for haste in her eyes. “Plan A? The box. Ah, yes. Okay.”

The sailor knew civilians could lock up, so she held Wiggly’s face tightly and her eyes zeroed in on her own. “Good. After that, get a suit on! Stay focused and we’ll be fine.”

Hoping the message was well received, Winter sprinted off to the cockpit.

Panic threatened to take hold of Sprocket. Now that Winter was gone, so was her anchor. No! Wiggly laid a hoof on a wall, and gazed at the ship around her. They’re not going to hurt my baby! So she squashed her panic as a mother protecting her child. Sprocket hastily gathered up her tools to leave. First the code box, then I better get to my tool cabinet. If we get hit, I’ll be ready to do something from there.

Out there in low orbit of the dusty moon sat Thaddeus’ corvette. The quiet snooping probe he had placed ahead of time gave him plenty of warning of when the Cloud Jumper would arrive. And arrive it did.

He had more than enough time to position the three short-ranged fighters he carried, so when he launched the hacking attempt, the freighter was flanked on both sides with his vessel holding the center between the Cloud Jumper and Ponipopolus station.

He rubbed his cleanly shaven chin as he watched for the freighter's next move, and thus far, all it had done was slow down into a stationary orbit. Ultimately, his fighters were largely for show, as he wanted to take the freighter undamaged.

“How’s it look?” he directed to the kirin seated just ahead of him.

Blazing Dagger was a young, but eager stallion who had joined him with the hope of being on a ship with better discipline than the rest of the pirate navy. So he wanted to make a good showing, yet the growing scowl on his face lowered his chances. “I don’t understand, sir. My viruses hit a stronger defense barrier than any civvy ship I’ve seen yet. I should get through though, it’s only a matter of time. I did manage to partially take over their comms. Unless they take an axe to the wiring, they have to listen to you.”

“Very good.” Thaddeus gave his EW expert more time to work as he himself pulled up the scanner. “It seems they managed to scrounge up some capital grade defense guns.”

Felin nodded in grim agreement. “I believe those are type fifty one star shards. Well suited to counter missiles and rail slugs, and would give a careless fighter a difficult fight. But our corvette is more than enough to bring it down.”

“Their own armor seems impressive for their size,” Thaddeus mused aloud. He touched the twin engine pods on screen. “But not here and here. Be sure to focus our efforts there should it come down to that. Have our fighters move in quick, ruin the engines, and let gravity do the rest of the work for us.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll relay the orders.”

“Excellent. I think we’ve let them sweat long enough.” Thaddeus ran his fingers through his short cropped hair to smooth it down and readied himself to speak over the radio.

Felin hummed aloud. “Sir, they are civilians. Perhaps we should give them time to finish soiling themselves before we open fire.”

“A fair point.”

Winter flew over to the cockpit so fast she brakes herself by landing on the hatch on all fours. She then swiped the open button and leaned over Live Wire. She had already donned her space suit and was holding his as well. “How are we looking?”

The stallion was sweating profusely and would have jumped out of his seat were it not for the straps. He swallowed the lump in his throat and saw the suit she was holding. “Ahhh - four ships. Three fighters and a bigger one.”

“Get up and get suited.” Winter was already unbuckling him, fully expecting the stallion to be frozen in fear. As expected, he had a death grip on the seat, so she gently ran a hoof down his glowing horn. The act made him cry out in pain, yet it had the desired effect of loosening him up. “Sorry later. Get up!”

Already forgetting about the act, he dumbly nodded and clambered out so she could take over. Once the seat locked into place, she ran her cord out of her neck and plugged it into the console.

From there, she took over general control of everything, including the electronic defenses. This is normally Jerrycan’s job, but I’ll have to make due. She quickly assessed the centauri ships outside, and saw they had yet to make an aggressive move, so she shifted her focus to the cyber battle.

Multiple breaches, and it looks like the defense barriers I installed are slowly getting picked apart. Partitioning part of her attention on reinforcing what had not yet been compromised, she turned her attention to the guns’ sensors. Really wish I had a jammer module, or at least some form of countermeasures.

None of it looked good. She had prepared to go up against a long range fighter or two, but the corvette was a wrinkle she had no physical means to defeat. She focused on it in particular. The corvette mostly resembled a Hawker c-47; which shared the red angular design ubiquitous with the Ruby Navy. More important to her was the twin coil battery on the front and whether or not it possessed the anti-shipping torpedoes the class was known for.

Even without the torpedoes, that coil gun can out range us, and the thing is definitely faster too. Her only hope was that the armor Sprocket acquired would hold.

“Okay, I’m suited up. What now?”

She looked back at Live Wire who was doing his best to hold onto his wits. “I’m going to be swamped with piloting and EW. Can you handle the guns?”

“I - I have no idea how to fire those things.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a proper combat AI.” Winter closed her eyes tightly to think. “Okay. You won’t have to. Just mark the targets and let the guns do the work. All you The Rubies are going to muck with our targeting. You just have to help sift through the noise. You remember how I showed you?”

“Y-yeah. Sure.”

“Good. Find a place to buckle down.” Giving him an almost automatic kiss, she turned back to the control panels. Seeing that Sprocket was suited up, Winter hit a few commands, and caused the Cloud Jumper to depressurize the whole ship.

The stern voice over the radio made Winter jump.

Winter took a long deep breath, and clicked the radio. Inwardly, she chided herself for forgetting to ask Wire why they weren’t being shot yet.

The masculine tone came back with the barest note of annoyance coloring an otherwise strong, unflappably calm, command voice. It was one she was familiar with as it was one custom both navies of the Alliance and Initiative shared.

Winter didn’t care what his answer was, only that it bought her time to think. I locked off control over the engines and flight controls. Now I just need an escape.

The enemy commander’s response were a few coil shots that flew over the freighter.

As she tried to wrack her brain for a solution, Wiggly Sprocket chimed in over the internal comms. Her voice quivered badly, but the pegacorn had enough strength in her words to mean it.

Wire added with equal terror.

That was it then. If surrender was off the table, there was only one thing to do: run.

Winter opened the comms with a steady calm she had acquired from her work. I don’t know if the Rubies heard that, but here goes.

She started the engines slowly at first, careful to not set the enemy off just yet.

His voice was stern, and carried a ready threat of violence.

Wire, I hope you can get a few good shots off. Winter’s target was Poniopolous and its minefield. If he actually cares that much to gather us up as slaves, I bet he won’t target the escape pods. she lied while spiking the engines straight into travel drive.

The freighter flashed red warnings, and she squashed them all and aimed her nose down the corvette’s throat.

Seconds later, the coilguns flashed. Both slugs slammed into the canopy, and went right over Winter’s helmet before slamming into the back, penetrating the cargo hold and crashing into the rear armor.

The travel drive flashed a shutdown warning, but all Winter wanted was the burst of acceleration. Still trying to shake off nearly getting pulped, she hastily cycled the engines to a slower maneuver settings that wouldn’t fall apart at getting shot.

The fighters started moving in and opened fire. Pulse lasers were already burning plates off the engines and the struts. Winter flipped on automatic targeting for the guns, and the turrets barked to life.

Winter internally counted down the seconds before the coilgun could fire again while rolling the Cloud Jumper to throw off the fighters’ aim.

“Fire!” Winter Gale jammed the stick up right before the coilguns fired. The shots slammed into the port side of the canopy, completely ripping away that entire side of the cockpit. Were it not for the seat anchoring her, she would have been blown out. Shrapnel cut across her suit, causing multiple breeches that were instantly sealed by internal foam.

She stared out of the jagged gaping hole where the brown moon loomed below. The sensors were still functional, and she barely saw a fighter lining up to strafe the cockpit. Rotating the ship back around, she barely got steel between herself and the fighter.

The turrets still blazed away, but Winter could see it was all badly inaccurate. Sensor ghosts, general noise, and false leads were throwing the aim off so badly Live Wire might as well have not fired at all.

Four seconds!

The Cloud Jumper reached spitting distance to the corvette, forcing it to thrust away where the freighter flew between it and the moon. Winter mentally prodded Live Wire’s attention to the corvette. The turrets dutifully turned to the much closer target. At such range, even the fouled sensors couldn’t miss.

The turrets barked quickly as the two ships blazed by one another. She cheered loudly as five good hits were scored in a line from stem to stern. Yet it seemed the corvette was unfazed. It rotated quickly and fired its coilguns again, this time completely obliterating the port engine.

The Cloud Jumper threatened to spin in place as the starboard engine kept burning. Acting quickly, Winter cut the power in half and fired the maneuvering thrusters as hard as they could go to stabilize their heading.

Sprocket all but shrieked from the jarring maneuver.

Winter’s mouth was bone dry, but she managed to croak out,

It was all Winter heard before she cut the internal channel. She better not try to come up here. Winter cringed once more at the hole to her left. For her sake.

Damage warnings signaled the fighters were trying to focus down the remaining engine. Keeping the ship stable was already near impossible, but to lose that too?

Winter’s panic was rising as temperature warnings for the engine was redlining.

Suddenly, the whole freighter jerked as the coilguns fired again. The forward turret was shot right out of its mounting. The capacitor cooked off, and burned out, inadvertently creating a short-lived thruster down to the moon. Winter struggled to compensate, only to be hit again where the armor was thickest. She tried desperately to correct their heading, but the shot had angled them further down towards the moon.

Her efforts made her movement too predictable and the fighters pounced. The starboard engine was shot apart by a single strafing run, with pieces scattering all over. Even with thrusters on full burn, she was starting to lose against the moon’s gravity. As if to spite her further, the coils fired again. The freighter jerked once more, further down into the moon’s gravity.

More warnings flooded Winter’s vision, but the one that confirmed her fears read: orbit decay terminal. Recommend abandon ship.

The same calm voice carried an air of respect in it.

At that, the attack viruses stilled, and the jamming ceased. As they sank closer towards the dense atmosphere, Winter sent full power to the maneuvering thrusters to save the ship.

Yet her descent was only slowing. As her awareness spread to the cleared up sensors she frantically started trying to think of a backup plan. She searched the lands directly below Ponopilous. Multiple returns of alloys came back quickly, but one thing surprised her. A large pocket of oxygen. Big red font flashed in front of her vision, warning that reentry was inescapable. No, no, no! She had barely had over a minute before reentry made the escape pods worthless. Without double checking it, she commanded the autopilot to direct both the ship and escape pods to the vicinity.

Winter switched the internal comms back on as she hastily unbuckled the seat and unplugged herself from the controls.

Their panicked replies were lost to her as Winter raced to get further inside so the unsteady rocking of the ship didn’t slow her down. She got to the closest bulkhead, only to see it had been closed during the fight, and the first coil shot had ripped it off completely. She raced to the ladder just past the ruined bulkhead, and down two floors. Although the thrusters were keeping the Cloud Jumper from tumbling, the growing pull of gravity made every step a danger. She couldn’t risk trying to fly at this point.

She managed to crawl onto the last deck to find the siblings struggling to shove a pony-sized box into one of the empty escape pods. Live Wire pulled away upon hearing Winter emerge onto the deck while Sprocket slapped the door shut. He braced himself against the wall, and lit his horn. He helped pull Winter fully into the passageway and towards himself.

The two almost collided, but Winter managed to hook a hoof onto a rung before impact. She saw the sudden fright on his face upon seeing the damage on her suit.

Sprocket shoulder checked the box all the way inside the door and slammed it shut.

Winter scrambled into her pod, and attempted to tie herself down into the lone seat within while Live Wire did the same in his own.

It wasn’t even remotely close enough, but Sprocket was too high on adrenaline and staying alive to do more than snort her dubious approval.

The battle damage and beginnings of reentry threatened to tear the ship apart at any moment.

With everyone inside their pods, Winter remotely shut the hatches and tried to peer through the sensors. However, all she got back was static. Damn!

The only thing left was make sure she and Live Wire were strapped in, and pray that Wiggly Sprocket did the same in her pod.

Live Wire’s voice was badly garbled, but the rising panic was loud and clear.

Sprocket chimed in from her pod. The steel in her voice sounded alien coming from her.

Having no choice but to trust Wiggly’s talents, Winter hit the button. The charges blew and all four pods were violently ejected from their doomed home.

Author's Note

And so ends the 1st arc. Will our heroes survive the dusty moon, or will they become one with its barren ground? Well, it's the end of arc 1, not the story, so take a guess.

7: Marooned

A quartet of escape pods landed hard on the moon’s surface. The deafening roar of reentry blinds the survivors to everything but the noise. Retro thrusters had taken the edge off the impact that still kicks up clouds of ruddy red dust. The inside of Wiggly Sprocket’s pod was dimly lit by red emergency lights, and she was furious. Once the pod finally came to a rest, she felt unbearably heavy. Every movement was taxing, but in that moment she didn’t care. Fueled by her rage, she unbuckled herself and marched for the exit. Thankfully, the button rested near the new floor and she kicked it. Two explosive bolts fired, opening the door so fast it nearly broke the hinges.

A mix of thin brown and rusty dust and a dense atmosphere awaited her. It was bitterly cold outside as well, and she was only kept from death by her suit. Utter unaccustomed to such high gravity, Sprocket tripped trying to exit the pod. She fell flat on her face, and the impact was so hard it made her teeth rattle. More than pain, the mare from space was as alien to the moon as its barren surface was to life. Everything hurt as gravity over three times what she had ever experienced threatened to press her into the frigid loose dirt underneath her. Sprocket’s lungs struggled to take in air, her guts pulled her abdomen taut, her heart hammered in her ear as it struggled to keep her alive. Everything was being pulled down, even her eyelids felt heavy. A growing headache was forming as well as her brain was pressed against her skull. Panic started to creep in as Wiggly found it nearly impossible to take anything more than a shallow breath, she mustered her strength, grunting loudly from the effort, to spread her wings to try and use them to pick herself back up. However, they felt so sluggish and heavy that she could not raise them, so instead she spread them out along the ground, pushing dust along the way.

Her wings hummed incredibly loud in her ears, and she found the weight of the suit nearly vanish, but the same could not be said for her body. Still, it was enough for her to pull her hooves under herself and drag her way up to stand. A roar in the sky brought her gaze up to the broken remains of the Cloud Jumper as it careened towards the ground. Between the damage and forced reentry, the hull couldn’t take the stress any longer. Shortly before hitting the ground, the spine of the Cloud Jumper snapped and the freighter broke apart into a dozen pieces. She screamed in tearful agony as her beloved home was cast upon the frozen wastelands below to join the myriad of other wreckage from years prior.

She didn’t witness her brother and Winter emerge from their own pods as her tear-blurred eyes were fixed on the remains of her ship. The reactor exploded on impact, kicking up a fireball and dust storm that blasted hot wind over the pods. It knocked everyone to the ground, and would have burnt them to ciders were it not for their protective suits.

Anguish, abject rage, and horror roiled together into a loud cry as the Sprocket’s strength gave out under the enormous weight of it all. Tears flooded her eyes as she saw pieces of her beloved home rain down into a broken rest on this forsaken moon. “Why?!” She yelled through her fogging helmet. “Why, why?!” Craning her neck as best she could, Wiggly gazed up at the sky where the pirates were. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?! The war’s over you rutting bastards!”

Depression claimed her, and Wiggly curled in on herself as she wailed in grief.

Live Wire was close by, and was desperate to reach his sister, but the moon’s gravity was just as harsh on him. He was left practically a cripple by the immense pull of the moon they were now stranded on. He was no less affected by the loss of their ship, but he had to reach Sprocket. He had to protect her. If all he could do was offer a shoulder to cry on then, he would do it.

Winter had to kick her door back open, and she landed in the dust with some bruising and contusions. The burns and minor shrapnel damage from the cockpit being blown apart worried her, but she was otherwise alright. Between her implants and growing up on an Equiss sized planet, the mare needed only a minute or so to acclimate to the gravity. Feels like one G. Maybe a little more. She scanned her surroundings, and recoiled from the shattered remains of the Cloud Jumper. Her gaze then turned to the siblings, both on the ground. Winter used a wing to pat her flank where she had strapped on a first aid kit, and was glad to see it was still in place. Winter tapped into her suit’s HUD, and checked the siblings’ health monitors. A frightful sight greeted her. Blood is starting to pool and there’s too much stress on their bones. It was all the signs of gravity sickness. What made it worse for Live Wire was that his implants were putting irregular stress on his skull and neck. This is bad. This is really bad!

“Wire!” She galloped to his side, and slid to a stop. She wanted to cradle him, but feared picking him up could harm him further. So she got in front of him to get his attention. “Wire, are you okay?”

The stallion looked into her amber cat-slit eyes and weakly smiled. “Yes. And no.” The weight was too much and he gave up the fight against gravity. “Everything hurts. I don’t - I…” He couldn’t take a full breath anymore.

“Hold on!” Winter pulled at her kit and yanked it open. There she found two sets of injector needles with the label: Accelatotian. It’ll have to do.

“Sorry in advance.” Winter claimed the first needle, prepared it, then moved around to Wire’s back. Given the naval origin of his suit, she knew it had an injector port. “There!” She sunk the needle inside and injected him. She threw the needle aside and without waiting for his recovery, grabbed the second and raced over to Sprocket.

The other mare was utterly inconsolable, and didn’t even acknowledge Winter administering the medication.

The drug took effect quickly. Wiggly’s strength surged, and magic reinforced her bones and organs. She took her first long deep breath since landing. The shock broke her sobbing into a coughing fit. Sprocket blinked her tears away, even as more came. She shakily climbed to her hooves with a gaze still fixed on her beloved home now a smoldering ruin. Renewed sobbing began as her heart broke completely. A weak hoof roped her into a feeble embrace.

“Wiggs, we’ll survive this.” Live Wire gripped her as hard as he could, and shook her for emphasis. “You hear me?”

The weeping mare muttered something unintelligible as she buried herself into his shoulder. She dearly wished there wasn’t a suit separating them.

Off to the side, Winter was coming down from the adrenaline rush, and sat down next to Live Wire. The mare was unsure if she could interrupt the siblings, only to be grateful when Live Wire weakly tried to pull her into the shared embrace. What surprised her was that Wiggly Sprocket did the same. While the siblings wept, part of Winter wanted to lose herself into the shared grief, but the sailor in her refused such a luxury. So she remained in the group hug, but her mind raced elsewhere so she could mentally process all that happened. She wasn’t nearly as attached to the Cloud Jumper as the siblings were, but time was against them. Winter internally debated on how soon she could interrupt them to ensure their survival.

Ultimately, it was Live Wire who calmed down enough to separate from the others. Winter Gale pulled back shortly after, looking over him fearfully. Alone, Wiggly stood up on woefully feeble legs to give her home one last look. Anger started to overtake her depression. Vengeance had to be enacted. “This is twice now those kracking centauri destroyed our home.”

She became incandescent with rage and rounded on the others. “We need to get off this rock, and find some way to make them pay for this!”

Live Wire’s eyes drifted over to the smoldering wreck that was fizzing out due to the lack of oxygen on the moon. His mood quickly matched his sister’s indignation step for step. “I’m with you, a hundred percent.”

They turned to Winter Gale in unison with murder in their eyes. The bat pony waved a placating hoof. “I’m all for zeroing some ‘taurs as much as the next pony, but we have to survive this moon first. The Accelatotian I gave you -” She averted her gaze in mounting concern. “It won’t last long. Half a day or so at best per dose.” The situation uprooted a deep fear in Winter. Unbidden and vivid memories of her previous coltfriends dying on the same battlefield as her, or hearing news of it bashed away all control and dominated her mind’s eye. Every fiber of her being wanted to see Live Wire survive to the point where she started shivering a bit from the fear of losing him.

The news robbed the siblings of their sudden fury, and stared at her in denial. Growling at her own weakness, Wiggly lifted a hoof to inspect her boot. Her muscles burned with effort as if she was holding her breath while sprinting. She could almost hear her joints creaking from the strain. “The Navy taught you some tricks to get out of trouble like this, right?”

“Tricks… Yeah.” Winter tried to recollect herself, but her anxiety was spiraling out of control. Oh yeah, suffering from gravity sickness, which the navy trains out of you, and stranded on a moon when no one even knows you’re marooned, totally going to be fine. Winter used a fang to bite her lip so she could control herself. Stop it with that talk!

Live Wire had let his hopes get run up by his sister, but ultimately he knew Winter Gale was the only way they would survive, and he could plainly see the pained expression she was desperately trying to mask but to no avail. His own spirits flagged to be as low as the Cloud Jumper itself.

As Wiggly Sprocket’s dying hopes were matched by her wilting expression, Winter managed to pull herself out of her own defeatist thoughts. “We have a chance. A real one!” That got the siblings’ attention as Winter gave her suit some commands before she scanned the horizon all around her. She stopped and pointed towards a plateau that wasn’t very far at all. “There! On the way down, the sensors spotted a pocket of oxygen.”

“Oxygen?!” Live Wire shared a bewildered look with a Sprocket who was trying to psych herself back up. “Isn’t the moon uninhabitable?”

“Exactly.” Winter also wanted to over excite herself so Live Wire would get worked up as well. “It could be anything. A…” She caught herself before saying crash. “It could be a shelter, or perhaps a secret facility made before the war.” She passed the marker to the others, hoping the short hike wouldn’t seem too daunting to a pair of spacers.

It wasn’t that far, not even a kilometer over a small hill that ended in a massive plateau that stretched for a hundred miles. Even with the drug giving Sprocket strength, it did little to make her forget the pull of gravity upon her, nor could it restore the fervor she held only moments ago. Still, she latched onto what anger she could to keep moving. “Sounds good. We should grab what we can carry.” Without another word, Wiggly made her way back to her pod.

In short order, Live Wire returned to their spot with a bag of water packets and ration bars. Winter found another medical kit with four more doses of Accelatotian, along with her pistol and multiple ammo charges.

Of them all, Wiggly was the only one who struggled to even lift her prize. It was her cutter and scanner. Were it not for the lightening effects of her Twilight’s Glove around her wings, she’d never lift even one of her tools. She got a puzzled look from the others. “What? We might have to cut our way in, and with the scanner, we can see if the air is breathable, oxygen or not.”

Live Wire let an ear flop over. “Why not cut off a door and use the tether gun to turn it into a sled? It’s not like we can use the pods anymore.”

Wiggly hummed in thought, although her mood dipped a bit at the thought. “But Coral’s art is on the doors too.” She looked at the four pods, painfully wrestling with the thought of destroying anything of what was left of the Cloud Jumper.

A long tense silence went by as Wiggly dearly wished to bring all her tools. Eventually, it was Winter who went into the nearest pod and pulled out a hammock shortly after. “Why not use one of these. Throw a blanket over it to keep the dust off, and we have a sled.”

A relieved smile plastered itself over Wiggly’s face. “Great idea!”

“I’ll pull it,” Winter offered readily. “You two save what strength you can.”

For being such a short distance, the gentle hill was murder on the two spacers. The Accelatotian kept them moving, but little more than that. Sprocket grasped onto her vendetta like a lifeline, and it gave her the willpower to keep putting one hoof in front of the other.

As Live Wire trudged alongside his sister, the long tedium of the walk dragged up the minutes before the battle over and over again. The more he ran it through his mind, the more guilt piled onto him. Though he could hide it from Winter, Wiggly Sprocket saw past the gravity weakness and nudged him while Winter was distracted moving the sled around a boulder. She switched her radio to a private channel.

It was an opening for him, yet when he met her eyes, Live Wire gave only a hesitant nod.

Sprocket wasn’t satisfied with his minimal answer, and rested a wing on him.

He didn’t bother hiding his pained look from Wiggly of all people, but he still wanted to look strong in front of Winter. He glanced over his shoulder, unsure if she was bothering to tap into their channel. he spat out angrily. He bit his tongue for a moment, only to let it loose again at Wiggly trying to shake him with her wing.

His recriminations threatened to make Wiggly start thinking of all the ways she could have done something, Like gone and retrieved the vacuum herself. No! Wiggly violently shook her head before doing the same to her brother. she yelled loudly enough for Winter to hear her anyway. Renewed blind anger caused her to shove Live Wire away from her, and run a ways ahead to put some distance between them.

Live Wire was thrown off balance, and landed heavily on the dirt. Seeing this, Winter dropped the sled, and caught up to him. “Are you alright?” She gingerly prodded his flank and pelvis, checking for potential fractures.

Embarrassment flooded him in equal measures with his guilt. His whole rear right side ached, but he tried to downplay it. “I’m fine.” He couldn’t muster a smile for her though.

He starts to walk off, following after his sister and the waypoint beyond her. Winter frowns, and went back to retrieve the sled before dragging it fast enough to catch up with him. “Wire. You want one of my navy tricks?”

His mouth was a pressed line at the question, but he wasn’t feeling as combative as Sprocket. “Sure.”

Grunting a bit at the weight, Winter pressed on. “When we break for sleep tonight, I’m going to help you write an after-action report.” She expected the strange look he gave her. “I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years, Wire. Too many,” she added with time-worn pain. “It’s so easy to sit there for days or weeks agonizing over what could have been if I acted differently. That’s why they make all of us write these reports. It helps you crystalize what happened in a fight. If you can put what happened on ‘print’, I can help you make a better plan on how to respond next time.” She gently nudged him, trying to elicit some kind of good cheer. “And don’t worry, I’ll be making one for myself too.”

The caring love from Winter finally got a brief, stress relieving laugh out of him. Live Wire managed a truer, yet thread bare grin. “Thanks, Winny. I’ll take you up on that.”

Hours bled away as they marched forward, step by heavy step. They came at last upon a cave at top of the hill that went into the cliff of the plateau. Yet what unsettled Live Wire was how peculiar it was. Instead of just being a hole leading into the cliff face, there was a massive pale white bulge jutting out from the stone under their hooves that could easily fit half a city block. Though brown and rust-colored dust covered everything, as he got closer, the mouth of the cave did not look like the same kind of rock as everything else. The cave looked more worn down by the wind.

By now, Wiggly had fully come down from her adrenaline and her anger was bleeding away into resignation, leaving her badly winded. She slumped at the mouth of the cave to catch her breath. Live Wire was little better, but his curiosity kept him moving. Winter on the other hand had dropped the sled, and readied her pistol and started peering into the darkness within.

“I don’t like it,” the pilot warned with unease coloring her tone. “A structure like this right below Ponipolous? It’s got to have been a Ruby spy facility or something.”

“Or something…” He brushed the dust off to reveal oddly porous, smooth stone. Using his magic, he brushed off patches of dust here and there to reveal that whatever this rocky dome was, it was pale white that seemed to shimmer prismatically in the faint light of the distant star. “Bone. Does this look like bone to you?”

“Bone?!” Both mares were put on edge. Wiggly scrambled to stop leaning against the dome while Winter moved to Live Wire’s side to inspect his discovery.

Winter brushed the bone with a hoof and inspected it closely. “No… not bone per say. It looks more like coral.”

“Please tell me that’s some sort of natural thing on planets,” Wiggly asked with mounting ill-at-ease.

Winter glanced at her before stepping away from the unsettling wall. “It’s an ocean dwelling creature. Think of it as small animals that build ‘houses’ for themselves like this.” Winter looked over the oblong dome that was a little over twice as long as it was thick, if the cliff side was any indication. “But coral doesn’t grow in shapes like this… Or out of the water for that matter.”

Driven and distracted by curiosity, Sprocket unshouldered her scanner and switched it on. Even with her wings’ glove being on full power, she could barely lift the thing to aim it at the dome. “Well whatever it is, it’s airtight. There is a thick layer that is completely solid. It’s even giving off some strange power readings…. Nothing like a battery or reactor though.” Wiggly lethargically shook her head. “I can’t make horns or tails of it. This is a tech scanner, so it’s not giving me the whole picture.”

“So what can you see?” Live Wire asked as he tried to lean over her shoulder to look at the readout, but it was utterly lost on him as well.

“The whole bone-coral thing is hollow, for one, and I can see a building inside too.” Suddenly, Wiggly put her scanner down and walked away a couple steps while wagging her wings in exasperation. “Nope, I am not doing this. I lost my home, lost my ship, survived getting shot at again, I’m dying from too much gravity, nope I’m done. I am not waking into some forgotten biolab that probably has some super virus that’ll melt me inside my suit.”

Sighing in shared pain, Live Wire walked over to his sister. He placed a firm hoof on her withers. “Sprocket, I hate to say this, but we don’t have time for you to go Wigglynanas on us.” Not a second time, anyway. “Keep it together.”

She shot him a foul look, and a biting retort teetered on the edge of her tongue. “Rrraaa!” She kicked some dirt away. “Damn it all! I hate that you’re right.”

“Breathe and focus, Wiggs. When we get off this rock, I’ll find you a nice centauri shaped kicking bag for you to vent on. Deal?”

Shaking with indignation that Sprocket struggled to subdue, the pegacorn managed to bottle it up enough to function. “Deal.” She let off a few more angry breaths before reclaiming her scanner.

Winter Gale was unsure of what to make of that, save that she desperately needed to vent her emotions just as badly. Yet her training kept her nerves from being frayed by her inner turmoil.

The thought of revenge, no matter how minor, gave Sprocket strength. Wiggly gave her brother a tense nod. “Alright. Let’s do this together.”

“Together,” he replied with an approving huff.

Sprocket looked towards Winter Gale, resolve filled her voice and spirit. “Together?”

Giving a side smirk, Winter gave a crisp nod. “Together. If we all get off this rock, I’ll write a recommendation letter to a recruiter.”

Naval service. Now there was something Wiggly had only given passing thought to. After the Sundering, she and her brother only wanted to get on with their lives. But now… Now it was personal. “I might take you up on that.”

Winter readied her pistol once more and jerked her head towards the mouth of the cave. “Follow after me, Wiggly, keep that scanner up. If something dangerous pops up, pull my tail to stop me. Wire, keep eyes behind us and above. If somepony lives here, they might have left to investigate the crash site, and could potentially come in behind us.”

Sprocket hefted her scanner once more and stepped up to the cave. “Got it.” Taking a steadying breath, Sprocket started floating off the ground just enough to hold the scanner in her forehooves. Winter took point with the pistol, leaving Live Wire to bring up the rear.

The cave was narrow, and Wiggly was barely able to keep the edges of her wings from scraping along the walls. It wound and switched back in an unnatural manner, and was only a total of ten meters until they came to a blue, viscous, and slimy looking membrane. It covered the entrance completely from roof to floor.

“Ohh come on. By Celestia’s fat flank, if some movie monster is waiting for us on the other side, I better give it heartburn when it eats me.” Wiggly tried both the scanner and looking through the membrane, but she couldn’t make out much.

“What can you see?” Wire asked as he tried to crane his head around the last bend in the cave. The two mares made fully stepping into the last stretch impossible.

Shaking her head, Sprocket was left dubious. “Same thing as last time. The atmo composition is breathable and the humidity is high. Don’t know if I would trust the microbes yet. This slime wall isn’t caustic, so it should be safe to walk through. The building is not that far off but…” Wiggly tilted her head trying to make sense of the readout. “There’s a lot of stuff in there that is not rock or metal.”

“Then there’s only one way to find out. Winter stepped forward to confront the entrance, and in spite of the helmet, held her breath as she tried to step through the slime membrane.

It was like stepping through crude oil, and it resisted her every move. But as Winter got clear, the slime held itself together and released her to reform the barrier. Upon entering, the space was surprisingly lit by the coral dome above. The weak sunlight and reflections of the host gas giant gave the chamber enough to work with. In addition, the temperature was much higher than outside, reaching tropical levels. “Guys, you really need to see this.”

After momentary hesitation, the siblings followed after her. Even with the poor sunlight, all three turned their suit lamps on. Before them was what could only be called an overrun greenhouse.

Some sort of alien ferns and grass analogs covered the ground which looked like actual soil. A few flying insects buzzed around, and Wire pointed out a small reptile that scurried away after being seen.

“Gals, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this is a terraforming research center.” Looking around, it seemed that the cave opened up at the center of what looked like an overgrown green house with a soft white and blue building dominating the center. The building in question looked unusual to be sure. Above the growths of moss and molds, it was what appeared to be a rather strangely aerodynamic design. Green and blue grasses grew tall enough to shroud almost the first floor of the building.

From what Sprocket could see with the scanner, the length of the structure was over twice the length of the Cloud Jumper and two decks taller. No, wait. It's not two decks, it's one deck, and each deck is taller than our standard. Looking to her right, there was an outcropping that looked like a stubby wing that ran from the top of the center to the ground. “Weird,” she said in a inquisitive hum. Checking her scanner more thoroughly, she arched an eyebrow. Her curiosity was greatly overtaking her anxiety of her condition. “The whole facility is raised up on struts.” Realization slowly dawned on her as her companions parroted her discovery. It can’t be. Tuning her scanner, Wiggly peered more closely at the section of the walls of the structure, starting from front to back. “Holy stars of Luna… This isn’t a building, it’s a ship!” She directed everyone’s attention to the scanner’s readout. “There’s no doubt about it, there are ten weapon emplacements all over this thing. It’s lean too, this thing is a predator.”

Looking at the ship with new eyes, Winter held her pistol close. “So why build a greenhouse around it? Let alone one made of coral.”

Wiggly hummed aloud as she switched to a thermal sensor, trying to see if she could spot dangerous monsters that way. Checking around, she only spotted a scattered number of insects and small game. What pulled her interest was the base of the platue. “Ahh ha. There's a thermal vent in the cliff face. That's where the heat's coming from.”

Live Wire closed in on the hull, wading through the grass that came up to his chin. Its thick growth made moving quite difficult. “I wonder if this stuff is edible.”

That particular comment reignited Winter's fear of a monster or worse, an unknown and hostile survivor. The fear of poison or bioengineered pathogens also took hold. She carefully scrutinized the whole area, looking for threats with greater paranoia than before. “Stay near the exit.” Winter took to the air to better survey the grounds. The roof of the ship was empty of life, although she remained wary of the naval batteries potentially twitching in her direction. They were three large batteries, easily matching the corvette’s coilguns. That she could see, seven other smaller emplacements were present as well.

What caught her eye most of all was a massive hole that had been blasted open towards the stern. Seeing nothing else, she turned her gaze to the grass and fern blanketed land. And then she saw it. Using her bionic eyes to zoom in confirmed her fears. She transmissed what she saw to the others’ helmets.

Not wanting to remain out in the open any longer, Winter swooped back down to join the others. “There’s no telling how many could be watching us.”

On top of everything else, Sprocket was not about to be frightened off by a potential threat. “How wonderful. So we get to fight a movie monster, alien thing after all.” She changed some settings on her scanner and checked it over again. “I’m not reading any power sources. Wait, hold a bit.” She squinted her eyes since the reading barely registered on the screen. “Scratch that. I’m seeing one active battery.”

“How big?” Winter asked hastily, wishing they had brought the energy carbines with them.

Shaking her head, Sprocket put her scanner down to rest her legs. “Real small. Probably a tablet. If it’s a weapon power pack, it could only have a single shot. Maybe two.”

As the mares debated on what they saw, Live Wire was reviewing Winter’s recording. “What about that giant gash you found? We could get in through there, and maybe get some clues on who or what we’re dealing with.”

Fearful for his life, Winter was quick to cut Live Wire off. “It’s too dangerous. Any survivors here don’t need power to swing a pipe at you.”

“What other choice do we have?” Wire countered sharply in a regrettable burst of anger. “Terra take me, I’m not going to spend my last day or so in this universe cowering in a pod because it’s safe.” He instantly felt remorse rebuking Winter so strongly, but he pushed on all the same. “Now I don’t know about Wiggs, but I’m going in there. Death’s grip is already on my neck. At least a monster or deranged survivor would be quick about it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sprocket walked up and bumped him in the shoulder. “We jumped into the abyss as soon as we fell from orbit. No point in playing safe while we’re still in free fall.”

Feeling like she was losing control, Winter needed to act before either of them got killed. “Before we do anything, maybe we should go grab the rest of our supplies first? If we’re staying, we best be prepared.”

Far away en route back to the ruby moon, Thaddeus sighed with a grumble. He drummed his worn armrest as he thought about the attack. He had not actually lost any sailors. If anything, Winter’s attack only caused a score of hull breaches. Thaddeus ran his ship like the old days, and all of his crew had been suited up.

If I was going down like that, I could pass easier knowing I had given my foe a bloody nose.

“Sir,” Felin announced to break his musings. “I have the Commodore on the comm.”

Clearing his throat, Thaddeus sat up straight and corrected his hair and clothes. He gave the drake a curt nod. “Put him through.”

The uncrowned king of the pirates manifested on the primary view screen, letting all three bridge members listen in. “There’s my admiral,” he said with a cruel grin and a welcoming spread of his arms. “My eyes tell me you’re leaving Ponipolous. I trust the mission was a success.”

“Yes, Commodore,” Thaddeus answered with no dramatic flare like the other centauri was displaying. He forwarded several files. “I’m sending you my full report and ship logs on the action. The pony salvagers are no more.”

The pirate king didn’t bother reading it, and only watched the video feed of the fight. After watching the Cloud Jumper plummet wreathed in flames, he set it on a loop beside him. “Such spunk from a couple of civilians. There is no shame in losing to foes like ponies.”

That got a ring of bewildered expressions from the bridge. Thaddeus in particular was getting a bit nervous. “The war was still honorable.” Even if we have thrown that away by debasing ourselves into pirate filth.

A brief puzzled look came from the commodore before it morphed into a scowl. “Honor and an empty sack is worth the sack, Thaddeus.” He waved his hand as if to clear the air. “I am not speaking of your assignment. You did well. What did not was the ambush we set for the Rainbow Dash. It launched a scout patrol ahead of itself for the first time in eight months. The ambush was discovered and against my orders, my ships fled like cowards before even a shot was fired”

“I thought the forces you had could have taken the Rainbow Dash in a straight fight either way.” That was a bold faced lie. Thaddeus was disgusted by the discipline from the other captains and crews. It was half the reason he lost himself in his cups to begin with.

“Perhaps if they were still the same sailors we had a decade ago. Now?” The commodore was livid, and the murder in his eyes was as naked as a star. “I had to coddle that useless captain to make him think he isn’t going to be welcomed home with a bullet. He’ll be executed for that embarrassing act alone, Nevermind his cowardice.” He jabbed a finger at something off camera. “We’re a laughing stock to our enemies. We outnumbered the Rainbow by every metric and we ran! I will not tolerate this again.”

“What would you have me do?” Thaddeus inquired firmly, his earlier nervousness morphing into a bit of bravado.

“I need that ship dead. Dead! I would rather repeat the Sword’s Fall before seeing today happen again.”

“I’m afraid, commodore, that without honor, all we have are pirates.” Thaddeus inclined his head, knowing full well he was poking the bear. “Easy money, easy blood, and pleasures of the flesh are all that motivate such refuse.”

Felin maintained an outwardly approving posture to her admiral’s rebuke, while the kirin below them was terrified as to how the commodore would react.

To his credit, the irate centauri maintained his composure at having his words thrown back at his face. “You want to prove honor has worth? Fine then. Return at once. The destroyer Bloodied Spirit will need a new master. She is yours if you think you can take down the Rainbow Dash.”

“A lone destroyer against a carrier?” Thaddeus retorted with astonishment.

The commodore gave a dismissive wave of a hand. “You can keep the corvette. I’ll even throw in the drone tender Silent Witness.”

It was less than half what the commodore had pulled together to go after the Rainbow Dash to begin with. He couldn’t help but to remember the flaming wreckage of the Cloud Jumper, only this time he would be in that vessel, doomed to burn. To die against such a foe. He truly has no honor if he doesn’t see this as a gift. Hiding a smirk of his own, Thaddeus addressed the pirate king firmly. “I get what supplies I need, and time to turn these cowards into proper sailors again.”

The commodore didn’t answer right away. Thaddeus’ proposal was as possible as it was dangerous. It would be oh so easy for Thaddeus to make the crews loyal to him instead of the commodore. Then again, what other port can he go to? The ponies wouldn’t accept a defection. Even if they did, his precious honor wouldn’t survive such an act. He still needs me. “Deal.”

A few hours later, Wiggly and Winter finished ferrying the supplies on top of the unknown vessel close to the hull breach.

Once they carried Live Wire up top, the three of them investigated the damage. The hull had been completely blown apart fairly close to the engine housing. The eight meter breach exposed the engineering section below. Wire whistled in amazement at the carnage below. “What do you think caused this?”

Winter was an expert in many things, but this left her stumped. “Couldn’t say. Internal explosion maybe. No blood or bodies though.”

Sprocket on the other hand was nose deep in her scanner. Certain residue and other factors made her shake her head. “If I had to guess… I’d swear this was caused by a mine.” The others turned to her in bewilderment. Wiggly pointed up to the sky above. “Yup, I’d put money on one of those doing this.” She wanted to rub her chin, but had to content herself with rubbing her helmet. “I’d say this ship found its way inside the minefield, got hit, and came down here for one reason or another.”

Live Wire gazed down the breech, and then up to the dome. “That doesn’t explain the coral greenhouse.”

“I still want to know who they are,” Winter chimed in with her ears flat and her danger sense on high alert. Her gaze zoomed in on dusty control panels and scattered chunks of metal. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing the buttons were far too small for hooves. “This isn’t one of ours, and this is too well armed to not be from someone’s navy. The Rubies certainly didn’t make this, and I can’t see the Union ever making a ship that isn’t an eyesore.”

“You think it could be one of the smaller states?” Wire asked with wavering curiosity.

Winter hummed unsurely. “As far as I knew, only the Rubies and us had a presence in the system before Faraway went down. It’s possible this could be a spy vessel from the smaller states, but I’d have to ask why come all the way out here.”

“Maybe to observe the war?” Live Wire put out there. “Not that it matters now. I say we go in, and kill any monster we see. It’d be a good final hooray.”

Fully in line with her brother, Wiggly was growing impossibly curious, desiring to delve inside. She leveled her scanner to check for a stable place to land, only to receive a surprise. A scowl marred her face as she swept the scanner back towards the bow. “Hey guys. You know that power signature I mentioned earlier? It moved.”

A short time earlier, life stirred deep within the strange vessel. Weak lights snapped on with a harsh buzz. A lone figure was snoozing on a squashed foam cot. A rectangular pad on a night stand had a cable running from it to midway down the figure’s short-furred tail which hung limply out from under the stained sheets.

Suddenly a blue bipedal feline hologram a few inches tall manifested above the pad. The female hologram looked at the sleeping figure and preemptively detached the charge cable which fell to the metal floor with a soft clatter. Then it started yelling while a klaxon yowled. “Danger! The emergency destruct system is now activated. The ship will detonate in t-minus ten minutes. The option to override destruct-”

An orange four-fingered furry hand slapped at the hologram, silencing the alarm. With a groan, a tired, scratchy, masculine voice croaked out. “I’m up, I’m up.”

With a second, longer groan, the being dragged himself up to a sitting posture. At first glance, one could mistake him for a unicorn. He possessed all the hallmarks: a straight spiraled horn, muzzle, pony ears, and twin destiny marks on his thighs depicting a breaking segment of DNA. The orange fur and blond mane is where the similarities thinned.

He shuffled off the bed to stand on two legs ending in hooves while his hands had pads on his fuzzy fingertips and palm. As he stretched his hands, claws emerged from his fingers and thumbs. He blinked cat-like eyes and wiped away the sleep. As his brain caught up, he looked down at his tail. A thin patch of blond ran from the top of the base down a few inches, and longer blond hair that naturally stood up a few inches gave the impression of a fish fin. He saw the charge cord hanging limp and flexed a muscle to have it retreat fully into his tail.

He finished his waking ritual by vigorously rubbing his face before letting off a forced gasp. He looked down at his holographic companion and smiled. “Morning, Mote.”

The hologram bowed in respect. “Greetings: And a good morning to you too, Doctor Morales. Your vitals are still looking strong, except for your iron and vitamin A is a little low.”

The news was a mild disappointment. “Show me please.” The pad sent a signal to him. Rather than artificial implants, Morales’ ears and tail doubled as biological transceivers, allowing the readings and charts to appear before his vision. His muzzle formed a pressed line. “Seems supplement forty isn’t as good as I thought it was.”

“Resignation: Poor flavor and poor nutrition. A pity the thorberry extract ran out.” Mote commanded the lights to brighten a bit, but with the doctor being the only steady source of power on the moon, she kept it low.

“Hopefully some of the icha moss has some blooms I can use.” After limbering up, Morales stepped over to his closet and sifted through a number of clothes. After the washing machine broke down, he was reduced to wearing hand washed articles. It was a practice he struggled with.

In the back, he found his uniform jumpsuit. He had not worn it in some time, so he grabbed it and performed the sniff test. Seems alright.

The one piece suit stretched easily, allowing him to don it without difficulty. Once on, he suddenly yanked the collar and allowed it to spring back. In a ripping wave, the suit tightened around his body, stopping midway up his arms and legs, while leaving his tail mostly uncovered. “Still fits,” he joked at Mote as he claimed a comb and used the hologram like a mirror to fix his too-long mane, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bothering to cut it short.

“Commentary: If it didn’t, I’d be worried,” Mote said without real emotion behind it.

He stepped back and sat back down to pull on some calf-high boots. “Anything new?”

“Recitation: Oh yes, the locals have released new episodes of Battlefleet Ferros, Days’ End, and Cooking with an Angry Drill Instructor.”

A delighted smile crossed his muzzle as he hopped to his hooves. “Finally! Show me while I make breakfast.” He pocketed Mote’s pad and made his way through the poorly lit hallways to the kitchen.

While doing as ordered Mote continued, “Addendum: I must also report that there has been no echoes or disturbances within hyperspace.”

No rescue is coming just yet. The news was unfortunate, but was still expected for four more years. He let off a long, disappointed sigh, but straightened himself up to bolster his spirits. “I suppose it is too much to hope that a local ship will crash with some intact fuel. A pity I can’t ask them for some.” That was one fact he loathed, but it couldn’t be helped. Only the captain had been authorized to make first contact, and she was long dead. Even if he ever got enough fuel to power the comms, the ship AI would stop him. And so, he had little recourse but to continue his morning routine. “Put the cooking show on first. Maybe I can pretend I’m eating their food.”

The ship’s interior was as clean as a make-shift broom would allow. The cleaning drones had long since broke down or lost power. Morales may not have enough chemicals for daily cleaning, but he did what he could to keep his home tidy. Arriving at the kitchen, he had long ago given up on powering the refrigeration unit. It was simply too large for him, and he had no skill in mechanical tinkering to make a smaller one. What he could do was throw together some of the grasses and ferns to make a salad with some insects or lizards to serve as protein. The supplements he fabricated served as foul dressing. It was utterly miserable fare, but it kept him going.

His tail swished with his laughter as the holo-show played out. The absurdity of the chef being forced to do push ups for every second the buttermilk pastry was overcooked left him in stitches. It was more than enough for him to pretend he was a judge for the tongue twisting salad before him.

When his meal was done, he dropped the bowl and fork into a slime filled sink. Rolling his sleeves up, he sunk his hands into the goo and pulled out two plates and several utensils.

It was an unsavory invention of his, one that was soundly rejected back when the crew still breathed. Yet the plates were left without so much as a crumb of food, and after a few minutes it all would be sterile enough to be used in surgery. If only it improved the flavor.

He finished putting everything away, then grabbed some garden shears and a plastic clippings bag out of a drawer. He sighed at the state of things. Graduated out of Danacy, only to end up gardening. Lazily shoulding the empty bag, he navigated the dark hallways to find the entry airlock. He had long since left the hatches open, but had introduced his slime ‘airlock’ here as well. He closed his eyes and stepped through sideways so his horn wouldn’t catch bits of it between it and his eyes.

Once clear he pressed Mote’s pad against the controls. The wall mounted controls lit up, allowing him to press it. With a loud hiss, the ramp unfolded and laid down onto the grass below.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped down into his future lunch. I wonder if the lizard population can handle me taking two for lunch. He sniffed the air to begin the hunt. He could always hew some foliage later. He walked out into the open where he had cut away last night.

Predatory instincts swept over him, and the hunt was on. And yet, something was wrong. His instincts raised high and he sniffed again. The foliage was dense and heavy in the air. But there was something new. His ears and tail rippled with faint radio signals. His instincts made him instantly go alert and sniffed again, smelling the dust from outside. What was that? The locals don’t use radio waves for comms.

Morales crouched low, placing his paw-like hands on the ground as his eyes scanned the grass for signs of disturbance. He twisted his tail and ears this way and that, trying to pick up the unfamiliar radio signals again. Did something change?

Around him came insect song and the occasional rustle of small game. Nothing strange so far. The dusty smell was getting stronger.

The radio signal came again. It was organized and clearly artifical. Encrypted too. Wait. It was both clear and low powered. And… above? He jerked his head up to find three suited figures staring down at him from on top of the ship.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other in disbelief, not entirely sure what they saw was real. As he recollected his wits, Morales noted two figures had horns much like himself. Ohhh no. The father species found me after all. “This is awkward.” He slowly, and carefully stood up to his full height. “How can this friend of ponies and Harmony help you?” I hope I said all the right things to avoid getting shot.

Author's Note

Who is this mysterious doctor?!

:twilightoops: Is he a new tribe? I need to check my notes.
:rainbowwild: He’s a mutant monster that eats ponies whole! Kill it!
:fluttershysad: Who ever he is, he sure looks lonely.
:ajbemused: His name is Morales. I mean, it said it right there.
:pinkiegasp: Ahhhh!! He’s a new friend. Hi new friend!!
:duck:Honestly darlings, you’re all missing the most important question. What sort of fashions work with that body type. I must take his measurements. He simply can not make his appearance wearing an -egh- ‘hobosuit’.

8: An Accord

Wiggly Sprocket and the others stood on the lip of the damaged vessel for a long moment. Between the stranger’s looks and him speaking in coarse Equish, they had difficulty catching up to the present. With so many species from their homeworld, all three initially assumed the being was some genetic experiment. “Who or what are you?” Sprocket asked with her bewildered curiosity laid bare.

The being adopted a more formal stance, his hands were quite animated as he spoke. He squinted due to the enhanced sunlight passing through the coral above. “Forgive my impertinence, but I would greatly appreciate speaking to you on the same floor.”

There it was again. While the being’s words and grammar were correct, his speaking cadence was dry and rough to listen to. Were it not for his poorly veiled fear, it was as if he was a professor trying to put his class to sleep. Yet his appearance remained his most confounding feature. Full prosthetic bodies were rare, typically found only in the top three militaries. The heavy armed vessel certainly pointed in that direction.

Winter leaned over to speak to the siblings in a low tone, weary of using the radio next to an obvious cyborg. Such body modification must surely be illegal, I don’t care what nation he’s from. “We should take extreme care, and keep your distance.”

“He seems polite enough,” Live Wire commented with a mild refutation of Winter’s mood. “I can’t place the accent though.” Even with his attempt at diplomacy, he was unnerved by this unusual pony-esk being.

“If he’s the monster, he’s quite a looker.” Wiggly found the being’s exotic look rather striking, and dare she admit it: handsome. The idea of poking around the mechanical inner workings of such a flexible body was nearly intoxicating. “I’m going down there.” She spread her wings and hovered down towards the strange pony.

Winter reached out to her in a panic. “Wait, I should go first!”

But it was too late. Wiggly settled down heavily onto the shorn grass and waved a wing in greeting. “Heyya. I’m Wiggly Sprocket. Chief engineer and quartermaster of the-” Her face and ears fell for a moment. “The late Cloud Jumper.”

Now that she was on the ground, she could see this ‘friend of ponies’ was quite tall. But she couldn’t tell if it was simply because of his posture alone or if his legs were longer. The stallion bowed his head and upper body far more than she thought possible on such an unstable number of legs. “I have received your name, and will treasure it by giving you mine. I am Medica Atoma Morales. I am a gravitor second class and Mender of the CSV Akira.” He waved a paw-like hand at the ship around them.

By now, Winter was carrying Live Wire and set him down on the grass. She landed close by with her pistol holstered, but her hoof was hovering close to it. Live Wire was unsettled by the strange pony. He looks like a unicorn and a minotaur had a foal. “Name’s Live Wire. Pilot and chef of the same ship.”

Winter was unsure of what she could share. After bearding the ship’s prefix, she had a growing concern that this person was no pony, in spite of his similar features. “Winter Gale. Second Lieutenant of the INV Rainbow Dash… Fighter pilot,” she added after a hesitant pause.

“Ahh. If I understand correctly then, you are the only military member here. I presume you are the one in command then?”

“In situations like this? Nominally,” Winter admitted while giving Wiggly a firm look.

“I… hmm.” That left Morales unsure of who to focus his attention on, since the locals had effectively surrounded him. He wasn’t facing a weapon just yet so he kept his hopes up. He decided to focus on Wiggly since she was the first. “Forgive me, as first contact was not something I was trained for. But let me be the first to greet you all on behalf of the Cathrax Combine. I represent a union of six worlds and thirty two habitats.”

His proclaimed origin left the three rather confused. The Initiative and its brethren nations from Equiss had spread far and wide, and thus far, not one alien civilization had been discovered beyond the Stone Age. So each of them logically concluded that the Combine was cut from the same cloth as themselves. “Never heard of you,” Winter Gale stated with naked suspicion. She eyed his form carefully, seeing parallels in other natives of Equiss. A bit of griffon here, sphinx, there, and the obvious pony leanings. The only thing she couldn’t place were any signs of cyberization. “This Combine of yours. Is it a megacorp? I’d have heard of it, if it is as large as you say it is.”

It took Morales a long moment to place the word ‘megacorp’. When he did, his mood soured, but he made a conscious effort to hide it. “I assure you, the Combine is a legitimate government. In spite of my form, the Cathrax as a whole are not children of Equiss. We hail from what you refer to as Luna’s right wing.”

“The right wing?!” Winter cast her gaze upon the others, yet the two spacers only shrugged out of ignorance. “That’s far beyond our reach.”

The siblings clued in real fast, and Wiggly gasped. “Wait, you’re an alien?! Like a real honest to Luna alien?”

“From your eyes, I certainly am,” Morales stated easily. “I have been marooned here for five of your years, although I was in hibernation for the first four. As for how I can speak your language, I’ve been listening to your holo-transmissions. I must say I am a… fan of Cooking With an Angry Drill Instructor. I know your shows will go far in the Combine. Eh - should agreements be reached, of course.”

“Hybernation?” Winter asked with curiosity starting to creep in. She waved a wing at the ship. “How many of you are here?”

“Just myself and Mote, sadly.” Morales pulled out a small black tablet. The holographic avatar of Mote appeared a second later.

“Salutations: it is a pleasure to meet you all. I hope we can see more of your kind.”

“This is a really big ship for just one person,” Live Wire chimed in as he closely inspected the hologram.

Of the three, only Wiggly Sprocket did not unnerve Morales. Any time he had to look at the others, Wire’s obvious artificial eye and Winter’s more subtle bionic ones made his fur stand up. “Yes. See, the rest of the crew departed for the Great Wheel some time after landing here. I had not known them for long, but it has been a difficult time alone.” A thought occurred to him, and Morales was desperate enough to ignore decorum for it. “Say. All I have had to eat for months was grass, little morsels, and paste. I would do almost anything for something new.”

Live Wire above the others knew the pain of horrible food. He was quick to pull out a couple of ration bars. “You can have these if we can tour the ship. Assuming you can even eat it.”

A grin cleaved the alien’s muzzle, and he chuckled at finally having some processed food in hand. His eyes glittered like stars as he savored the moments before tearing open the wrapper. After a whole year of watching pony cooking shows, this unassuming ration bar was a herald of joys to come. “We believe the truest symbol of friendship is sharing one’s food. If I can’t eat your food, then let me die here and now.”

Upon setting hoof onto the ramp, Wiggly Sprocket was completely absorbed by her fascination. The dark hallways, lit only by Mote and the ponies’ headlamps, spoke to her. Of a life of desperation and tightly grasped hope. A narrow receiving room greeted them past the slimed airlock. It forked into twinned hallways that went up and down the entire length of the vessel. Just like the exterior, the ship was primarily a pale white with light blue being tastefully applied. Darkened screens lined the walls in between hatches that led to one room or another. Everything was compact yet taller.

Two things stood out most to all three ponies. The first was the lack of hoofholds or conveyors. Live Wire especially wondered how the crew navigated around the ship when they were off-world.

Secondly were the number of small gashes, cuts, and small missing chunks here and there mostly on the walls or floor. More than once Sprocket saw small speckles of old blood, something easily missable if one was overwhelmed by cleaning a larger amount.

“My apologies about the lack of lightning,” Morales said from the front. “I’ve been out of power ever since I woke up. I provide what I can to keep Mote active, but I can do little else.”

As Winter and her brother inquired further, Sprocket dragged her wingtips along the walls, trying to get a feel for the sleeping vessel through her suit. Poor thing. I bet you’ve seen a great deal. Tears welled in her eyes as she imagined the halls filled with crew and the sounds of life.

Morales guided them first to the control center. It had five positions, the captain, helmsman, comms station, gunnery, and an odd empty tube was placed behind the captain’s chair. A dense nest of cables and pipes snaked both from above and below the tube. The whole arrangement was as tight as a cockpit, making changing stations an arduous task in the middle of combat. So much so, that Wiggly had to hover over everyone’s heads to make enough room for them to see.

All of it looked impossible for the ponies to control. The buttons were far too small, levers were made with hands in mind, and the chairs would be uncomfortable to say the least.

It all made the prospect of taking control over the vessel a daunting prospect. “Medeca Morales,” Winter began after rubbing a hoof across the tube. “What is this for?”

“Ah, that’s for me actually.” The alien stood a bit straighter and a proud grin took hold. “As the ship’s gravitor, I’m responsible for the transition into and usually out of hyperspace as well as using singularities in combat for defense.”

“Hyperspace?!” Live Wire asked with a stunned expression while the mares were left dumbstruck. “That’s only theoretical last I heard.”

“Oh it’s quite real.” Morales’ pride only grew, knowing his importance would mean he would avoid a bullet for sure. “Believe you me, I was just as surprised to learn that you transit via portals and mass reduction. Our peoples have much to learn in peaceful trade.” He turned to Wiggly Sprocket as if he was speaking to a kindred spirit. “I had hoped to meet a pegacorn as pretty as yourself in person.”

Although Morales was simply trying to compliment her to save his own skin, Sprocket took it as fully genuine, and blushed behind her helmet. “You’re easy on the eyes yourself.”

Live Wire’s brotherly warning bells rang on full alert, but he decided to bite his tongue over it. We won’t live for much longer anyway. Let her have her fun. Instead he chose to study the tube, which led his eyes to the dense forest of tubes and cables going up and down from it. A theory popped in his head. “Is the whole ship treated like an extension of your horn?”

“Quite intuitive of you.” Morales smiled and tapped the glass with a knuckle. “I’m more powerful when engaged, but the nature of Cathrax ships means even now I have to refrain from using magic or else I could accidentally slam someone into the ceiling. He stopped cold, as did Winter. In that moment he realized he could defend himself, and that he had accidentally revealed as much to the sailor. “No-not that I would ever do that with my harmonious friends,” he stumbled out quickly. An orbital bombardment surely awaited him even if he managed to kill them.

Too enamored by his looks and the compliment, Sprocket was completely obvious to the tension building in the room. “So what do you do when you’re not in the fish tank?”

Morales laughed harder than he actually felt like. “Ah well yes. I’m actually the ship’s medeca. But I like your word for it better: doctor. A -physician to be precise.”

“A doctor?!” The siblings shared a glimmer of hope.

Morales waved away presumed concerns. “Yes, I know it is not exactly the best thing to have the gravitor and doctor as the same person, but our options were limited.”

Live Wire took a step closer. “You’re familiar with gravity sickness, right?”

A professional mask fell over the bipedal alien, making him think it over. “Gravity sickness… We call it Gravitas. I’ve dealt with acute cases of it, but the remedies are quite simplistic. Just take the patient back into or…bit.” He closely inspected the three ponies’ posture, movements, and faces. An alien he might be, but the biggest symptoms were universal between them. Sluggishness, shallow breathing, and lethargy was all there except for Winter Gale. “Why do I get the feeling you are just as trapped on this moon as I am?”

“We are,” Sprocket admitted while waving a wing between herself and Live Wire. All of it before Winter could try to conceal the truth. “Pirates shot our ship down, and left us to die here. We survived, but… not for much longer. My brother and I are only able to move because of the meds.”

“You’re in that shape with medication?” Morales’ concern mounted. “I can only imagine the pain you’re in.” He kept a professional and courteous smile as he moved on from the news. “It would take considerable effort, but I could remedy your problem.”

Wiggly latched onto his offer for dear life, yet Live Wire remained skeptical. “How? If you could leave this moon you would have done so by now right.”

“What do you mean, how?” Morales studied the three carefully, wondering if by some chance they were joking with him. “Your species already had dominion over gravity. Why do you think I look like you?”

Bewildered confusion came from Winter and Wire, yet it was Wiggly who narrowed her eyes and spoke as if testing the waters. “Like us. And grav- no. You can’t mean…” She looked at the others to see if they were connecting the same dots. “Terracorn. That’s why you look like us, you’re half terracorn!”

A pleased look fell over the stallion. “Indeed. We call our xenotype terracorn as well in homage to the progenitor.”

Recollecting herself, Winter pushed her curiosity aside. Her heart demanded that Wire be saved, and that was all that mattered. “We can visit this later. You said you could help with their gravity sickness, right?”

“I can,” was all Morales said as he fished out Mote’s pad. “Those suits of yours don’t happen to have a strong power pack on them do they?”

“We brought six power packs with modular output,” Wiggly replied with desperate hope.

“Then I’ll need one brought here to run my ‘fish tank’ for me.” He tucked Mote’s pad in between some cables. “Would you kindly find out where a power pack would be needed to boot the system.” After the small avatar signaled her compliance, Morales turned back towards the ponies with his arms crossed, and his tail struggling to wag nervously in the tight confines. “While she works, I feel like we need to come to an arrangement. You desire my ship, a child could see that much. What exactly do you want to do with it?”

Thoughts of the Cloud Jumper raced back into Wiggly’s mind. She tried to hold back tears, yet they misted over in spite of her efforts. “No point in lying to you, doctor. But what I want is a home. I want a place where I can lay my head, to hear it thrum and groan with the engines’ heartbeat.” She gazed all around the darkened CIC and the empty hallway behind them. “The Akira lost its crew. It yearns to be filled with life again.” She returned her gaze to Morales who was taken aback. “What would it take to make that happen with you?”

Caught in a trap he had not expected, Morales was left flustered as he rubbed the back of his head while trying to collect his thoughts. “I… I owe it to crew and country to see my mission through. We were ordered to seek Equiss out to see if you had made it to the stars. And if you had, to open relations. If you help me with that, the ship is yours. As long as you don’t act against the Combine, neither I nor Static Carillon, the shipboard PI, will dissent.” He dithered with his words for a moment, trying to hide an eager grin. “I’ll admit, I’ve been wanting to see the Initiative ever since hearing about it. The idea of sampling a new civilization’s cuisine alone will make it worthwhile.”

The thought of food brought Morales’ attention back to his half eaten ration bar. He took a few moments to see if he felt any discomfort or worse from the bite he took. I’ll need to print off a poison detector at some point.

“It’s a deal!” Wiggly announced with more enthusiasm than her condition approved of, causing her to hiss in pain.

Live Wire chuckled at the thought. “I’d say we could give you fair pay, but between you being a doctor and an FTL enabler, you’re too expensive for our blood.”

“I believe a rescuer discount is warranted,” Morales replied swiftly. “Just so long as I can keep trying new food.” Clearing his throat to recollect himself, Morales passed a hand over his mane to smooth any errant strands. As he did so, Mote blinked on and waved cheerfully at the organics.

“Announcement: I have calculated the locations and power demands for the singularity projector. Displaying them now.”

A dim hologram manifested in between everyone. Morales saw a problem immediately: the measurement. “Ah, hmm. I don’t suppose you have the means of translating figures between everything, do you?”

Wiggly Sprocket puffed her chest out as best as her weakness allowed. “With a little doing, my tools can demonstrate everything from temperature to pressure.”

While Morales was left to finish his preparations, the ponies returned to the escape pods. The perpetual wind had died down after they had entered the greenhouse, so there was only a thin layer of red dust on the interiors.

As Winter leveraged her strength, and Wiggly used her magic’s mass reduction to carry supplies to another pod door to use as a sled, Live Wire lingered in his pod. With a solemn frown, he gingerly brushed the dust off of the mural that was hidden beneath. He used magic to dust more of it away to see his old favorite spot: a collection of lights denoting a toy store.

Wiggly dragged her head inside with a heavily fatigued look about her. The medication keeping them moving slowly weakened throughout the day, which compounded the late hour. “Hey, broham, we’re about ready to move.” She paused once she saw what he was focusing on.

He slowly pulled his gaze off the wall to focus on his weary sister. “Wiggs, do you think we’ll have a home again?”

“Of course we will,” Wiggly answered firmly as she floated over the lip to get inside. “The Akira is kinda sterile, if you ignore the damage. But we can make it work with the right paint and furniture.”

Live Wire’s face dropped as dark clouds fell over him. “That’s not what I mean. Apparently the ship needs a high-order AI to function, and we need Morales, or at least somepony like him too. Not to mention the ship is a frigate with a skeleton crew of at least ten, but better at twenty. The Cloud Jumper was a home. The Akira… it’ll be a place of work we’re just going to live in.”

“Who says?” Wiggly slid up to him and gave Wire a tight hug. It was a gesture he only sat limply in reply. “Morales is really sweet, and don’t you worry, he’ll be family before you know it.”

A blank look fell over Wire. He pulled Sprocket off of him to direct that look to her. “Wiggs…” he started dangerously.

“Don’t give me that.” Wiggly pulled back and got defensive.

Yet whatever argument Wire was going to have came to a halt when Winter Gale flew over and hovered just outside. “The sled’s loaded, guys.” She quickly clued in on the silent fight brewing. I know that look. Probably best that I make myself scarce. “Wiggy, you were right. The fuel pod beacons were on the wrong channel. Guess it was obvious the pods survived given the lack of mushroom clouds that trailed behind us on the way in. I’ll go fetch one, eh?”

Her eyes danced between the siblings who did not move their gazes. “Right. Well, good talk. I’ll see you when we all get back. I left another two doses of Accelatotian on the sled. You’ve got an hour before you can take them. Be safe you two.” Lingering a few seconds longer, Winter hoped the two would at least acknowledge her. Thankfully, Wire gave her a nod, letting the bat mare fly off with a bit of hope.

Going right back into the argument, Wiggly whirled around before Winter’s wing flaps fell away into the distance. “Morales is an alien. So what?”

“So what?!” Wire gave her a questioning look to see if she was being intentionally dismissive. “He’s an alien. An actual intelligent alien that’s wearing our face!”

“Uh, it’s his face too. Look, if he was trying to be some kind of infiltrator, the whole two legs and arms thing wasn’t going to work too well for him.”

“I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation here of all places. The only thing I’m worried about him infiltrating is you.” Live Wire developed a knowing smirk when Sprocket went still and turned away with red cheeks. “Uh huh. I knew it, you got a thing for him!”

Sprocket snorted at him and her tone grew smug. “And? It’s every explorer’s duty to rut the first alien we find.”

“Oh for the love of,” Wire groaned with extreme force. “You are not a space captain on the hunt for tentacled green alien stallions to rut.”

“You’re right, I’m the engineer, not the captain,” Wiggly snootily threw her nose into the air.

Wire instinctively tried to slap his face, only to worriedly hit his helmet a bit too loud for his liking. “Look. Morales knows a bit about us, but we know nothing of him or his people. Just be careful, alright? I love you.”

Unable to hold onto her irritation under such a brotherly assault, Wiggly exhaled heavily. “Alright, alright… I’ll be careful. I love you too.”

Throwing on a careful smile, Live Wire wanted to tousle her mane, but had to settle for magically rocking her head back and forth, much to Wiggly’s annoyance. “Come on. If we manage to get that oversized bird back into space, we’ll need the navy code box, so help me lift it out of here.”

As weak as she was under so much gravity, Sprocket tried for a shoulder check, but only managed a feeble tap. “Sure sure.”

They grappled with the code box, which was still connected to the mobile power supply. “I just don’t know why you got your nose so up in my business though. I didn’t give you this much fuss when you hooked up with Winter. You know the lifespan of fighter pilots can be short.”

Shaking his head, Live Wire stepped over the lip of the pod, easing the code box forward. “Wiggly Wiggs, I’m your older brother. It’s my job to protect you.”

“Older?!” Sprocket paused midway through stepping over the lip. “By like a lousy three hours!”

Wearing a teasing grin, Wire gently tugged at the code box to encourage her to keep moving. “Then maybe in three hours you’ll understand.” Sprocket took the bait and huffed with an eye roll. His grin widened. “Besides, those three hours were enough for midnight to pass, so I am legally older than you.” He stuck his tongue out, just to hammer it home.

“Oh whatever,” she grumbled before setting the code box onto the sled.

Author's Note

A dashing explorer and hot green aliens is like peanut butter and chocolate am I right?

9: Gravity

It took two hours and an extra dose of Accelatotian to keep them moving long enough to return to the cave. Another hour as needed to move all the supplies into the Akira.

When the last few bags of rations were finally dragged up the ramp, the receiving room and some of the linking passageways were lined with supplies. Sprocket rolled onto her back with her breath ragged and heavily labored. Live Wire’s clerical career didn’t do him any favors, and he was flat on his stomach, unable to summon the strength to move anymore.

“I don’t think the second dose was as strong,” Wiggly muttered, as she felt herself getting pressed into the floor.

Idly spotting the needles they had used, Wire had kept them in the off chance the syringes proved useful. He magically grabbed one of them, and checked the label. “It’s the same stuff.” Passing interest caused him to rotate it to read the side effects. He never got there as the expiration date caught his eye. “Ohh no.” He magically pulled the other used syringe over, which grabbed Wiggly’s attention. “No wonder. The damn things went bad six months ago. I should have known that was why the first aid boxes were on sale.”

Willing herself to take a deep breath, Wiggly tried to flick him with the edge of her wings, but Wire was too far away. “If we die because of your blip pinching, Imma smack you all the way to Terra.” There was no real malice in her words, as she did not yet fear death.

“By then I’ll be too dead to notice.”

Morales strode in from the CIC for a late dinner only to hesitate upon seeing his new shipmates collapsed on the floor. Wiggly was closest and he knelt down next to her. “Engineer Sprocket, are you well?!” He shook her gently to get a response.

Both siblings grumbled, yet Wiggly was the stronger of the two. “I’m alive. Just a bit too smushed. Our meds expired if you can believe it,” she laughed with grim humor.

“Then I found you not a moment too soon. Where is the power pack you spoke of?” The urgency in his voice gave some of that energy to the ailing mare.

She empowered a wing so she could point at a collection of eight batteries. “The blue and green things over there.”

Getting up, Morales grabbed one of the devices that had a plethora of wires and velco straps. “This?”

“Yeah.” Wiggly struggled to take in enough of a breath to keep speaking. “Let me see the settings panel.” It took about a minute for Wiggly to describe how to operate the power pack and automate it for him. “Good. Just stick it in and turn it on.”

“I will be quick then.” Morales raced off, leaving the siblings to lay there.

Too exhausted to hold a decent conversation, the pair went silent until they passed out. After a while, deep groaning echoed from all over the Akira, and breathing sluggishly became easier for them. The ground slackened its hold on the spacers. Everything from their legs to her wings felt lighter. Fatigue still grasped onto them tightly, but over a few minutes, the lifting of such a heavy weight caused the two ponies to awaken with a start.

Sprocket felt like she could stand again. She lifted a leg that felt lighter by the second. “By Celestia’s golden flank, I think he did it!”

She glanced over at Live Wire who was pulling his legs in close to stand up. Wiggly rolled over to do the same. Both were wobbly on their hooves, but they finally felt the gravity was comfortable at long last. Filled with hopeful energy, the siblings laughed and cheered before hugging each other. “We’re going to be alright!”

Live Wire felt like he had been released from a vice and tried to jump. Yet between the long day and the damage gravity had inflicted, he couldn’t get all four hooves off the ground. “Ha! Oh damn it feels good to move freely again. I’m cooking a feast tonight.”

Familiar sounding grunts of effort echoed from outside the ramp. Recognizing it as Winter, Live Wire hastily ran down the ramp, or tried to. Upon his legs clearing the hull of the Akira, the moon’s gravity reminded him of its strength, and he tumbled down, yelling in surprise along the way. Sprocket watched from the top of the ramp, her hooves covering her mouth out of shock.

Winter had returned, lugging a fuel canister when she saw her coltfriend careen down the ramp. “Wire!”

Struggling to pick himself back up, Wire had only hit the ground at a little over one gravity. Yet it was more than enough to badly bruise him from nose to chest. The first thing he saw was Winter pulling him up with a frightfully worried look. “Hey, would you look at that? I keep falling head over hooves for you.”

“You are-!” Winter wasn’t sure if she should be worried about an injury or if he did that on purpose just to be corny. She grumbled trying to puzzle that out, all while staring into his cheeky grin. With a defeatist huff, Winter gave up when he left a kiss imprint on his helmet. “An idiot.” She hugged him tightly before letting go. “Is anything broken?”

He tried assess himself as Winter looked him over with bubbling concern. “I should be alright. Morales weakened the gravity onboard, and I guess I got carried away,” he ended with a sheepish grin at her.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Winter turned to retrieve the fuel canister off the ground. “Then get your tail back up there. Don’t make me confine you to the ship, buster black and blue.” After he gave a helpless salute, she hefted the canister up onto her back. It was a heavy thing only she could hope to move, let alone carry in the moon’s gravity. It was a mostly orange cylinder with one rounded end for fuel movement with the other end being flat. A worn yet functional interface pad and screen rested on one side. “You guys never told me you were using that cheap impact gel. That stuff was absolutely revolting, I swear I could smell it through the helmet.”

Live Wire casually inspected the canister as he helped her roll it up the ramp. “It doesn’t even look dented. I’d say it was still money well spent.”

Sprocket had spent the time moving supplies out of the way so the others had a place to keep the canister. “Right. Awesome.” She moved in on the canister’s built-in data pad. It flickered on a cracked screen that had been worn by age more than its decent. After tapping a few commands, a grin grew over Wiggly’s muzzle. “Perfect, you nabbed a full one.”

“It certainly felt like I did.” Winter flexed and stretched to try and sooth her organic muscles. Even her bionic ones had been tested.

Live Wire was beside himself with joy, and draped himself over top of Wiggly, much to the pegacorn’s annoyance. “So now we just need to see if the doc can show us to the back up reactor. Although honestly, I’d rather see if we can get these suits off first.” Live Wire’s horn was glowing as he scratched at itches underneath. “We can’t stay in these things forever.”

“I’m not sure we could fight off whatever bugs are here,” Winter Gale began with a thoughtful look. She had just come down from the anxiety of losing Wire to gravity, piling on an infection was too much too fast. Immunotherapy over the centuries had allowed ponies across the entire Initiative capable of handling any environment they found themselves in, but this was a bit too new for the cautious pilot. “With a whole new alien environment, we should play it safe. Please.”

Wire watched his sister shrug and move on to the CIC. “If you insist, Winny Boo.”

A furious scowl of couch banishment marred Winter’s face. She flashed a glance at Wiggly, and the pegacorn’s bemused look revealed it had been the first time she had heard that particular private pet name. “I will end you long before any infection could if you call me that again.”

A mischievous smirk crossed Wire’s lips and he tiptoed towards the CIC while keeping his gaze fixed on Winter’s own.

Winter pointed a dangerous hoof at him. “Don’t.” His grin widened. She quivered her hoof for emphasis. “I’m warning you.” He waggled his eyebrow as his smirk widened, only to make her scowl deepen.

“Love and kisses, Winny Boo.” He suddenly bolted away, racing to the safety of the CIC.

“You are so dead!” Yet Winter didn’t chase him like Wiggly might. Instead she bided her time, intent on saving her revenge for later.

Upon reaching the CIC, Wiggly skidded to a stop close to the door. Morales was in the tube now filled with oxygenated water. His tail seemed to have unfolded a large set of passive pink gills. A few organic looking cables connected other parts of his tail to the bottom of the tube. His horn was glowing a serene emerald with the glow being funneled up into the top of the tube. He had been facing the door, hoping to receive some good news.

Wiggly was both enthralled by the sight of it, and survival taking more of a backseat, she was enamored by the alien tech before her. “Will wonders never cease. You’re aquatic?”

When the grinning doctor spoke, it came from Mote’s pad close by resting on the captain’s chair. “Sort of necessary given how the gravimetric initiator system is made. I’m glad to see you in such high spirits so quickly.”

“All thanks to you.” Wiggly’s eyes went down to his strange tail. “Do you mind?”

A polite laugh bubbled from him, only for Morales to clamp his mouth shut. “Not at all.”

Wiggly crouched low to study the tail while Morales moved his legs out of the way. She had expected it to be cybernetic, but upon close inspection she could see the pulse of capillaries and how it was more like his tail had flowered open more than anything else. It opened a world of possibilities in her mind, with each of them begging to see the light of day.

She was so absorbed by the small details that she didn’t hear her brother move into the room with Winter stalking after him. She only looked away when Morales spoke again. “Ah, and my soon to be culinary savior is alive and well too. How wondrous.”

Wiggly stood back up and waved the others closer. “Guys, you have got to see this. His tail is one big fish gill! It’s all flesh and blood too.”

Winter took polite interest, studying it at a distance, whereas Live Wire was more weary of it. “That is - different. Anyway, thank you for slackening the gravity around here.”

Sprocket blushed furiously, and bowed to the encased alien. “I completely forgot, thank you very much!”

“We are harmonious shipmates are we not? We all have our duties, and I will surely be returning the accolades once we are starborne again.”

“Speaking of being harmonious,” Winter began after resolving to seek vengeance later. “We wanted to be able to remove our suits. Yet we are unsure how risky mutual contamination could be.”

“Truly?” Morales asked with carefully curtailed disappointment. “If you are concerned on my behalf, I can assure you this much. After inhabiting dozens of worlds and beyond, the cathrex immune system is as adaptable as life itself. I could step onto a wholly novel world and the worst I could receive is mild irritation. I suppose a purpose built biological weapon would work, but I doubt noble beings such as ourselves would make such things.” So long as we’re all friends here.

“Well I’m glad to hear it.” Wiggly tapped a few buttons at the base of her helmet, causing it to depressurize and slide off. “Because I was getting real tired of having to ignore this.” She put the helmet down and furiously scratched her nose, cheek, mane, and everywhere in between.

Winter was reluctant to simply take Morales at his word, and favored hard data. Yet with Wiggly already disrobing, the thestral sighed in defeat. “Did you even think to have the suit check the atmospheric composition before doing that?” Winter sighed when a look of terror fell over Wiggly. “It’s fine by the by. The oxygen is higher, but not enough to be a problem.” She clicked her helmet off. She shook her mane now that it was loose from its confines. “We ponies took a similar path with our immunization.” She took a moment to focus on Morales’ tail and on up to his ponish head. “But I presume that cathrex have taken to gene editing like a fish to water.”

A coy, borderline bemused expression colored Morales’ voice. “About as much as you ponies do to singing. The archives spoke of your species’ proclivity for song. If I had not watched so much of your media, I don’t think I could tell the difference between your speech and music. As much as I would like to speak of this further, I won’t be able to maintain the counter gravity without at least the secondary reactor whiling away, and it has been a long day already. Take Mote’s pad with you, I’ll be able to talk and guide you to it.”

In a matter of dubious luck, the secondary reactor was right next door to the engineering section, the same section that had been blasted to pieces by a mine. As Wiggly and her brother brought Mote into the room, they saw that the wall adjacent to the damage was badly deformed. Winter had split off to find some cabins and prepare a simplistic dinner, leaving Live Wire to carefully roll the fuel canister through the hallways.

Fortunately, the reactor itself seemed undamaged. Buried under shielding and cables, the reactor core was structurally V shaped, and that worried Wiggly Sprocket. With Wire levitating Mote’s pad, that gave Wiggly room to more deeply inspect the device. A disappointed scowl fell over her. “Let me guess. You guys still operate with naked antimatter don’t you?”

Both Mote and Morales’ avatars hovered over the pad, with Morales giving an unknowing shrug. “I did not know you could clothe AM.”

Live Wire found a safe enough alcove and propped the fuel canister to sit upright. Within the same breath, Wiggly walked over and rubbed a hoof on it. “You can with fullerene shells. Mix it into a partially stable foam with hydrogen isotopes, and you have AM you can practically drop from orbit and not have it not go off.” She smirked at Morales. “Make it right, and our fuel is as stable as plastic explosives.”

Mote gasped in surprise, although neither pony could tell if it was genuine emotion or just a facsimile of it. “Admission. We used to have a similar method before being diminished. Unfortunately, the fabrication practice was heavily copyrighted to Firestar Power Inc, and it was lost with the company. As of late, we have had to rely on old technologies.”

That certainly turned the ponies’ ears. It was one thing for a single ship to wind up in a desperate situation, but to hear of such a fundamental loss as this to an interstellar civilization was troubling. Wire shared a look with Sprocket, letting both know the other came to the same conclusion. “So you had a war like we did?” Live Wire asked with as much diplomatic tact as he could to keep Morales talking. He was unsure of how to handle Mote.

Morales looked at Mote with a fuming scowl as if he could see the other avatar. He seemed to be angry at first, then disapproving next. “I suppose you would know eventually. Yes, the Combine is a thin shadow of what we once were. Personally though…” He paused to rethink his comment, unsure of how much he could really say. “We had become a bloated weave who tried to forget itself.”

Live Wire tried to keep his growing worries from showing on his face. That sounds ominous. I wonder if this ‘bloat’ led to his shipmates getting killed as much as the minefield did.

Sprocket’s heart went out to him. Damn. His people are reaching out to us for help, we’ve got to get off this rock! She forced a highly enthusiastic smile and clapped her hooves together. “Well then, let’s hope what’s left is the best bits, eh? Now, how about we modify this reactor here to work with our fuel. Shouldn’t take too much effort, just feed a smaller amount of fuel from both ends, and modify the reaction chamber to trigger the shell collapse. The only tricky part is how to funnel the residue into a container. We burn it off in the drive plume when we’re on the go… Hmm. I might need to work up a flare spigot.” The very idea of the work was getting her excited. To be the first to both examine alien technology and demonstrate the Initiative's engineering prowess all at once was jazzing her up so much any need for sleep was utterly forgotten. “I’ll need the full diagrams to the ship along with the schematics. Specifically the electrical system. Also, I need to get to the machine shop right away! … You do have a shop right?”

“Naturally.” If anything, Morales was just glad Wiggly seemed like she was two pots deep into black coffee. Until main power was restored, maintaining the counter gravity was as taxing as a light jog, and he was a year out of shape. The power pack the ponies had provided wouldn’t last the night, and he was acutely aware that they had not brought very many. “You can investigate the chief engineer’s office. I imagine that he had a great many technical journals on hand as he once told me he was a recent transfer to the Akira as well. As for the machine shop, it is only a short way back towards the bow on the starboard side.”

“Perfect!” Wiggly clapped her hooves as a manic grin cleaved her maw. “Bro, go with Mores and find the journals. I’ll take a pack and see about making those modifications.”

The need to ask for such documents and Wiggly’s growing excitement only compounded Wire’s worries, a notion silently mirrored by Morales. Unlike the cathrex, he knew her enough to voice his misgivings. “Uh, Wiggs, are you sure you know what you're doing? It’d be one thing if this was one of our reactors, but this thing?”

Giving off a series of disappointed ‘tsks’, Wiggly roped him into a side hug and shot him a toothy smirk. “Wire, pu lease, this thing they have here is baby stuff, I’m talking they demonstrated something just like this in history class.”

“I don’t remember ship components being a topic of history class, gears for brains.”

Using a wing, Wiggly pointed at various parts of not just the reactor, but the wiring and tubes around it. She rattled off identifying names and purposes for each one like a machine. After a solid minute of that, she rolled her head towards the pad. “Mote, back me up on this. How did I do?”

“The hologram acted as if she was a teacher in class, as opposed to the bewildered doctor next to her. “Statement: your knowledge of this reactor is on a professional level.”

Morales finally found his voice. “I - I don’t know if I should be scared or not.”

Letting Live Wire go, Sprocket made for the exit. Smug satisfaction burned as bright as the sun on her. “What can I say? I’m a child of Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight Sparkle? The name was hauntingly familiar to Morales so much it started to ache. He instantly cast aside it being a name of his kin, and yet he knew he heard it from somewhere. Was it on one of the holo-shows?

Ignorant of Morales aggressively searching his memories, Live Wire huffed at her, and tried to flick Sprocket’s horn with a hoof. “You just made that up.”

Yelping from light pain, Wiggly used a fetlock to gently rub her sore horn, and to make sure the lightning cover was still in place. “I could be,” Sprocket countered with a raspberry. “She had a lotta kids, like fifty or something. I’m probably a great granddaughter,” she proclaimed with pride.

“Yea, okay, sure. You let me know when you tap into that trust fund of yours. Until then, imma let you get this reactor working, while I go save Winter from the stove. I trust her behind the helm, not in front of an oven.”

As he turned to leave, Wiggly flew over to playfully block the exit. “The only place you’re going is the machine shop with me, Buster Brown.”

“Why? I’m a chef, not a mechanic.”

Sprocket tugged on Mote’s pad with a wing and dragged it into his view. “Wiry, you see those hands?”

Furrowing his brow, Wire observed the two cathrex’s hands, drawing similarities to minotaurs and centuari. Now that he actually paid attention they were more akin to paws. “What about them?”

Sighing because it needed to be said, Sprocket waggled a rather blunt shaped hoof at him. “Fat chance I’m going to be able to use their tools. I need that magic of yours for the delicate work. So unless you wanna trade horns, you have to stay with me.”

It took hours to remove the ignition chamber and move it into the machine shop. After setting up the power packs, Live Wire was able to take a break to go help Winter salvage dinner while Sprocket went about making her modifications.

The center of the shop was dominated by a 3D printer that could carve most materials and put in changes the user required. So after setting it all up, Wiggly had nothing to do but wait and watch. The day had caught up to her, and she was nodding off and on throughout the process.

Morales would have been content to let her rest, but he had never spent such a prolonged time in the tank, even during normal operations. The mild yet constant strain was doing him no favors. So to stay awake, he had to resort to regaling about his favorite holo-shows.

Wiggly shared a couple of favorites with him, and the pair gabbed like true fans until a gentle alert prodded her attention. As she inspected the latest alteration, she kept yawning. That wasn’t helping her efforts with inputting commands. Her hooves were simply impossible to use the keyboards with, and she lacked a machine interface. With Wire ignoring her calls, Wiggly had to resort to using her wing fingers to painstakingly enter commands one letter at a time. All of it was only possible because Mote translated not only the keyboard for Wiggly, but also her commands back and forth between Equiss and the Cathrex tongue. Blinking hard to keep herself awake, the pegacorn dearly wished she had a caffeine chew. “Hey, Morales, mind letting me in on something?”

The terracorn begrudgingly paused his internal guessing debate on what could be Wiggly’s favorite episode. He knew he’d forget the answer within seconds. “Go ahead.”

Entering the final correction, she turned fully to the floating gravitor. “Could you tell me how long you guys have been watching us exactly? Because you said you didn’t even know if we had even made it to space yet.”

His avatar floated as if he was laying on his back to think. With his physical body though, he was taken aback by the change in topic. “Ahh. Hmm. Mote, how long has it been?”

The hologram bowed her head in disappointment. “Statement. Regrettably, I do not have access to historic data while separated from my larger self.”

“I figured, but I had to try.” Morales rotated slowly in midair, scratching his chin. “If I had to ‘ballpark it’ as you say… roughly one and a half millennia. Give or take.” His face fell, fully expecting her next question.

And a burning one at that. Sprocket rounded the workstation and walked up to the pad so she was face to face with him. “Now wait a second. If that’s true, how am I able to recognize a lot of how your stuff works? Your stuff should be light years ahead of anything I’m familiar with.”

He averted his eyes, burning in shame. “I wish I knew how the captain was told to answer that very question. Even I know it is not something one would wish to admit to a potential trade partner. The war Mote and I mentioned earlier was… cataclysmic.” In an outstretched hand, Morales conjured a blue and white image of the galaxy; it was frayed a bit due to his own fatigue and lack of practice. A decent chunk of the lower right quadrant was tinged orange. The area was more or less a uniform circle, save for a small indentation with a green star. “This is where Equiss resides. As the only species we found to have a proper society, we left the planet and the surrounding systems to you. The rest…” he paused with regret. “These were how far our claws stretched a thousand years ago, back when our ancestors were first developing machine powered flight. From the outside, the Combine appeared strong, and poised to claim the whole galaxy in time. But we were… diminished.” The orange area suddenly shrank considerably. Now the orange was smaller than the total stars claimed by the nations born from Equiss. “We lost much more than territory. Technology, culture, people, eras of history. The Akira we reside in, would have been put in a museum had it existed back then.”

“By Celestia’s star…” Wiggly cupped her mouth at the incomprehensible amount of loss that implied. “What happened? Did other aliens come after you?”

“We did it to ourselves.” Morales banished the galactic map with a dismissive shake of a paw. “We take to genetic tinkering as strongly as ponies have done with magic. Unlike yourselves who were molded by magic from the beginning, we tinkered like a child with a new toy.” He summoned a virtual creature in the other hand. It was a brown creature not unlike the house cats Wiggly remembered on Trireme before the Sundering. “This is how my species appeared before we started changing ourselves. Mote’s form is what we now consider baseline. But we varied wildly, from hybrids such as myself to gelatinous monstrosities. Fliers to fully aquatic, frozen worlds to lava rivers to gas giants, there was no planet our geneticists couldn’t adapt us for. Or try to at least.

“But it caused us to bleed like a broken blood feather.” Morales dismissed the feline creature to move Mote’s figure between Wiggly and himself in one paw, and then to summon a revolting creature that reminded Sprocket of a monstrous centauri. A being of six legs and four arms, it possessed slick mottled skin and an oblong face that had its lips stretched taut along with five lidless eyes. “Tell me, Wiggly Sprocket. Pony, whose own species deviates between horns and wings, could you ever see a day where these two beings could be called kin?”

The very idea of any being willing to become such a creature revolted Wiggly so badly her stomach churned. “No. Maybe as friends, but kin?”

“Exactly.” Morales let Mote go back to his side and he banished the unnerving creature. “Rebellions and uprisings led to much of the ruling body resigning in mass protest. It allowed the claw to slice the Combine’s neck. A law was forced through. Now we limit ourselves to this: two legs, two hands, and one head. No more, no less.” He gestured to his horn and wiggled his tail for attention. “If a xenotype doesn’t break that simple rule, it is legal. I’m sure you understand what followed.”

More to cope with the heavy news, Wiggly couldn’t help but to bring a modicum of humor into things. “So even your original selves were made illegal?”

A snorting humorless expression fell over him as his tail thrashed with pent up emotion. “That was and remains a sanctioned exception. I can count on one hand how many such exceptions exist, and have fingers left over.” He fell still for a spell, trying to hide the strain he was under. “In spite of our loss, the Combine still stands two centuries after the War for the Soul fell away.”

“That’s…” Sprocket exhaled sharply. “A lot to take in.” The console chimed its completion. Eager for the distraction, Wiggly disengaged the machinery and inspected her work. “I can’t make a proper reaction chamber without some specialist help, but this should get everything but the engines back online. Maybe even the maneuvering thrusters if we play it smart.”

Morales’s body ached and his horn burned from such prolonged exertion. His real hands were rubbing his forehead, trying to lessen the pain. His hologram however, remained sullen after unloading his kin’s sorrow. “Glad to hear it.” He was losing the battle to hide the strain in his voice. “I fear I won’t be able to maintain the counter gravity much longer though.”

“I’ll get the others,” Wiggly announced with sudden haste. “You’ve done a lot for us. You can slacken the gravity a bit if you need. Wire and I can handle it.”

At first, Morales didn’t want to accept her offer, and remained in contemplative silence as she grabbed the pad and raced to find the others. On the bridge, Mote materialized in front of his real face with a worried grimace. “Concern. Perhaps you should take her up on the offer. Your vows as a medicia will not be tarnished if you do.”

“I am the first cathrex ponies have ever known.” Morales grit his teeth, glad that none of them were physically on the bridge to witness his struggle. “I will not let our first showing be one of weakness.”

Mote floated over to gently cup his check, giving him a soothing expression. “And yet you laid bare much of our scars.”

“They will see that we have stumbled and bled, that can not be helped. Better to see dented and tested armor fail, rather than one fresh from the smith’s hammer.” Through his remote connection to the pad, he could see the three beleaguered ponies had gathered to heft the reaction chamber to the generator.

For close to an hour, Mote remained silently close to offer her support. The ponies were in the midst of fixing the chamber to the generator when Mote chimed in again. “Speculation. Do you think the ponies are fortunate that the war stopped their expansion in our direction?”

The distracting thought was exactly what Morales needed to ignore the numbing sensation in his horn. “Perhaps. They too readily meld machine and nerve, and are easily isolated by one station’s destruction. They have no defense against what awaits them. What we had wrought.”

“Conjecture. Neither did we.”

Her words weighed heavily upon him, like a noose that had been freshly cut from the tree. He was only absently aware of the ponies doing some hasty tests on the reactor before he eventually spoke again. “Let’s hope my fathers will leave well enough alone.”

“Interrogative. Would you?”

Rather than give a fast answer, Morales’ slowing thoughts forced him to mull over it. His head felt numb as his magic reached critical levels. He was beginning to forget the pressure in his lungs as well.

Suddenly, the lights around the bridge snapped and crackled before sluggishly flickering on. Morales was only barely aware of Mote cheering before she rerouted this new influx of power into the singularity projector. Bit by bit, the magic within the ship was stabilized, allowing Morales to at last get some rest.

Author's Note

A grim history and a wet cat is not a combination I ever expected to weave together.

11: The Order of Business

If Trireme’s broken hulk cast a shadow over its survivors, the massive ruin of Ponipolous cast a pall over the whole system.

The Akira slowly maneuvered around the bleak metal graveyard. In the stillness of the bridge, the three ponies could almost hear the long gone cries of the dead and dying. The two cathrex however, could actually hear it. A scant few radios, sputtering out weak signals from dying batteries, cried out in distress.

Massive pylons and berths that once housed hundreds of cargo vessels now sat ruined and cold. The frozen hulks of broken fuel and water tanks were haloed by ice clouds. Scores of factories took advantage of the emptiness of space for their operations. All of them were now lifeless, sitting naked to solar radiation. Sprocket’s lip quivered at the profound loss of the arcology, and tried to imagine what it all looked like before the war. The life, industry, and hope, all of it had been burned away by a war she still didn’t know why it began.

The worst damage had been reserved for the garrison and the various weapon emplacements. All of it had been atomized, which in turn had led to the further break up of the station. Only the dense cloud of tractor mines had kept the mass of twisted metal from falling down towards the moon below.

While the ponies remained focused on tracking and avoiding the debris and occasional body, the two cathrex nervously eyed the mines that had marooned them years ago. One such mine drifted by them, the steady IFF pings it sent their way caused their fur to stand on end. While it did nothing to calm their nerves, the mines ignored them every step of the way.

After hours of slow thrusting into the heart of the ruins, the Akira came to an unceremonious stop. Wiggly brought up a mental checklist while the others prepared the ship for their absence. Alongside that checklist, Wiggly recalled the map of Piniopious they had pulled from the net. “Alright. First order of business is to seek out which AM storage tanks survived the battle.”

Mote was halfway out of her chair, but her tail was still connected to the interface near the base of her seat. “Would it be safe to send out drones?”

Thinking it over, Wiggly grew cautious. “I know the mines will not target individuals in suits as per war crime laws. But drones are fair game, and our code box is limited. The mines would likely tractor them into debris or otherwise destroy them. We’ll have to do the scouting in person.”

At that, Mote severed her direct connection with the Akira, and left to prepare while Morales was still in the middle of draining his tank. “Do you think we have the spare power to also search for food stores at the same time?”

Wiggly’s stomach growled, fiercely enough to draw the attention of the others. Trying to hide her face with her mane, Sprocket nodded sheepishly. “Probably not a bad call. I doubt there’s any lack of food. From what I heard, the shortages didn’t start until a few months after Ponipolous was destroyed.”

With the more immediate needs sorted, Winter Gale floated over Wiggly as the pegacorn was deep in thought as she tried to plan further ahead. “What about weapons? A number of parts were stripped out, and I can’t tell if we can replicate them.”

Live Wire waited patiently for the two cathrex to exit the bridge, only for all of them to come to a stop at the grim question. Flashes of the Cloud Jumper’s destruction dominated his thoughts. “I’m sure something can be done. Once we get some fuel and food, I can hunt down the resource stockpiles.”

Even more incensed by those very memories, Wiggly’s wings pressed tightly against her barrel. “We have a lot a work to do, but let’s not lose focus.” She twisted around to meet everyone’s gaze. “We fix the ship first. Then we leave and go straight to the C’Zar system. We slap our heads together and find some way to put Mote and Morales in front of Flurry Heart. She’s the closest High Queen right?” she asked, turning to Winter Gale.

At the alicorn's name, the thestral shuffled uncomfortably. “She - is. Yes.”

Clapping her hooves, Wiggly moved on, choosing to ignore the odd reaction. “Once you two talk it out with her, we’ll see if she’ll give us a mass nullifier to bring back here. After that, the fleet can deal with the pirate filth. Once it is all said and done, the galaxy is our oyster. Any objections?”

“I do,” Live Wire chimed in with a glint of anger coloring his face and tone. “The Akira is an overgunned monster isn’t it? I say we personally get some vengeance for the Cloud Jumper.”

Terror struck the two cathrex, yet Winter felt the worst of it. The moon and gravity crushing him was bad enough, but for Wire to actively seek battle was the last thing she wanted. “Absolutely not!” SHe stood firm against his accusatory glare, and continued before he could get a word in. “Even if we get the Akira shipshape, we’re a skeleton crew at best, and both you and Wiggly are not sailors.”

“Flurry Heart would give us a crew and more than enough supplies,” Live Wire countered just as firmly. “You could train us to fight.”

Winter tried to take a warmer tone, but she remained firm as iron. “I’ve been teaching you to defend yourself, not wage war.”

Wiggly coughed loudly. “Look, bro, I get it. I want some revenge too, but we’re sitting in the only ship in the Initiative that can go FTL by itself. Even if Mote and Morales were onboard with fights they have nothing to do with, we can get our revenge by sicking the home fleets after them.” Wiggly climbed over the chairs to stick her muzzle into Wire’s ear. “Besides, there’s no telling what we’ll find. We might get to take out some Rubies anyway.”

Gritting his teeth in sudden regret, Wire glanced at the cathrex before nodding sluggishly. “Yeah, sure. Got it.”

With the matter settled without their interference, Mote let a chill run through her before she quietly dragged Morales away from the bridge before anyone could ask them anything more about fighting with the Akira.

Thaddeus’ flotilla was well on its way back to base, and far outside any pony patrols. While the former fleet admiral kept a tight ship as his old dignity resurfaced, he allowed some levity all the same.

Not that he could join in. Thaddeus was a strong believer in the isolating nature of command, leading him to linger in the CIC alone. With no alerts requiring his attention, Thaddeus was rereading the memoirs he wrote on and off again between his drinking binges. And that had produced literature that churned his sober stomach.

A virtual thumb hovered over the delete button, as shame over such vulgar and irresponsible scrawl would be an embarrassment in his attempts to fully pull himself free of the muck. Yet part of him wanted to keep it all as a reminder of his lowest point.

A decision would have to wait. Ringing in his ear was a call coming from the moon base. Thaddeus banished the loathsome memoirs, and straightened up a bit before answering. Yet instead of the expected face of the Commodore, it was a vaguely familiar griffon tom. The bird looked smug, superiority veiled behind a halfhearted attempt to like he respected the disgraced centauri.

“Ahh, Admiral Thaddeus it has been far too long now hasn’t it?” The red feathered griffon fell quiet, watching the centauri closely.

He wants to see if I remember him doesn’t he? A name never came to him, so Thaddeus played it off. “Indeed, or else I’d remember you.”

A disappointed laugh left the caller. “Oh I’m sure you would have, had you been sober.” The caller looked the admiral over with a studious eye. “By the looks of you, sobriety is a new companion. My name is Gladius of the Code. I am the good Commodore's information warlord. I served aboard your flagship before the fall.”

Thaddeus’ eyes widened in recognition, and he leaned forward with renewed interest. “I knew you looked familiar. Glad to have a name to your face again.”

The hacker didn’t develop any warmth to his lagging expression. He steepled his claws while his two camera-like eyes refocused on Thaddeus. “Save your cheer, because I bear potentially grim tidings. The Commodore is in one of his do-not-disturb moods, and your standing is on the mend if word is to be believed. So you will be the first to actually see this.” Gladius went about typing some commands off camera. A new screen appeared depicting a close up of a vessel silhouetted by the gas giant Thaddeus had left behind. “Does this ship look familiar, or at least similar to any navy you know of?”

Using hand motions to pull the screen up close to his eye and zooming in, Thaddeus was left perplexed. He immediately presumed the triple-decked yet compact vessel was a frigate. Shortly after, what seemed to be green coloring broke away as the vessel turned via thrusters. The primarily white coloration with plentiful sky blue highlights spoke to him of a vessel that toed the line between civilian and military life. However, what put all manner of civilian purpose to rest were the abundant armaments.

“By the ancestors,” Thaddeus cursed under his breath. Four destroyer grade turrets and six smaller ones. “That thing is comically over-gunned for its size.” He fixed the griffon with a displeased glare. “Are you taking me for a lark? You imposed some fantasy ship and act as if it’s real.”

Rather than confess or look insulted, the griffon only became more grim. “There are people I will mock and tease, and if this were last month you’d be one of them. But not today.” He pointed at the video feed. “This is real.”

Still in disbelief, Thaddeus only gave the odd vessel a dismissive look. “How did you come by this footage?”

Taking a deep calming breath, the griffon let the video keep playing as the frigate sluggishly moved away, but the camera remained focused on it. The griffon nervously scratched at his feathers, and accidentally plucked one. “I suppose I can tell you. Not long after the freighter you took down landed at the Inny shipyard, the ponies launched a whole swarm of probes to all of the existing ruins. I’d wager it was to keep tabs on that crew or to see if we had broken the minefields as well. Unfortunately for them, a mole of mine was able to create a back door for me. I see everything the probes send to the Innies. I tried to make sure to block this ship’s existence, but these probes weren’t really a priority for me, and a notification might have slipped by.”

The straightforward candor and amount of effort the hacker put in was starting to worry Thaddeus, and he took renewed interest in the mysterious frigate. “Between the support spaces, ammunition feeds, and-” Thaddeus hesitated going into too much detail with a griffon he had little faith that he could understand him. “It has the staying power of a heavy fighter. You seriously believe this vessel to be real?”

“I believe it is a threat.” Gladius brought up a transmission coming from the ship. “It’s broadcasting something using Initiative frequencies and encryption. My money’s on it being an IFF code for the minefields.”

That locked Thaddeus’ attention in a vice. “An Inny naval code?!” He zoomed in on the vessel once more. The aerodynamic shape was passed off as an aesthetic design choice as he didn’t expect the frigate to actually enter an atmosphere. Why is it not using its main engines? Then he saw it. A gaping hole was visible on its dorsal side. If he was going to put a reactor room anywhere, it’d be there. So it’s only on backup power. That calmed him a bit after studying the damage. “Ah. So even if this vessel is more than some lost rich man’s yacht, it is quite fragile.” He pointed at the hole. “See this? I’d wager that was done by a mine. Maybe two or three. Whoever that is, they are not very resilient. My question though, is why would a mine strike them in the first place if they have an IFF code… What about us? Were there any of our ships in the area besides my own?” I’d like to believe I would have spotted it if that ship was there at the time.

“‘Afraid the Commodore was using your own crew to keep an eye on you, admiral, not extra ships,” the hacker replied with a half-hearted jab. “If we did have other ships there, it’d be news to us.”

Eventually, Thaddeus checked the vessel’s heading and realized it was going straight for Ponipolous. “A curiosity to be sure. Unfortunately, I can’t intercept it before it reaches the minefield, so I will still be heading for home. If you can, keep me apprised of its activities.”

“Right.” Gladius seemed displeased, yet did not give voice to it. “My question is where did it come from. If I find that out, I’ll let you know.”

Nodding firmly, Thaddeus continued his study of the strange ship. “And I will focus on discerning their purpose.” And how to fight it.

Gladius ended the call, but the data feed from the compromised probe remained. As minutes turned to hours, Thaddeus became enraptured by this new puzzle before him. So…are you a threat, or are you a toy?

13: Troubleshooting

Moments after the Akira departed the moon.

Out in the roiling ocean of hyperspace, a quiet listening post sat passively amidst the storm around it. The currents of hyperspace were dense in the galactic west of the star system, and storms were common. This made the listening post practically undetectable, yet it also made listening for threats just as difficult. Today however, the same could not be said for what reached it at the extreme edge of its sensors. It was very brief, and oh so faint against the cacophony of the storm, but there was a single return of a hyperspace transit.

S-s-s-sssignal annnaaalysissssss……. Re-fractionnn co-co-co-coefficient in line with known/recorded Combine-bine-bineee methods.
Processing-calcuating-processing…… Directive alpha dictates-commands informing c-c-centralllllll processing.
Message-warning-warning sent…….. Re-re-returning to to to to stand byyyyyyyy.

With the slow drudgery of waking from a week’s worth of sleep deprivation, Wiggly drifted in and out of consciousness for longer than she could track. She felt warm and snug in a bed far more comfortable than she ever had before. She very well might have stayed there were it not for something nudging her. When that didn’t work, a fuzzy voice called, then yelled at her.

When that failed to do more than cause Wiggy to turn away, the sheets were rudely torn away. “Open your eyes, filly, or I’ll find some water-”

The voice did little, instead the removal of the sheets seemed to break the spell and Wiggly woke up with a start, cutting the intruder’s speeches off mid sentence.

She found herself in a rustic cottage, the kind she saw in vids and tales about the Age of Strife. It looked lived in and homely. She couldn’t take much in as there was a pony of lavender flame standing next to her bed. Crying out in sudden panic, Wiggly tried to flee, only to find a wall on the opposite side of the bed. “Get away from me!”

“That didn’t work before,” the flame mare huffed with annoyance. “Stop your whimpering, child, I put some tea on.” The mare turned and walked away.

With the danger no longer in her face, Wiggly’s heart stopped trying to hammer its way out of her chest. As her breathing slowed, her mind started to catch up.

The cottage was fair in size, likely for a family of five. There were bookshelves everywhere you could conceivably cram them into along the walls and the wooden furniture spoke of impossible wealth to the spacer.

Blinking several times, Wiggly was bewildered by everything around her. “W-where am I?”

“That is a difficult question,” the burning mare announced as she sat down at the table. The wood creaked a bit, yet did not seem to protest the flames. ”That bracelet of yours at least explains how you got here.”

“Bracelet?” She never wore bracelets, so Wiggly looked down and lifted up her right hoof to see a small golden bracelet that projected a strange bipedal cat creature.

“Greetings,” the creature said with infectious cheer. “I’m a failsafe incase you wake up. Your name is Wiggly Sprocket and your physical body is on the Akira. You are undergoing spark-separation while the strand weaving occurs. You have precisely one hour until you are resuscitated. Should you wish to fall asleep once more, gently pat my head and it will happen immediately. I hope you enjoy the new you.”

With its spiel complete, the small avatar froze in place awaiting activation. Memories flooded the pegacorn until she shook her head with vigor to reset her train of thoughts. “Right. I’m doing the thing…” Her gaze scanned the cottage once more until it landed once more on the tea drinking flame. “I must be dreaming now. Who or… what are you?” Sprocket hastily checked her surroundings again. “Morales said if I woke up at all it’d be somewhere I thought was safe.”

Though she couldn’t see it because of the flames, the burning mare grinned. “A quaint cottage nestled up against a lazy stream? Sounds safe to me.” She looked through a window and out to the misty lake the stream ran into. Lightning bugs danced about while a single street light lit up an old wooden bench by the water. “It’s been a pleasant throw back to the days of yore, but I miss the creature comforts of the modern day.”

Swallowing a lump, Wiggly carefully climbed off the bed, causing the hologram to vanish. “You didn’t answer my question.” It was only upon getting closer that she discovered the burning mare was an alicorn, or perhaps a fellow pegacorn. The flames made the presence of feathers difficult to determine with her wings folded at her side.

The flaming mare held up an inviting cup. “Call me Tea. I assure you, I am the last pony who would bring you harm.”

“Mmm…” Wiggly had to think it through. The option to go back to sleep was off the table. No telling who or what she is, and I don’t want to sleep with her around. So Wiggly did the only thing she could to appease the fiery being. She took the cup and joined Tea at the table. “I guess I’m not going to get a straight answer out of you.”

“For now at least.” Tea refilled her cup and took a drink. She sighed in bliss. “Jasmine with a touch of sunflower honey. Did you know this was the only flavor of tea Celestia and Luna could ever drink together?”

“It’d be news to me.” That set off alarm bells for Wiggly. Instantly assuming her visitor might even be Luna herself was exciting. Yet something was off, and her inability to identify it was starting to annoy her.

“I wouldn’t call it my favorite either, but now though? It tastes so nostalgic.” The flaming mare drank the last of the cup, and set it down.

“Never could afford it, even if I wanted to.” Wiggly took a polite sip, and wrinkled her nose. “I’ve always been a coffee girl myself.”

“It comes and goes.” The burning mare spread a featherless wing towards a cupboard, while also willing a coffee pot to be set on a burner. “If you live long enough, you’ll see the joy in tea.”

Some scones and other pastries were sitting on a plate nearby and Sprocket claimed a cream-filled one. “So who are you really? Are you one of the high queens?!”

“Dear me, no.” Tea giggled behind a hoof. “But I wouldn’t put it past Terra to do that to me one day. I dare say I held its interest for a bit longer than last time.”

Wiggly went slack-jawed at the proclamation. “Terra? The Terra? Ah ha.” Wiggly waggled a knowing hoof at Tea. “This must be some sort of test for you. To get me to do something for good or bad, right?”

“Hardly. Terra is a strange one, but its motives are understandable. No, I woke you up because quite frankly, it is not often the mirror can respond when you talk to it.” A smirk played on her lips at Sprocket’s bewilderment. “You were going to sleep through the whole thing, and I don’t have Terra’s level of patience.”

“Mirror? Are you-” Wiggly stared the flaming mare down with one eye before slowly shaking her head. “No… Are you claiming we’re the same person?”

“Indeed.” Tea spread her wings wide, and floated the coffee pot over. Wiggly accepted a pour, and overloaded it with cream and sugar. It was a luxury she could never afford except on birthdays. “The machine you put yourself in separated your flame from your body so that upon your reunion, the new neural pathways are reshaped by your flame, rather than the other way around.” A hearty chuckle left her. “Amazingly clever.”

“It made bro both at ease and freaked out.” Wiggly still wasn’t entirely sure about that, but wanted to gauge Tea’s reaction. “So... If you're really me, then prove it.”

The burning mare paused a bit, tilting her head back and forth. “Ratchet Altair was a handsome devil wasn't he?”

Wiggly's eyes lit up like sparkles at the mention of the first celebrity she swooned over. “Oh my Luna, yessss!” She blushed furiously over that sharp jaw and easy smile that lead one thing to another for a fan girl to be born. “Okay, wait, anypony would love Ratchet. What else you got?”

Tea became firm, and needed no more time to think. “Your sunshine loves you. In a manner no parent, lover, or child else ever could. No matter how old or wizened we become, he or she is the other half of our coin.”

The comment struck Wiggly so deeply she gasped with a hoof to her heart. She gave a single suprised laugh before recollecting herself. “He or she huh?” There was no question in Sprocket's mind as to who Tea was referring to. “Terra favors us then. What did you want to talk about?”

“Favors isn't exactly wrong, I suppose.“ Tea hemmed and hawed for a moment. “But we haven't the time for such minutia.
As for conversation, anything and everything. I am your past, and you are my present, so ask away and I will do the same.”

“Well for one, if this place isn’t in the real world, why are we settling for lightweight drinks and snacks?” Wiggly raised the coffee to her lips, and could pull it away until every last drop was gone. A satisfying heat filled her belly, but a drink was only ever going to do so much. “Let’s go full ham on stuff we’d never cram in our gourd before.”

The burning mare laughed wholeheartedly. With a flash of her horn, a buffet of delicious yet horridly unhealthy food ranging from grease bombs to bon bons. “You’re absolutely right.” She hungrily claimed a hay burger and loaded it down with ketchup.

Wiggly was unfamiliar with some of the dishes, yet it all looked so good she warred with herself on what to gorge herself with first. So she gravitated towards the burritos. “You say you’re my past. How far back are we talking?”

Moaning in culinary pleasure from her burger, Tea waggled it in the air as she spoke with crumbs flying. “Let’s just say I was there when Celestia and Luna returned.”

“No way! Oh oh, did you know Luna? I’ve always wished she would visit my dreams. Too bad she needs to be in the same system to do it.”

“The more things change…” Tea gobbled down another burger before answering. Wiggly found it strange that a pony made of fire ate as if she was flesh and blood. “Yes, I was honored to be called her friend.”

“Friend?!” Wiggly leaned back and eyed a marbled steak, causing gluttony to dominate her toothy grin. “That explains this whole Luna type dream visit. I don’t suppose I could be her friend once more could I?”

An amused chuckle escaped Tea. “I had to earn that privilege. I’m sure you can too if the opportunity presents itself.”

“Boooo. Come on, you can give me something can’t you?”

Shaking her head, Tea grabbed another burger. “No cheating. Besides, the Akira should be all you need… along with the new friends you’ve made.” Tea’s temperament grew worried. “You’ve done well, but do not underestimate your brother’s protectiveness. His fear of losing you runs deeper than you can possibly imagine, and far more than he realizes.”

Sprocket hesitated before biting her piece of steak and mushrooms, and slowly put the fork back down. “That reminds me… I was always taught that Terra washes sparks clean of worldly ills. Why has Wire been with me for so long?”

“Flames,” Tea correctly casually. “Other species carry sparks, but we ponies are flames.”

Wiggly’s curiosity almost derailed her, and she had to tap the table to stay focused. “Flames then. What exception makes you or us special? Did Terra change the rules, or are you pulling my tail?”

Tea paused her gorging to reflect on an answer. Her face went through a few thoughtful expressions before she ultimately shrugged helplessly. “I - don’t remember much of my talks with Terra. Only flashes and isolated words with little meaning. I do remember being able to pick out ponies in the river of souls though,” Tea added with tangent whimsy. “What I can say, is that Terra plays a role. As to how far it can reach beyond that role...“ She threw her wings up in a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. Thankfully, I’ve also been allowed to remember both of our past lives, and that Live Wire has been at our side since the beginning.”

The room fell silent for a bit. Wiggly internally debated whether or not this was just a dream or if this was truly happening. “I love him, but sometimes he gets way too overprotective.”

“Do not fault him for his protectiveness, for it is his nature. I remember Terra went out of its way to preserve that.” Tea leaned in with a hoof out stretched as if to place it gently on Wiggly’s own. “Cherish your brother, there are few like him.”

Wrinkling her brow, Wiggly wondered why it needed to be said at all. In spite of how insufferable Wire might be from time to time, love was never in question. She tried to speak on such feelings, only for the world to go dark.

For almost a week, Live Wire was a nervous wreck. His sister had entered a pod that reminded him too much of a morgue. He ate and slept in the lab, fretting over vital signs that Morales insisted was normal. The doctor was barely able to preform his over watch duties while the tense stallion hovered around him like an irate crow.

Not that he gave the cathrex’s assurances much credence. The only one able to pull him away was Winter, and even then she could only manage it with sleep and her horrid cooking.

It was on the seventh day, as predicted by Morales, that the pod sent an alert to the others.

So now, everyone crowded around the lab to see Wiggly emerge. The two cathrex were caught between excitement and anxiety. Their natural curiosity of a new xenotype drove them to see how well Sprocket turned out. The anxiety was more focused on the other two ponies, and how they’d likely grow hostile should the worst occur.

Of them all, Winter managed to remain outwardly calm, having fallen back on her training to remain an anchor for Live Wire’s nervous energy.

With a wake-up command from the good doctor, the pod pushed out from the wall, with Morales and Wire flanking it in anticipation. Its top sighed open revealing the sleeping mare.

At first glance, Wiggly looked unchanged as the fluids drained away, with Morales carefully removing restraints that kept unconscious movements to a minimum. “Sit her up,” he told Wire so he could feel helpful.

As soon as she was upright, Wiggly fell into a coughing fit as her lungs cleared the fluid to taste sweet air once more. “Wiggs, speak to me, are you alright?!” He magically scraped the thin fluid off her fur and mane in hasty swipes.

The engineer seemed unfocused and sluggish. Morales was outwardly calm, yet he was more afraid of Live Wire than he was of Sprocket’s condition. “Her spark should be nearly resettled. All she needs is some time awake to finish the process. Let’s get her cleaned up.”

A quick shower later, Wiggly was shivering in a towel as Live Wire hovered over her while Morales kept watch via a medical scanner on her forehead. It was then that her brain finished rebooting and she blinked her eyes as they refocused. The first thing she saw was her brother’s hopeful fear.

Cherish him.

A grin creeped over her, and Wiggly threw the towel off and gave a crushing bear hug with both forelegs and wings alike. “How'd I know you'd be the first pony I'd see?”

Live Wire returned it at first, utter relief causing him to squeeze as hard as he could. After a few moments however, her grip was getting a bit too much and he was starting to wheeze. “Wiggs, let go,” he gasped.

Doing so, Wiggly pulled back and wore a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

Morales tactfully removed the scanner off her forehead. “Be mindful of that. I had your body adapt to what you consider one gravity. So you should take care until you are more familiar with your new strength.”

“That’ll be handy.” Wiggly Sprocket kicked the towel away and stood up. Now that she could stand, she checked herself out in a mirror. “How do I look?”

Live Wire kept his council to himself and pointed to a mirror. “See for yourself.”

Hopping on over, Wiggly investigated her face first and found little difference. “Ack, where’s my horn cover?!”

“No longer needed,” Morales said proudly. “Seems you slept through that part of the work. The excess magic you give off has been rerouted to your wings which you expend as-”

Suddenly, a crackle of lightning filled the room. Wiggly flared her wings only for a second crackle to arc between her fingers. Brother and sister stared at it before both glared at Morales. “Ahh -well- it’s supposed to be expended enhancing your control over mechentites.”

Wincing at the name, Wiggly arched a disapproving eyebrow. “Eww. Tell me that’s not the official name for my soon-to-be robots.”

Not exactly having any real attachment to the designation, Morales simply shrugged. “That’s what the file says.”

“It does seem a little too dry,” Winter commented with a glance in Wiggly’s direction. “What about - mmm - automata?”

“Nnaahh, I already picked mechan.” Sprocket giggled madly as she imagined herself on a towering throne with millions of robots below her running around like manic goblins. Go my loyal mechans, do my bidding!

Morales subtly recoiled from the mare mentally acting out a coup d'état, and all it took was one peek at the unicorn to know he was the focus of Wire’s sudden ire. Feeling nervous under the heat of Live Wire’s glare, Morales clapped his hands and forced a massive grin. “Speaking of which, how do you feel? Any numbness or unexpected tingling?”

Wiggly snapped out of her maniacal daydreaming, and went red in the cheeks upon remembering where she was. “Ahh- um…” Her attention returned to her wings. The fingers were noticeably thicker and heavier. Yet her new strength allowed her to move and hold them up with casual ease.

After explaining as much to Morales, the doctor nodded in thought. “Ah yes, as expected.” He looked at Live Wire to best assuage the most irate person present. “To reiterate, her wing bones have been replaced with the same ivory of her horn to allow her magic to be the conduit for the control signal. Interestingly enough, her brand of magic is surprisingly adept at this application. A word of caution though,” he said carefully. “Given how pony magic works, it is entirely possible your wings might start glowing when in use. Just a forewarning.” Before anyone starts looking at me with a gun in hand.

Wiggly cooed at the idea. Returning her gaze to the mirror and onto her lavender eyes, Sprocket imagined her wings turning the same color. “That’s going to look so awesome.”

Hoping that would ease any ire from Live Wire, Morales continued. “Glad you approve. What about elsewhere? Do you feel everything is in order?”

Humming and closing her eyes to concentrate, Wiggly tried to feel herself. I’m hearing a weird static.”

“That would be from your tail most likely. Your wings are dedicated to controlling your future 'mechans', so your tail was repurposed for communication. Simply curl your tail as far to the right as possible, then snap it to the left.”

After doing just that, Wiggly let off a happy chirp when the static vanished. “Oh thank goodness. That could have been maddening.”

“Simply reverse the process to reactivate it. I can teach you how to parse background static with proper communication later. You should take to it as easily as a new language.” Morales hooked his scanning equipment to his belt. “One last thing before I let you go. Does anything else feel off? You should be experiencing phantom limb discomfort by now.”

“Is that what that is?” Wiggly remembered his warning, and had no real way to picture it before. To be whole, and yet feel sensations where there shouldn’t be. And yet now she understood. As she closed her eyes once more to focus on them, her wings started glowing a faint lavender. “I do!” The pain was remote and muffled, but it was there. Small stinging bug bites were all around her, some long and shallow, but there was one singular source of pain that suddenly hammered into her like a mountain. It was a deep hot pain that didn’t touch her body, and yet felt as raw as if her leg had just been torn off.

She screamed bloody murder, and flew into a panic. Morales was utterly shocked while Live Wire grew equal parts terrified for her and enraged at Morales. “What did you do to her?! Wiggs!”

Sprocket scrambled away from the source of the pain and against a row of lockers. She started sobbing, and flailing for the pain to stop. Wire was caught between going to his sister’s side or to pummel Morales for harming her.

“She needs a localized anesthetic!” The cathrex shouted as he grabbed a bottle and subdermal spray from his belt. “Hold her still!”

Still not trusting him, Wire growled his frustration before complying with the command. Magically grappling Wiggly, and dragging her kicking and screaming, Wire pressed down on her as best he could.

“Good.” Morales quickly readied his spray, went down to pin Wiggly’s left wing before injecting her just north of the shoulder. Her wings stopped glowing. He got up, and Sprocket quickly sagged in relief. “How about now?”

“Better. A lot better.” Wiggly struggled to get up after Wire let her go. He was at her side in an instant to help her finish standing.

“What the hell was that about?” The fuming unicorn demanded now that the crisis was over.

Slow to shake his head, Morales was left scratching his chin. “I can’t say. Miss Sprocket. Can you describe what you felt?”

“It was like…” Shivering from the echoes in her mind, she gazed around. Not at those around her, but the walls and ceiling. “It - it wasn’t a pain in me.” She tapped her chest. “But outside. It was so - so very - it was as if someone had taken a giant spoon and used it to tear a chunk of my stomach away.”

“Where outside?” Morales questioned with more curiosity than professional concern.

Grunting from the white hot memory, Wiggly pointed at a wall past the two males. “That way, towards the stern.”

“The stern?” Live Wire cocked his head before narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “No…. It can’t be.” The others expressed curiosity at his drawn out denial. “The engine room. Wiggs, I think you were feeling the Akira’s pain.”

Surprise morphed into an unreadable expression on the mare. “I don’t think that was part of the plan.”

“If he’s right, then this must be a result of the computer ironing out defects between your tribe and the xenotype.” Morales turned his attention to the Akira, fascination peering through the walls. “Every cathrex ship is deeply sensitive to magic. Your magic has changed little, only the means of wielding it.” A proud smile crossed his muzzle. This must have been what it felt like to create the first real xenotype. He idly watched Wiggly dance on her hooves and let her excitement explode into a torrent of words to her brother. A chill ran down the cathrex’s spine and tail. Wiggly was an ally, sure, but what of her descendants, or other ponies who adopted her xenotype one day. She is breathtaking… and utterly terrifying.

It was not long before the three of them went to the fabrication shop at Wiggly's insistence. The same printer that modified the backup reactor now stood ready to usher in her future.

Mote and Winter had joined the others, with Winter politely lamenting, “it seems universal. Workshops or maintenance bays always smell like grease and metal flakes.”

Wiggly stood at the ready on the input terminal with her tail pulled forward. “I know! Doesn’t it just smell like home?” The meat and bone of her tail was longer and thicker now, although one would be hard to see it due to how long she kept her faded blue hair. Hidden among the single off-white stripe, she parted the hair to reveal a pair of sinewy cords that ended in narrow connectors.

Morales was close by reading off of a pad. “Alright… Now, this fabricator is mech-rated, so there should be two ports behind a panel below the controls.”

“Wiggly,” Winter called out as she and Mote stepped around some machinery. “Since you got too carried away to remember to give proper hellos,” the thestral interjected with a touch of a reprimand. "I'm glad to see you made it out intact.”

Forgetting her tail completely, Wiggly blushed furiously and wanted to bury herself in the proverbal sand. “Really sorry about that. I - ah -” Clearing her throat to get time to think, Sprocket internally chided herself even harder. “I'll make it up to you. Have you been keeping my worrybug of a brother from having a meltdown while I was out?”

Mollified a bit, Winter relented with a faint smile. She shot her coltfriend a knowing eyebrow wiggle. “To the best of my abilities. But even I can only do so much.”

Mote bowed to be acknowledged before speaking. Unlike Winter, the cathrex jane was less insulted. She tried, but Mote still felt as if the ponies saw her as an outsider. That is, except for Wiggly. She above the other two was the one Mote sought out for a friend. “Salutation. I am glad to see you’re transformation was a success. Retooling it for your species was a delight. How are you feeling?”

“Good to see you too.” Groaning lightheartedly, Wiggy more or less recovered from her embarrassment to give Mote a welcoming nod. “Like I’m missing a wing still.”

“Then it seems to have worked quite well.” More happily clapped her hands. “Commentary. I’ve worked with a couple of mechanteers before. That missing feeling is because you actually are missing limbs.” The ponies, and even Morales looked at her quizzically, making Mote shrink a bit. “Clarification. That is, your ‘mechans’ I mean. If I remember correctly, new mechanteer require a drone, or to phrase it properly…” Mote held a finger up. “Gloves.” The mildly confused look the trio of ponies gave Mote cause to actually look at how very hands-free they were. Mote clammed up and was utterly mortified.

It took Morales clearing his throat to break the brief silence. “Mote, perhaps ‘boots’ would translate better.”

“Boots!” Mote giggled nervously. “Right. So you all know how you can have boots for all different sorts of jobs, settings, and how they can be an expression of your personality right?” By now she was on edge, hoping the ponies would take it from here to spare her from melting into a puddle of goo.

Of them all, it was Live Wire who spoke up. “Is this someway of saying the ‘boots’ or mechans will be an extension of her?”

“Like a pilot and their craft?” Winter added.

Morales put his tablet down, and hummed with frustration. “Perhaps only a mechanteer can explain it properly. “Miss Sprocket, care to do the honors and create the first ‘boot’?” He pointed at the panel he had removed.

Mote’s face and lights went completely red, and she hid behind her hands.

“Yeah, sure.” Facing the open panel, Wiggly spotted two ports that matched two of the cords on her tail. Curling herself and parsing her hair so she could grab the two cords, she noticed Wire and Winter were hovering over her like a pair of curious hens. “What?” she asked with her own embarrassment flaring. She felt the need to cover the cords, and nearly gave into it.

Winter’s bionic eyes zoomed in to get a detailed look of the two connectors. “Fascinating. I’d swear it looks like ivory.”

“That’s correct,” Morales announced proudly with a completely smug expression. “Our machine-neural interfaces are completely magic based. There was no requirement to add extra cathrex strains as ponies already possess thaumaturgically conductive tissues. I can’t wait to see what other fascinating hybridization is possible in future patients. I’ve actually-”

Wiggly fumed so much her wings flared, pushing her fellow ponies out of her persona space. “Can we not talk about me as if I’m not in the room?!” Pouting angrily, Wiggly pulled on her cords, and a disgusted shiver ran through her at the feeling of tissues sliding in her tail. “Oooooogh. I don’t know how you cyborgs handle feeling that every time you pull your wires out.”

Live Wire tilted his head. “We don’t.”

“It’s something you get used to,” was all Morales would say.

Resolving to brood over it later, when I don’t have everyone staring at me, Wiggly plugged the cords in.

Static and wildly dancing lights filled her ears and vision, making her wince and hold her head. “Agh, what is all this?!”

Mote waved Winter over to another set of interface ports. “Statement. We can join and help her through it.” As Winter jumped to do so, Mote leaned over Wiggly. “Query. What are you seeing exactly?”

“It’s a bunch of…” She paused as some of the static resolved into disjointed words and the lights occasionally revealed words and shapes. “It’s chaos.” Mote’s first reply was cut short by Wiggly frantically waving a hoof and shushing her. Wiggly’s excitement slowly grew as the chaos steadily resolved into a coherent image. The language was still in alien script, but eventually the lights became a screen and the static resolved into the computer asking for a prompt. “Wow, that was fast.”

A pleased look fell over Morales. “You can see the screen already? You have better neuroplasticity than I imagined.”

With a mental command, Mote tweaked the screen to include Ponish. “Statement. Most adults who gain an interface take a few days to see that.”

“That’s my sister for ya,” Live Wire said with a snarky tone as he jostled Sprocket with a hoof. “She’ll be that way until she’s like what? As old as dirt and twice as wrinkly?”

“Wiggly shoved back at her brother, and the two devolved into a petty pushing and slapping match. “I am not wrinkly. Now get off me!”

Winter threw her nose up in the air a little, and backed away to avoid the playful bickering. “You never play with me like that.”

“You want to?!” Wire was left stunned by the admission long enough for Wiggly to bop his head.

“Got you, I win!” She cried hastily to ward off any retribution. In her frenzy to wave him away, she activated the prompt. The window became a white vortex that caught her by surprise, and she ignored getting smacked by her brother.

She yowled in terror as the vortex latched onto her and cast her into a gray void. Her body however, remained in the shop while her eyes turned vacant.

Wiggly rolled and stumbled into a heap in the void. Unused to such a fall lacking any pain, she clambered back to her hooves on what seemed to be a smoky floor. Gazing out into the expanse, some shapes had already resolved themselves, but the majority of the space was a jumbled mess of colors and sound. “I hope that’s not what a transfer always feels like.”

Lines and boundaries were coalescing, and thankfully, proper coloring was popping back. “Wouldn’t mind this loading screen to go away.” Pushing that aside, Wiggly was growing increasingly animated with over excitement. “But I’m here. I’m actually in cyberspace.” She squealed in delight, and danced on her hooftips. “Ooh oh oh oh! I wonder if I can make stuff!”

Plopping down, she held her hoofs apart and tried to will a simple ball into existence. With only a moment’s effort, the little yellow bouncy ball she once had as a filly manifested. A stupid grin cleaved her muzzle as she dropped it and let it bounce. “Hehe!”

“You visualized that quite quickly,” came Winter Gale’s voice. Yet when she turned to look, all Wiggly could see was disjointed polygons and splashes of color on a form that wasn’t even remotely equine in shape.

“Recitation. He said it’d come naturally,” Mote’s voice came from an equally jumbled mess of an avatar. “I still remember the first thing I created: censalla. You’d probably know it better as ice cream.”

More slowly than the world around them, the two avatars were starting to make sense. It caused Sprocket to look down at herself, only to realize her own image was crystal clear. Weird. Looking up to the shorter of the two shapes, Wiggly dismissed the ball that had rolled away. “I thought Mores and my brother were coming in after me.”

Shaking its head, the taller shape replied. “Observation. Seems visualization doesn’t account for speech. That was some proper screeching, Miss Sprocket.”

“Really glad we don’t feel pain in here,” the smaller one agreed. “Can you understand us at least?” Wiggly’s checks puffed up in a pout and she turned away. “Oh yes, she can. If it makes you feel better, fresh cyborgs have software assistance for rendering all of this.”

Mote knelt down to be eye level. “Suggestion. I know a plethora of training speeches you can try. It’s barely different from learning a new language.”

Embarrassed that she couldn’t talk properly, Wiggly was hesitant to agree.

Interpreting her hesitation incorrectly, Winter commented with a touch of sympathy. “Your brother’s exhausted, and I may or may not have had to encourage him to go to bed early. As for the good doctor, he took the opportunity to go eat. Honestly, with how much he eats, how is he not a planet by now?”

Cheerful giggling erupted from Mote. “Mirthful. Most of us not designed for low-tech survival simply don’t keep excess weight. That aside, Miss Sprocket, we can still lend our assistance in helping you acclimate to cyberspace,” Mote added with a smile lost to the distortion.

And so they did. Minutes melted into hours and a break for lunch. Yet with the frantic march of a mare possessed, Wiggly could finally make sense of the world within the fabricator.

The machine remained itself, a base with four poles on the corners. Yet the world itself was a bland tan floor and a white expanse for a sky. All in all, Wiggly was left disappointed. “Naooww, with all the weird shapes and colors, I thought this place would have been more lively.”

“Hey! They came out almost perfectly,” Mote cheered with a few goofy sounding musical instruments trumpeting behind her.

Wiggly’s gaze locked in on the instruments, which vanished as quickly as they appeared. She looked down and he’d her hooves out again, and concentrated. A classical wooden violin appeared a moment later. “Ah, it worked!”

The mare had no idea how to play, but that didn’t stop her from causing it to float away a bit. The violin started playing a tune from an old children’s show, and came out crystal clear.

“Oh I remember this one,” Winter proclaimed while bobbing her head. “The Crazy Yaks, right? I loved that show.”

“You watched it too?!” Sprocket giggled madly and recalled more instruments to complete the opening theme.

Letting the ponies have a bit of fun, Mote leaned down and waved her hand across the ground. Green grass blanketed a swath around her with flowers of every color bursting forth. She plucked one, and smiled at its beauty. I hope I’ll get a chance to grow real ones. Placing the yellow flower in her hair, Mote drifted over to the musical mares. “Since Miss Sprocket has gotten a hold on things, why don’t we go ahead with making her first mechan?”

Wiggly’s instruments clattered to the ground with a cacophony of broken notes. “Oh yeah!” She raced over to the fabricator, and sniffed around for some kind of interface.

“No need for screens or keyboards here,” Mote offered. With a wave of her hand, a trio of mechan popped into existence on the platform. One was a boxy thing on two wheeled tracks and had five arms. The middle with a tall spindly thing with a simple chassis and a large energy weapon on top. The last was the size of a large dog and possessed twin saw blades, gardening tools, and a cargo bucket on the back. “Demonstration. These are some popular examples. The first can do all sorts of things from cooking to construction. The middle should be obvious, along with the last one now that I think of it.” Mote tapped her chin as she thought something over.

Sprocket orbited the mechan and studied them intently. Winter however, kept a close eye on Wiggly herself. Her every move, word, and action was carefully considered and recorded. Wiggly seemed like her usual self, but a promise is a promise.

“Do I have to choose from one of these or whatever else is on the list?”

Mote swiped the air and the mechan vanished. “Not at all. Clarification. You can make them in whatever form you wish. The fabricator will… ‘fill in the blanks’ I believe the term is.”

Winter broke from her study to give the gynoid a quizzical hum. “What separates these things from drones?”

A cheeky grin crossed over Mote and she wagged her finger. “Pride. I’m glad you asked. The mechanteer imprints their minds into the mechan, creating a delta level intelligence.”

Both mares stopped dead for a stunned moment before Wiggly zipped over. “Wait, wait, waaaait, you’re saying we’re cloning my mind?”

Hummed negatively, Mote fiddled with her hair. “Affirmation. As far as I understand it, no. Deltas are nowhere close to you or I, as they can only mimic the functions of a mind. They do not actually possess one. The imprinting is done so you only have to give them general commands. Patrol the ship, harvest the fields, make me a steak how I like it. That sort of thing. And because your mind is used, the mechan will complete the task in the same manner that you would.”

“Can it talk or hold a conversation?” Winter inquired now that she was genuinely interested.

“Mmmm…” Mote’s face went through a range of emotions from uncertainty to tepid worry. “I guess if you want it to, sure. But usually any sort of interpersonal stuff is handled directly by the mechanteer.”

Flying back over to the platform, Sprocket rubbed her hooves together as she could feel the creative juices flowing. “Fine by me. I wasn’t planning on making conversationalists anyway. So I can just imagine one into existence right?”

“More or less. But…” Mote briefly closed her eyes. The platform lit up sky blue. “Statement. The computer will present you with how viable your creation is, if it is missing something crucial, or otherwise unable to function properly in the physical world. You should start with just one mechan, and see how difficult it is to keep a hold of before making more.”

“Alright then. Shall I?” A manic grin cleaved Wiggly’s maw. The prospect of being the first pegacorn to command cyberspace and machines directly with her mind lit a mad scientist’s fire within her. “Let the work begin!”

Late into the next morning, Wiggly emerged alone from cyberspace with a gasp. The stench of freshly molded metal and mechanical fluids filled the fabrication shop. Winter had left to rest earlier, and Mote had left before that to address her neglected duties.

It took Sprocket a few moments to remember how to deal with gravity again. Wowsers, cy-space is a trip. Her stomach rumbled and protested her neglect so painfully she doubled over. “Ooooo, ow ow ow… foooood.” Through squinted eyes, a robotic pony stood quietly on top of the fabricator. Something new and primal called her towards it.

It was largely a pegacorn mare in form, yet it had a vibrant purple metallic shell with dim blue lights along its contours and eyes. Outwardly it appeared static, yet Wiggly could hear its voice: an electronic monotone copy of her own.

it said, eliciting a squeal of delight from its creator.

Yet that moment of unbridled excited partially morphed into feeling weirded. Instead of hearing it speak from her ears or perhaps her mind, Wiggly heard it speak from her tail. The very act felt like faint thrills running up from her tail to her head, and Sprocket shivered so hard she had to hold herself. “Ooo that’s going to take some getting used to.” Unable to reply in kind, Wiggly opted for verbal commands. “Step off the platform and present yourself to me.” The mechan remained unresponsive, and simply repeated its request.

Scowling, she glanced around, again finding that she was alone. Guess I have to figure this out myself. Recalling her ordeal with the Akira’s pain, Wiggly was hesitant to try it a second time. But that’s how I’m supposed to command them. The fear redoubled, causing her to climb up to the mechan’s face. “Present yourself.”

Waving her tail a bit to try and shake off the mild discomfort, Wiggly tapped its face. “Hey, present yourself.”

Her mechanical double remained unmoved.

Jumping back down and dragging a frustrated hoof across her face, Wiggly ignored another protest from her stomach. “No, I’m figuring this out before breakfast.”

Sagging from the stress, she looked backwards to her tail. A frustrated scowl marred her felt. It’s bad enough hearing things through a tail, and now I have to try and speak with it?! The feeling of her connectors jostling a bit gave her pause. “Wait a second!”

She jumped up and went back over to the screen for the fabricator. “Let’s see, if you can make it, then you should have a manual… there it is!”

Several minutes passed as she perused its pages until she found what she was looking for. Jumping back up to the platform, she slid over to the mechan’s left flank where its destiny mark matched its creator, a toothed gear with a single screw hanging loose in its socket. “Okay, so if I do this…” She opened a hidden panel with a push to reveal ports matching her connectors. A short bit later saw her physically plugging her tail connectors into it. Wiggly went about changing the factory defaults the fabricator had placed to fill in the gaps she left behind. “There we go, I just need to link you to me.”

Flaring her wings, Wiggly let her magic slowly and carefully flow in. On the threshold of her sensing the Akira again, the mechan latched onto her and sealed the link. Here it comes. Suddenly, she felt like something was draining into the mechan, not something solid, but her mind slowed, and her muscles felt heavy. The act only lasted a few moments, and the sensation vanished.

Unplugging herself, Wiggly backed away, and held a hoof to her head to try and endure the vertigo that was overtaking her. “Ohhh, I hope this doesn’t happen every time.” Thankfully, the symptoms faded at a steady pace.

Unnoticed by her, The mechan’s eyes changed color to match her own, as the fur on its underbelly from chin to tail became pigeon blue as well. Its eyes gained focus and turned to her while speaking in a less distorted version of her voice.

The vertigo wasn’t fully over yet, but Wiggly muscled through it to take stock of her creation. “Present yourself.”

Her wings brightened just a touch before the mechan walked off the platform and stood in front of her before giving a curtsy.

“Better.” Scratching her head, Wiggy pondered on just what to do with her mechanical double first. “First off, you need a name.” Her stomach rumbled fiercely, making her double over from the hunger pains. “Second thought, go get me something good for breakfast, that’ll give me time to think.” Giving another curtsy, the mechan walked off. “And hurry!”

Watching the mechan bolt into a full gallop, she started to squee in delight only for it to seize up and collapse like a sack of potatoes on the floor. Her jaw dropped in bewilderment, only to jump when a big red warning popped into her vision. She shrieked and leapt away until she remembered that could happen to her now. Pausing, she actually read it.

Error 572. Overheat shutdown.

Slowly standing normally again, Wiggly was left dumbfounded by the error at all. “What..? But…how!?” Biting her lower lip, she waved a hoof to banish the error, and then carefully approached the fallen robot. “Great, now I have to figure out what I did wrong.” Her stomach yowled its fury at her, making her double over. “Okay, okay, food first.”

Yawning tiredly, Live Wire emerged from his quarters with an itchy scalp and a hunger in his gut. His artificial eye was acting up again, leaving him torn on what to do first: shower, eat, or seek his sister for a diagnostic. His stomach growled irritably, silencing the debate.

Just as well. I can check on the ribs, and whip up something quick to bring to Wiggs. He moved through a few halls and intersections until he was brought to a stop by an odd sight. Winter Gale was watching a bipedal mechanical pony rooting around an open service panel in the wall. As he got closer to the scene, he spotted a toolbox sitting nearby, along with pieces of the ship laid out in the same manner that his sister did. What bewildered him though was how clunky it was. Each movement was stiff and deliberate. A distinct pause between each moment wasn’t to his liking either.

By now, Winter heard him and offered a simple sandwich she had been holding. “Hey, handsome. Hungry?”

“Very, thanks, love.” He kissed her, took a few greedy bites, then finally turned his gaze upon the robot.

“It’s bizarre,” Winter commented aloud. “I swear, it’s just like watching your sister work in slow motion, except for not being one for conversation.”

“And the whole biped thing,” he added wearily. He watched it work, and was greatly unnerved. Winter was right, the little twitches when the robot stripped a screw, bit it’s lower lip while considering how to do the repair, even the constant ear twisting when he or Winter made noise. All of it mimicked his sister to a frightening degree. “So,” he called out to get its attention, “is my sister controlling you directly or…what?”

Realizing it was at last being addressed, the mechan paused for almost a full minute. The unicorn asked the question a few more times before the mechan at last turned around. “My apologies, but crew interactionnnnsss…” It seized up and dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, it’s exterior sizzled with heat.

“I was wondering when that was going to happen,” Winter commented with an unamused tone. She looked to her coltfriend who was unsure of how to respond. “That thing’s been running hot ever since I saw it.”

“Well there goes the resemblance,” Live Wire joked with a smirk directed at Winter. “I can’t remember the last time Wiggs got too nervous to talk to somepony.”

Rolling her eyes, Winter smacked him with a wing. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and carry that thing back to the shop. I’m going to go get some food for the three of us.”

“I thought food was my job?” His cheeky grin was met by her thinly amused one.

“You’re the one with the horn, and I’m not touching that walking oven.”

Even in low gravity, carting the hundreds of pounds of dead weight all the way back to the machine shop had taken him long enough for Winter to arrive at the entry doors at the same time he did. She had a bag of pilfered quick rations from Poniopoius, and had it slung on her back with some soda cans.

Before the door even opened, the pair could smell overheated electronics and muffled cursing.

“I just don’t get it!” Wiggly half-shouted as the pair rounded the bend to find her knee deep in the guts of a mechan. Mote was at her side looking painfully useless. “Why is the control system outputting so much heat? It shouldn’t be producing even a tenth of what it is.”

The gyroid’s gaze was out of focus, indicating she was looking at a screen in her vision. “Confusion. It was all built within standard tolerances. By all rights, the temperature problem shouldn’t exist.”

The couple arrived with Winter presenting a ration to each. “You know, when the hanger crew couldn’t isolate a problem, eating helped clear their heads.”

Wiggly looked up in surprise, having not heard them arrive. When her eyes drifted to the ration and saw ‘lemon zest chicken’ on it, her work was completely forgotten. “Fooood!”

While Mote was more dignified in accepting her meal, Sprocket bit the pack and found a spot on a nearby workbench to enjoy her feast. Ripping off the top, she gently squeezed the pack so she could eat as it slid out. Mote joined her by dragging a stool over while the other two ponies claimed seats opposite of the diners.

“Can’t believe how hungry I was.” Wiggly was already halfway through with her ration before Mote could even rip the top off of hers.

“I sure can.” Wire smirked while sliding over a second ration pack to her. “You never remember to eat when you get excited.”

She muffled a begrudging agreement between a mouthful of chicken. She sucked down some soda before properly speaking again. “You know, I didn’t think to ask, but what did you all do while I was out?”

“We fully restocked our food, water, fuel, and other bits,” Wire answered passively.

“Well, most of our fuel isn’t inside the ship yet,” Winter clarified. “The Akira isn’t designed for our fuel, and no one wanted to install a replacement fuel system without your oversight.”

“Exclamation. I see you saved the best news for last.” Mote was practically giddy to share. When Winter nodded her approval, Mote all but leapt into the details. “We found a ship parts fabricator that wasn’t overly damaged. We even managed to fix it by ourselves!”

Hesitating to take the next bite, Wiggly studied everyone’s faces to see if it was a lie or joke. “Seriously? That’s great! What was wrong with it?”

Waving a hoof dismissively, Wire still looked proud of himself. “Just some piping got ruptured along with a lot of cosmetic damage from the battle. I was able to figure out how to restore the software from a local backup, and it all came back green.”

“I don’t know what’s better,” Wiggly began as she squeezed the last of the chicken out of the bag. “This food or that news.” She immediately went for the second ration pack as a mare possessed.

Winter let her take a bite before speaking up. “So what is wrong with your robotic double?”

Groaning even as the Salsberry steak met her lips, Wiggly glared daggers at it. “It’s the stupid memory processing system.”

“Memory?” Wire looked at his marefriend who shrugged helplessly. “How does that generate enough heat for a shutdown?”

“Fabulous question,” Wiggly huffed before tearing into the soft steak.

Looking to the cathrex for answers, Winter queried, “does it work differently for these bots?”

Mote jumped a bit at the question. She held a finger against her cheek as she thought it over. “Conjecture. You mean differently from me? A small but significant difference I assure you. You see, I retain memory in a fultaun and in my positronic brain. A mechanteer’s mechan only possess a comparatively rudimentary fultaun, and an even less robust brain. I personally wouldn’t even call what they have as a brain, more like a traditional computer core. It is why a mechan remains a delta level intelligence instead of an alpha like myself.”

“Dare I ask what a fultaun is?” Wire asked with naked curiosity.

“Explanation. It is a device that houses a fult and meshes it with the brain to create a true organic consciousness.” Mote’s joy of explaining it dimmed a bit when all she got were puzzled faces. “Apology. I did it again didn’t I? What word was not translated?”

“Fult.”

“Ah… hmmm.” Mote squeezed her eyes shut and idly chewed on some gum. “Definition. A soul, spirit, spark. Yes, that’s it. Fult is our word for a spark.”

“Spark?!” Wiggly dropped her Salisbury steak, and leaned over Mote, making the cathrex a little intimidated. “I thought I was imprinting my mind onto my little bots.”

“Clarification. Perhaps I spoke improperly.” Mote slowed down to gauge everyone’s reaction to the coming explanation. I hope I don’t step on any taboos. “It would take days to safely imprint your brain onto a mechan, so you cheat in a manner of speaking. Instead, you imprint an instance of your spark.”

Wiggly felt like she had been smacked in the face. Her eyes drifted to the robot she had been digging around in like it was just another machine. “Are you saying those things are robotic clones of me?!”

“Recitation. No more than a picture is a clone of you or I.” Mote was trying to be careful now. “Believe me when I say this. Mechan are not alive. They are simply tools.”

Had those words come from Morales, the ponies would have been dubious, but Mote carried heavier weight in this regard. Wiggly sluggishly pulled away. “If you say so. Still doesn’t explain the heat issue.”

“Maybe it does.” Everyone looked to Winter Gale in curious surprise. The pilot hummed in thought as she tried to fully recall her memory. “A long time ago, before I joined the navy, there was a debate in school. Tradition dictated our souls are sparks as originally stated by the Sisters’ recounting of their conference with Terra. However, some sects of the druidic order have speculated that the flames Terra molded into them spread through us all. How else could you explain the Harmonist Renaissance that followed their return?”

“…Flames.” The words came as a haunting surprise even as they left Wiggly’s lips. The pegacorn subconsciously held a hoof to her chest even as Winter nodded.

“So you’ve heard of it?” A delighted tone from Winter was followed by more. “I didn’t think anyone in this system had even heard of Archdruid Swift Seed.”

Wiggly had zoned out for a moment, only to shake her head and snap out of it. “Huh? No. I-” She scoffed dismissively. “I had a dream while I was in the pod, and I saw a pony made of purple fire. Weird stuff.” Mote’s face morphed into a mixture of awe and more than a little forbearance. Yet no one saw it since Wiggly jumped to her hooves. “Wait a minute, if the signal is what’s causing the overheat, then I know exactly how to fix it!”

Galloping to the fabricator, Wiggly got the computer to work while Live Wire joined her. Only Winter stayed behind upon seeing how unsettled Mote was. With the cathrex’s gaze absently following the siblings, Winter was able to practice reading the alien’s face. “Is there something wrong?”

Panic shot through Mote where she first tried to act nonchalant, only to give up the notion a second later and fell into a weary calm. “Statement. Perhaps not. Ummm. It’s just that, you don’t dream when being changed. Or so I’ve been told. What she experienced was real.”

Winter couldn’t sense any real deception, yet. She leaned in a bit, tilting her head a bit. “The flames of Harmony reside within all ponies. Our spirits are simply reflections of ourselves are they not?”

“Confession. They very much are.” A pall fell over Mote, and she looked like she was on the edge of crying. “My people have had to look in the mirror for centuries now. And a flame is beautiful by comparison.” She stood up, cupped her mouth, and made to leave. “Excuse me.”

Momentarily dumbstruck by the emotional response, Winter held out a hoof. “You need not remain in the cold!” Mote stopped dead, yet couldn’t find the strength to face the mare. “That’s the thing about fire, it grows quickly if given fuel, but can be frightening to embrace.”

Mote’s hand fell away from her mouth. She steepled her fingers, and still couldn’t bring herself to face Winter. “Apology. I’m sorry, but I haven’t the courage.”

Winter watched Mote go, her own feelings went into a slump. Such pain. They hide it well when they can.

A scant few days passed by. The fix worked, and Wiggly expanded her mechan workforce up to eight before the strain became too much. Yet it was enough to do the job.

Ponipolous’ last act of life was shaping up quite nicely. Wiggly presided in the control room with Morales and her brother, watching the industrial fabricator complete the finishing touches on the new engine room module for the Akira.

As the living crew prepared for its completion, the mechan were using cutters to clean the Akira up for its installation. Not one of them was aware of a new presence waiting to descend from hyperspace.

Author's Note

There will be 8 mechanical wigglies running around. What shall their names be hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm????

I’m thinking Twilight, Twiggles, Twilinanas, Twinkle Sprinkle, Twi, T Sparks, Purple Smart, and Twilighting.

It was either that or Arthas, xArthasx, XxarthasxX, arlhis, aarthas, arthis, arthás, and ArthasM.

Ahh the glory days… before the dark times.

14: Inflection Point

Ponipolous’ contribution to the cause had been all it could give. Shortly after the new engine room had started construction, small points of damage in the fabricator made themselves known, and it took Wiggly and her mechan around the clock efforts to keep the fabricator functioning. Even then, it was a near run thing. When at last the new reactor module was complete and being pulled on tethers towards the Akira, lingering damage from the battle finally caught up to it. Cascading power surges slagged the computers for the fabricator which led to a control failure that saw the machinery seize up for the final time. Yet the module was intact.

Wiggly had a long moment of euphoric bliss when the module slid perfectly into place on the fresh cuts to the Akira with a margin so tight any uneven tug could cause snags.

None of which would have been made possible without her mechans, as they handled all the dangerous work. More than one ended up getting electrocuted or damaged as Wiggly knew more about taking ships apart, not putting them back together. But progress was steady, and at last the time of triumph came. The crew all stood in the brand new engine room. The air had been freshly cycled in, and the new ship smell was almost dreamy to the ponies. The scent was a bit too much like ozone for the cathrex.

Wiggly sent her mechans to work straight away, manning the various stations needed while she personally took control over the chief engineer’s station. Over a few minutes of work, the others shared enthusiastic whispers as the heart of the Akira came to life.

“This is looking gorgeous,” Wiggly practically cheered. “We’ve got weapons, engines, everything. Main power is holding steady.”

Live Wire cheered and roped Winter into an enthusiastic hug and kiss. “Yes!! We’re back in business!”

Winter remained dignified and partially reserved, but was more than happy to let Wire sweep her off her hooves. Being used to life on densely crewed warships, to hear the Akira take its first full breath was more of a cause of immense relief than excited joy. “It was a unified effort. Well done everyone.”

Mote was dancing on her toes as her eyes could see the various systems that had been dormant for half a decade come back. It harkened back to when she was rejoined with her body. “Joyous. I can’t wait to finally get away from here!”

As for the good doctor, he was already daydreaming about walking down the fabled streets and avenues of pony cities that were flanked by restaurants, diners, bars, fast food, food carts, and more. “Couldn’t agree more. So when do we leave?”

With an excited squee, Wiggly turned to her shipmates. “Right after we squash any bugs. Since I’ve already had my minions work on the rest of the boat, all I need to do now is to stress test the power grid to weed out any damage I may have missed. That…” She hummed and rested a wing on her chin as she glanced about the engine room. “Could take the rest of the weekend. If we did it by my book.”

Worried the excitable engineer might do something reckless, Winter laid a congratulatory wing on Wiggly’s back. “A sound plan. Wouldn’t want a rush job to come back and bite us in the middle of hyperspace.”

Catching her meaning, Sprocket sluggishly nodded. “Yeah. Right.” Pulling away to clap her hooves, five of the mechans left the engine room to take station elsewhere on the ship. “No time like the present. We still have hours before our victory dinner. We can get started right away.”

With its bridge crew in place and the heavily pressed crew of eight mechans spread throughout the ship, the Akira purred as it fully came back to life.

Wiggly sat in her captain’s chair, and still couldn’t get over just how much control she had via her tail connection. With her overlapping role as captain and chief engineer, her vision was clogged with screens. A plethora of warnings still hampered the ship due to simply not having enough hands or hooves, but she did what she could remotely. All of it was heavily taxing to keep track of, and now she was looking at more to deal with once underway.

It might be a good idea to stop by the shipyard to get some volunteers. Or maybe the navy will give us some blips since we’re going to bring the mass nullifier.

“Let’s get engines, shields, and weapons up first,” she announced while frustration hounded her as she pushed screens aside to focus on the most power hungry ones first.

“Aye captain.” Winter eased on the controls. “Bringing us to one tenth forward thrust.” A gentle push was all they felt as the Akira started to move.

Mote was next, having taken logistical control over the weapons. “Main batteries are online. Ammunition microforges are green across the board.”

Bringing up the weapons’ console, Wiggly saw the full complement of arms. Twinned energy phase lances on the wings. Two double-barreled heavy mauler cannons between the bow and amidship. A single rack for a Sideswiper missile? Wiggly had to double check the specs. By Luna’s stars… This thing is designed to swing around point defense and disable the target’s engines. If I’m reading this right, one hit could even fry maneuvering thrusters. The more she read, the more she realized just how outclassed the Initiative would have been if the cathrex had never fallen. Autoforges can replace the missile every five minutes for a total of ten times before the material stock runs out. Still needs four crew members to do it though. With her mechan budget so tight, Wiggly wondered if she should even test it at all.

Mentally moving on, the Akira had four point defense lasers placed on the wings with a last one nested on top of the engine housing. Scowling at some of the readouts, Wiggly directed one of her mechan to address the issue. “I don’t like the numbers from the number two phase cannon. Putting it on standby for now. Everything else is good for a test fire.”

“Roger that.” Winter turned her head back to everyone else. “Oh, just as a warning, don’t ever fire a shot within three clicks of a mine. It will challenge us, and our IFF transponder doesn’t have a stand down command.”

A round of acknowledgments rang out with Live Wire keeping his gaze upon the cathrex. “Speaking of which, I’m not exactly an expert, but how does this ship handle so much firepower? The magazine for the maulers is only good for ten seconds right?”

“Explanation. That is what the autoforges are for; to make fresh ammunition on demand.” Mote went quiet after Morales loudly cleared his throat. A quite peculiar sound coming from someone submerged in a tank.

“To put it simply, the Akira was originally a purpose-made ambush vessel. It wasn’t designed for sustained engagements, but pounce and retreat tactics. If forced into fleet action, other ships provide openings which the Akira exploits before retreating behind heavier vessels. It gives time for the autoforges to run and the capacitors to recharge, then goes back in for more. Turns out, all a ship like this needed was a modest refit to function as an exploration vessel.”

“I was wondering why you seemed so excited to find boxes of-” A soft but urgent beeping came from Live Wire’s console, ending his thought. It was a noise that immediately put the cathrex on edge. “Hang on. I’m getting a-”

Suddenly, the lights went out, replaced by red emergency lighting. The hum of the engines vanished, and it was deathly quiet for a heavy moment. Thrusters kicked on to arrest thier movement, breaking everyone from their suprise.

“What happened?” Wiggly asked the two cathrex. Only to find them both in stunned terror. “What is it?”

Looking over his console, Live Wire saw it was still online. “We’ve been switched over to passive sensors.” Paranoia made him glare at the cathrex. “We barely detected a ship exiting hyperspace via the gas giant’s ingress area, and we instantly lost main power?”

Feverishly shaking her head, Mote unbuckled herself from the chair. “Clarification. No. We switched to silent running.”

That disturbed Winter most of all. “You have the ship rigged to enter a lower power state the instant we detect something?”

“You two are in great danger…” Morales was intently focused on his personal screens, hoping against hope nothing would happen. “Winter Gale, Live Wire, you need to run to medical. Now!”

The sheer force and the sudden urgency in his voice stilled the initial reaction the two cyborgs had. It was subtle at first, barely enough to stay his tongue, but there was a sudden pain around Live Wire’s artificial eye, to his spine, and through to his connection wires. “Arg.” He held his eye, as the pain began to swell and spread, only to briefly forget his aches as Winter cried out in sheer agony.

The pilot felt like every nerve was smoldering in a flash, and was quickly ramping up to an inferno. In a panic from the sudden overbearing heat, she kicked out of her seat. “Aaahh, what’s going-” Her words were cut off by more cries of inarticulate pain, even as Mote got up and helped drag her out of the bridge. A wordless scream left the mare’s mouth as she passed out from pain shock.

The fluid started draining from Morales’ tank, and he gestured Sprocket’s attention to her brother. “Get him to sick bay immediately!”

Through it all, Wiggly left utterly bewildered, and didn’t register Morales’ command. Feeling none of the pain her brethren were suffering, she got out of the captain’s chair to hold him up. “Wire, speak to me! What is it? What’s happening!?”

Hissing in growing agony, Live Wire held a hoof over his false eye, and could only shout obscenities in increasing volume.

Not knowing what to do, she looked to Morales who had opened his pod early, spilling fluid all over the deck as he climbed out. “Captain, get him to medical right now! Do it!”

“R-right, yeah!” Morales aided her in moving Live Wire onto her back before he bolted at a full sprint to medical. The hows and whys fled her mind as she too joined the race. Doors left open by Mote’s passing and Morales’ tail guided the way as the ship’s layout fled her mind. “Stay with me, Wire!” Her terror grew as he didn’t reply, and only started convulsing into a seizure. She spread her wings in a desperate attempt to keep him on her back.

She nearly stumbled twice on the mad dash to medical, and nearly slammed into the door frame of it when she tried to enter. Wiggly’s breath came in ragged gasps, and her tears threatened to blind her. Mote was hastily dropping Winter Gale onto a bed, while Morales skidded to a stop in front of it.

“Computer, activate arcana stasis!” A pale blue field encapsulated the bed, stilling Winter’s pain-wracked form. He turned towards’ Wiggly’s hoofsteps. “Put him down on the other bed, hurry!” Both aliens helped Wiggly do so before Morales repeated the command to the second bed.

As the field encased her brother, Wiggly looked to Morales. “What’s going on?! Was it an attack?! A virus?!” Further questions were cut off by Morales holding out a silencing finger before he immediately refocused on the readouts the beds were giving him.

“An attack, in a manner of speaking.” After a few seconds, he scowled deeply, but was able to breathe again. “Magic stasis is quick, but can’t fully stop the process. They’ve got two hours at best.” With the immediate urgency passed, Mote became distant and reserved, fearing the questions and condemnations to come.

Wiggly however, propped herself up on Wire’s bed, and was horrified to see some of the hairs and skin around his eye were burnt. No, the flesh was necrotic. “What. Happened?” For the longest moment, neither cathrex wished to say a word. Mote held herself and shied away, while Morales leaned heavily against his arms on the bed, he too couldn’t bring himself to look at the pony. Terror washed away, and was replaced by surging anger. Wiggly grabbed Morales’ belt and dragged him down to meet her gaze. “You knew what to do; what is this!?”

Morales’ lips trembled, heart-felt pain warred within him. “They can be saved, but I need your consent.”

Gritting her teeth at her question being ignored, Wiggly shook him. Her burning need for answers had to give way. “You’re a doctor aren’t you?! Why would you need consent?”

Mote retreated a step, her head bowed in old shame. Morales fared little better, and it took Wiggly shaking him again for the doctor to find his voice. “Their implants. They’re being harmed through the implants, and if I don’t remove them, they’ll die.”

“Harmed? You need to remo-” Wiggly let go so she could float up and look first at her brother. He can live without the gear, but Winter? She turned to the sailor, and horrid fear returned. “But Winter’s too heavily cyberized, she’ll die if you remove her chrome!”

“I’ve…” Shame forced Morales to clamp his mouth shut again, but he had grown to care about these equine companions. His shame was not enough to still his tongue for long. “Thanks to your modifications, we still have a pod tuned to pony physiology. I can save Winter. Even regrow her original organs, should she survive surgery.”

“Well-” Wiggly sputtered trying to get her bearings. “Then yes! You have my consent.” She thrust a dangerous hoof at him. “But when you get done with the scalpel, I need answers. All of them!”

“And so you shall.” Morales climbed back up to his hooves and tried to control his breathing to steady himself. “Mote, I will need you to serve as my nurse. We’ll begin with Winter, she’s in the most danger.” The mare’s bed started reshaping itself while surgical tools were delivered via a medical drone from the ceiling. “Wiggly, I can’t stop you from watching, but I advise that you watch the passive sensors, and warn us if anything approaches the ship.”

“There’s something out there? But - but…” Wiggly stared at her injured brother, her gut twisting in knots. She desperately wanted to stay at Wire’s side, yet if there was something out there causing this… “Fine. Fine, but you let me know the instant you’re done.”

Late in the day, Thaddeus and Felin stepped off the gangplank into the moon base’s docking area. Behind him, his crew eagerly waited for him to clear the way so they could enjoy some much desired shore leave.

The pair had expected a minor agent of the Commodore to greet them, so it came as a surprise when it turned out that the man himself along with a twenty strong escort awaited them. Thaddeus initially feared some paranoia induced execution were it not for the fact that he had not been sniped off the gangplank.

The Commodore was smoking the last drag of a cigar, and looked incredibly impatient. So Thaddeus hastened his steps, prompting his drake companion to do the same. When they reached the end of the gangway both of them bowed low with arms out. “Commodore, I half expected a firing squad when it took traffic control so long to grant us clearance. Did some-”

Thaddeus was cut off by the looming centauri talking over him. “That can wait until we are in private, admiral, he said while casting his used cigar to the ground. “Come with me.” His curt tone spoke of simmering terror, yet not directed at anyone present.

The personal guard detail split to allow access to a waiting luxury transit car. There was a more militaristic troop transport behind it.

“Of course,” Thaddeus said with what he hoped was stately poise.

He glanced at Felin, and she could see in his eyes he expected to die. At least I will die at his side.

The Commodore took the lead and claimed his place in the rear-facing passenger seat of the car while his most trusted soldier claimed the seat adjacent to him. That left Thaddeus and Fein to sit in the forward facing rear seats.

Within was a level of luxury Thaddeus barely had time to even buy let alone enjoy before the war. Real leather that contoured to his form, finely crafted decorations, and a centrally located holo projector were tinged by barely remembered nostalgia.

Yet he did not have much inclination to enjoy it though. The room was tense, and the Commodore looked as if he was as nervous as a politician knowing he was about to be executed after a failed election.

As the doors shut and the car took to the air, Gladius’ holographic face appeared in the center. As it did, the Commodore finally spoke. “Thaddeus, we have a problem.”

Risking a glance at Felin who showed only ignorance, Thaddeus cleared his throat. “Did your other admiral create undo issues?”

Growling, the Commodore scowled with a malicious glint in his eye. “Oh yes. They struck me in a manner I didn’t think possible. Gladius of the Code, along with most of my cyber riders are dead.”

“Dead?!” Thaddeus knew the bird mostly by reputation outside of the one call he received weeks prior. “How? I thought his protection was second only to your own.”

“It was.” The Commodore’s nails carved into the leather arm rests. “But two among the riders were close to the coward. Something that was only brought to my attention after the slaughter.”

Any other day, Felin wouldn’t have even given lip service to some condolences. She despised the Commodore for degenerating the defeated Ruby Navy into pirates. Yet now, was the perfect opportunity to get in close. “That is a great loss. How did it happen?”

“Besides treason? Curiosity.” The obtuse admission unnerved the Commodore’s guests. “Gladius found something. Something dangerous that the traitor in his team exploited.” The Commodore took out a new cigar and puffed three times before speaking again. “Shortly before the assassination, he sent me a warning that an unknown vessel had arrived in system.”

Gladius waited this long to inform the Commodore about that ship? That was a dangerous thought. Thaddeus internally debated on how to respond. However, his thought were being clouded the heavy sniff and smoke usage, and it was getting under Thaddeus’ skin. Calamity or not, the recovering alcoholic was getting irritated close to beyond his control. “I’ve been told about that overgunned frigate. Do you think he was targeted to hide it from you?”

A bitter huff escaped the Commodore as smoke filled the cabin. “That thing? No, the frigate is unrelated.” The Commodore suddenly leaned forward and puffed his cigar. “Unless it is completely related! Did Gladius stumble onto something more than I’m seeing?!”

“There’s a second ship?” Felin dared to ask.

The Commodore’s wild eyes shot up to his guests. They were trying to hide it, but he could smell the fear on them. Fear of him. Good. “Indeed. Perhaps you can shed light on an angle I’m missing. Before we get into that. You should know that Gladius was not killed by means of arms or spell. Someone like him deserved to die in battle within the net. But no, something new was used. From what I surmised, the weapon were the internal sensors of his tower.” Utter confusion marred his guests’ faces. “That’s right. He was killed by sensors.” The Commodore waved a hand to the window and out towards a building. Nestled upon its spite was a forest of sensor masts.

“An attack that can be carried out by a ship’s sensors?” Felin was left horrified by the prospect. “How? Who made this?!”

“How, I am not yet sure.” Paranoia was driving the Commodore into a manic state. He gazed out of the window and onto the central spire the car was headed to. “But Gladius sent me a report on the lethal signal before his death an hour later. I know for a fact someone unleashed it in retaliation for me killing the coward of a captain.” He took a long, vengeful drag on his cigar. “I will have retribution, but you two will be dealing with the original source of this sensor weapon.” With a mental command, the Commodore had the centrally mounted projector create a hologram. A region of familiar space appeared. It was Ponipolous, and zoomed in to reveal the strange ship Thaddeus had been theorizing over.

“I read the report Gladius made about your thoughts on this thing. As you predicted, the blue and white vessel entered local Ponipolous space, and began picking at the trash.” The feed showed small figures leaving the ship and returning with all manner of supplies. “He never had time to cut out the useless parts.” The Commodore sped up the feed considerably. Later in the week, more figures joined the effort. Thaddeus wanted the video to stop so he could inspect the crew, but he was already unbalanced because of the news and heavy smoke. Not to mention interrupting the Commodore right now could prove lethal.

Suddenly, the camera jerked about, and the feed slowed to a crawl. A large mechanical claw seized the probe. “Here,” the smoking centauri stated bitterly. “This thing created the sensor signal.”

Eight hours of exhausting, hasty surgery later, the only sounds left in medical were the two cathrex’s labored breathing, sniffles from Mote, and a sweeper drone was presently cleaning various fluids and waste around the beds. Mote was emotionally exhausted, and leaned against a desk. Morales was numb below the elbows, and his hands were stiff from the exertion. He sat heavily in a chair with one eye fixated on the readouts. They’re alive, if only just.

After Mote reported to Sprocket of the surgery’s completion, Wiggly raced into medical to check on her family. She stopped at the door, her eyes locked on the table where all of the implants had been placed. For a long, terrified moment, it looked as if was actually Winter herself, but splayed open like a hunter prepared a carcass.

Morales was strung out already, and did not want to deal with the mare’s expected terror. “Miss Winter Gale is alive,” he announced loudly enough to snap Sprocket’s attention away from the body. “I realize it may not look like it, but that body is no longer hers.” He gestured Spocket’s gaze over to the open regeneration pod. “I suspected you would want proof before I sealed it into the wall.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Wiggly was hesitant to take him up on that offer. “Wh-what about my brother?”

That was one bit of news Morales felt a bit better on sharing. “Much better shape.” He gestured to the surgical table, which now had raised sides, so the stallion was not immediately visible from the door. “His implants were less sophisticated, so it was easier to remove them.” After handling Winter’s implants, his were insultingly crude. “His surgery was much less taxing on the body.”

Even with his assurances, Wiggly was sluggish in approaching Live Wire’s bed. The stallion was anesthetized, so she was able to take some comfort in his peaceful expression. His empty eye socket was covered over with gauze, and he had new skin melding along his neck. He was otherwise in good shape. Even so, his condition dragged back painful memories of Trireme’s sundering. Wiggly dearly wished to hold him, but she held enough of her wits to avoid potentially contaminating the stasis field. Her eyes eventually drifted over to Winter’s open pod, but after seeing the carcass on the table, Wiggly dearly wished to avoid laying eyes on what was left of the mare. Yet she owed it to the sailor.

With a trembling lip, Sprocket approached the pod, and was horrified to see the thestral had been reduced to little more than a brain and spinal cord. Wiggly took a few involuntary steps back. “You can restore them both right? Like you changed me.”

Giving a fatigued nod, Morales looked upon his patients once more. “As soon as I can catch my breath, I’ll finish the transformation caskets’ preparation. It’ll just be a simple regeneration cycle to return them to their genetic baseline.”

Taking a step towards him, Wiggly became suddenly tense, her voice warbling with tension. “I want answers. That thing out there, that ship. Is that what really attacked them?”

“It is,” was all Morales could bring himself to say. His exhaustion taxed him already, but shame burned in his heart. It was not the ache of a personal failing, but that of his people that tore into him like a rabid dog.

“How?” Sprocket cast her accusatory gaze upon both aliens, waiting for who could break first. “Why are the rest of us not affected?”

“As for how…” Morales tried to pull himself up, only to lean tiredly against the backrest of his chair. He was utterly spent, and even through the shame, there was some measure of catharsis in confession. “Because the three of us do not have implants. You and I are of flesh and nerve, while Mote is purely machine and spark. Your brethren are a marriage of both, and that made them vulnerable to our greatest foe.”

“Who?” Wiggly briefly glanced in the general direction of the bridge, and her brother’s station in particular. “How could they hit us so fast?!”

“Where to begin?” Morales grimly asked himself. “The ship you saw. Has the Waylan moved?”

“Waylan?” It took Wiggly a moment or two to connect the dots. Using a mechan, she had one of them bring up a sensor readout at its station. “No. It grabbed something out there, but it hasn’t done anything else. Without active sensors, I can’t see what it took nor what it’s doing.”

“If it hasn’t moved then we have time.” Morales gave Sprocket a pained smile, as if the words to come would be of great relief. “Waylan, that is the name for those who finished what our rebellious kin could not. This bitter tale is something I wanted to confide with your high queen, but… fate has forced my hand.”

Growing incensed at the perceived lie, Wiggly’s voice grew heated. “You told me there wasn’t a second alien species out there that attacked you.”

“That was the truth.” Morales’ throat was parched, so he filled a partially dirty glass from the nearby sink, and drank greedily from it. Wiping his chin, he brooded over what to say. “As our great civil war had dragged on, the taboo of breaking weapons treaties was… reevaluated. It started with the megacorperations of the time retooling their great foundries and General Artificial Intelligences to churn out vast fleets of machine piloted fleets. Prior to that, only governments could wield a military.”

He turned his sullen gaze towards Mote who dearly wished to keep from speaking. There was an unfamiliar affection she had towards Wiggly, and the gyroid dearly wished to preserve it. And yet as much as she was loath to admit it. Honesty, that pesky core value of pony society reared its head. Mote had watched ponies from afar long enough to know that silence or any further lies of omission now would damage their relationship beyond repair. “Illumination. GAIs were those who were grim mirrors of PIs like myself. Grand intellect on a planetary scale with no emotion, no drive, no spark, only blind obedience to their directives and orders from long dead naval fleet masters.”

Mote shivered at the history being laid bare, and she started to nervously hold the end of her tail like she did as a child. “This - added threat pushed both sides to further desperation. Dyna-Waylan, one of the larger megacorperations, devised a degradative carrier signal for their drone ships’ sensors. It targets a cyborg’s connection with their - chrome - as you put it. The signal rots the nerve connections, and causes the implants to overheat and burn you from within. It doesn’t take much chrome for death to be certain. When word of this broke out, the fools commanded the other GAIs to adopt the signal as well. We gave the name to all drone fleets, as all of them will kill us on sight now.”

“Okay. But why does the rot signal affects ponies?” Sprocket tried to remain calm, yet firm. But seeing her brother and potential sister-in-law in such horrid states kept her on a knife’s edge. “I - I can see it harming you guys, but why us? We’re an entirely different species. Let alone our tech being different.”

A difficult expression crossed Morales, taking the reins from Mote before she broke down in tears. “You can thank convergent evolution, I’m afraid. We modified whole populations, planets worth of people to every form imaginable.” He waved at his equine face. “Yet with all of that, we found there is comparatively narrow band of neurons and compounds that both mesh well together and are non-reactive enough to safely remaining inside the body. As luck would have it, it was something we share.” He paused while turning to look upon the pile of implants he had extracted from the two ponies. “The signal doesn't bother with your machine code, as it attacks the conjoined cells and interfacing components directly. From there, the rot spreads.”

“Statement. There is some hope for you though. That Waylan out there is only a threat within close sensor range, yet that still out paces any normal ship-based weapon.” Mote squeezed her tail, hoping she was correct. “Your machine code is quite different from our own. It took me almost four years just to be able to translate your holoshows into something watchable. My translation barely allows your kin the ability to dive into the Akira’s systems. Military grade cyber security should keep you safe from the Waylan’s most explicit danger: hijacking your own sensors as it did to our forefathers. If the Waylan could do that, the whole system would be dead in a matter of days.”

The news was horrifying, even with Mote’s assurances. Sprocket briefly tried to steady her breathing, yet found little success. “Is there no way to protect cyborgs?”

“Once they are swept by the signal? No.” His simple answer was met with cold fear. “Nothing we ever devised, save for placing them in stasis.” Shaking his head, Morales feebly waved a hand at her. “Even that is not enough, it only buys time once the rot begins. Blocking it from accessing your systems doesn’t stop it from physically arriving within sensor range.”

Mote felt the need to step up to get a word in. “Supplemental. I’m sure there is a way, but the vast majority of our great minds of the day were slaughtered within weeks. The survivors opted to forbid cyberization. By doing so, finding a cure or protection became a moot point.”

Close to hyperventilating, Wiggly clutched her head trying to figure out what to do or say. Her gaze fixated on her brother. The sight of him whipped her up into anxious fury. “We can’t let that thing call in reinforcements. Can the Akira take that thing out?”

The cathrex shared a vainly hopeful look before Mote spoke up in a threadbare voice. “Statement. With her original crew, yes, even in her current state. Given its size, I believe the Maylan outside is just a heavy scout. But with only the three of us and the eight mechan? I don’t know. Query. Could we not seek additional crew?” Mote kept holding her tail in an attempt to remain calm. “You mentioned your xenotype already doesn't use cyberization. We could gather them for aid.”

“I doubt it,” Morales swiftly warned. “If we move, the Waylan will see us. I don’t know how it would react to an
Initiative ship, but it will certainly react to the Akira. If we fight it, we’ll have to do it ourselves.”

“You and I both know what would happen,” Wiggly declared with a shiver. “Attack, play nice, or just observation. It wouldn’t matter, the moment those sensors see a pony ship, the crew’s dead. That thing has to die, now!”

That was the last hammer blow. Centuries of trauma bore down on the two cathrex. Morales hid it better, but he had come to love the vibrancy of the Initiative he had seen in their holo shows, and the barest taste of their cuisine. “I have to agree. Even if it would take decades for the Waylan to decipher Initiative code, that’s no reason to just gift it time. Let me initiate the regeneration cycle for your fellows, and then we can act.”

Well outside of the minefield, the subordinate AI controlling the scout ship had a firm grip on the spy probe it had found. It’s mind overclocked trying to break into the controls. It’s feelers and sensors washed over the probe, scanning the components in an attempt to deceiver a way to speak to the probe’s network.

“Problems with interchange. Many factors obstruct request. Hardware inelegant. Language primitive, obtuse. Integration of thaumaturgic components unnatural. No known matching parameters with existing Combine technology. Stage one adaptation insufficient. Uploading assessment to Central Matrix.”

An alert directed its attention to the ruined station close by. It was an engine plume. Focusing its sensors on this new target, the AI halted its hacking attempts. “Target identified as Nakiha-pattern frigate. Threat assessment: unacceptable. Retreat warranted.”

That very directive paused when the Nakiha turned to retreat. The odd behavior for the more powerful vessel caused the scout to scrutinize the Akira further. “Life forms detected… four. Two in suspension. Archives dictate crew compliment of thirty. Calculating… Assessing power assignments… three main armaments lack power… two PDs inoperative. Readvise threat assessment… acceptable.”

Lighting its own engines, and fully abandoning its hacking efforts, the Maylan scout rocketed towards the Akira.

15: Waylan

The Akira’s bridge was awash with nervous tension. Wiggly went through a crash course in piloting, yet that did little to give the mare any confidence. Morales at least was more comfortable controlling the shields and other defenses. He tried to give reassurance to the others, but he feared they fell on deaf ears. That left Mote with a special part of the plan, one that demanded Wiggly taking the helm in the beginning. Mentally focusing on her controls, Mote waited until the Waylan was in range. She needed every ounce of that focus and discipline to keep calm enough to do her part. “Forefathers preserve us, give us the strength to destroy this abomination.”

The Waylan continued to scrutinize the Nakiha frigate as it approached the debris field surrounding the wrecked station. Even with the Nakiha lacking some of its weapons, the AI still remained cautious. “Target velocity far below expected specifications. Calculating cause… Damage caused due to poor maintenance/previous battle? Possible. Observation. Nakiha revealed itself after-”

Its thought process was cut short by intense jamming coming from the Nakiha. Instantly the Waylan lost sight of the target, and even the debris field became deeply fuzzy with snowy static. Yet this was one thing the scout could muscle though, and the Waylan intended to remind the enemy of that fact.

Narrowing its sensors and other countermeasures to a tight cone where it last saw the Nakiha, the Waylan pierced through the static and acquired a shaky sensor return, but it wasn’t strong enough for a weapon’s lock. The scout turned about and burned to a halt, then flipped around again to keep its nose to the Nakiha. It readied itself for evasive maneuvering, even as more questions plagued it’s mind.

“Perplexing. Why does the Nakiha refuse to open fire? Standard armament should place this unit within range. ” Activating its shields, the Waylan was enveloped in a translucent, faintly blue semicircle of energy aimed at the Nakiha. Then, it deployed radiators along the sections not covered, as direct shield protection would greatly inhibit their function. Next, it quickly tried sweeping the rest of the debris field, searching for any lurking vessels. It could not risk letting the Nakiha out of its sight for too long, as it might slip away. Yet as it hastily scoured the area, all it found were broken ships, the large hulk of the native station, and scraps of debris. The scene looked well and truly dead, save for the Nakiha itself.

That is when it felt an energy beam strike its shield. The scout pushed itself out of position and turned towards the impact to find it came from the Nakiha. Four shells were streaking in, yet they were painfully off target. The Waylan proceeded to entirely focus on the Nakiha, intend on weaving around its attacks. Yet more mysteries compounded themselves. The shells came at one minute intervals and the phaser was almost as slow. This was not the deluge of fire the Waylan expected. “Rate of fire and accuracy is far below expected values. Assessing of behavior… Desperation to ward this one away to avoid confrontation as highest probability. Poor combat readiness confirmed.”

Flaring its drive field again, the Waylan pushed forward, intent on fulfilling its directive.

Within the Akira’s bridge, Wiggly and the others watched with bated breath as the Waylan entered the minefield. Yet so far, nothing stirred. “Fire another volley,” she said while a nervous hoof tapped the console. “Just - just make sure we still look inaccurate.”

It was hardly a difficult request for Mote, as keeping up the electronic attack was already taxing her. Adding gunnery just made her efforts a thin hope.

“It seems you were right,” Morales said with a mixture of anticipation and a bit of fear at seeing a Waylan getting closer. “The jamming is blinding the mines too, and our prey is taking the bait.”

“You chop up enough of them, you get to know their eyes pretty well.” Wiggly clutched her tapping leg with both forelegs to stop it. This isn't like it was with the pirates, the Akira can hold its own. She needed a brief distraction, and her eyes drifted across the debris field. The Navy will know we’re here by now. The mines will report it for sure.

Mote suddenly spoke up in a strained tone as she gritted her teeth with aggression. “I can’t keep its guns off us much longer.”

“You don’t need to.” Wiggly chopped the air with a hoof. “Cut the jamming!” As she did so, Wiggly had a mechan set off a decent-sized explosive near the bow.

The Waylan was left bewildered for a moment. An explosion erupted from the Nakiha at the same time the jamming stopped. It wasted no time in acquiring a weapon’s lock.

Yet it never got a chance to fire. All at once, dozens of power signatures lit up all around the scout, and just as many tractor beams latched onto it. Nearly a hundred mines yanked themselves towards the scout.

Three laser turrets activated and started cutting down the mines in rapid succession. three, nine, eighteen mines were shot up, yet more came from deeper in the field. The scout focused its PD fire on mines that would hit the aft sections which let two mines strike the shields. Twin explodes rippled across the barrier, causing the shield projectors to heat up considerably.

Suddenly, a heavy laser beam carved a line across the shields, followed up by a salvo of four accurate explosive shells.

Temperature warning flared immediately. Through the deluge of mines still trying to slam into it. The Waylan turned its eyes back to the Nakiha.

The vessel had stopped cowering behind the station and was now coming right for the Waylan, its phaser and two maulers barking again. This time the Nakiha was firing much faster and accurately. The scout evaded most of the phaser hit, and nimbly dodged half the shells. Yet the constant interference from the mines led to more impacts.

Boom!

A mine slipped past the PD, and ruined two of the Waylan’s radiators. Glowing hot coolant and armor bled out into space. Thankfully, the mines were thinning a bit. It narrowed its shields to face only the Nakiha to open more radiators, and let the pd or armor take the rest of the mines.

“Retreat required. Nakiha’s speed is insufficient to ensure this one’s destruction.”

Risking its heat budget, the Waylan fired its main energy cannon, striking the Nakiha dead center of its own shields. The frigate seemed to hesitate after being struck, giving the Waylan an opening. As it turned to flee, a new alert sounded, one that brought it as close to fear as it was capable of.

“Another good hit!” Wiggly cheered as the scout’s shields were whittled down to a seventy degree arc facing the Akira. Through the thermal sensors, Wiggly saw much of the scout was glowing hot as its radiators got whittled down now that it was too dangerous to keep firing the PD lasers nonstop.

“That’s not an overheat, brace!” Morales cried right before the Waylan lashed out at them.

The rich violet lance of energy cut a swath across the Akira’s shield, and the frigate shuddered. Temperature warnings cried out across Wiggly’s controls. Damage reports quickly followed. “We’ve got coolant ruptures across the main deck!”

“Alert. Fire control for the phaser is offline!” Mote cried out even as the ship jittered from the maulers speaking again. “We shouldn’t be taking damage from a shielded hit!”

“I didn’t exactly expect to take us into battle ya know! I-I can try to fix the fire control, sending two mechan to do it.” Wiggly tried to remain focused on the repairs, and let Mote take the helm.

“It turned about!” Morales announced as he banged the glass with nervous excitement. He lowered the shield so the maulers' autoforges and engines could get more of the shrinking heat budget. “It’s main cannon can’t hit us now, and there are still some mines left keeping the PD busy. Mote, do it!”

“With pleasure.” Mote readied the sideswiper missile and practically punched the launch button.

The sideswiper roared to life as it screamed towards the Waylan. The scout acted swiftly, and spun about once more to protect its primary engine cluster. It divided its shielding to protect its nose from the Akira and its stern from the missile it knew would swing around to hit the Waylan’s engines. The move threw off Mote’s aim, and only one shell struck the Waylan’s shield.

At the same time, Morales’ tank took on an amber glow as he summoned his magic. “You’re not going anywhere.” He conjured a powerful singularity as close to the Waylan as possible. Not only did it slow its retreat, but the gravity bent its desperate pd lasers away from the sideswiper.

“We’re out of mines,” Wiggly announced with renewed concern. “I’ve isolated the fire control problem, it’s fixable!”

“Statement. We’ll need it,” Mote assured with a hopeful tone. The maulers fired another salvo. The shells bracketed the too narrow shields and clipped both sides of the scout. Shrapnel shredded multiple radiators.

The sudden loss of so much coolant was the final nail. The Waylan’s shield generator melted down, and all that was left were the pd lasers. Explosions rocked the scout from within as more of it overheated. Yet the scout still tried to survive. With its remaining radiators dedicated to keeping the pd and engines operating, it tried again and again to shoot the missile down.

Morales kept up the pace, and his magic made the defense a hopeless gesture. Using the singularity to further accelerate, the sideswiper slammed into the engine cluster. Yet moments before impact, the Waylan, pushed its thrusters to the limit, so its nose would strafe the Akira. As disruptive magic danced all over the hull, and snuffed out the drive plume. The scout was left dead in space, save for its primary cannon.

“Shields. Shields!” Wiggly jumped into the air, almost yanking her tail connectors out.

Morales tried to raise them, but the emitters were sluggish. “I’m trying, there’s no-” Acting quickly, he conjured a singularity in front of the Akira’s bow.

Mote saw the phaser being back online, and fired moments after the Waylan did. The scout’s attack would have struck the Akira’s nose, but the singularity bent it enough for it to carve a line across the starboard wing instead. The phaser used the singularity and struck true. The impact melted the Waylan’s cannon before the Akira’s primary hull could be struck. Morales cut off the singularity, giving a clear shot for the maulers. All four shells struck two different mine impacts, exploding deep inside the scout.

“Yea! Take that you damn toaster! Guys, let’s tear that thing apart!”

The Akira wasted no time and hammered shell after shell and ran its phaser so hot it broke down again. Mote kept firing long after the scout was torn to pieces, as she spent her resentment into its smoldering wreck. Its broken shell was left spinning and charred by the time the Akira stopped firing.

Wiggly pulled her connectors out so she could finally fly up and angrily shake her hoof at the broken wreck. “That’s what you get!”

Morales breathed a sigh of relief, and Mote had to put effort into letting go of the weapon controls, as her hands left imprints on the console. It took her a moment to realize she had angry tears in her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away before Wiggly could see them.

With Sprocket distracted by her celebration, Morales sent the gyroid a foreboding message.

Mote felt Wiggly’s contagious cheer, and didn’t want Morale’s mounting cynicism to put a damper on it. Getting up drew Wiggly’s attention, and the mare grabbed one of her hands and thrust it up.

“Give it up for our master gunner! Woo woo!”

Diving headlong into the celebration, Mote practically bounced on her paws. “Celebration! This calls for a triumph!”

“You did great too, Mores. Ahhh, curving the PDs away from the missile like that? Rut that was good!”

Suddenly, the Akira was rocked, and the lights flickered badly.

The crew stopped cold, and even Morales was left a bit panicked when his tank briefly stopped draining. “That wasn’t a mine was it?!”

Wiggly mentally commanded her interface to return. As soon as she did, a flood of warning swarmed her vision. It took her several seconds to make sense of it all. “Junction boxes shorted out, causing fires, and the phaser’s capacitors blew.” Wiggly, was suddenly glad her celebration hadn’t torn her connections loose as it would have been from a traditional neck connector. “I’m sealing the areas, and venting the atmosphere to stop the fires. There are a few other smaller things. The failsafes delayed the explosion, but couldn’t stop it.” She grit her teeth as the automated damage reports kept coming. “Lost three mechan who were trying to stop it too.”

Wearing a concerned frown, Mote gently laid a hand on the tense mare’s shoulder. “How bad is it?”

Shaking her head, Wiggly unplugged herself and sent her remaining mechan off to contain the damage, leaving only two to watch over the reactor. “It wasn’t a mine, the rest of them are still ignoring us. By the looks of it… fallout from the two hits we took. I should have caught this. If I hadn’t gotten caught up in celebrating...”

The pod behind her gurgled as the last of the fluid drained away, and the doctor stepped out. “I was much more the fool. I I dropped the shields so we wouldn't overheat accelerating and using my singularities. I wanted us to remain close enough for my singularities to be effective, but it turned out to be not worth it.” Morales was toweling himself off, and tried to give words of encouragement. “The fact that we were able to give battle at all is thanks to you. And we are all over stressed, ya?” He threw the towel at a slot where a drone would pick it up later.

Mote also checked the damage reports, and breathed some relief. “Thankfully, med bay is unharmed. What damage we took is a fair bit away from it too.”

Left in momentary shock as her family’s condition raced back to her mind. All she could do in response was nodded appreciatively. Morales huffed as sudden exhaustion swept over him. “Come, let us attend to the more critical issues so we can figure out what to do next.”

“Already got the survivors on it.” Becoming rather sober as her mind drifted, Wiggly’s gaze peered past the walls and back towards medical. “Let them handle the pressing damage control. Can one of you get the fabricator started for me to make some replacements?”

Mote was all too eager to volunteer and jumped at the chance. “I’ll handle it. Morales, could you make a hearty lunch? I think we all need a meal.”

“A grand idea. I believe your brother was preparing a roast. I think I can-”

Before he could go further, a new high-pitched alert made itself known. Everyone turned to see they were being hailed. Wiggly’s fur stood on end, as her first thought was pirates. “Stations!”

She scrambled to her chair, with Mote in a race to do the same. That left Morales unsure if he even had time to get back in the tank, so he opted to climb into Wire’s chair.

Once everyone was seated, Wiggly leaned forward. “If it’s pirates, don’t give a hint on how damaged we are.” After both gave agreements, Wiggly tapped the accept command.

Captain Howling Tempest’s scowling face flickered to life on the main screen. His initial hard expression was quickly replaced by a stunned gasp. “Miss Wiggly Sprocket? We thought you were dead.”

“Captain Tempest! Ah,” she coughed a nervous laugh. “Almost was a few times.” Wiggly flushed with embarrassment and blindly tried to fix her mane to be somewhat presentable. No amount of impromptu window dressing was going to correct the train wreck that her mane and bedraggled face was left in. “It’s good to see a friendly face out there.”

“I understand the feeling…” Tempest eyeballed the two weary aliens with surprise suspicion, yet with Wiggly sitting on what he presumed to be the captain’s chair eased him a touch. “Apparently, the pirates hijacked the local probe, and it was only after the Ponipolous mine-controller reported a mass jamming attempt that we knew anything was going on at all over there.”

“I was kinda wondering why you didn’t call us sooner,” Wiggly pondered aloud. “Honestly I was getting a little worried.”

“Hmm, hailing you during a battle for questioning would have been intolerably rude after all. That aside, I for one am glad to see you still breathe.” Tempest looked around for the others, and his face darkened. “I must command you to remain radio silent until the Rainbow Dash arrives in three days. We have much to discuss when we are not using an open channel. Especially since the relay net’s clearly been compromised.”

The cathrex became intensely nervous, and even Wiggly was put on edge. “I - ah - I realize transferring an unaltered transponder to a new ship is a serious offense but-”

Tempest held up a restraining hoof. “Miss Sprocket, from what I can see of your ship and crew, you must have quite a story to tell. A tale that can wait until we meet in person.” He paused a moment, with a thoughtful ear going limp, then spoke again in a disarming tone. “I have no doubt you’ve conducted yourself honorably. However, given the circumstances, I feel a face-to-face is required.” And with that, Tempest ended the call.

There was a long pause in the room, as everyone needed time to sort themselves out. Of the three, Mote was the first one to speak up. “Observation. He didn’t seem to react to us like I expected him to.”

Wiggly finally shook it off, and climbed out of her chair. “He’s probably playing things close to the chest. But we can trust him.”

Morales gave Mote a weary look before affixing a warmer one towards Wiggly. “Then this will make good practice for the high queen at the very least.”

Inside the Commodore’s private shuttle, Thaddeus and Felin were still trying to process the battle that had just concluded before their eyes.

Thaddeus above all was deeply concerned, and it was written in the wrinkles of his face. His eyes were fixated on the mysterious frigate like he was staring into the void itself.

On the other hand, Felin was troubled, but wasn’t nearly as weighted down by it. She turned her scaly head in her old friend’s direction, and was startled to see how heavily the battle seemed to affect him.

Ultimately, it was the Commodore who broke the tense silence by cutting off the projection. “There you have it. Whoever this is, must be identified and be brought to heel or killed.”

“Who?!” Thaddeus fixed the other centuari with a mockingly incredulous huff and distressed eye. “I’ll admit it took me a second to realize this, but you saw where this was. Ponipolous. More importantly, the minefield surrounding it.”

“What about it?” The Commodore was already high strung from paranoia over the assassination. But missing something potentially massive was making it worse. “By the looks of things, the mines were thinned out fairly well.”

“If you roll the feed back to two-five-eight.” Thaddeus waved at the reactivated hologram. His hand paused as the visuals shifted until stopping at the point the newcomer arrived into the minefield. “There! See how the feed is getting badly corroded?”

Felin wasn’t seeing the point yet, and arched a worried brow at him. “What about it? Electronic dueling is to be expected. Although I’d like to know what method they used so we can counter it more effectively.”

“And yet you don’t see any of that before or after, do you?” Thaddeus countered darkly as he waved a hand over the images. “As soon as the jamming ceased, the mines went into action. That frigate wasn’t jamming the mines because it didn’t have to. That’s a pony ship.”

“Impossible,” the Commodore countered with insincere disbelief. “That thing is nothing like Initiative vessels, civilian or otherwise.”

“Have the feed checked,” Thaddeus began with a growing sense of urgency. “See if that ship was transmitting a naval transponder.”

“You had best be wrong, for all our sakes.” The Commodore mentally relayed the request to his staff.

This gave Felin a chance to move the hologram forward to better showcase the Waylan. “If I may, sir, I fear you’re focusing too much on one puzzle piece. A single odd vessel can be chalked up to being a prototype.” The drake jabbed a claw at the second vessel. “But this mystery ship throws that idea away. The second had no ident markings or signatures, possessed a weaponized sensor suite, and goes straight after the frigate with lethal intent. There are far too many ‘never before seen’ elements here. We have to consider the possibility that we are dealing with civilized life foreign to the homeworld.”

That was an idea that neither centauri wanted to hear. The prospect of an alien civilization wasn’t a new one. Speculation had only grown over the centuries since leaving the home system, but that was an issue for academics and diplomats, not a pirate cartel.

The argument made sense to Thaddeus, and he leaned back deep in thought. “If you’re right, then we could be in serious trouble. Now that I think about it, there’s no way the Innies could have hidden the manufacture of a ship with such a radical departure in design. Not from Gladius.”

Felin took pride in her assessment being well received, and pressed on. “It could explain the mines’ behavior. Xenos would have technology we’ve never seen before; like the sensor weapon.”

“Or ship based faster than light,” the Commodore interrupted heavily, silencing the other two. “What we have here is an opportunity.” He paused again to think things over. “In all likelihood, that frigate will be long gone before either us or the Innies can do anything about it. But the one that was destroyed… I want it, yesterday!”

“Do you need us to go back out there?” Thaddeus asked, hoping it was a negative. There’s no telling what else could be lethal on that thing, even as a ruined hulk.

“No!” The Commodore half-shouted in his uncaring haste. “I have other ships closer to the area. They’ll intercept the wreckage before it drifts too far off. If nothing else, I want that FTL, and the engines looked to be the most intact part left behind. Not to mention any other weapons it has left. As for you two…” He paused, and tapped his chin rapidly as he tried to think of a plan in the face of such a turn of events. “We have the perfect weapon to claim the system for our own.”

Nearly three days of frantic repair work came to a welcome pause. Wiggly hovered over Live Wire’s pod after it pushed itself out from the wall. Morales was at the controls, making sure everything went right, while Mote retreated to a corner of the room. Even though victory was theirs, the pall of such hostile AI had fallen over her.

“His vitals look good, taking him out of hibernation.”

The pod yawned open with a muffled hiss. Wiggly looked over her brother and saw something from her fillihood: her brother's face was whole again.

No marks from the Sundering remained on his brow or chin. A cursory glance revealed all of the old scars were gone from that day, and those between it. Yet his left eye held her own in place. The bulky, cheap, always failing implant had been replaced by normal flesh once more. It brought Wiggly to tears, so she occupied herself by removing the various restraints and sensor pads off of him.

Morales craned his neck to observe his patient before entering the final command to unbind the unicorn’s consciousness. “Waking him...now.”

Live Wire awoke with a shuddering gasp, making Wiggly jump. He blinked repeatedly as the fog in his mind was sluggish in clearing away. The remembered pain of the attack suddenly shot back to life, and he frantically started struggling to free himself.

Wiggly was quick to hold his hoof in her own, and squeezed it reassuringly. “Hey, hey, take it easy, you’re fine. Everything fine now.”

Hearing her voice, then her words, made Wire stop. It was only in that moment that he realized the pain was actually just a memory. “Wiggs?” He blinked some more as his vision quickly returned to normal in his right eye, but his left remained badly out of focus. “Wiggs,” he parroted with a mix of bewildered relief.

“It’s me alright, you big dork.” Wiggly barely contained herself long enough to help him to the ground. Once all four of his hooves were firmly planted on the ground, she leapt into a crushing bear hug that dropped the witless stallion right back down to the hard floor. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

Still at a loss, Live Wire absently wrapped his legs around his crying sister and pulled her close. “Sure… right after I remember-” He winced as a strange feeling gripped him. Gingerly pulling his sister off of him, his side vision cleared to the point where he could finally put his hoof on the weird feeling. His false eye didn’t ache anymore, and his vision no longer had an overlay. In a rush he felt the side of his face, only to jab a very real and squishy eye. “What?! He blinked the pain and warded off Wiggly as he gently felt around his now organic eye. “My - what happened?”

“An old terror parted the reeds,” Morales declared with a grim tone. He pushed some coffee towards them, prompting Wiggly to grab the cups and offer one to Live Wire. “I will explain it all, but permit me to conduct a check up on you as I do. The archives don’t have any information on de-cyberization treatment, so I’m having to make it up as I go.”

“De-cyberization?!” Live Wire shivered, and kept touching his new eye. He watched a medical drone fly over and start inspecting his eye at a careful distance. “What hit us?”

“This is a lot to take in,” Sprocket warned softly.

Scanning the room, Live Wire noticed the cathrex were looking uncomfortable. “Last thing I remember is my eye burning up. Everything else was fuzzy.”

“I was kinda hoping you had dreams like I did.” Wiggly shook herself out of that tangent. "Ah - anyway. Right. So." He shivered a bit at the outbursts to come. “It's like this...”

It took roughly half an hour to bring Live Wire more or less up to speed. The stallion struggled to keep his peace as the Waylan’s past was laid bare. He couldn’t focus on the history lesson; not when someone important was missing, and he cut it off before Morales could finish. “You said Winter and I both got hit by this. Where is she?”

Wiggly stood up in a flash so she could keep him still. “Wire, she’s in bad shape, but she’s alive.”

“Rut that!” He growled at her. “De-cyberized?! Wiggs, Winter can’t survive without her chrome!”

“You really think I would lie to you about that?” Wiggly challenged to break through his flash of anger.

It worked, and the stallion recoiled momentarily, but recovered quickly. “No, but they might have tricked you. There’s no way she’s still alive if they removed her chrome!”

“She lives,” Wiggly softly insisted, trying to calm him back down. “I’ve kept an eye on both of you for two and a half days now.” She jabbed a wing at a medical bed that was wrapped in badly slept-on linen. Once he saw it, Wiggly stepped back to the very wall of pods he just emerged from and tapped the only one that had steady blue lights on. “And Winter's right here, next to where you were.”

“Then let me see her.” Live Wire wasn’t having it. He tried to push past his sister to confront Morales, but Wiggly restrained him with a wing.

“Wait until she can wake up, broham. If you see her like she is, you’ll only explode.” She thumped his horn, just to break the death glare he had on Morales. “I know you.”

”Oh you crusty nag!" A furious scowl darkened Wire's face, as he rubbed his sore horn. His gaze darted between his sister and the active pod. Eventually, he turned to the good doctor. “Mores, if she dies, you will answer for it.”

“Provided we don’t end up in another battle, Lieutenant Winter Gale will rise again in about two weeks or so.”

The loose deadline appeased Live Wire a bit, yet it was enough. “Yeah, about that. This Waylan you mentioned, you're claiming that thing hit Winter and I?”

Quietly releasing a held breath, Morales nodded shakily. “Yes. It uses a weapon called fuhai. To put it simply, it is designed to kill cyborgs via your connections between machine and nerve. It is tied to the Waylan ships’ sensors, it is constantly in use. There is no defense, save what we did to keep you and Winter alive. It is also why our tail connectors are so bulky compared to your neck ones, to work around it.”

“Waylan?” Wire tilted his head, and fixed him with a harsh glare. “Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”

For a long moment, Morales couldn’t find the words. He opened and closed his mouth, each time at a loss. Wiggly couldn’t answer for him, and held her tongue. So it was left for Mote to finally step forward, shivering from the assured backlash. “Clarification. He did it for my sake.”

“You?!” Live Wire tensed, unsure of how to respond. “Why? Are you a Waylan?”

“No!” Mote’s instant response was both visceral in its denial and her own flare of mortified anger. Her stance widened and her claws flashed instinctively at the unwitting insult. Upon seeing the two ponies’ balk at the aggression, Mote caught herself and shrank back. “Denial. I am not, and you just proved you ponies won’t bother to tell the difference.” She held herself close as tears dampened her face. “I’ve seen your holo-shows long enough to know you fear created intelligence.

“Observation. Stories of AIs rebelling, warring, killing, or subverting your people the moment they become too smart.” A haunted humorless laugh escaped her. “My xenotype has taken great pains to think as organically as possible, but I know what I am to you, just another type of AI. I thought I could have some time to show you ponies that cathrex PIs were different. That you could discard your storied AIs as your own created and not ours. But no.”

Mote gripped her head as images of billions of dead ponies surrounded her with the survivors above condemned her. The horror of it left her weeping in choking sobs. “Accusation. But then the damned Waylan had to reveal itself. The very reflection of all your horrors and warnings come true. And what am I compared to a Waylan who could wipe out a population in an instant?!”

Live Wire pushed past Wiggly, but stopped a few steps after that. “That danger is exactly why you should have told us. This - this weapon of theirs is far too dangerous to omit it like that!”

“What would have telling the three of you have genuinely accomplished?” Morales challenged firmly in order to give Mote a chance to recollect herself. The doctor remained seated with his arms crossed, his iron gazed fixed on the stallion. “Nothing.” He shrugged and frowned in helpless irritation. “Unless you’re going to sit there and claim that you trust Mote and I enough on word alone, and be willing to undergo de-cyberization.” Live Wire winced at the argument, leaving Morales a chance to press his point. “You've made your level of trust in us perfectly clear. Not that I fault you for it, but it still left us in an impossible position. The Akira’s been marooned here for five years, and your presence in the system has lasted much longer than that by far. We had every reason to believe the Waylan ignored this system until now.”

Live Wire held up a hoof to counter him, but he came up with nothing. His mouth remained a pressed line. “Were you going to tell the high queen?”

Morales stood up with a heavy sigh. “Of course. In fact we’ll be informing Captain Howling Tempest when he arrives this evening.” He nervously wrung his hands, and glanced away. “I’m hoping he’ll be easier to speak to than a high queen.”

Sprocket circled around so Wire could see her. “The battle drew a lot of eyes, and we took a good bit of damage. Enough that we could use some actual dock work.”

With his ears flattened, and nervously pawing the floor, Wire’s gaze turned to the pods. “You said she could wake up in two weeks?”

“Thereabouts,” Morales confirmed with forced confidence. “Between rebuilding her body and the nerve damage, the healing process will take time. You’re lucky, really. You ponies are a hearty breed, had a baseliner cathrex been in her place, I couldn’t have saved her.”

Guilt started to weigh on Live Wire. He could see Morales’ ploy to smooth things over, yet couldn’t muster the nerve to call him out on it. “Thank you, for doing that.”

Walking over to giving Mote a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, the pair felt some stress leave them. “It’s the least I could have done.”

16: Tempest’s Verdict

It was late in the evening when the Rainbow Dash arrived on station at Ponipolous. Its fighter screen had preceded it, yet the strange Akira had proven to be a passive recipient.

The two ships had incompatible docking ports, so the carrier had to resort to sending a shuttle capable of extending a soft umbilical.

As that very umbilical was locking into place, Wiggly and the others were a tight bundle of nerves. For the mare, her torment was the rough state of her ship. Loose debris had been cleaned up, and the hallways were navigable again, but many of the deeper issues remained from the battle. Between her and the eight mechan, battle repair and the five years of missing overhaul backlog, the engineer was barely keeping her head above water. She might have ended up an exhausted wreck were it not for the others’ support. That did little for the heavily grease stained and torn yellow coveralls she was wearing however.

Live Wire was rather annoyed by the pad he was using to keep an eye on both dinner and the final set up of umbilical. So used to mental controls, having to magically swipe or enter commands was grating. Like his sister though, he was dressed in a fine shirt and pair of pants he had scavenged from the station, his apron being freshly torn away.

That left the nervous pair of aliens who awaited their fate at the hooves of the naval captain. So it was that when the wall lights went blue, both of them snapped to attention.

Wiggly tried to do a last-minute comb of her mane with a wing, while Live Wire dusted himself off, trying to rid himself of that ‘kitchen’ smell.

The hatch yawned open, and the air pressure equalized with a mechanical hiss. With heavy hoof falls, the navy blue unicorn captain boldly stepped forward, leading his pegasus marine escort of two. His amber eyes locked with Wiggly’s tired own, and he came to a halt just in front of the door. A pleased uptick on his lips followed catching sight of the freshly painted tri-mare flag of the Initiative on the ceiling. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Wiggly Sprocket.”

The tired engineer was a bit flustered at the unexpected etiquette, and sheepishly waved him onward. “P-please do, ah, Captain. I’m honored by your visit.”

Taking just enough steps for his escorts to fully enter the ship, Howling Tempest was caught off guard when he found himself under gravity. He stumbled a little, then scrutinized the four gathered around him, then up to the ceiling to find no repulsors. He tactfully adjusted his stance to compose himself, all while waving the marines forward so they could do the same. “So this truly is an alien vessel.” He squared his gaze on Wiggly. “Were you posing as the captain, or should I look to them?”

Shuffling nervously on her hooves, Sprocket waggled a wing at the cathrex. “No, no, they agreed to name me the captain. They’re the only two survivors of the original crew.” She looked at them fully. “May I introduce Captain Howling Tempest of the INV Rainbow Dash, hero of Trireme, and the one who saved my brother and I’s tail that day.”

The hybrid bowed with one arm across his stomach. “I am the ship’s gravatior, Medica Morales. A pleasure to meet you, savior of a friend.”

The robot curtsied with the emerald dress she wore. She wore the friendliest face she could manage, and carried herself with casual poise. “Salutations. I am Silent Carillon, or Mote if you like. I am the Akira’s personified intelligence. I serve as final witness and counselor. As for what we are, we are cathrex hailing from the Cathrex Combine nestled in what you call Luna’s right wing.”

Tempest dipped his head. “Were these better times, I would insist on hosting such exotic guests aboard the shipyard, or at least my ship.”

“Oh please don’t,” Live Wire began with nervous energy. “I made bacon-wrapped pesto pork tenderloin, and I’m desperate for somepony with a more discerning palette. My sister eats anything I make, and Morales here claims I can do no wrong. An artist can’t grow if all I hear is success.” And I think Mote is too polite to give honest criticism.

“At least one of us suffers from success.” Wiggly felt aches and pains all over from her feverish repair efforts. Sitting down rather than going aboard the Rainbow Dash, Sprocket wanted to just take some time to relax, but in her eyes, Howling Tempest deserved the best she could offer.

A quiet, amused hum escaped the carrier captain. “I am in the mood for pork actually. Very well, but before we dine, where is my lieutenant?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Live Wire began, only to quickly hold his tongue.

“I’ve been swamped with work, alright?” Wiggly glared at her brother, then softened her expression towards Tempest. “Winter Gale was badly wounded by the ship that attacked us. She’s in critical but stable condition.”

Howling Tempest noticed how her wing fingers were abnormally thick for a pegacorn, and that’s when it clicked that the stallion’s eye had been replaced by what seemed to be a natural one. “Yes, I saw the battle, you took a couple of nasty hits. Naturally I’ll take her off your hooves. My doctor is the best in the navy.”

Morales took a step forward, and presented a tablet. “I have here a complete summary of her treatment and present condition. The cause of her injuries is not something to be shared over food, so if it pleases you, I would prefer to disclose that issue now.”

The lack of an immediate acquiescence to his request put Tempest on edge. Claiming the tablet in his amber magic, he found it had two folders, one labeled ‘Winter’, and the other ‘after action report’. “I’m listening.”

Matching the tablet’s explanation, Morales laid out the simple version of the effects of fuhai from its source to how it attacked cyborgs. Throughout the explanation, the tablet revealed multiple pictures of cathrex victims as well as Winter and Live Wire pre-surgery. All three naval sailors grew queasy at various rates. Tempest had to stop himself from rubbing his false right leg as he lingered the post-surgery images of Winter and Wire. “I must stress,” Morales finished with professional firmness. “That my patient can’t be moved if she is to heal correctly. I mean no offense, but I don’t believe you have compatible facilities for the current treatment.”

Grumbling in disapproval, Tempest looked to Live Wire. Of them all, he expected the closest thing to the truth out of him. “Do you agree with that assessment?”

Thinking it over for a few moments, Live Wire eventually gave a firm nod. “I do.” He averted his gaze in unfounded shame. “I can’t say the recovery procedure was something I would have agreed to, but I was in so much pain from the attack that I was barely conscious before they pulled me out of the CIC. Winter had it worse by far given how much more chrome she had.”

Tempest tightened his jaw in disapproval. “This attack you suffered…” How can you be so sure your ‘friends’ here didn’t cause it? “Was there no warning at all it was about to happen?”

Shaking his head, Wire went on, “All I got was a sensor alert that a ship appeared. Couldn’t even identify it before I got jacked up.”

Tempest nodded, as if accepting the explanation. Inwardly, he was suspicious. You have a pretty good recollection for somepony who was in enough pain to go into shock moments later. Almost as if you rehearsed it, or an implanted memory. Tempest sighed in resignation. “Very well, I’ll leave her in your capable care, Medica. Wiggly Sprocket, I must say I preferred your last visit. As much as it pains me, I fear I’ll have to leave Winter in your care. What has been done with her implants?”

Wiggly Sprocket nodded with restless energy. “They’ve been packaged and cleaned up. With the fuhai, I don’t know how valuable they’ll be for much longer, but they’re yours to take of course. Navy secrets and all.”

Much longer? That deepened Tempest’s unease. She really believes in this ‘fuhai’ business, or has been tricked into it. Her altered wings flashed in his mind. Or worse. “Naturally it’ll be inventoried. Unless there is some other unpleasantness along similar veins, let’s continue over dinner, yes?”

The mess hall had been well prepared on Wiggly’s insistence. The bare plastene tables and chairs had been replaced by exquisite, real oak furniture, and the cutlery was straight out of a fine dining restaurant. Yet the strangest thing to Tempest was the robotic replica of Wiggly Sprocket who stood silently at the table as the procession was brought in. It was her, down to her pale red fur pattern and two-toned blue mane, yet its head was akin to a doll with a screen serving as its face.

Both Tempest and the marines were a bit unnerved by it, with him looking at the original model. “Is this another ‘person’?”

Wiggly mentally commanded the robot to curtsy. “Oh no. This is a mechan, basically a drone under my control.” She had been careful not to let the group see any others on the short walk to the mess hall. “When I don’t have them working or recharging, they sorta act like me. I had to shoo them out of my room a few times when they tried to change clothes.”

Tempest watched Wire and Mote slide away so they could enter the kitchen. “You control them? Now how did a pegacorn manage that?” The unicorn glanced all over her, and didn’t see any external gear on the fatigued mare.

Giving a sheepish, frail grin, Wiggly had the mechan pull out the guests’ seats. “It’s been a very crazy two months. The short answer is gene tailoring.”

How very reckless of you. Tempest only needed a moment or two to rethink that. How… very much like you. “Aside from the battle, something tells me ‘crazy’ is an understatement.”

As everyone sat down, and the mechan collected drink orders, the two marines were a bit annoyed that they had to keep a protective eye out. That very protectiveness made them antsy when two more mechan arrived, only to relax upon seeing the food trays.

The trio of sailors were left in culinary excitement at the perfectly cooked tenderloins, steamed vegetables, and the promise of dessert teased their noses and softened their suspicions. The navy had only recently been able to upgrade their meals to just above being called rations. Yet the spread before them harkened back to before the war.

Live Wire eagerly watched them, hoping to glean insight should the sailors fail to give more than basic praise. Once everyone was served he clapped his hooves once. “Please, dig in.”

The marines wasted no time, yet Tempest paused long enough to give a query. “I’m sure the report says it all, but I’d like to hear it in person. What brought you to us, and how’d Wiggly Sprocket come to command your ship?”

Unable to stop himself, Morales had to take a bite before he could speak, and had to suppress a moan of culinary delight. Mote however was under less intense compulsion. “Recitation. Through our observation of your holo-shows and our pony crew’s own experiences, the Combine and Initiative have a number of things in common. The more relevant similarity is that we both are trying to recover from a… what is the word you use?” She briefly looked to Live Wire, who gave a quick answer. “Pyrrhic victory, thank you. We were on a mission to establish contact with your homeworld when we stopped here to use the gas giant to refuel. Unfortunately we dropped in inside the local minefield. As you can imagine, we were hit and we crash landed on the moon below.”

I’ll have to verify that. Mine-Com logs all of that sort of thing.

Having had his first few bites, Morales waved at her so she could take some time to eat as well. “The Akira’s been marooned here for five of your years. Mote and I would still be stuck there if Wiggly and the others had never arrived. So we struck a deal with them. Wiggly gained ownership of the Akira in exchange for helping us speak to one of your high queens.”

Keeping his thoughts to himself for several moments, Howling Tempest grabbed his glass of wine and paused mid sip. Sensors in his mouth detected an array of flavors and ingredients. None of which were drugs or poison, so he allowed himself to enjoy it. “That certainly is a big ask. I don’t know the state of the Initiative outside of Lilian, but if you got here on your own, I presume you have ship-based FTL. Correct?”

“We do,” Morales confirmed with a nod.

Wiggly decided to chime in. “We were actually wanting to ask you and maybe the governor for recommendation letters to make getting an audience with a high queen easier. Also, we were planning on grabbing a mass nullifier to bring back here.”

The marines beside Tempest became hopefully excited, yet the captain remained cool headed. They may have duped a few desperate ponies, but I won’t let them near an alicorn. “There is a lot to unpack in all this. I will say I approve of your aims, and I would have no objections to such a recommendation. But,” he directed at the bipeds. “I find it hard to believe that you would willingly hand over all of the technology in this ship over to us. The FTL alone will make anypony as rich as a high queen. The trade you lose in doing that is difficult to swallow.”

“Explanation. The Akira is old, sir. If the Combine was not in the shape we are in, this ship never would have been here in the first place. The only things that you are truly behind us on is our genetic tailoring and FTL.”

“She’s mostly right,” Wiggly added after downing a bite of pork. “Most of the stuff here we either don’t have because we never thought of it, or is probably a government secret somewhere. For example, the maulers’ autoforges are pretty crazy, but it’s not something we couldn’t make on our own. Really, learning how to fix this baby’s just a matter of unit conversion and different design styles more than anything else. This ship runs really hot too.”

Tempest saw Live Wire and even the aliens give her a ‘you can’t be serious’ array of frowns and snorts. Pegacorns… It seems her personality is intact. Perhaps the bipeds were more subtle. “Fascinating.” Tempest couldn’t stop himself and ate a few more bites. Each item on his plate was clean of foul play. He wagged an empty fork at the sole other unicorn. “I must apologize, Mr. Wire, but you’ll only get praise from me. I don’t have time to write a critique.”

Blushing in sheepish pride, Wire could only nod. “At least you’re enjoying it. That’s all that really matters, I suppose.”

“Indeed.” Tempest forked some vegetables. “Now, about this FTL…”

“As much as I would like to share, and profit off it,” Wiggly began with resignation. “That is something we’re not going to find easy.”

Humming in thought, Tempest spoke before eating. “Is it simply a matter of manufacture, or is it beyond even you?”

This time, Morales cut in before she could answer. “You ponies are in a very peculiar situation about it. If I were honest, the FTL is something my people should share, even if it would take you decades to replicate.” Morales put his fork down on the depressingly empty plate. He spotted some rolls, and opted to use it to soak up the juices. “Cathrex FTL is based on me, or at least my xenotype. For I can bend gravity to allow the ship to transition in and out of hyperspace. The ship itself acts as an extension of myself to allow such a feat.”

That put the sailors into a deeply silent pause. Tempest almost let the food in his mouth fall out before he regathered his wits. “You mean to tell me you are the FTL?”

“More or less.”

Rubbing his jaw, Tempest looked at Wiggly and Wire. When he saw no signs of deception, he let off a weary sigh. “A pity.”

Morales let him brood for a few moments, long enough to consume the roll. “This power of mine is borrowed from you ponies. I have no issue in sharing it with my father species.” The doctor took a bit of satisfaction from thier confused expressions. “You see, captain, I do not wear this face in some strange attempt at diplomacy. I wear it, because I am a child of both the Combine, and of Equiss.”

“You’re-” Tempest was at a loss as to how to respond. Even the marines stopped eating.

“He’s a terracorn,” Live Wire finished for him. “Or at least a cathrex version of one.”

“Rude,” Wiggly chimed in.

“Terracorn…” Tempest huffed in bewildered amusement. “Legendary masters of gravity. Your kind’s been watching us for a long time then.”

“Clarification. That would be inaccurate.” Mote tried to cut off any rising insult he might take. “We observed your homeworld almost a millenia ago for a few years. Then we departed to let you develop on your own. Yours was the first and only other planet we’ve ever seen still bearing intelligent life. All others were long gone before our scouts ever visited them. Even to this day, some joke that your world stole the intelligent life from other planets.” Morales gave a half-hearted chuckle, yet stopped when no one else laughed. “So - um - we left you and much of the surrounding space to your own devices. We didn’t even know you left your homeworld until we arrived in system. And met with your minefield.”

The room threatened to turn sour. So Wire leaned into Wiggly’s ear, and it wasn’t long before a mechan came to take up plates with the second presenting key lime pie and glasses of dessert wines. Tempest knew a distraction when he saw it, and posed a burning question before he could indulge. “Terracorns are impossibly rare. How-”. He suddenly raised a hoof up. “Nevermind, I will leave that be for now. My chief concern was the ship that attacked you, and it’s fuhai weapon. Who are they, and are they going to return?”

All five ponies looked to the bipeds who became pensive. Mote was wringing her hands, unable to enjoy the pie. “Statement. I would say it is likely. What we fought was a scout. It’s possible the controlling intelligence we call the Waylan will leave the system be, invade, or anything in between. The problem is that the Waylan is driven by directives that could very well have been corrupted over the centuries. What it will do next is unpredictable.”

Tempest’s mood darkened, and he firmly placed his fork on the plate. “If you leave, will the Waylan attack us?”

It took Morales a moment or two to nod. “Yes, even if it does not directly intend to. The fuhai is tied into its sensors. It wouldn’t matter if by some off chance the Waylan declares you non-targets, the fuhai will kill you all the same as it searched this system looking for any cathrex presence.”

The problem you see,” Morales continued with idle hand gestures. “We cathrex have genetically adapted ourselves into hundreds of xenotypes, or tribes as you’d know them. With all shapes and sizes. The Waylan could easily identify you as just another cathrex xenotype, no matter how different you or your ships are from us.”

Great, as if the pirates weren’t enough. Tempest tried to keep his internal hostile from showing. “I presume you have some sort of defense against this that you could share. Since you’ve brought this ruin upon us.”

“That’s not fair, sir,” Wiggly insisted with iron in her voice. “I saw the maps where the Waylan operate, and Lilian is practically in spitting distance. The only reason we haven’t run into them yet is because we don’t push our comms into hyperspace. If we did, the Waylan would have been all over the place before the colony ships would have ever left port.”

Scowling at her, Tempest carefully flattened his expression. “And how close is ‘spitting distance’?”

This time it was Mote who answered. “Statement. There is a Waylan stronghold in what you call the X572 system. That may seem like a long way to you, but for us, it is three day’s travel. Less so if we had modern engines.”

“X572?” Tempest’s steely gaze zeroed in on the marine who spoke to his left. “Sir, if I may, that is where the next portal station is going to be built. I heard the construction fleet left ten years before the war started, and they were too far off to be recalled.”

“Yes - I remember that now.” Tempest made some queries to the Rainbow Dash’s computer. “The seventh gen stutter drive they had should get them there in two years.” He rubbed his face as the stress built up. “So our doom only arrives early then. That doesn’t change the fact that we have no defense against this fuhai.” Provided it actually exists.

Morales tried to square himself. If Live Wire’s resistance had been any indication, then he knew Tempest would be just as reluctant. “There is, even if you won’t like it. Complete decyberization.”

All three sailors were aghast at the very idea. “Decyberization?!” Tempest growled with astonishment. “We’ve been a cyberized society for what? Three - four hundred years! There’s got to be a better solution than that!”

“If there is, we never found it.” Morales countered politely. The day the Waylan struck, we lost over ninety seven percent of our population. The ones who were left were non-cyborgs for one reason or another. You have more time for a solution, I grant you, but keeping your chrome is something we can’t help you with.”

“It’s not a total loss, sir,” Wiggly added in while pushing her plates aside to lean forward. “I’m able to talk to computers now just like a regular cyborg. I even have connectors.” She pulled back to show off her tail and pulled the connectors out for them to see. “My wings double as antenna for the mechans too.” She spread her wings out, only for lightning to arc violently with loud pops. Red faced, she hastily folded her wings back. “Sorry. The ol’ sparky horn thing went to my wings when I went through tailoring.”

Tempest and the marines knew this was coming, and he leaned in with a slightly quieter voice. “You realize gene tailoring is tightly regulated, yes?”

“I didn’t have much choice,” she countered easily. “I was already pressed hard enough keeping the Cloud Jumper working, the Akira is too much ship to do it by myself. The rest of them can’t help with the complex stuff. That aside, I don’t think the whole system has much of a choice either, pony or pirate. Of course, I wouldn’t shed any tears if you neglected to share that with the pirates.”

Live Wire chimed with a dire tone. “Even if the Akira left today, got to the closest system with a replacement mass nullifier, and back again, we’d still need years to rebuild Faraway Station. And that’s assuming the pirates let us.”

Tempest raised his hooves for them to stop. “Fine, you’ve made your point. What are you proposing?”

Wiggly looked to Morales who fished out a second tablet. “On behalf of the Combine, I am willing to share a basic template for strand spinning. It will keep the patient’s genetics and memory the same, save for adding in the tail connectors and the neural tissue to go with it. It will allow you to keep interfacing with your systems after some training.”

“I made sure of it, for what my word is worth,” Live Wire added with conviction. “Nothing fancy, no little unnecessary bits here or there. Just enough to make anypony factory stock with connectors.”

So a change in personality or loyalties is on the table? Tempest reluctantly accepted the offered tablet. He sighed as he thumbed through the bullet points. “This is a lot to take in, and certainly not something I can authorize on my own.” He paused a bit, and rested his chin on a hoof.

“There is something that would go a long way to earning the appreciation of both the wider navy and the high queens. If you accept, I will ensure the governor transfers enough blips for you to outright buy a mass nullifier if for whatever reason, a high queen doesn’t give you one to bring back here.”

The thought of so much money boggiled Wiggly and Wire’s minds. “Name it!” Wiggly declared before even thinking to ask the others.

Giving a thin smile, Tempest placed both tablets on the table in front of him. As you know, the navy has sailors from all over the Initiative. Only fifteen of my crew are actually native to Lilian. Let me fill your empty bunks with those who have family waiting for them. You can drop them off at the first system with a working gateway.”

Live Wire propped himself up on the table. The prospect of dozens of sailors coming aboard was exactly what he wanted. “You’ve got my vote.”

“Exaltation,” Mote began while excitedly clapping her hands. “I would love the chance to mingle.”

“Just so long as they don’t poke and prod at me, I have no issue,” Morales added with the barest hint of a jest.

“If they're on my ship, they better be ready to work and follow orders,” Wiggly declared with a firm hoof on the table. “I prettied up the path between here and the docking port, but my ship is a mess. I need all the hooves I can get, and I’ve got no use for somepony in uniform who won’t take orders from a civvy.”

An amused snort escaped Tempest, and she earned some approving nods from the marines. However, that was far from the evasive refusal he had expected. “There’s not one soul on my ship that’s a layabout. The prospect of returning home will give them more than enough motivation. But- should that prove insufficient, I will authorize a field commission as a civilian auxiliary captain. The commission will last say… two months, with a proper transponder this time. One not transferable between vessels.”

Her ears going flat from embarrassment, Wiggly nodded hastily. Doing some quick math in her head, Wiggly thrust out a hoof to shake. “If they don’t mind some tight spaces or sleeping in the hallway, we could accommodate sixty.”

So many? Perhaps part of her is hoping well free her from the aliens’ influence. “Excellent. I’ll post a raffle among the crew.” He stood up and shook her hoof.

“What about those on leave at the shipyard?” Wiggly queried with a bit of a chewy grin. “The Akira can make it there in an hour, yeah?” She looked to Morales.

“The station orbiting the inhabited world? Less than an hour, undoubtedly.”

Wiggly shrugged her wings. “I’m sure those recovering there could use a chance as well.”

Rather than be grateful, a cloud fell over Tempest’s face. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like a complete report on the capabilities of this FTL drive you and the Waylan possess. If they do return, I need to know what I’ll be facing out there.”

Morales clasped his hands and dipped his head. “I’ll be glad to send you the details later, but I can give you the general points here and now. With a gravitor like myself, a ship can enter hyperspace anywhere they want. But exiting hyperspace is not so simple. Only stars and planets possess enough gravity to thin the veil to allow a ship to return to real space. Other than that, stable points around stars exist where the veil is thin enough already. Planets make entering hyperspace impossible without a gravitor.

“Thankfully, the Waylan don’t possess gravitors, so they can’t enter hyperspace except through those stable points. But they can enter real space through all the same ways the Akira can. If you want, I can add in all the scanning methods used to locate these points.”

The added techniques surprised Tempest, yet he quickly dismissed it. It’s probably a ploy, or he just assumes I’m as trusting as his current victims. “That’s very helpful, and yes, I would be very interested in that scanning tech.” Tempest thrust out a hoof to the hybrid. “You seem to be an honorable being, Medica. I trust the high queens will see that too. As for your de-cyberization idea. I can’t say how many will take your warning seriously. But for what it’s worth, I’ll present your case to the admirals and governor.”

Shaking his hoof, Morales heaved a sigh of relief. “You’re too kind, sir.”

As Tempest was guided back to the docking port, he sent a message to his marine command.

Later, aboard the Rainbow Dash, Howling Tempest mulled over everything he heard on the Akira. His quarters doubled as his office, and he was presently in the middle of typing up his report to the admirals.

‘It is my assessment that both Wiggly Sprocket and Live Wire have been compromised by these cathrex. Both admitted to undergoing medical treatment, and the aliens revealed a deep understanding of genetic manipulation. They obviously used that opportunity to alter their minds.

I’m worried how easy it was to talk them into accepting such a large boarding party given how there’s only four of them to resist a takeover.

While I am certain the battle they fought was not staged, this supposed weapon of mass death they talked about was clearly a ploy to frighten us into using their mind control tech disguised as a de-cyberization procedure. The plan was quite clever, and took advantage of the attack they weathered. The subject gets their implants removed, and their mind warped at the same time, paving the way for an easy invasion. I can at least rule out the pirates being involved. The Akira is definitely not a product of their design, and that Mote individual is beyond what anyone native to Equiss can produce. I recommend-’

A rapid knock on his door annoyingly interrupted him. “Enter!” The door hissed open, and his earth pony executive officer Molded Clay stepped in. He wore a troubled look that Tempest didn’t notice at first. “Ah good. Is the boarding party in place?”

“The first two groups are on the Akira and have finished assessing the crew, sir, it really is just the four of them plus eight automatons. They’re in the process of checking for automatic countermeasures. As requested, each of them are foreigners to Lilian.”

Tempest nodded in approval. “Good, good. Just make sure they don’t harm the two ponies. They’re the victims here.”

“I wish I was here for just a status report, sir, but we just received a burst transmission from the pirates.”

Confusion and nervous energy flooded the Captain. “What do they want? Some ransom demand that we hand over the Akira?”

“Don’t know, sir, but it was labeled for your eyes only.”

“My eyes?!” Tempest got up and approached him. “What in Tartarus are they playing at?”

“No idea, but I’ve already ordered for it to be scanned for malware. It’s clean.”

Tempest scoffed at the notion. “I’ll not be taking private messages from them. Put it on the bridge screen. If this is a ransom demand, we best hear it either way.”

“Aye sir.”

Clay stepped back, and Tempest followed him to the bridge. After claiming his captain’s chair, the order was given to play the message in front of the whole bridge crew.

A familiar face to Tempest appeared, and it got him to stand back up in anger and surprise; it was Thaddeus, his rival from the war. “Captain Howling Tempest, I had hoped to one day meet you again on the battlefield to reclaim my honor, but I fear that may never come to pass.”

Tempest saw the centauri was deeply troubled, and was traveling by car.

“I don’t know what the crew of that alien ship has told you, so I will act as if they have said nothing. The enemy it fought possessed a horrific weapon tied directly into its sensors. Our net riders compromised the local probe, and they used it to conduct detailed scans of the alien craft as it attempted to hijack the probe. Among their findings was the oddity of the sensor pulses it was putting out. Presuming the intruder might have sensors that could better pierce your countermeasures, they tested it.

“Turns out, it served a due purpose as a weapon, Captain, and it is unlike anything we’ve seen before.” Several pictures appeared around Thaddeus’ head. Each one revealed a corpse in various stages of decay, and the most unsettling aspect is that looks of terror and pain were immortalized on their rapidly rotting faces. “This is what happened to the net riders who were exposed to the sensor weapon, unaware of what they were dealing with. This weapon is dishonorable, vile, and it should not exist.”

Tempest couldn’t say it aloud, but the pictures depicting victims in the early stages matched the photos of Winter and Morales completely. The implications left him in a cold sweat.

“I tell you this now as insurance.” Thaddeus dismissed the pictures and had the camera zoom in on him. “The commodore plans to use this weapon to subjugate all of the Lilian system via your own sensor net, as well as control his rivals here. The delay is only thanks to our best net riders dying in the incident.” Thaddeus grunted in disgust. “Conquest should be done sword to sword, ship to ship. This - this just proves he is willing to throw away what scraps of honor we have left. I will try to stop the Commodore, but my allies can be counted on one hand with fingers to spare, and I do not expect to succeed. All I can promise is buying you some time. Since both alien vessels attacked on sight, it’s possible the one you now control has some form of countermeasure. I urge you to seek it out.” Thaddeus had the camera zoom back out so his torso was visible. He thumped his chest with a closed fist. “We may never see each other again, so let me salute the commander who bested me. You were a fine enemy, and defeating you like this would shame the ancestors. High Admiral Thaddeus out.”

The crew was at a loss as to how to take that. Tempest had kept his discussion with the Akira’s crew a secret to all but his executive officer and the marine commander. So he grit his teeth as a dilemma reared its head. Damn it, were the aliens actually telling the truth? The idea that Wiggly and her brother were not actually compromised hit him just as hard.

Molded Clay rested a tentative hoof on his shoulder. “Sir, if there’s even a chance he’s telling the truth about that weapon…”

“I know. That’s exactly something I’d expect from the Commodore. But for Thaddeus to warn us..?” Mine-Com did verify that a vessel was attacked five years ago. Tempest pulled back a bit, and held a hoof to his ear.

Aboard the Akira, a group of four marines were acting as if they were touring the ship. The officer stopped his approach to the command center when the call came in, and acted as if he was fascinated by the carbon scoring on the wall.

Then it’s not too late. Tempest started sweating at how close it was.

Tempest eyed the bridge crew. Most of them were quietly talking about the transmission. Only the communications officer was fully aware of his conversation, but she kept her gaze on her job.

A mix of disappointment and a touch of relief caused the marine to sigh, and wave at the others to return to the crew quarters.

With the disaster averted, Tempest chewed on his lip. Now he had time to think over Thaddeus’ warning and to better scrutinize the tablets he had been given. His mind’s eye returned to the genetic technology in particular. Thaddeus. You centuari have a weird sense of honor, but the Thaddeus I knew held firm to it. Tempest broke off his musings and addressed the bridge crew. “I’ll be in my quarters. Unless it’s urgent, I don’t want to be disturbed.” To think that mare would cause me so much headache.

Author's Note

Hope you all enjoyed it.

17: Farewell

Wiggly was taken up on her offer, and the Akira made an appearance at Felica Shipyard within the hour as promised. With a few good words and a glowing report from Howling Tempest to the governor, the news was spun to claim Morales and Mote were allies of the Initiative. A flood of volunteer dock workers arrived to assist with the repairs within the first day. The governor delayed it for a day by insisting on tightly vetting anyone who got even close to the Akira for fear of pirate reprisal.

Much to their surprise, Wiggly and Wire were given a hero’s welcome, what with not actually doing anything to help the colony yet. It did however make pledging to retrieve a mass nullifier a matter of personal honor. The cathrex were treated as curiosities and honored guests by both the governor and populous alike. Morales was all too eager to sample the offered food, both junk and fine alike. Mote was treated with a bit more curiosity than honor, as news of the Waylan was minimized to a scant few. All too eager to finally engage in diplomacy rather than fighting fires, the governor took every opportunity to be seen in public with them. The aliens were busy being treated to every luxury the colony had to offer for the two and a half weeks it took to return the Akira to fighting condition. This high treatment was not entirely out of the governor’s good graces nor the approaching election.

It was the beginning of the third week and the end of the Rainbow Dash’s patrol that found Captain Howling Tempest seated in front of Governor Signed Ballot and the two surviving members of the admiralty board.

Ballot was an aged earth mare. Surgery and rejuvenation treatments kept her wrinkle free, but she long since stopped hiding the gray on her once yellow face, and her mane had gone thin and gray with time as well. Her office was planetside, and was decorated in wood furnishing. Some of which had been crafted by her own hooves in her youth. “Captain, thank you for coming,” she began with a false friendly tone.

Tempest eyed the admirals with disquiet, and gave a curt nod. “Of course, ma’am.”

The smile on Ballot’s face slipped for just a moment. “Before we begin in earnest, I have the medical report on Lieutenant Winter Gale. She was one of yours if I recall, yes?”

“She was.” Gale kept his growing unease carefully under wraps. He had to consciously stop himself from glancing at the admirals. “I wasn’t told her mental baseline exam was finished yet.”

“Oh it was complete a couple of hours ago when you were on the shuttle down here.” Ballot tapped the tablet on her desk. The silent message of him not being informed was made quite clear. “You’ll be glad to know her mental state falls well within expected parameters.”

That meant only one thing to everyone involved: Winter’s medical treatment left her mind untouched by the cathrex. Sighing in relief, Tempest nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

This time, the thestral Rear Admiral Clarity on the left side of the room spoke up. “That includes the alteration giving her tail connectors. Even with the added gray matter, she is still fully herself. The only question is her recovery from being chrome free.”

Tempest’s bearing was cast to the wind and he went wide eyed. “You - I thought she was only having her body restored.”

“She was,” Clarity responded evenly. “While you were finishing up your patrol, a dreamweaver was able to speak to her unconscious self thanks to both of them being thestrals. Winter agreed to the altered treatment due to the requirement of pilots to be able to directly interface with their craft. She’d lose her pilot wings otherwise.”

Gazing about the room, the faces arrayed against him didn’t change. “I presume Winter Gale recovered well.”

“She’s a bit wobbly, but part of what this meeting is about is that her mind is her own.” Ballot shook her head at him. “The fact is, Captain, that your suspicions about our guests have proven unfounded.”

In an instant, Tempest was set on edge, and his voice became defensive. “Now wait a minute, I had no way of knowing that at the time. I knew the Akira had ship-based FTL. I did what I had to to save those ponies with the information I had.”

“You’re a product of our times, captain,” Ballot cut in, leaving Tempest in confused silence. When he couldn’t find a response, the governor shook her head and sighed. “We’ve been content to leave you in command of the Rainbow Dash because you bring hope to the public. You’re a war hero for Luna’s sake. Everypony in Trireme will attest to that. You’ve done a commendable job against the pirates. However…” She sighed deeply, and resisted the urge to rub her face. “Your immediate reaction to a pair of aliens was to treat them like pirates. In spite of what it may feel like out there in the field, we are not at war anymore, captain. We didn’t even hear about the aliens until after your face-to-face meeting!”

Grinding his teeth, Tempest was allowed time to recognize that fact. He nodded slowly, and settled down. “I acted within the purview of my standing orders.”

“Your standing orders say nothing about aliens,” Ballot stated firmly. “The instant you realized you were dealing with non-Equiss life, you should have contacted me immediately.” She grew frustrated, yet kept her temper from getting away from her. “The cathrex could be telling the truth about their civil war, or for all we know, the Akira could be a litmus test.”

Clarity looked down her nose at the fuming officer sitting in between them all. “Forget the Waylan, the cathrex tested you, and you almost failed us all.” The full admiral seated next to her waved a hoof in front of Clarity to quiet her.

Fuming, Clarity leaned back, giving way Admiral Trident Thrust to speak. “Which is why this is an inquiry, and not a court martial. In spite of your indiscretion.”

Tempest was sorely tempted to request a jag officer, but held back for now. He had been on the other side of these inquiries before, and he felt it never looked good in his eyes when a jag was requested before charges were leveled. “I made a hasty judgment call, I’ll admit, but no harm came of it.”

Ballot tapped an impatient hoof on her desk, unhappy with his deflection. “If this had been your only moment of indiscretion, I could overlook it. But it is not.” She lifted the tablet up to her eyes. “There have been no less than ten instances of you ‘hijacking’ parts and equipment earmarked for other ships over the last five years. The worst one recently was you buying off the alicorn’s share of the salvage from the Cloud Jumper.”

“The Rainbow Dash is a fighting ship, not a glorified weapons platform like the others. I did what I had to.”

“We have a process for a reason, Captain,” Clarity reprimanded. “There have also been twenty seven instances of you prolonging or cutting short the service time of your crew members. Is it one thing to pass along transfer requests, but you have a habit of acting as if the requests will be automatically accepted, and moving those personnel on your own .”

“There’s only been one time one of my transfers was denied, and I didn’t argue it back then.”

Clarity had had enough, and stood up in a flash. “And that attitude is why we’re here! We’ve been too permissive of you thus far because you get results and are a war hero. But this was the final straw.” A sharp look from Trident again, cowed Clarity enough to sit back down with a scowl.

Trident waited a moment before speaking with more composure than Clarity was capable of at the moment. “Captain. As of this moment, you are relieved of command. Publicly you are to be commended for your long service. You will be traveling with the Akira to introduce the cathrex to whichever high queen you find first.”

“If the Waylan threat is as real as the aliens claim it is, you need me!” Tempest stated with restrained anger.

Annoyed that he was making this difficult, even if it was partially expected, Trident Thrust leaned forward and put enough steel in his voice to silence any argument. “No. We do not. Molded Clay will take command in your stead. Meeting a high queen is an honor, Captain,” he reminded Tempest with curt words. “We will of course compose a letter of commendation recommending you for the Navy Cross. Provided the high queen doesn’t offer you a different assignment, you are to be transferred to your birthworld of Tarsonia. There you will be recommended for a position at the naval academy.”

Recalling his birthworld, Tempest knew full well it was a stronghold of the Initiative. If anywhere had escaped heavy damage from the war, it was there. A professorship… The idea was bitter, he had no desire to teach. Yet what felt worse was that a part of him felt relieved. He was finally done with the Lilian system. “Is my recommendation to have my crew both current and former given preferential placement on the Akira?”

“Those whose homes lie outside of Lilian, yes.” Ballot tapped her tablet a few times before swiping a file his way. “This is the manifest of names.”

Seeing the file pop up on his vision, Tempest searched for a few names in particular. Ones who served him with distinction. Enough appeared that he was satisfied. “And the honored dead?”

“Already in the Akira’s cargo hold,” Clarity replied swiftly. “From what I heard, once the passengers learned about it, nearly all of them refused to take more than a go-bag so more cargo space could be reserved for coffins.”

A thin smile played over Ballot’s face. “I personally bought all of Captain Sprocket’s spare cargo so more could be sent home.”

There was little Tempest could say against that. Even less that he wanted to. There was only one thing he needed to know. “If I am to meet with a high queen, are we also returning High Admiral Gleaming Light?” Even now, he wasn’t too keen on risking such an important hero on the alien ship, Wiggly being the captain or not.

Clarity nodded with a solemn face. “Wiggly Sprocket insisted on it. Not that we could realistically refuse to allow Flurry Heart the right to send him off. Any delay would be rightly seen as an insult.”

“There is one more thing,” Ballot announced right before the grim business could derail them further. “Your sole purpose is not just to be a glorified herald of the honored dead. I am composing a second letter for the queens. It is in my judgment that moving forward, all captains are required to have first contact and diplomatic training.” That earned a curious eyebrow from him. “You perceived the cathrex through the lens of pirate hunter and wartime commander. What you needed to be was a diplomat. For as much as I wish you had contacted me that day, you were the one physically there.”

“So not only am I to be sidelined, I become the subject of a training seminar.” Tempest grumbled darkly. “How kind of you.”

Smirking, Clarity threw on a mocking expression. “It wouldn’t be the first training regiment with your name lashed to it.” Her smirk widened a bit at the hot glare he received from Tempest. “Come now, Captain, I’m sure a stallion of your talents will find fulfillment at the academy.”

Standing up, Tempest fell back on his training and saluted after bottling up his indignation. “I will do as ordered, sirs.”

Ballot presented him with a tablet, and as soon as he claimed it she looked to the admirals. “If that is all…” None of the admirals made a move. “Then you’re dismissed.”

Tempest moved to leave, but stopped just short of turning around. “If I may ask one thing?”

The admirals shared a mildly annoyed look, but settled back into their seats. “What is it?”

“Since I’m being forced to wash my hooves of Lilian, might I know what you’re doing about the Commodore?”

Ballot and the admirals shared a look to which she nodded. That left Trident to speak. “We’re moving forward with creating a cadre of sailors to be de-cyberized. Enough to fully crew the Rainbow Dash and several police cutters.”

Clarity continued the thought. “In case you haven’t heard, the pirates already made a move. The police skiff PT-12 intercepted a probe four days ago.”

PT-12
Trireme outer defensive line

The five pony crew of PT-12 was distracted. Aside from the skipper and pilot, who were busy adjusting their heading, the three boarding officers were gossiping about the Akira.

The senior boarder was a weathered earth mare, aged by the job and borderline substance abuse. “I’m telling you, Sugar, I don’t care if he’s half pony, that Morales guy doesn’t want any of us.”

The younger unicorn mare snorted and flipped her nose at the senior. “Just because he wouldn’t want your crusty tail, Cinnamon, doesn’t mean he’s off the table for the rest of us.”

The last mare, a crystal druid by the name of Sapphire Shine, was exasperated, and rubbed her face. “By Cadence’s love, will you two shut up about the aliens?! It was bad enough listening to the skipper and Longshank over there debating if they could run Dune on the robot. I don’t want to spend another three hours listening to you two as well.”

“If you knew the historical importance of Dune, you wouldn’t say that,” called a voice from up front. PT-12 only had three rooms, the control center, bunks and engine compartment, and the armory that doubled as a boarding hatch.

Sugar Straw leaned over her chair to give Longshank a vulgar gesture. “Why don’t you take your Dune and try running it on the dispatch computer. I bet it’ll go just about as well for you.”

“Cut the chatter, ladies.” The skipper’s voice silenced everyone in a flash, and he used a second to roll the cigarette to the other side of his mouth. “Just picked up an object on an intercept course with Trireme. Looks like a probe coming in from the outer planets. Long, move us over so we can shoot it down.”

“Aye sir.”

The three boarders got jumpy, causing Sugar to loudly whisper to the others. “Hey, did either of you hear about that new weapon the pirates got?”

Lighting up a cigarette of her own, Cinnamon took a long, lazy drag. “No, and I don’t care either.”

“I did,” Sapphire replied with sudden nervousness. “Some sensor weapon that kills everyone.”

“Don’t be a leadhead,” Cinnamon chided. “A weapon like that is like giving everyone a planet cracker. As soon as you use it, everyone’s dead. It doesn’t exist.”

“Moving into close sensor range,” Longshank announced. “I’ll have weapon’s lock shortly.”

Sapphire wishes she was back on the colony where she could hear the voices of nature. Space was so utterly quiet. Stations had whispering voices if they got large enough, and ships never had one. So to help ease her sudden bout of nerves, she got up and poked her head into the control center. It was cramped with a narrow footpath to the helm and skipper’s seat. What ships lacked in a spiritual voice, they made up for in the hum of the engine and whine of computers.

The skipper looked over to her, and was about to order her to get back when pain lanced through him. It felt like hot fire just ignited behind his eyes, neck, back legs, and fore hooves. A wordless cry of pain erupted from him which made Sapphire jump, thinking he was angry at her.

Her fear of a reprimand ballooned into terror as the skipper’s howl of pain was joined by Longshanks, and then the others behind her. “What? What’s going on?!”

She moved to the captain to help in some way, but she had been a shaper not a healer, and Sapphire was out of practice. Her training kicked in, and she scrambled for the first aid kit behind the skipper. Yanking it open, she grabbed the medical scanner, and followed the simplistic instructions on the back. She pointed it at the skipper who was convulsing and foaming at the mouth.

As her hooves shook from the loud screaming morphing into gurgling throes of pain, she tried to read the small screen to see what meds she could give to help.

‘Massive central nervous system damage. No treatment possible.’

Sapphire couldn’t believe it. Her lip quivered in horror and she turned the scanner on herself.

‘Elevated heart rate and overproduction of stress hormones. Slow your breathing and taking no more than one clonazepam is recommended.’

She didn’t read the rest. Sapphire fumbled for the painkillers in the kit and tried jabbing one syringe into the skipper. If it had any effect, she couldn’t tell, was still convulsing, but it had gone down to occasional spasms. On the verge of a full blown panic attack, she looked over at Longshanks and he had partially unbuckled himself before falling limp. Her friends were floating in the armory.

Sapphire was alone, surrounded by death. She froze in terror until the smell of burnt metal and meat made her puke.

As her stomach heaved, and she was paralyzed by the act, a loud three-note klaxon from her helmet stunned Sapphire. The alarm gave her something to focus on, and pay attention to the voice coming in as she tried to spit what was left in her mouth.

“This is dispatch. PT-12. Your crew just flatlined. What happened?

“I-I don’t know!” Sapphire latched onto this voice like a lifeline. “Dispatch, I - I don’t know. We were fine, then everypony just started ssscreaming, and shaking, and oh Cadence.”

“Stay with me, PT-12. Are you under attack?”

“Nnno. The skipper was about to fire on a probe, an-and then everyone started dying!”

There was a brief pause from the dispatcher before he continued in a calming tone. “What is your name, officer?”

“S-Sapphire Shine. Is this what that rumor was about?!”

“Stay focused, Sapphire Shine. Focus on me. Okay?”

Nodding more for herself than the other pony, Sapphire was utterly repulsed by the stench in the control room. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Alright. Now, I need you to switch your vessel to remote control. Can you access the command console?”

She looked over, and saw that the skipper had slumped over the console, and she very nearly threw up a second time. “Y-yeah, give me a minute.”

Trying to focus on the task, and not the corpse, Sapphire managed to unbuckle the skipper and cringed as she was forced to push him into the cloud of vomit. “Sorry.”

Following Dispatch’s instructions, she set PT-12 to remote control. As soon as it happened, the console’s lights went white.

“Good work, Sapphire Shine. Now, let’s take care of that probe.”

The probe had actually flown past the skiff by now, but the coil slug was faster. The probe was blasted into pieces, and the skiff was on its way back to Trireme before the wreckage had a chance to cool.

Once Trident had finished giving the synopsis of the attack, Tempest got angry. “Was the Commodore actually trying to kill everypony on that station?”

“We don’t know,” Ballot replied with a chill in her voice. “He never tried to officially contact us. Best guess, he was waiting for the probe to get into position before sending an ultimatum.”

“What it told us was that the fuhai is very real,” Admiral Clarity weighed in. “I suspect the probe was a trial run. Either that or to ransom Trireme. Given the timing and speed, that probe couldn’t have been launched any later than two days after the Akira’s struggle with the Waylan. It was also alone, as there hasn’t been another one since then.”

“We believe the probe was scanning the skiff, and realized there was a survivor.” Trident thumped the floor with suppressed anxiety. “My guess is that the existence of a survivor gave the pirates enough of a pause for us to play catch up.”

Closing his eyes and thinking it over for a long moment, Tempest came up with an idea. “If I may do one thing before I leave. I would like to return a favor, but - I need your approval.”

Caught with surprise intrigue, Ballot leaned forward, her eyes alert. “This is a first. I’m all ears.”

Trying to crystallize the plan a bit more, Tempest mulled over it a bit longer. Then he laid it out before them.

Trident scowled, deep in thought. “Do you honestly think that will work?”

“I think it has merit,” Clarity replied with a bemused look. “He has my vote.”

Ballot clapped her hooves. “Then it is decided. Make it happen.”

Wiggly Sprocket bounced on her hooves as she excitedly left her cabin. As she walked down the hallways of the Akira her heart sang. The hull was repaired, the coolant system was fixed, the weapons and shields were pristine, and there was not a speck of carbon scoring left on the immaculate blue and white walls. Freshly painted emblems of the Initiative had been painted in tactful locations. Yet more than that, as she toured her ship, the comings and goings of her temporary crew and departing dock workers mixed with the omnipresent sigh of the reactor and idling engines gave her a sense of responsibility she never felt before. And she liked it.

Yet today was not to be filled with repair oversight and parties where ponies flooded them with messages and trinkets to send home to loved ones. Today was the day they left, but not before a special passenger arrived.

With Wire and the cathrex making final preparations on the bridge, Sprocket found Winter Gale sharing passing farewells to the dock workers departing the final shuttle as the shipyard didn’t want to risk letting the frigate docking directly, making it harder for a pirate spy to attempt sabotage.

Wiggly moved up to Winter’s side, and the sailor turned away from the gangway. Even two days after she awakened, Winter looked a bit better than before. She was whole and healthy, but her movements were uncoordinated. Standing still was fine, but walking was troublesome, and she winced at loud sounds that didn’t bother others. “Wiggs, glad you made it.”

Flashing a friendly smile, Wiggly patted Winter’s back with a wing. “It’s only right that I welcome such a distinguished guest. Besides, I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

One of the last dock workers raced by as the clock neared the hour, and only gave a passing wave. The mares returned it before Winter eyed the gangplank, waiting anxiously for boarding to begin. “Shaky. Morales said the damage didn’t reach my memory, so I’m still me. But my sense of balance isn’t going to come back right away. I’m going to be doing neurotherapy with him for a few weeks. I can still fly the ship though.”

Wiggly wasn’t sure if that was a wishful boast or not. The pilot hadn’t touched the controls yet beyond the simulator and her brother only gave non-committal updates. Even so, Wiggly couldn’t bring herself to be the one to take Winter away from the helm. “Glad to hear it. If you ever need any help, I’m right here for you.”

A new set of hooves from the gangway making Winter jerk her head that way. With the five other passengers giving him a respectful berth, Tempest’s arrival made Winter snap to attention and salute. The act nearly had her fall over, but Wiggly stabilized her with a wing across Winter’s back.

Wiggly saw him first salute the Initive’s flag then her. She returned the gesture she had practiced after Winter insisted after learning of the auxiliary commission. “Welcome aboard, Captain.”

“And the same to you.” He repeated the gesture at Winter so she could stand with a bit more stability. “And how are you holding up, Lieutenant?”

For a moment, Winter considered giving a white lie, but after being rescued, she couldn’t make it convincing. “It’s been a rough couple of days. I’ve been chromed since I was twelve. Being all meat again and then some is going to take a lot of getting used to.”

“I can only imagine.” Tempest pulled his two suitcases forward, an act made easier since the gravity had been slackened for the passengers. “But I’m sure you’ll be back in the cockpit before the year is out. You survived too much to give that up, no?”

Feeling her personal pride flaring, Winter stiffed her stance and voice. “Yes sir! Live Wire’s been a big help.”

An evil glint appeared in Wiggly’s eye. “Oh yeah. A loud one too.” Winter went completely red-faced as Wiggly continued with a sharp smirk. “Even with these thick walls I had to make a noise canceler to get any sleep.”

“That is a lie!” Winter hissed as she rounded on the mare. “I do not-” Winter hastily covered her mouth with a hoof to keep from making things worse.

Tempest gave a loud belly laugh which only embarrassed Winter further. “It is not my ship, Lieutenant. Personal relationships are much laxer on axillary vessels after all. Now, I don't wish to delay the launch. Just point me to my accommodations and I’ll settle in.”

“I wouldn’t unpack too much,” Wiggly announced with barely contained excitement at seeing the wider Initiative. “Morales claims it should only take two days to get to the Zelpher system from here.” Winter was giving the pegacorn a death glare, one which Sprocket ignored at her own peril. “I’ll get a mechan to escort you to your cabin. It belonged to the original security chief, and it’ll give you a rundown on hyperspace travel.”

On cue, one such robot passed an intersection, only to turn back around and approach them. Tempest found it strange that its movements were so life-like, but tried to ignore it. “Much obliged.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Winter growled loudly enough to catch Wiggly’s sheepish attention. “Why would you say that in front of my old CO!”

“I don’t know, he seemed to approve of it.” Wiggly started to inch away, fully expecting Winter to make good on that promise real soon.

Instead of rising to the bait, Winter was acutely aware of her temporary disability, and had to bear it for now. She huffed smugly and sauntered past the skittish mechanic by gliding a wing along the wall for support. “I’re going to pay for that. But not now. Retribution is to be savored like a fine wine, not your version of instant noodles.”

Not too long after Tempest settled in, Wiggly and the others manned their stations in the CIC. Winter was getting slightly dizzy from the new HUD her biology allowed. The readouts and status updates were fuzzy almost to the point of uselessness. The fact that I even got the correct ones is a small miracle.

Wiggly Sprocket craned her head around to look at Morales. “All systems green on my end. You want to do the honors of a countdown for the crew?”

Winter was facing away from them, and wore a deeply sour face at her stubborn hud. She gave up for now and opted to have the helm console give her the needed information.

Briefly forgetting the pilot’s troubles, Morales bowed as much as he could in the tank. “With pleasure.” As kind as the locals have been, I’m glad to finally complete the mission. He tapped into the PA system. “Attention all hands. We will be conducting hyperspace transition for the next ten minutes. All non-essential activity is to be halted until then. It is recommended to be seated or laying down for the last thirty seconds. That is all.”

The crew eagerly waited for those excited ticks of the clock, all with eyes glued to the external cameras. Howling Tempest however had eyes only for the distant moon on the edge of the system. His last act for Lilian done, he let off a sigh that shuddered him to the bone. It was over. Two decades, give or take a year, and he had given up seeing home again. Yet here he was, about to do just that.

“Maybe they were right to relieve me,” he said to the shot glass of cognac he poured for himself. It floated there in front of him as he idly inspected it. He had saved this particular bottle for when the war ended. But in his heart both then and now, the war never ended. The pirates had seen to that. But now..? His war was over.

“To those fallen, may their new lives be free of war.” He toasted the air before downing the shot. For a long moment, he stared first into the glass, then back towards the distant moon. He never liked Thaddeus. Or any centauri for that matter. Incompatible cultures he heard often cited. What he could do was respect the admiral’s adherence to honor, as the centauri defined it. The same could not be said of the Commodore or his ilk.

With initial reluctance, Tempest poured a second shot, and this time directed at the pirate moon. “May your death be worthy of song.”

On that very moon, Thaddeus and Felin were sitting in what used to be an officer’s lounge. It was located close to the edge of the dockyards, and was one of the few places he had neutralized enough spying devices that he could think aloud.

He sat in a booth surrounded by debauchery of the flesh and chemical bliss. The privacy screen helped with the noise, and gave him a reason to be left undisturbed.

To keep up appearances, the table was littered with empty cups and it stank of smoked psychedelics. Both of them were still clothed though, and were linking together via a mobile lobby box. It was a small unsuspecting device that allowed perfect privacy.

Both of them kept one eye on the privacy curtain, and one eye in the war room inside the lobby. It was a recreation of his old flagship’s war room, festooned with holographic charts and maps. Today, it was dominated by two grand problems: the Commodore and his weapon.

Felin was watching five screens, each of them depicting various tests of the weapon. Age, species, type of cyberization, sex, different shielding efforts, armor, barriers, genetics, chemical stimulants, everything they could think of was being tested. Yet not one person survived the weapon until the absolute destitute were grabbed off the street. Those who were too poor or too worthless to be fitted with any sort of implant were the only ones to withstand the weapon none the worse for wear. That left a big important question: how to make cyborgs resistant.

No use deploying a weapon the ponies could simply board and send it back our way. That reason alone was almost enough for Thaddeus to convince the Commodore to give up the weapon entirely. However, many of Thaddeus’ more unscrupulous rivals argued successfully against it. The potential easy profits were simply too great.

“Damn it all,” she closed the videos as they too ended the same way. “I trained to puzzle out strategy and logistics, not draw up a kidnapping plot on a pony that probably won’t do us any good to begin with.”

Thaddeus read the officer’s file, stolen by spies. “It is standard practice for the Initiative to give sailors and police indemnification implants. So something made her immune.” He grumbled at the indignity of it all. “At first I thought the aliens gave the ponies a cure. But if that was true, why wasn’t the whole crew inoculated?”

“Maybe there is no cure,” Felin stated grimly while starting up a new batch of videos, hoping to catch something the scientists missed. A delayed death, a weaker response to the weapon, different symptoms, anything to justify the tests. “Maybe it is just a genetic fluke that that officer is immune.”

Thaddeus was not so sure. He rubbed his chin, trying to suss out the truth. If he could do that, he could act on it. “The officer’s a druid. Perhaps the natural spirits of the galaxy protected her. Maybe that is how those three ponies on the alien ship survived. The aliens bound them to natural spirits.”

That caused Felin to pause the latest videos. “I’d like to know what a druid is doing on a patrol ship and not something planetside. The ponies are many things, but I can’t see them willing to sacrifice a crew just to test one crew member on a patrol with no knowledge of how the Commodore would deploy the weapon.”

“The ponies should be fully aware of how it is wielded. I’m sure they can make an educated guess. But no, I can’t seem them doing that either.” Going back to the file, Thaddeus tilted his head back and forth as ideas rolled around. “She had a falling out with the local order. No other details though.” Thaddeus was inwardly glad he had advised against multiple probes. The failure against the patrol ship won him the good graces of the Commodore, and thus a level of trust. What he was not proud of, was the testing that had been done on the moon’s inhabitants to see what level of cyberization might be safe.

So Thaddeus was stuck. He gave a low growl as dark clouds covered his mind. “We have to kill him, and end this madness.”

Felin’s face was a mask of relieved annoyance. “So it has finally been said aloud. I’ve been waiting years for you to come to your senses.”

“What was I to do?” Thaddeus chided her. “I was shamed by defeat, and the Commodore was zenith in his power.”

“As far as the Ruby Navy’s concerned, you’re the superior officer on this moon. Shame or not.”

“That’s only because he killed everyone else,” Thaddeus growled. “To think the drink saved me.” In a flash of anger, he swatted a glass of brandy away. It sailed straight through the privacy screen with a cry of surprise pain and shattering glass.

A drunken diamond dog barged in, heedless of the privacy screen, and sporting a bloody cut over his left eye. “Hey, which one of you bastards threw that!” He only grew more belligerent when neither the centauri nor drake gave him anything more than a dispassionate look.

Thaddeus tossed a credit chit over at him. “There. Get patched up and a new bottle.”

The prospect of free booze gave the diamond dog pause, yet before he could snatch it up, his hand lit up in a yellow glow before he was violently jerked out of the screen.

Yelling and the muffled sound of batons cracking on bone greeted Thaddeus’ ears. A moment later, a dispassionate unicorn poked his head through. “Our deepest apologies for the interruption, sirs. The lounge values your patronage too highly to allow such behavior.”

Caught between simply wanting to cast the pony from his sight and wanting to keep up the act like he was intoxicated, Thaddeus opted to put on a disgruntled air. “Sure, sure. Just smack him good for me, then leave us be.” Ponies were very rare among the empire, let alone the pirate rabble that was left, which left Thaddeus a touch paranoid.

“As you wish.” His horn lit up, and a credit chit was gently placed close to Thaddeus’ drink. “Here, the captain wishes to compensate you for the gift.”

Before Thaddeus could even ask, the unicorn pulled away. Both he and Felin shared a bewildered look. “What gift?” Felin slid over to poke out of the privacy curtain, but the crowd just beyond was wild with dance and thick enough with bodies to be a mosh pit. The air of classy prestige had been replaced by loud music, smoke, and wild lights. If the unicorn was still there, she had no hope of spotting him.

She slid back inside the booth, and shook her head. In her brief absence, Thaddeus had grabbed the chit and looked it over. “Interesting.” He presented the long side to her. Easily missable in the yellow plastic of the chit was a golden wing with four chevrons below it.

The insignia gave Felin pause, and she spoke through the lobby connection. “That’s an IN captain sigil.”

“Precisely.” Inspecting it closely, Thaddeus saw a crease on the chit and tugged on the money reader. It easily popped off to reveal one suitable for universal connection. “Perhaps our old friend has something useful.”

“Could be a trap,” Felin warned.

Thaddeus did not heed her, and found a suitable port in the lobby box and slotted the chit in. Sure enough, Howling Tempest’s stoic face appeared. It held Thaddeus’ full attention. Not even Felin could pull his eyes off him. “Admiral Thaddeus. You did me a great service, so I hope I can return the favor. As you and yours might have already surmised, the sensor weapon which the aliens call fuhai or The Rot, is lethal to cyborgs.

“That is, however with a singular exception.” Tempest’s stoic mask slipped a bit to one of empathic exasperation. “Not a very useful one, but it could help. Fuhai directly targets the machine nerve interface. From there it rapidly attacks the nervous system and the implants themselves. I probably do not need to tell you how horrific the damage is. The exception I mentioned are the idents we use. They’re little more than coated ifr chips. Even then, survival is a matter of luck if the chip’s coating was done correctly and if it was implanted near a nerve cell or not.”

Tempest’s face darkened, his level tone took on a hard edge. “The aliens lost ninety nine percent of their population first to the fuhai and then to the anarchy that followed. The fuhai does not discriminate between species. I know centauri honor detests such a weapon. I trust you will do what you must.” He bowed his head. “May your ancestors welcome you to Selnata, and your descendants sing of you.”

With that, Tempest’s face vanished and the credit chit sizzled and sparked as it destroyed itself.

Thaddeus pulled the smoldering chit out and held it tightly. “Now that is interesting.” A calculating smirk crossed his scarred face. “There’s no record of any autopsies being ordered by the Commodore, nor anyone taking the initiative to do so. We can use this!”

“How though?” Felin queried, feeling little better about their situation. “The method of the fuhai may be revealed, but we already surmised removing your chrome was the only way to survive.”

“True, true,” Thaddeus began as if he had no plan bubbling in his mind. He waggled the chit a bit before he crushed it in his hand. “But what if we fool our dear leader into thinking you didn’t have to?”

Author's Note

Does peace rain in the larger initiative, or does war still grip the sector? Who knows, maybe the Waylan has ravaged the inner core all without them, knowing. Or maybe everyone decided to stop all wars and settle disputes with hopscotch.

18: Victoria

Hyperspace was far from a quiet void like the depths of space, but more akin to a vast ocean of eddies and currents. Windows revealed stars and the local gas giants that dotted the deep ocean blue, yet felt much closer together.

To the Akira, they cruised at a speed comparable to the Rainbow Dash’s travel drive. However, with hyperspace travel, the Akira could go nearly seven lightyears per day. That placed the closest Initiative system C’Zar at nearly four days away. With the scopes revealing no sign of any further Waylan presence, the crew settled in for a long journey. However, it was barely a few hours in that the frigate came upon a curious, if foreboding sight. What appeared to be a massive vortex laid ahead of them. Live Wire studied his sensor panel intently, yet unsure of what his screen was telling him. “Hey, Mores, any idea what that is?”

“Send it my way.”

As Wire fumbled to do just that without a connector, he eventually managed to accidentally put it on the main viewer. Hyperspace around them had a narrow corridor of calm space. In almost every angle to the galactic west were dense nebula, threatening the vessel. Running along the corridor and the storms was a vortex funneling in the direction they were going.

Mote became excited at the sight of it. “Exaltation. Cerithus bless us, it’s a halthu! Permission to launch a probe.”

“Ah - sure. What is a halthu?” Wiggly inquired as Winter carefully avoided it.

Morales tapped into the probe’s telemetry before the thing could enter the anomaly. “A halthu is a reversal of the storms around us. The storms are areas of dense hyperspace, whereas the current before us is a section of low density. Pressure from the surrounding storm will flow into it and cause it to form a semi-stable pipeline of sorts for weeks at a time. We call it a halthu because it flows in the direction we want to go.”

“Explanation. The current could more than double our speed. For sluggish freighters, it can accelerate them to even greater speeds. The only slight issue is overshooting our destination should we decide to ride it.”

“Ride it? It’s safe enough to do that?” Winter was instantly intrigued. The pilot recalled surfing in her youth, and the mental image of those tall ocean waves dominated her mind.

“Does it really matter if we use it though?” Wire put out there, snapping Winter out of her daydreams. “So long as we can access a functional portal station, we could be at the homeworld in a day or so.”

Catching wind of Winter’s sudden, yet thus far restrained sulking, Wiggly leaned over his way. “That’s assuming we can cut in line. You know those portals can only receive from one other portal at a time, right? And that’s assuming the scheduling works in our favor.”

Winter saw her opening and bottled up her frustration to give a mask of level headedness. “So what’s it going to be, ride the wave or sit in line for who knows how long?”

Seeing he was outnumbered, Wire looked to his only lifeline: Mote. “Well I guess that depends on if this halthu even stays on course. By the looks of it, it’s going further into Initiative space, but it’ll take us away from C’Zar.”

“Explanation. That is what the probe is for. It travels ahead of us to let us know of any sudden or subtle changes in direction.”

Gazing around the room, Wire saw Winter’s version of ‘don’t take this from me’ glare, and the cathrex looked like children waiting in line at a rollercoaster. He didn’t even need to see Wiggly to know her vote. “Alright, alright, I give up.”

YES! Winter took a moment to compose herself. “This halthu sounds like a riptide to me. So how do I safely enter it?”

“Have you ever been on a planet’s ocean that had waves?” Morales queried with a massive grin at the coming fun.

An equally muzzle splitting grin cleaved Winter’s face. “Say no more.” Winter wiggled to firmly settle into her seat.

Sprocket keyed up the intercom. “All hooves, this is the captain speaking. We might be hitting some turbulence. Please remain seated and secure any loose items immediately.”

Winter went parallel to the riptide, testing the waters. She could already feel the riptide trying to suck the Akira into itself. “So how do we get back out? Anything special?”

Morales pressed his hands and hooves against the tank to secure himself. “By turning us as perpendicular as the hull can survive. The hardest part is exiting the threshold. This old bird will need to redline the engines to get back out, but the old girl can handle it just fine.”

“I’m getting reports across the ship,” Wiggly announced. “The crew’s ready.”

“Here we go!” Winter angled the Akira into it, and the ship rocked as if a great hand had grabbed it and started pushing it through water.

Rattling in her seat, Mote watched as they flew past the storms at far greater speeds. The empty coffee cups around Wire’s station fell off, and both he and Sprocket were holding onto their seats, both filled with dangerous thrill. Winter felt alive riding the waves of her youth.

“Statement. Get to the center, the halthu it is calmest there.”

Reluctantly doing so, Winter guided the frigate down further. True enough, once the Akira found its way close to the center, the shaking subsided to a mild rumble.

After everyone on the bridge recovered from being rattled around, they took stock of the situation. Wire kept a close eye on the probe and the stars around them. “Well we’ll officially be inside Initiative territory again by midnight. How long do we want to keep riding this?”

“Technically speaking, we never left Initiative territory,” Sprocket reminded him with a playful eyebrow wiggle.

Mote went about setting things up for that very question. “Explanation. We can not expect a straight path. Currents flow much like rivers, bending and weaving. Unlike planetary rivers though, there is no real predicting the ultimate path unless we map the entirety of the storms.” She looked back over the others. “Mockery. Something you ponies are layabouts in doing I presume.”

“Pah,” Wiggly scoffed at the feeble joke. “Who needs weather reports when we have the best pilot this side of the galactic core?”

Winter had to exert supreme effort to avoid returning to the edges of the riptide to get the rumbling to return. “I’m hardly the best, but I won’t refuse a compliment.”

“Perhaps when our peoples open proper channels, we can conduct races and mock battles,” Morales interjected with firm intent. “But for now, we need to keep an eye on the star charts. But if say… we wanted to go to your homeworld of Equiss we would need to remain in the halthu for over four days, give or take a few hours. Assuming an intercept course, naturally.”

“There are plenty of pony controlled systems long before we get that far,” Winter said while gently moving the Akira about to find the smoothest spot. Turbulence is best felt in a fighter anyway, less people to complain about it.

“Statement. For now though, you can swap the autopilot to halthu condition. It will keep us in the center well enough.”

Felin stalked the dark, chem stained streets on the south side of the moon. The local district housed a number of seedy places, and the building she entered fit right in with the rest.

Through a short grungy hallway and a rusting door, she stepped inside an ad hoc chemical lab. Three chemists slaved over their equipment with careful haste. Cots and empty food containers were pushed off to one corner, and the room stank of unwashed bodies and bleach.

The lead chemist was a hippogriff, and jumped at hearing the door creak open. She eased up a bit upon seeing the black drake. “Oh, Felin. For a moment there I thought someone had found us.”

“You’re the one who called me, Beckett.” Felin remained by the door for a moment longer, watching the abandoned hallways, then shut it. “You have an update?”

“We do.” Beckett waved her over to a table with a small refrigerator sitting on it. The chemist led her on, and opened it to reveal three vials and a single loaded syringe. She grabbed the syringe to present it to the drake. A thick green substance sloshed within. “PX7, a weaker version of street Shocker. It will target any machine neural interface in seconds. Based on an average centauri, it will put those tissues in stasis for about a half an hour per dose, and give you a mild high as promised. Not that you should take repeated dosages,” Beckett warned while hasty wagging a claw. “Any more than two in a twenty four hour period could prove fatal.”

Felin carefully grabbed the syringe. The needle had a plastic protector over it, but Felin wasn’t going to take chances. “This will completely stop the sensor weapon from killing you?”

A sickened pall fell over the bird as he recalled the test subjects Fein had provided. “Certainly not. Even just one second of exposure will kill you, PX7 only buys you time. Not that it would be worth living.” Beckett hemmed and hawed for a few moments looking for the right words. “The high is just to keep the user from having a panic attack. Freezing the MNI means anything between losing any outside connections to uncontrolled movement based on how chromed up you are.”

“Then that is enough for my needs.” Felin produced a credit chit and placed it on the table. “Your payment.”

Beckett swiped the chit and plugged it into a pad. When it all showed green, she hesitated. “I know it is not my place to ask, but-”

“The less you know, the better,” Felin interjected sharply. “Know that if your product works as intended the payment you received tonight will pale before future rewards.”

Beckett clamped her beak shut, and reluctantly nodded. She raced over to grab a cooler before placing the other samples of PX7 inside it before returning it all to Felin. “There. Shall we continue to make more?”

“Of course,” Felin lied smoothly. “If you remain here and out of sight, I will personally ensure your future accommodations are worthy of your talents.” That much at least was the truth.

The Akira was three days in on its journey through the riptide. The crew had more or less gotten used to the constant rumble as it wasn’t all that different to the ambient noise every ship’s engines and reactors created. When not busy with other duties, most of the ponies were too enthralled by the novelty of hyperspace travel to do much more than watch the storms surrounding them. Stars and their surrounding planets created oases of light. It was on that third day close to lunchtime when Wiggly and the others were alerted by the probe ahead of them.

Returning to their stations, Wiggly was the first to see the reason. “Oh boy, the riptide’s jinking off to the south. “The Ruby Empire controls most of civilized space in that direction. We need to leave.”

Winter studied the map and found the stars were between them and the bend in the riptide. She mourned the loss of her chrome, as it had the complete star map of all claimed star systems. Now, she had to go about it from memory. “If I had to-m choose… ah ha! We need to go to the second one! Winter blurted out. Everyone followed her hoof to the yellow star with five planets. “That’s my home system.” She looked to Wiggly with an excited grin. “The second planet. I’d recognize Victoria anywhere!”

Needing no further prompting, Wiggly discarded the map and the other celestial bodies so she could zoom in on Victoria. It was a tidally locked world with a ring of craggy canyons. Solar shades on one end and mirrors on the other allowed the planet to be habitable all over. Then she brought up the encyclopedia entry on the planet. Sure enough there was a perfect match. “Looks like we have our destination.” She cleared her throat and keyed up the PA. “All hooves now hear this. We’re leaving the riptide and will be entering the orbit of Victoria shortly. Strap yourselves in boys!” Ending the announcement, she nodded at Winter. “Take us in.”

As Winter guilded the frigate onward, the heavy turbulence returned in earnest. The Akira turned its nose, and the riptide protested the vessel disturbing its flow. Winter and the others were being shaken hard against the straps of their seats, and the hum of the engines grew to an angry growl. Yet as they closed in on the edge, the riptide fought back and threatened to drag them back to the center.

“Alert. You’ll have to punch us out!”

“Got it. Wiggs, I need all the power you can give me.”

Spreading her wings, Sprocket sent the command to the mechans. “Do it!”

Under Winter’s command, the Akira surged forward and roared its way out of the riptide, and angled its way towards Victoria. Winter flared her wings from the thrill of it, and rolled the frigate a few times. “Oh for the love of Cadence I need to do that again!”

Live Wire was getting flashbacks of the pirate attack on the Cloud Jumper. “Maybe later. Much later.”

Wiggly was more excited to see Victoria up close. “Belly ache another time. Let’s see what’s up there.” Upon closing in on the lens between hyperspace and the planet, a great cloud could be seen around Victoria’s central orbital station. A hundred transports, freighters, miners, and passenger craft passed in and out. The lights on the dark side of the planet below were dense and lively as the mirrors were currently shaded to provide an artificial night. Police craft flitted about, checking cargo, and the navy stood watch on the periphery. Dominating it all were a trio of orbital stations with the other two bristling with weapons and naval docking spires.

The ponies, and even the two cathrex were transfixed by this jewel of the Initiative. Tears fell from Winter’s eyes. It’s alive and well.

Wiggly could hardly believe her eyes. Sure she had seen videos of other worlds, but not even Lilian had been so grand before the war. Victoria took her breath away. She pressed a few controls to make sure the feeds were available to the crew.

The majesty of it touched Morales deeply. Tears mixed with the water of his tank. “It looks so much like Deltath before its fall. It’s like the wheels of time rolled back.”

“Recollection. I see it too,” Mote replied while cupping her mouth. “It’s just like the movies. Oh what I would give to see the homeworld restored again.”

The two aliens’ comments struck a nervous chord in Live Wire. The Waylan came to mind, or worse yet, some warlord with the fuhai. He broke out into a cold sweat at seeing the planet go dark. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he refocused on his station. “How do we open a channel to orbital traffic control? Our comms can’t punch into hyperspace.”

“Statement. We’ll drop a comm buoy.” Mote went about doing just that.

Once the buoy was deployed and passed into real space, Wiggly had to wiggle to shake off some nerves. “Open a channel.” Mote proceeded, then nodded to her. “This is the AIN Akira to the Victoria port authority. Requesting approach clearance.”

There was no response for a few moments. Long enough for all eyes to fall on Mote. “Assertion. Don’t look at me, I’m showing five by five.”

A loud and firm voice cracked in. “This is Victoria control, AIN Akira, I am not seeing your transponder. Need I remind you traveling without an active transponder at this time is a class eight felony?”

At this time? Unaware of what class eight meant, and a look at her fellow ponies gave no clue either. “Control, we’re not technically in-system yet, we just wanted to make sure the way was clear and that no one would try to shoot us when we drop in at the buoy’s location.” Wiggly ‘covered the mic’ and turned around to Morales. “That’s where we’ll appear right?”

“So long as we don’t move much, yes.”

There was a longer pause from the station before the voice came back with an irritated tone. “I don’t have time for pranks. There aren’t even any auxiliary vessels assigned to this system, or any system for that matter. Switch off this channel or I’ll involve the police.”

“Well we did deliver our warning,” Morales commented dryly. “Maybe we should drop in on a different planet. Your record says Feldspar is just a mining world, we could go there first.”

“Not a chance.” Wiggly stood up in her chair, and flared her wings. Lightning danced between her fingers as she proclaimed, “we have enough stuff here to turn the heads of a whole planet. We better make an entrance to match.”

The speech resonated with Winter’s thrill seeking. “I like it. Shall I push us through?”

Live Wire’s fur stood up at the idea. “Now hold on-”

“The honor is yours, Winny!” Wiggly said while keeping her dramatic stance.

The Akira started moving. With no choice but to take his seat, Wire prepared to raise the shields at a moment’s notice.

In real space, a dimple in space appeared around the unauthorized comm buoy. One of the nearby destroyers was zeroing in on this opportunity for target practice. The cannon barked and the shot obliterated the unauthorized buoy. The gunnery crew were taken aback by a strange frigate appearing where the buoy was moments earlier.

Wiggly radioed once more with a smirk on her lips. “Control this is the AIN Akira again. May we have an approach vector from these coordinates?”

This time, the response was immediate. “Where did?!” A face appeared on screen to match the controller’s voice. It was a flabbergasted teal crystal stallion. “I had that area scanned three times. Where did you come from?”

“The Lilian system, actually,” Wiggly responded with her smirk never leaving.

“That’s not-” The stallion clapped his mouth shut, and read the transponder code. “My problem.” He looked aside as someone else spoke to him. “You are directed to land at docking bay seven, slot five.”

Slowly sitting back down, Wiggly gave him a puzzled look. “Not even going to ask what our cargo and purpose is?”

“Your purpose is to report to bay seven, slot five. Or you’ll find out your cargo won’t matter in a hurry.”

Winter Gale suddenly froze in excited fear, and turned to Wiggly. “We better just do it. They only get touchy like this when a High Queen is here.”

“Th-” Wiggly realized just how close they were to a violent end. “Control, we’ll get right on that.”

“Good. Sending you a flight plan. Do not deviate from it.”

The caller vanished, and Winter could see a path of light directing them to the chosen spot. She set the autopilot to follow it, and turned to speak to the rest of them. “So, what are you going to tell them when we dock?”

Quirking her head, Wiggly shrugged. “The truth.”

“Good.” Winter replied with a feral grin. She sent Wire and the aliens a message “Because they’ll have guns on us the moment we walk down the ramp.”

“Guns?” Wiggly shivered. “Why? We’re flagged as a navy ship. We might catch some sass for dropping in, but that should be it, right?”

Morales read Winter’s message and arched a bemused eyebrow. “I can’t say holo-shows are a reliable reference, but I’ve seen a few ponies get arrested for sneezing at an alicorn’s direction during a parade.”

“Oh come on, that had to be a parody.”

“Conjecture. Every parody has its roots in facts,” Mote offered with a hopefully believable tone.

“And barring that,” Winter pressed on, “it’ll be hard to explain why a navy pilot has no chrome or ident chip before somepony loses their patience.” The growing terror in Wiggly’s eyes was enough to let Winter give it up. “Or I could just be exaggerating for payback.”

Realization struck Wiggly instantly. An annoyed grin cleaved her muzzle. “Oh you, nag. Alright you got me, but turnabout is going to be sweet.”

The Akira came in for a smooth landing at the cavernous docking bay of the naval station. The route between the bridge and the off ramp was crowded by passengers overly excited to finally disembark and catch various flights home. Hoofshakes and final gratitudes were shared, with Morales especially getting swamped with offers to return the favor.

Waiting for them at the closed ramp was Howling Tempest. Welcoming them with a warm grin, he dipped his head as they approached. “Never in my wildest did I think I would see Victoria before I was old and gray. Could you grant me the privilege of joining you as the first party to disembark?”

“Ha, as if you need to ask.” Wiggly shook his hoof with vigor. “It’s the least we can do for you.”

Wire slapped the button, and the ramp yawned open with a lazy hiss. Wiggly bounded down the ramp before it fully descended, and took a long deep breath. “Ohhh yeah. That’s the smell of a dockyard alright.” She spun around to watch the five others descend the ramp. “You can really tell how healthy a station is by the air quality.”

Lacking spin or gravity, the bay had a spell array near the ramp. Except for the two fliers, everyone laid a hoof or hand on the raised array which enchanted them to magically keep them on the ground. Dockworkers were waiting inside adjacent rooms for orders. The delay gave many of them time to look over the odd vessel with keen interest. It bore the Initiative crests on the wings and nose, but it kept the original blue and white paint. Yet it was the very shape of the Akira that captured their attention. To many, it was a ship that merged form and function beautifully.

Heavy airlock doors hissed open to allow a five pony team to enter. Leading the group was a lanky pegasus stallion in the navy blues. The ones following him were two staff officers and marines.

Wiggly stopped her null-gravity prancing, and settled back down in front of her crew. Once the newcomers came close enough she could finally read his rank insignia. “Permission to enter the station proper, Commandant,” she said with a crisp salute.

He returned the salute with a stony face. “In time. I am Commandant Coiled Strike. First, I’d like to know who you are. The navy decommissioned the last auxiliary vessel a year after the war ended.”

“So it really is over.” Wiggly’s massive grin and contagious cheer was shared by Winter and Wire. The Commandant was a bit unsettled by the hasty exaltation. “Sorry, sorry. We’re from the Lilian system. We’ve been out of the loop for quite a while.”

“Lilian… Lilian…” Strike mumbled until his implants got the information. “Your system is marked as isolated. In fact, the portal fleet shouldn’t arrive for another twenty years. Care to explain how you got here?”

“In that gorgeous beauty,” Wiggly jabbed a wing at her ship. “To put it briefly, the Akira has ship-based FTL.”

“Does it now?” Strike sounded dubious. He looked over the rather alien craft. Yet its unfamiliar design could be of non-pony yet still Equiss make. “Aside from reestablishing contact with civilization, what is the purpose of your visit, and I need your cargo manifest.”

“Our cargo is simpler than our purpose actually. Aside from provisions, we’re carrying sixty passengers, all naval personnel, and one thousand, two hundred, and eighty six war dead.” That earned a sharp look from the welcoming party. “Along with the body of High Admiral Gleaming Light.”

The name flashed an alert in Strike’s vision and he froze in absolute shock. “You-you’re carrying one of Flurry Heart’s sons?!” That was something far beyond some convoluted attempt to defraud the navy. Falsifying such a claim was tantamount to sacrilege. The additional claim of over a thousand war dead brushed all other considerations aside. “I will send teams to retrieve and verify the caskets immediately.”

With a command sent from her wings, the Akira lowered two cargo elevators laden with caskets and passengers serving as color guards. “I would appreciate it. They’ve been away from home for too long.”

Strike waved his marines over, and silently ordered them to check everything. “This is going to take every color guard I have in orbit.” He sighed at the enormity of it all. His job may have required him to verify the caskets’ authenticity, but in his heart he couldn’t believe in a fraud so blatant and yet so easily disprovable. He composed himself to address her again. “What else do you have for me?”

Steadying herself, Wiggly pressed on. “We have extra-Equiss friends with us.” She stood aside and waved a wing at the two cathrex. “They wish to open formal diplomatic relations with us, and are requesting to speak to a high queen for that purpose.”

Morales and Mote politely introduced themselves. Strike was a bit bewildered and defaulted to a puzzled expression. “I take it this is where the FTL came from.”

“It is,” Wiggly replied evenly. “More than you realize.”

“Fascinating…” Strike rubbed his chin. “Dare I ask for anything else?”

“Just the living war hero behind me,” Wiggly proclaimed as she stepped aside and waved Tempest forward. “May I present Captain Howling Tempest, CO of the Rainbow Dash for over a decade, and the one who ended the local Ruby Navy’s fleet.”

At such a presentation, Tempest stepped around everyone else to arrive up front with a controlled, embarrassed look. “I only did my duty, nothing more.” He presented the hoof with his ident.

Strike scanned it with his eyes, and it confirmed the less embellished facts of Wiggly’s heraldry. “By Luna’s stars. Does the Rainbow Dash still fly?” It was no secret that Luna herself favored that ship’s lineage. Strike’s question was shared in his staff officers’ excited faces.

“A bit battered, but she still plies the deep black. I also have a letter from Signed Ballot, governor of Lilian for a high queen’s eyes only.”

Strike leaned away for a few moments before turning back again. “Truly astonishing. High Queen Luna will be overjoyed to hear of the RD’s actions in your absence. As luck has it, Victoria is hosting two high queens at the moment, including Luna herself. Give me the letters and I’ll ensure they are in her hooves within the hour.”

Winter got a little jumpy upon hearing Luna was in-system. Yet she masked it well enough from everyone but Wire who thought it odd, but didn’t want to question her here.

Wiggly and the others were quickly whisked away to be hosted in the royal banquet hall onboard the station. Such an installation became common once a planet became prosperous enough. A high queen always liked to make appearances during certain milestones on a planet’s development, and properly hosting them was a matter of honor.

With a high queen being planetside, the hall was always kept ready to serve at a moment’s notice. Even the ceiling projectors were tactfully masked by lights and statues of famous heroes and ships. Both Morales and Wire had been instantly drawn in by the food, and once the staff declared that they were free to eat without needing to wait, they promptly gorged themselves. Mote, Tempest, and Winter read up on current events and proper etiquette for meeting with a high queen. Wiggly Sprocket however, was enamored by something everyone else passed over: a curved bookshelf.

Wiggly was locked in place by the old books’ invisible hand before walking over almost as if she were in a trance. While book covered the right half of the shelves, an array of tools dominated the left. Few of them were modern though. Wrenches, drafting implements, fine hammers, and pieces of larger tools were all arrayed in neat displays. With a careful hoof, she picked up a portfolio: ‘Prototypes and Assorted Improvements’. Ignorant of the book’s value, she gently opened up to a random page. The smell of aged paper and glue, the comfortable weight of the book, the feel of the well maintained cover, and the tantilizing design of an early antimatter reactor stirred something primeval within her. She inhaled deeply, and savored the scent of the miniature slice of a workshop. I belong here.

The thought felt random, and yet rang true in her ears. She looked up at the other books and tools before looking back down at the portfolio in her hooves. The Akira was her home, but this little nook brought her a level of peace and tranquility she had only ever felt when neck deep in machinery. “I know what I’m doing with the spare utility closet.”

While everyone else went about their eating or studies, Wiggly lost herself in the portfolio. The world around her faded away as she dove head first into the schematics and notations. She consumed each line and word like an ancient vampire starved of blood.

She didn’t even hear someone calling her name. It took that someone forcefully shaking her that Wiggly snapped out of her trance. “Wiggs!”

Gasping, she pulled back, only to calm down upon seeing her brother. “What’s up?”

“Come on, the queens will be here any second!”

A fire was lit under her hooves and she sprinted to the others who were all in a line by some large double doors. In her rush, Wiggly didn’t even realize she instinctively tucked the portfolio under her left wing. She saw Morales’ gut was visibly distended and was looking a bit nauseous. Even so, he remained standing while a marine captain conversed with Tempest. Upon seeing Wiggly and her brother arrive the marine politely disengaged from Tempest. “Good. Try to remember that the queens prefer a friendly atmosphere, but introductions are still a formal event. You will all line up abreast and kneel when they arrive.”

Wiggly made her way into the line with Wire taking her right and Morales taking her left. Nervous energy at finally meeting an alicorn was leaving her in shivers. She looked over to Morales who popped some tablets to try and keep his food down. “You going to be okay?”

“I tend to stress eat,” he managed to choke out after chewing the tablets. “Medicine is fine, I can do brain surgery and heart replacements all week, but dignitaries and what not are my worst fears.”

“So I noticed. Whatever genes you have to not get fat served you well last week.” Wiggly giggled at the mental image of the mountains of food he put away.

He grunted in pained relief as the medication started to calm his overworked stomach. “It took us centuries to perfect that one, and it has to be adapted to every xenotype. It didn’t exactly help us keep weight on when food was scarce though.”

“Attention!” Bellowed the marine, silencing all chatter. “Announcing her royal majesties; High Queen Luna and High Queen Flurry Heart!” The double doors opened, and everyone knelt in a hurry.

Ohhhh, I can’t believe this is finally happening! Wiggly strained an eye to see. One alicorn was an event, but two in one place was exceedingly rare.

The pair that walked inside exuded an intense pressure, not a physical one, but on the mind and magical senses. Those with horns could feel it more sharply, but only Live Wire could actually see the blanket of dark blue magic encasing the one on the left, and rich pink light flowing around the other. Yet that pressure did not cause pain or fear, but that of exultation. They were seen as the best of ponykind, be it true or not. Their point made, they dimmed the pressure, allowing Live Wire to see properly.

Luna entered first with Flurry Heart a single step behind her. Luna was as tall, twice that of a normal mare, and majestic as all the pictures and videos made her out to be. Her ethereal dark mane flowed on astral winds with stars forming constellations. Her eyes bore a warmth to them that could ease any troubled soul, like a warm blanket on a cold night.

Flurry Heart carried herself with more casual grace, reflecting her more cavalier attitude towards the airs her station demanded. However, no one could miss how somber she was. It was an expression that didn’t seem to fit right on her face. All media about her revealed a mare that was the embodiment of laughter itself. She kept her predominantly purple mane more material than her counterpart. Yet there was still a fey-like grace about her that mortal mares could only dream of. Both alicorns wore silver or crystalline regalia. The spirals of their horns were embedded with narrow crystalline threads that melded well into the circlets they wore.

“You may rise,” Luna commanded in a voice that spoke of assured confidence. As Wiggly rose back up, Luna stared into the pegacorn’s eyes with deep contemplation. Wiggly started to get nervous, and didn’t even notice Flurry Heart was doing the same. Yet as quickly as Luna locked eyes with her, the elder mare moved her gaze towards Wiggly’s left side. It was only then that Wiggly realized she had taken the book with her. Terror erupted in the young mare at the impudence she so very clearly committed. Yet if Luna took offense to the now profusely sweating mortal in front of her, she made no show of it, and focused her gaze upon the two cathrex.

Wiggly had been so focused on Luna, she didn’t notice the look of euphoric shock from Flurry Heart upon seeing the book nestled in Wiggly’s wing. The alicorn had to force herself to put on a mask of aloof compassion.

“Ordinarily, something as monumental as first contact would have preferably been done in a stately manner,” she cast a sly eye at the siblings. “Not on a barren moon. But circumstance rarely cares for such lofty desires.” Luna looked up at the food on the table behind them, and saw a visible portion was already consumed. “If you still have room to eat, we could talk over dinner.”

Mote was fine with either here or a new venue, but she thought it’d be more amusing if Morales made the choice, so she met his gaze with a permissive one of her own. For his part, Morales had to use supreme effort to hold back a burp. He looked a little worse for wear, yet his love of food won out. “I can always eat.”

The alicorns shared an amused, muffled giggle as the rest of the guests gave the bloated Morales an absolutely astonished look.

Flurry Heart stepped up as she was able to subdue her suppressed giggles first. Her eyes lingered on Wiggly for a moment before addressing them all. “Then unless there is some other immediate issue your initial report didn’t cover, let’s take our seats and get started.”

Once everyone was seated and fresh plates of food were in place, Wiggly sent a quiet message to Morales.

It was a sad day, as the great food laying before him might actually go uneaten.

With Morales more or less incapacitated at the moment. Mote took the lead at the alicorns’ insistence. “Statement. The Cathrex Combine wishes to extend the hand of solidarity. As a gift, we are willing to share some of our strain spinning - or as you call it, gene tailoring.” She looked at the mortal mares. “Miss Wiggly, Miss Winter, if you please.”

Genetic tailoring being a divisive issue among the larger initiative, the two alicorns withheld judgment for now. Once both mares had circled around so the queens could get a good look at them, Mote continued. “For reasons I can explain shortly, we cathrex avoid all forms of ‘chrome’. Yet we too have a need to interface with machines.” Mote flushed red for a moment. She had prepared for this, but given what she was, it was still awkward for her. “So we have devised ways for a fully organic being to do just that. Your tails, please.”

After a full demonstration, and with Mote’s models returning to their seats, Flurry Heart asked the burning question she shared with Luna. “I can see why a pegacorn would be interested in this, but why go through the trouble of avoiding chrome?”

Mote’s voice threatened to shrink away. Thankfully, Morales had recovered enough to join in. “That answer requires sharing our history a bit. I won’t take your valuable time with minutiae.” Morales gave a tourniqueted version of the same speech he gave Tempest weeks earlier. Much to his growing anxiety though, the two queens withheld their questions until after he finished.

Unbeknownst to the others, the queens’ regalia had an impressive compact sensor suite. The cathrex were novel, so it was difficult to determine if he was lying, but what they could do was check the other ponies. Not one of them seemed to react to any lie. So the alien is honest, or he’s capable of keeping his story straight. Luna shared this thought with her counterpart.

Flurry Heart looked at Luna for any dissenting opinion on her face. She had gotten very good at reading her aunt over the centuries, and her word alone wasn’t enough.

Luna inwardly groaned at Flurry’s sharp, defiant gaze. Turning away so she wouldn’t have to look at the triumphant smirk from the younger alicorn, Luna gave the terracorn a professional smile. “While I empathize with you, I’m afraid there is one other thing we’ll need if we are going to help you: your FTL. I’m afraid it would take far too long for one of our portal construction fleets to reach your homeworld. If it arrived at all.”

Morales nodded easily and clasped his hands. “I would be more than happy to. I can start with mana blockers tuned to my type’s magic. At the very least it will allow your earther and unicorn couples to have foals risk free.”

“Statement. The Akira doesn’t exactly have its own… oh what is the word you use - blueprints! That’s it.” Mote was excited now. The high queens were interested, and she had to add fuel to the fire as best she could. “But I’m comfortable believing our captain here has poked around enough to rebuild the Akira from scratch if she had to.”

With the sudden spotlight on her, Wiggly looked sheepish for a moment before nodding. “Yeah - sure I could. The principle behind it is actually quite different from what unicorn amplification chrome is like, so a simple redesign of existing patterns won’t work. I could compile my notes in a day.”

“Complying notes is all well and good,” Flurry Heart chimed in with an idea. It was the perfect excuse to spend time with Wiggly, and Flurry Heart jumped on it. “I am a well versed shipwright. I’d be more than happy to work with you in a more hooves-on manner.”

Wiggly went completely red in the face. “I-I um I ah - your highness, I wouldn’t want to take up your valuable time.”

“Nonsense. It is my time, and I will judge if it is well spent.” Flurry Heart gave Luna a side-smirk.

She may have been my dearest friend, but she was Flurry’s aunt and foalsitter. I was never going to win that contest. Luna kept her gaze off the others to appear as though she was in thought. Once Luna was sure Flurry understood her, she spoke aloud for all. “That sounds like a fine plan. Draw up a long-range drone. Find a way to have it get into hyperspace and make its way to your homeworld. The two of you are welcome among ponykind, and I’ll have two visas created for you immediately.”

Morales was no diplomat, and was open with his good cheer. He bowed his head with a massive grin on his face. “Thank you, truly. I know my people will make fast friends with you.”

“Extrapolation. Especially if the ponies of Lilian are anything like the rest of you.” Mote was no less guilty of wearing her heart on her sleeve. “May our friendship last until the stars die.”

The group broke up after the details with the cathrex were ironed out. The two aliens were invited to tour parts of Victoria to showcase the best the Initiative had to offer. The siblings were asked to share their thoughts on the Akira with local naval strategists. But that was simply an excuse to keep them close by while the queens spoke with the two sailors in private.

They had relocated to the station commander’s conference room. A curved affair that had a grand window overlooking the planet below. The station’s orbit was nearing the daylight side now, so the majesty of a druid crafted megacity revealed a continent of greens and brown, only the grand artistic designs in the city’s layout gave it away.

Luna was presently gazing out over her handiwork while Flurry Heart sipped on a smoothie close by. The two mortals had just arrived with smoothies of their own, under Flurry’s insistence. Tempest had taken enough sips to be polite and nothing else, while Winter used it as an excuse not to talk.

“The planet’s transition back to a civilian economy is almost complete,” Luna announced more to her guests rather than to Flurry Heart. She turned away to walk over to the two sailors near the table. Tempest set his drink aside while Winter defiantly held onto hers. “But I’m sure the locals can take it from here, should you wish to have a change of career, Winty.”

Tempest had initially assumed the meeting was going to be a debrief and a confirmation of his reassignment. Winter was expected to be a means of confirming his story or adding to it. But the last thing he expected was a pet name. He cast a baffled look at Winter who burned with embarrassment.

“I’m perfectly happy where I am, mother.” The sass was light, but unmistakable.

Luna grumbled as a frustrated parent. “We have no shortage of pilots, little one. Skilled administrators and governors are harder to come by. I gave you everything you needed.”

“But not what I wanted.” Winter slapped her drink down. “And why did you have to tell my CO who I am?!”

“It is my understanding that he won’t be anywhere near you moving forward. It hardly matters now.” Luna bore the angry glare her daughter leveled at her with disappointment. “You’ve had your fun. You should move on to what you were meant to be.”

“I’m not giving up my wings to be some bureaucrat,” Winter hissed hotly.

Rather than stand so close to an increasingly irate queen, Tempest coughed loudly. “If I may be so bold, your highness, may I say a word?”

Luna’s hot glare shot in his direction. To his credit, Tempest didn’t shrink back, but he did become visibly uneasy. “Rising to her defense?”

“Only to point out a fact, your highness. I strongly suspect were it not for the lieutenant, Wiggly Sprocket and her brother would not have survived crash landing on the moon. Or quite possibly survived long enough to make it off again.”

Winter Gale pulled her head back and adopted a smug grin. Luna however, squared her ire on the unicorn. “I read your report. You would have sent another pilot in her place if she had not been there. Why did it have to be her?”

“Two things, your highness. First, Winter was born and raised planetside. That’s not common among the pilot corps I had left, nor was it part of my consideration when reassigning her. Had a spacer been in her place, all three would have died from the gravity. Second, Live Wire is-”

“Stop!” Winter blurted out, giving him pause. “-sir. My mother doesn’t need to know that.”

“Oh please, girl. Did you think I missed the way you played and acted with him at the table?” Luna sighed heavily. “You speak as if I’ve never been in love.”

Flurry Heart set her smoothie aside to chime in. “You of all ponies know how much love can motivate you to survive. I say let her be.”

Giving the sailors a lingering look, Luna marched over to Flurry to speak a bit harshly in her ear. “Didn’t you just return your son home hours ago? I would think you’d side with me on this.”

Flurry let some of her pain leak through the professional mask she held up by the thinnest of strings. “And I thought you’d have accepted by now that we will always outlive our children. If the life of a sailor is what calls to her, then I say let her be. Better a candle that burns like a star, than one that gutters in the wind of despair. Gleaming Light died a hero. I couldn’t ask for better.” Flurry Heart reclaimed her smoothie, but stopped short of taking a sip. “I expected something like this from Tia, not you.”

Recoiling as if she’d been struck, Luna moved to rebuke her, but stopped short. Thinking it over, Luna bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She’s right, when did that happen? Shaking her head, Luna thought about what she was going to say, then squared herself up. Returning to Winter’s side, Luna tried to force a warm smile, but it came out as deeply strained. “I only wanted what was best for you, and it seems I’ve gazed too long at the big picture.” I’ve become what I rebelled against my sister for. The thought sickened Luna. “If a pilot is what you want to be, then be the best at it.”

“She already is,” Tempest offered while giving Winter a professional grin. “I was proud to have her, and knew if anypony could have kept my luckiest salvager alive, it was her.”

With such a ringing endorsement and her mother’s blessing, Winter was feeling overwhelmed. “I - thank you.” Fearing any other response could cause her mother to relapse, Winter bowed her head. “I - am I free to go?”

“For now,” Flurry Heart cut in with a cheeky smirk. “If you think for one second I’m going to let my little cousin worm her way out of some bonding time, you’re out of your mind. You, me, your mom, noon tomorrow for a walk in the woods. I think we all need some time to touch and eat grass.”

“Raw grass?” Luna scowled at the prospect.

“Could I at least bring some dressing?” Winter asked with a subconscious pout.

“Not a chance. You’re been in space too long, and Lulu here’s been neck deep in work since forever.” Flurry Heart gave Winter the evilest eye she could muster. “I could always have you promoted into the cockpit of a cargo shuttle.”

“Ahhh ha! Plain grass it is!” Winter Gale started to back pedal, and spoke quickly enough that she hoped neither alicorn would interrupt. “You know you're right. Maybe some bland, live grass is exactly what I need. Biting flies, pretty flowers. Yup, that’ll set me straight.” She kicked the door open and fled the scene as fast as her wings could take her.

Having been witness to all of that, Tempest idly wondered when they were going to remember he was still there. His ears went flat when the queens zeroed in on him. “Should I write the gag order myself, or will I find it in my inbox before the day’s out?”

“Captain, I think we can all understand what would happen to you if this conversion was ever leaked to the public.” Luna took a moment to dust off her shoulder. “Now, I’ve read Governor Signed Ballot’s letters, but you are here before me. Do you honestly think diplomatic training is truly necessary? Because it sounds superfluous to me. Your job as captain is to protect our interests, not conduct peace talks or treaties.”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” Howling Tempest began with a nod of acquiescence. “As we are, I believe you’d be correct. But if we start outfitting our vessels with the cathrex FTL… there’s no reason many of our smaller capital ships couldn’t double as exploration vessels. Victoria is close to the heart of the Initiative, and it only took us a week to get here from Lilian. Granted we rode something the aliens called a halthu, but the point still stands. There might very well be times where a captain comes across something he can’t wait for some diplomat five systems away. At the very least, any captain who ranges away from our borders will need more authority and the training that goes with it.”

Flurry Heart flashed a side-smirk and moved to flank her aunt. “So you agree with Ballot’s assessment.”

“More or less,” was all he could say without biting his cheek over it. “We should consider the rebels from the aliens’ civil war. If we go anywhere but our galactic west, we will find them. I can tell you, I would rather lose my commission than tolerate dragging along some ambassador just in case we come across some new species.”

“A sentiment I’m sure many would share.” Luna mulled over it, rocking her head back and forth. “This would be a major change in the navy’s mission. It would have to be done carefully.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Flurry Heart volunteered readily. “Once I get it written up, I’ll send the draft to the other queens for review.”

“As you wish.” Luna fixed Tempest with the same motherly look she had given Winter moments before. “Howling Tempest, one does not sit in a captain’s chair for over a decade without a love for the job. Do you really want to spend the rest of your career as an instructor?” She liked him, all things considered.

His ears wilted again, and had to think carefully. The last thing any honest pony wanted was to disappoint a queen and then see it in her face. “I - I overstepped my bounds. I didn’t like it at the time, but perhaps I should subject myself to grading tests for a few years.”

“Very well. Just don’t do it so long that you wish to retire over it. Personally, the years I’ve poured into Victoria lately is enough to make me think I’ll actually enjoy this little forced family nature walk.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.” Flurry Heart winked at the hapless unicorn. “If there are any frogs, I bet you I can get Winter to lick them.”

Chuckling at the thought, Luna fixed Tempest with a ‘you’re still here?’ look. “If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed.”

Wiggly Sprocket woke up the next morning feeling utterly rejuvenated. On the high queens’ dime, and Flurry Heart’s insistence, the siblings had been treated to a full luxury spa hotel. Both had gone through hours of pampering they had never imagined could have existed. Saunas, mud baths, massages, all manner of shampoos and other products, hooficures, they got it all. Yet as good as it all felt, she felt unease.

She showered, readied herself for the day, then joined her brother in the nearby restaurant. He already had both his and her food on plates. He knew her well enough that he could pick out the food she’d want. “There you are, sunshine. Got some scrambled eggs, real eggs. Hash browns, ham, and a stack of flapjacks all set for you.”

Her hunger got the best of her sullen mood, and she readily sat down to join him. “Great. I’m starving, thanks.”

Even with the gusto she ate with, he could see the mood wasn’t as good as the service. “We barely spend a night in a resort, and you already want to be back in space, don’t you?”

Annoyed at being so accurately called out, Wiggly grumbled and gnawed on her ham a bit. “I miss the engine ambience. It’s too quiet here.”

Nodding in feigned agreement, he leaned back as he sipped some juice. “Which engine noise was better? The Cloud Jumper, or the Akira?”

“Oh that’s not fair. I practically rebuilt both of those ships, they’re my babies.”

Letting off a purposefully irritating huff, Wire leaned over his food to scarf down some cereal. “Trick question. The Saber Sickle has the best engine hum.”

“What?!” Wiggly was about ready to throw hooves. “The one from that old cartoon? Oh you better take that back. The Akira sounds waaay better.”

“Pssh. Not a chance. The Saber had that nice low purr any time they were in the engine room. And the sound it made anytime it whooshed around on camera? Way better than what we have.” He smirked as she flailed an angry hoof at him.

“That engine didn’t even sound real! It’s like the sound team was trying to make an engine that sorta looked like a S-series Firelight Mk 3 sound like a tortured version of a Firestar 7-C!”

“I guess they could have lowered the pitch,” Wire teased, yet Wiggly was too deep in her rant to notice.

“Exactly!” Sprocket groaned as the refreshed memories replayed the horrendously out of place engine noise. “Whoever their sound designer was should have been fired over that.”

With a smirk hidden by a bite of cereal, Wire pressed her buttons some more. “Really? I heard he got a golden gramophone for his work.”

Wiggly slammed her hooves on the table, rattled the plates and drawing attention on herself. She stared at her brother, daring him to lie. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you're joking right now!”

He shrugged helplessly. “Wish I could, sunshine. His name was - ah -” His knowledge over tv show awards was thin to say the least, so he pulled a random name. “Tracer the Magnificent. Probably earned that moniker from his work with Saber.”

“No way.” Wiggly stared at him, suspecting he was teasing her, but he had gotten quite good at masking that when he wanted to. “No way!”

He shrugged helplessly. “Don’t blame me, I didn’t vote for him.”

She flared her wings, lighting starting to arc rapidly between her fingers. “I’m looking that up right now!”

“You can do that?” He asked with genuine surprise.

“You didn’t think my wings could only control the mechans did you?” Wiggly missed his ‘uh oh’ face as she concentrated. “Sides, it’s a good excuse to practice sniffing out other networks.” The resort had free wireless, and she was unconcerned by malware. Can’t hack a fully organic brain, so ha! Once she snagged the frequency, it was only a matter of letting her augmented subconscious do the hard work of interpreting the means to get where she wanted.

She idly finished her breakfast by the time she found the information on the old cartoon. “Hey wait a minute. No pony called Tracer worked on that show!”

“Busted,” he admitted with a sly smirk aimed right at her rapidly appearing scowl.

“Oh you are such a donkey.” She swatted at him with a wing.

He skillfully deflected the weak slaps, and only grinned more upon seeing how animated she was. “You ready to talk about what’s got you down?”

Wiggly’s wing froze midair. She huffed and folded it back against her side. “It doesn’t feel right enjoying this place. Not until we deliver the mass nullifier.”

“Well there’s nothing we can do about it today.” Wire used his magic to straighten out her mane, an act she tilted her head to the side to make it easier. “Winter has some meeting she has to do with the queens, and you have your own appointment before that.”

“I guess.” Sprocket’s her shot up in surprise. “Wait. Why does Winter have to meet with them?”

Glancing around at the other diners, Wire pulled her ear close to him. “Promise not to scream.”

Wiggly yanked her ear out of his magic, and leveled a heavy gaze at him. “What could possibly be so important?”

“I’m not saying unless you promise. I had to bribe her to let me tell you.”

Rolling her eyes, Wiggly rested her head in between their plates. “Fine, I promise.”

He leaned over her head, and prepared a magic pillow so she couldn’t beam him in the chin when she inevitably jumped in surprise. “She’s Luna’s daughter.”

As expected, she jumped in absolute shock, only to be held down by the glowing pillow. Wire got out of the way and released the spell. “You can’t be serious!”

“She figured Flurry Heart would confess when you two go down to the shipyard today, so I got to break it to ya.”

“Why would she hide that from you, though.” Wiggly sagged a bit. “You planned to buy a ring today, didn’t you?”

“Shhhh!” Wire used magic to clamp her mouth shut. “I still do ya idjit. The lie's kinda the opposite of a dealbreaker.” He leaned into her ear. “Don’t you dare tell me you wouldn’t let Solar Wind mount you in a heartbeat.”

“First off, ew, I don’t wanna hear that from you. Second, no mare in her right mind would say no.”

“Ew? That’s rich. You have a worse mouth than Winter does.”

“Oh please, unless she’s trying to get one over on me, a ten year old has a dirtier mouth than her.”

“Eh, that’s fair.” Wire shrugged with a nod. “But ya, I bet in all your years, you’ll never snag a prince.”

Pouting, Wiggly didn’t want to concede. “For now. But three centuries is a long time. Who knows, maybe I’ll get two of them. No, no, stop distracting me!” She jabbed a wing finger at him when he opened his mouth. She gave him a fierce ‘quiet you’ glare, which slowly softened to one of consent. “Well if you’re fine with it, then so am I.”

“Glad to hear it.” He gave her a tight hug, an act she eagerly returned. “Now get outta here, traffic on a planet like this has got to be horrible. You don’t want to be late with Flurry Heart.”

Thrown into a sudden panic, Wiggly scanned the room for a clock, and her panic doubled. “Aaahhh!” She bolted for the elevator.

Wire watched her go while snarfing on a piece of toast. With everypony busy, I think I’ll go fetch Morales and do a bar crawl.

Author's Note

Our heroes have finally made contact with the wider Initiative. Let us hope there is still a colony left when they return to Lilian.

19: Eclipse

Wiggly Sprocket frantically danced on her hooves in some vain effort to keep moving. Every time she looked at the clock, the irate face of Flurry Heart sped her onward in a frantic pace, and yet she was hit by a profoundly irritating roadblock. There was a personnel portal for high level use, and right now, the stubborn receptionist was stonewalling her. “Come on, I’m on official high queen business, let me through!”

The earth mare in front of her looked down her nose at the obvious troublemaker. “You? Please.”

“Come on, I missed the shuttle, and was told this place could get me up there on time.”

The receptionist mentally flicked through her itinerary and for any last minute updates, just to cover her tail, and once more found no one off the list of authorized personnel set to use it all day. “I’m sure they did, but neglected to tell you this is for naval personnel only, captain or above.”

“Well isn’t that lovely,” Wiggly replied with a smirk. “Because I’m an auxiliary captain.”

“Auxiliary she says,” the receptionist scoffed, and rolled her eyes. “Where’s your ident, then? Pegacorns can still have idents right?”

Her ears flattened, and Wiggly grumbled a reply. “Well, yeah. But I wasn’t given one. My ship is docked up there, look it up. It’s the Akira.”

“If you have no ident, how can I prove you are who you say you are?” The receptionist would have called for security by now, but she was bored, and until this impudent pegacorn became a threat, the marines would remain uncalled.

“My face, for starters. Can’t you check that way? Or what about my id number? It’s 1337ba3.”

“First off, surgery exists, so you could have been altered, and second, your id number is missing two digits.”

“What? No it’s not, I made sure to memorize it.” Wiggly’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you add numbers to id’s in the last few years?” All the receptionist did was grin in reply. “Well whatever, my ship arrived yesterday, check the logs. No one would even have time to surgery up my face, let alone my tribe.”

“I don’t have access to flight or docking logs from here.”

“Aarrgg! Oh come on!” Wiggly stamped her hoof as the seconds ticked by. “You know what? I’m gunna call her!”

Arching a supremely amused eyebrow, the receptionist looked Wiggly over. Aside from her wing gloves, the mare was wearing some clean orange-yellow coveralls. When Wiggly did not pull out an earpiece or anything else, the receptionist leaned forward. “Forget your phone?”

Sprocket flared her wings and started wiggling them here and there. “Pah, I am the phone. Now sush.”

The doors sliding open pulled the receptionist’s attention, and revealed Commandant Coiled Strike, and Captain Howling Tempest. The commandant had pestered him enough to share some exploits of the Rainbow Dash, a topic Tempest was reluctant to indulge in, so when he saw Wiggly standing there with her arcing wings flared, he came to a stop. “Ah Miss Sprocket, what brings you here?”

The mare was still trying to sniff out a way to make a call, let alone connect to any sort of queen hotline. She snapped out of her semi-trance like a popped bubble. “Huh?” She looked at the two stallions for a moment. “Oh!” She went red in the face and clapped her wings tight against her orange-yellow clothes. “Sorry, um. I needed to use the portal there to make it to an appointment with Flurry Heart, and this - this nag won’t let me through.”

The receptionist had had enough. “Alright. If you keep this up, I’m calling security.”

“Why have you not let her through?” Coiled Strike demanded with a silent promise of a reprimand.

The harsh tone stunned the receptionist. “But sir, she doesn’t have an ident.”

“You know it is not standard procedure to give auxiliary personnel idents. You should have called my office to verify.” Coiled Strike leveled a heated glare at the receptionist. “She has an appointment with Flurry Heart. I would hate to point a hoof at you if Sprocket arrived late.”

“I’ll have her added to the system immediately, sir!”

Caught between gratitude and the need to leave, all Wiggly could think to do was salute the stallion. “Thank you sir, um Captain Tempest,” she nodded at him in acknowledgment. Coiled Strike smiled and returned the salute, and as soon as he did, she bolted for the portal.

Giving the receptionist one last hard look, Coiled Strike led Tempest away. “My apologies for such a poor showing. It seems my staff have forgotten the policies regarding auxiliaries in their absence.”

Tempest’s thoughts dwelled on the brave, if barely trained, auxiliaries Lilian had been forced to field. Their casualty rates had been as disturbing to him back then as it was now. “Of all the problems to have, I would rather have that, as opposed to needing to call up auxiliaries in the first place.” When Strike gave his muted agreement, Tempest forced a bit of excitement. “Come on then, let’s get that drink I wanted. My flight leaves tomorrow, and I want to taste Victoria before I go.”

Thaddeus met up with Felin on a landing pad for the central spite of the moon base. They were set to meet with the commodore within the hour, and he was having to hold his nerve. His body ached, and it wasn’t just his age anymore.

Felin departed the shuttle carrying a heavy brown suitcase. Upon reaching him, she grunted with the case’s weight. “It is done sir, I brought four ‘volunteers’ for the test.”

Thaddeus claimed the case to ease her burden. “And this is the PX7?” She nodded. “Excellent.” He wanted to say more, but didn’t trust the noisy shuttle to drown them out from any surveillance. “Today will be a fine day. Get them ready while I inform our host.”

As Felin walked past him, he saw freshly drawn runes on her wings; something easily missed with them folded against her back.

Wiggly burst into the drafting room of the naval station completely out of breath. “I’m not late!”

Flurry Heart was currently surrounded by floating coffee cups, and had Morales’ hologram in front of her. “Just a moment, good sir.” Flurry checked the clock. By one second. “So glad you could make it. I almost thought you had gotten lost.”

“No, just traffic issues, your highness.” Wiggly glanced at Morales who bowed to her in silence.

“Ah.” Flurry sent her cups flying over to a refrigerator. “No matter, come, come.” She looked towards Morales, and dipped her head. “You’ve been a great help, please, eat anywhere you like for the rest of your stay, my treat.”

“You are too kind, your highness.” Morales bowed once more to Flurry Heart before looking to his friend. “Miss Wiggly, my apologies for missing you this morning.”

By now, Wiggly had stepped up to a polite distance to the queen. “I nearly lost my face melting under those masseuses, don’t worry about it. Have fun out there.”

“Such a world has a million and one delights, it is still a bit overwhelming to have my cup runneth over. I’ll see you soon.”

After he ended the call, Sprocket looked around to take the area all in. The drafting deck was bereft of anything to make room for all mounted holographic projectors. She saw a drone vessel being depicted above Flurry Heart with multiple systems being shown separately. The power network, maintenance corridors, coolant system, control wiring, all of it was pulled into their own different holograms for the queen’s purview.

Wiggly bowed upon reaching Flurry Heart, only for the alicorn to huff and wave the gesture away. “Oh don’t bow. We’re not in public now are we?”

Pulling herself back up, Wiggly was left utterly baffled and stammered a reply. “B-b yyyour highness, tha-uh…”

“You are the one who returned my son,” she retorted with firm conviction. “And did so with no thought of reward. As far as I’m concerned, I would be glad to call you a friend.”

“F-friend? You?! I… wow.” Sprocket was completely at a loss. She rubbed the back of her neck to buy time to process the very idea of it.

For Flurry’s part, the proclamation was heartfelt, but a small part of her was guilty in using it to remain on familiar terms with Twilight’s new life. She was practically a second mother. It doesn’t feel right having Twilight bow and scrape to me, no matter if she remembers none of it in her new life. She gave Wiggly some time to come back to her senses before clearing her throat. “Wiggly?”

Sprocket squeaked and jumped a bit at her name. “Oh right, the work. Sorry.” She flew over to stand next to Flurry Heart. “How do you want to do this?”

“Well my friend, we always start with the mission package.” With a few piles of magic, Flurry cycled through the displayed systems like a wheel. “An entangled comms unit with several spares. So the vessel is little more than an extended long range survey drone. This’ll allow us to control the drone the whole way there. I would like for you to build the FTL system to the dimensions of the hull.”

The request served two purposes for Flurry Heart. The first was to see what Wiggly’s education in the field was, self-taught or otherwise, and as a treat to watch her old foalsitter work if the first proved true.

Wiggly floated up to orbit the scaled down hull before eyeing the other systems. She studied every nut and bolt as if she was rebuilding the Cloud Jumper. “How do I control the holograms?”

Flurry Heart waved a wing in front of herself and a custom holographic keyboard materialized. “Like so. It can offer resistance if you prefer.”

Wiggly landed and looked at the keyboard with a critical eye. “So that’s my opening.” She flared her wings and concentrated.

Left rather curious, Flurry Heart held back the obvious question for a bit. She watched as Sprocket’s wing-fingers wiggled every so often and lightning danced as if it was alive. To Flurry’s bemusement, the keyboard vanished, and Wiggly looked up to an empty space above her. Without any perceivable input, a holographic tube much like the one on the Akira’s bridge appeared. “We’ll have to start with the point where Morales will charge the system. Now, since he won’t be staying, we can place it on or outside the hull as a detachable piece. Wiggly brought down the hull to place the tube in the middle of the drone’s dorsal side. “From here, we need to add sensors so he can remotely push the thing into hyperspace. It’s not efficient, but it’s faster than having the drone fly over to a natural entry point. Also need to thread the ship as evenly as possible with one inch pipes…”

Wiggly went on explaining every detail down to the last millimeter. Flurry Heart offered a word or two to keep the pegacorn going, and didn’t bother raising her question of control over the holograms. For Flurry, watching Wiggly fall into a rhythm was like a balm upon her heart. Tiny things like the way Sprocket pronounced words, the way she let off a little giggle when talking shop, there was even an underlying similarity in ship design, but what held Flurry in an emotional vice was the sheer love Sprocket displayed for the art.

This project had simply been a convenient excuse to put Wiggly in front of a ‘drafting table’ of sorts. It wasn’t long before the pegacorn was offering constructive criticism in carefully placed flaws Flurry had left in the design. The FTL system had long since been implemented barely half an hour in. The pair had moved on to creating a new ship from the keel up. This is what I missed most. We made so many designs together. Many won construction contracts too. Even with all her centuries, Flurry Heart was finding it increasingly difficult to hold back her joyful tears.

She so dearly wished to hug Wiggly tightly and never let go. But she had made mistakes with Twilight’s second life. Ones she was hellbent on avoiding. Take it slow, Flurry. We have time to be a family again.

“Wiggly?” Flurry Heart asked to break the mare out of her rambling about thrust to weight ratios. When the mare stopped to listen, Flurry pressed a burning question. “What do you plan to do next?”

“Next?” Wiggly parroted as her train of thoughts had to switch tracks. “I’m going back to Lilian for one. I need a mass nullifier so they can rebuild our portal station. After that…” One thought hammered Wiggly rather quickly. “I want to help get rid of those damned pirates that killed my family and nearly my home station.”

Righteous anger, now that was something Flurry Heart tried to temper among her fellow alicorns. But that was only because of how far reaching their power and authority went. Here though, it was something Flurry could get behind. “A just cause.” Flurry hummed aloud as she idly looked over the completed design. “And what about after that?”

Letting off a whistling breath, Sprocket dug back beyond the call for justice. “If… if I really had to pin it down on one thing… I want to remake the Akira into a mobile repair shop. Going system to system fixing ships or drafting new ones from scratch. Maybe even camp out at one system for a while to get a drafting contract. I know Live Wire will want to attach a restaurant to it so customers have a place to eat for quick fixes and the like.”

“Drafting new ships…” Flurry Heart looked over the gravity system Wiggly had designed. It had some rough edges, and Flurry wasn’t sure if such saturation of the hull was necessary, but the raw talent was still there. “I would love to see what work you produce. But let us focus on today’s matters. I’ll be joining you on your return to Lilian.”

“W-what? But your highness, it’s too dangerous! Even if the Akira and the Rainbow Dash together could beat them, there’s still the Waylan. If they show up, it could be in force.”

“All the more reason to do the same, and quickly.” Flurry grinned with righteous fervor. “Morales informed me that the gravitor and the system built for him is just for convenience, and that it is possible to enter hyperspace without it. I have already put a call out for my mother to redirect five drone carriers for this purpose. They should rendezvous with the Akira when you arrive. From there, your ship should be able to guide the task force to the nearest natural entry point. If Morales was accurate, and if we leave by noon tomorrow, we’ll be in Lilian before next week.”

Wiggly was paralyzed by excitement, and she needed a few moments to shake it off. “That would be amazing! Last I heard, the pirates didn’t have anything larger than a destroyer, and only one or two of them. Drones would be perfect against them while the Akira delivers the knockout kick!”

“I thought as much.” Flurry saved the designs, and wiped the holograms clean. “I will also be requisitioning a few bulk freighters worth of supplies, and a portal construction flotilla. If Lilian is in even half as bad of a shape as Captain Tempest claims, you’ll need all of it.” Flurry was glad to see the euphoria from Wiggly was on full display. “But as for me, I will join you on the Akira. Lilian needs to know they have not been abandoned. A little danger is of small concern for my personal safety.”

Quickly becoming more reserved, Sprocket tried to politely express her concern. “W-with respect, your highness, are you sure that’s for the best? Why not arrive on one of the carriers or the portal fleet? That would still give you a grand arrival without undue risk.”

For a few moments, Flurry Heart debated on if she should divulge an open secret to the uninformed mare. Yet her affection for the mortal won out. “I understand we keep this sort of thing suppressed, but I’ve died before.” She could only give a partially amused half-smile at the shock on Wiggly’s face. “If you recall from the tale of Terra, Celestia and Luna returned to life without being scrubbed clean. Apparently, Terra has taken a liking to us alicorns because the same gift was granted to me as well.”

Having no real reason to doubt the high queen, Wiggly was left in awe. “That’s - I don’t even know… Um, did it hurt?”

Laughter peeled away from the elder mare. “Oh very much so. I’ll spare you the details, except that my mother was rather cross with me when I returned. Now, I have orders to give, and a nature walk I’m probably late for. I would prefer to leave for Lilian no later than the first thing in the morning, but as I said, noon will likely be our shove-off time.”

“Yes, your highness-” A firm glower from Flurry made Wiggly swallow the lump in her throat. “I mean, F-Flurry Heart. I - I did have a requisition list I wanted to bring back with us. Including some crew.”

“Give it to the quartermaster, and I’ll make sure he’ll have it delivered by this evening. I’m sure I can drum up enough volunteers to recrew your vessel with some generous sign-on bonuses.” Flurry Heart started to leave, but stopped short. “I look forward to visiting your fix-n-dine one day.”

The vacation was as sweet as it was short. Yet Wiggly couldn’t find herself lamenting it much. She felt the need to keep busy, to get her hooves dirty, and no spa in the galaxy could offer her the satisfaction of working on her ship and home. “I’ll have the others ready to go by then. If I know Winter, I suspect she’ll use any excuse to leave that nature walk early.”

A light giggle escaped the ancient mare. “I suspect you’re right.” Lingering for just a bit to truly look at Wiggly, Flurry Heart had so much she wanted to say, so much she needed to tell her long-time friend. But she had to turn away and leave Wiggly alone.

As Flurry departed and thought up and sent off a series of orders, she ached to have her aunt back. To be able to rest her head on Twilight’s withers and talk about her petty troubles like a filly again. It was a service no one else could fulfill; not to Flurry Heart.

By the time Flurry Heart had passed through the portal and was on a personal shuttle to the forest, her orders were given and the wheels of the Initiative were moving. But a question almost as old as her filled her with doubts. Her fellow alicorns had various answers, but Flurry wanted a new one. So she keyed up a call for Mote.

The android answered after the first ring with surprised friendliness. “Query. High Queen! What can I do for you?”

“My apologies if I’ve interrupted something. I am not calling you on any official business.” Flurry saw the mechanical cathrex was sitting down, but that was all she could see.

“Dismissal. Nonsense, your highness. I am at your service, no matter the issue.”

Returning the polite smile, Flurry Heart made a show of blushing. “I thank you. Now, this is rude for us, but I feel I must ask; how old are you?”

The cathrex tilted her head at the odd question, then became a bit withdrawn. “Statement. I was born the day after the Fall. I’m afraid if you wish to know how the Combine’s splendor once was I am a poor choice. I can only offer you shadows and ruin.”

Born? Flurry decided not to pursue her choice of words. “I see. Thank you for the answer. May I inquire as to how long your xenotype typically live?”

For a few seconds, Mote was unsure of how to properly respond. Then it clicked as to the queen’s real question. “Assumption. You wish to know how my type make friends even as we outlive generation after generation, yes?” Flurry Heart’s pained expression was all Mote needed to see.

“Regret. I’m afraid I can’t help you as much as I would like to. When we were molded to reflect organic life, we truly went as far as we could go without becoming flesh and blood. We too suffer the effects of age. Unlike a normal machine, it is not so simple as to replace a gear or change fluids. My brain, as it were,“ she laid a hand over the tablet slotted in the middle of her chest, “can only be repaired, not transplanted.

“Resignation. If you were cathrex, you would know I am nearing my twilight.” A serene sorrow fell over the android’s features. “Explanation. My manner of speech, where I preface my intent, is a sign of the early stages of xellion. A condition I was afflicted with while we were marooned. It will claim me if a violent end fails to do so.”

Flurry gasped and covered her mouth. “I’m terribly sorry. Had I known…”

Shaking her head, Mote’s gaze went distant as she took in the sights around her. “Placation. There is nothing to forgive. How could you possibly have known? Outside of Morales, I haven’t even told my crew yet. Tales say it could have been cured in our zenith, but it is impossible today.” Taking in a long deep breath of sweet air, Mote finally refocused on Flurry Heart. “Query, in light of your question, may I speak frankly?”

“Absolutely,” Flurry Heart offered without reservation. “I have found that speaking one’s mind is vastly more productive than metaphor and euphemism.”

Mote dipped her head in gratitude. “Statement. I do not envy your immortality. Life and the death that follows it, is the greatest gift my type was given. Knowing that I will one day expire is what gives me the strength to endure xellion until my time is up.

“I have lived a rough life. When I am reborn without the scars I carry,” Mote replied with a note of whimsy. She seemed to… relax. As if she had been standing all her life, and was finally allowed to sit down. “Apology. Forgive me, your highness, you wanted one answer and I gave you the opposite.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Flurry parroted with a knowing, respectful nod. “I - I do at times envy such liberty that true reincarnation offers. But I have made my peace with it. Aunty Tia considers it reductive to think of our lives as merely preparation for sharing tea with a god. But at the same time…” Flurry looked distant for several moments as her thoughts struggled to find the right words. “I am looking forward to it. To converse with a god on a level far above what we are doing here…” Flurry shook her head as her imagination ran wild. “But that is a long way off, and I worry it will only get more lonely the longer I follow this path.”

Mote thought for a few moments, long enough that Flurry to almost end the call. “Statement. Perhaps there is something I can offer you then.” She held Flurry’s attention. “You care deeply for Wiggly Sprocket. Do you not?”

Being caught so bluntly threw Flurry for a loop, but she caught herself quickly enough. “I care for all of my subjects.”

“Observation. Please stop me if I cross a line, but during our talks yesterday, I saw you constantly stealing glances at my captain. I couldn’t understand it at the time, but your expression was much like how a jane looks upon her mother. Love it seems is something we display very similarly, I have seen.” Mote moved on quickly as it looked to her that she had tread upon one of Flurry Heart’s nerves. “You just met, and I told myself I was mistaken. But you see, xillon changes how I see the world as well. My sight becomes more clinical, machine-like. I can see the tiny differences that separate romantic love, with a child’s love. I see the signs of embarrassment from being cast so openly. I would have missed it all entirely but a few years ago.”

Huffing at the absurdity of being so clearly seen, Flurry Heart looked down, almost in shame. Mote remained silent as Flurry sat there. Eventually, the alicorn looked back up. “Had I known who I was talking to, I would have been more guarded. You have the right of it, and I must insist you not tell her this.”

“Statement. Consider it encrypted.” Mote went so far as to zip her mouth shut. “Hypothesis. I admit, I wouldn’t know what to make of your reaction were it not for one thing. You see…”. Mote placed a finger on her chin, and hummed in thought. “The method we use to retain someone’s memory and personality when undergoing strand weaving. It expels the spark while tethering it to the body so it doesn’t get lost. When Morales and I supervised Winter Gale and the first round of volunteers at Lilian we saw what pony sparks looked like. Wiggly Sprocket stood apart like a bed of flowers in a desert.” Flurry Heart’s eyes narrowed and she became tense. “Her spark was more akin to a flame in pony form and it spoke to her.”

“Her… own spark spoke to her?”

“Excitement. Very curious indeed, no? Wiggly described it as a winged unicorn of lavender flames who called herself Tea.”

Flurry’s expression instantly became stoic. She had to or else she would have lost every scrap of self-control. “You’re either well informed, or a marvelous charlatan.”

“Assurance. I have no intention of scamming the very ones who can help restore my people’s prosperity. That - is something I will leave to the politicians and merchants.” She tried to force a laugh, but it fell flat in her ears. “There is a method our police use to speak to the sparks of victims who are in medical stasis, or are about to die. I strongly suspect Tea would be accessible that way. If you wish, I can give you this technique.”

Flurry Heart was at a loss for what to do for the first time in a century. “…I think.” She paused. As dearly as she wished to speak with Twilight Sparkle instead of just her reincarnation, Flurry wasn’t sure if it was even ethical to do so. But in the end, her heart couldn’t refuse. “Show me.”

Thaddeus stood in a den of snakes. He, the commodore, and the inner circle of captains all stood in attendance at what used to be a party hall. Today, its dance floor was host to a small pedestal where a weak transmitter was located. Dark stains of blood and bile marred the floor around it, as well as the panicked scratches on the soft resin of recent victims. The Commodore had stopped bothering to have the stains cleaned up after the first few trials.

Presently, four people were shackled around the pedestal, a centuari, a satyr, a wing-less drake, and a kirin. All of whom were dead men walking, be it unpaid loans or angering the wrong people. It hardly mattered to the captains watching from the VIP room overlooking them. Felin however, had made sure these four would have been on death row if the moon still cared about proper law and order.

The Commodore had his grand plush chair situated where he could watch the condemned closely. The transmitter below could only reach a few feet, making him perfectly safe in his nest.

Thaddeus was nervous and wanted to pace, but he held back and tried to keep his mind focused on imagined games of poker. Eventually, Felin made an appearance on the dance floor with a nurse and the suitcase in hand.

“It seems the show is about to begin.” The Commodore rotated his chair to fix the old admiral with an expectant look. “I hope your serum works as advertised.”

“I was assured by the chemists that it would.” Thaddeus fidgeted a bit, but kept his composure.

Nodding with a slight smirk, the Commodore waved the captains away from their drinks to watch. Then he grabbed a microphone. “Miss Felin, if you please,” he commanded with a casual gesture.

Felin opened the case and had the nurse inject the test subjects. The drake remained close by to ensure the nurse’s work was honest. The subjects had been beaten and battered to the point of whimpering, passive compliance. As the nurse worked, the Commodore’s finger twirled around the prominent red button he had installed into his chair. Felin was well within range, and the Commodore glanced at Thaddeus when his finger passed over the button. He smirked at Thaddeus’ growing unease. “So, this vaccine of yours, where did you get it from?”

Thaddeus held his chin as he thought it over. “Felin and I used what money we had to cobble together a crew of chemists.”

“Oh don’t give me that look. You destroyed a single freighter and didn’t even bring back any scraps. You’re lucky I pay you at all.”

“Oh yes, very.” Thaddeus rolled his shoulders and let off a stress releasing sigh. “Perhaps if today's test meets your approval, you’ll pay me well enough to make it worth the effort.” It sounded believable enough because it was the truth, just not all of it.

The Commodore’s grin widened on his face. He waited until the nurse and Felin retreated to a safe distance. “I would certainly hope you’d know better than to waste my time.”

By now, Felin and the nurse were done and stepped away. “Commodore, we’re ready down here.”

“Excellent.” He pressed and held the button for several moments before releasing it. The test subjects flinched from the expected horrific death to come. Seconds passed with bated breath. Slowly, one subject risked opening his eyes to check himself.

Not one was suffering. Both Felin and the nurse approached the subjects to verify the matter. When the nurse announced not one of them were harmed, the gathered captains were muttering between themselves as ideas blossomed forth. However, the Commodore held back. “Not even a month after we discover a truly alien weapon, and you slap dashed a vaccine in some back-alley drug lab?”

Flashing a sheepish smile and a halting laugh, Thaddeus tried to sell the lie. “I was just as surprised as you are now. I was told the weakness of the weapon is that its target is so specific that some carefully targeted shielding is all that was needed.

“Is that so?” The Commodore’s paranoia raged within him. “Then you do it.” He fixed a stern glare at the aged admiral. “You trust your product, yes? Take a dose and weather the weapon.”

Others might have been shaken by such a demand, but Thaddeus was a veteran of a hundred battles, and he cared not for his own life, only his honor. So he adopted a stony expression and bowed his head. “As you command.”

Thaddeus marched down the stairs and approached a nervous Felin. The conversation had been too far for her to hear, but his arrival told her all she needed to know. Yet with the nurse standing right next to them, she could not speak her mind. “Sir?”

“A personal demonstration is in order,” was all he was willing to say out loud.

the Commodore broadcasted to all three of them. His tone was unnaturally coy.

The lights on the transmitter blinked on, and a look of horror filled the nurse’s face mere moments before the hot burning fire ripped across her spine. Even as the pain threatened to seize her completely, she fumbled for a gun she had hidden in a jacket pocket. She managed to pull it out, but her control over her hand was already melting away, and the pistol tumbled out of her hand as the burning fire raged over every nerve.

Felin acted quickly, and claimed the weapon before it clattered to the ground. The nurse’s screams were quickly silenced by two gunshots. It was a mercy Felin doubted she would receive.

A few seconds of silence were broken by slowly clapping from above. Thaddeus and Felin looked up at the still sitting Commodore who was now flanked by the seven captains. “My my, now isn’t this a curious development. You two seem to be immune to the weapon.” The cruel grin slipped for only a moment.

“What is the meaning of this!” Thaddeus roared. “Why are you trying to kill us?”

His grin fell away into a hateful scowl. “Death is the reward for all traitors, is it not?” He snapped his fingers and a small flying drone emerged from behind him. From it, a hologram of Thaddeus appeared. “Captain Howling Tempest, I had hoped to one day meet you again on the battlefield to reclaim my honor, but I fear that may never come to pass.”

The real Thaddeus became tense, and did everything in his power to remain stoic, all while thinking of a plan.

“I don’t know what the crew of that alien ship has told you,” the hologram continued, “so I will act as if they have said nothing. The enemy it fought possessed a horrific weapon tied directly into its sensors. Our net riders compromised the local probe, and they used it to conduct detailed scans of the alien craft as it attempted to hijack the probe. Among their findings was the oddity of the sensor pulses it was putting out. Presuming the intruder might have sensors that could better pierce your countermeasures, they tested it.”

The Commodore ended the recording. Indignation boiled beneath a thin veneer of smug satisfaction. “To think I trusted you. You sabotaged our best chance to control all of Lilian. If the weapon won’t kill you, then a bullet will serve just as well.” He mentally sent a command to his chrome and stretched out his right hand. Felin tried to take a shot, but a blue shield materialized from the Commodore’s hand.

“And there you have it!” Thaddeus shouted not at the Commodore, but the gathered captains. He pushed Felin’s pistol down, as it would do no good. “Look at him. He has made a mockery of us, of what we once stood for!”

The mask of satisfaction fell away from the Commodore and he used his free hand and fired at the object of his malice. However, Felin stood in front and shielded him with her wings. The runes activated and a translucent blue barrier manifested. The bullet caused her to flinch and drop the pistol, but the barrier held. Thaddeus rested a hand on her in thanks. Due to his large frame, he could not risk kneeling down to get the pistol. “We used to be proper, honorable sailors of the deep black.” Three shots from the Commodore rang out. Felin flinched, and her wings cried out in agony as the force of the rounds over extended the joints. “Our ancestors detest us enough already, but to attack both ourselves and our enemies with this?!” Thaddeus grabbed the transmitter, and ripped it free of its wires to present it to the captains. “This is vile!”

“Traitors have no right to speak!” The Commodore leapt to his hooves while tossing the chair back. He emptied his magazine at the infuriating drake to get to Thaddeus. The barrier started to fail, and three rounds cut through. Felin was left bloodied, with two wounds on her torso With one bullet striking Thaddeus just below the shoulder. Felin pushed her draconic magic to reform the barrier while her wings were badly torn, she remained standing.

“You betrayed the Alliance when you slaughtered the governor and his cabinet!” Thaddeus retorted sharply. He could see uneasy looks on two of the gathered captains; but the other three peered down at him, looking as if they were ready to draw weapons on him as well. “Now you try to rob us of what scraps of honor we have left by using such a disgusting weapon that wasn’t even crafted by our hands!” Thaddeus was venting his true rage now, and his words were causing the Commodore to be so furious that he fumbled to reload while keeping his shield directed at them. “The aliens are the true threat to us all, and you have us wasting time in your vain grab for power!”

“Power is all that matters in this world,” the Commodore chided as if he was reprimanding a child.

“How long will it take before any of you are seen as threats to his power?” Thaddeus desperately wanted to patch Felin’s wounds, but he had to focus. “You killed my predecessor because he made a sound judgment call. How much longer until you execute the rest of the captains?”

“He was a coward!” The Commodore hissed as he finally slotted in a fresh magazine and racked it. “Much like you. This weapon is a gift, and I intend to use it.”

“This weapon,” Thaddeus declared while stomping on the transmitter. “Is an abomination. How fitting you would be one to use it.”

Growling with indignation, the Commodore aimed to fire. As his finger squeezed the trigger, one of the captain’s cybernetic hands shot out and squeezed his shield projector until it broke. Before the Commodore could register the attack or pain, the pistol was wrenched out of his hand. In the brief struggle, the Commodore pulled free, and stumbled back a few steps until he was blocked by the chair. Upon seeing this, Thaddeus started carefully making his way over to the stairs and picked up the nurse’s pistol.

Four of the other captains drew their weapons and leveled it at the rogue, yet he didn’t waiver. He glared at the Commodore with the pain of a disgraced warrior. “He’s right. The weapon is tainted.”

“Gethaio?” The Commodore stared in abject shock. “You would betray me over this? This!?” the Commodore seethed.

“Oh, I most certainly would. I first followed you because you were going to continue the fight when the governor wouldn’t. I have felt the rot grow because of you. The power of the alien weapon and the admiral has stripped away any veneer of honor you had left. And I refuse to die alongside someone like you!” Fearing one of the others might just shoot him, the rogue fired two shots into the Commodore, hitting him in the right arm and the lung. Three others emptied their own pistols into him. The one griffon captain who had pulled back drew his own pistol on the others while they were distracted. Eight more shots rang out, and the griffon dropped the remaining captains before they could react. The doors leading outside burst open as three bodyguards rushed inside with weapons drawn.

The Commodore’s wounds weren’t fatal, but he stumbled backwards and leaned hard against the chair. As the last loyalist captain fell, the griffon saw the guards coming, and tried to reload.

The guards were faster and kneecapped him. The pain caused the griffon to falter, opening his wings enough for the guards to plant rounds into the captain’s skull.

Thundering hooves drew their attention to Thaddeus who had used the shootout to gallop up to the observation booth, but stopped short upon seeing the bodyguards. He raised his hands while quickly checking the Commodore’s state, and was pleased to see him reeling but alive.

Clenching his teeth so hard his jaw bled, the Commodore jerked his head at Thaddeus. “What are you waiting for!? Kill him!”

“Wait, I wouldn’t do that!” Thaddeus challenged back before the fastest of the three guards could obey. “Even if you shoot me, the Commodore will just kill all three of you.”

Raw, burning hate filled the Commodore’s voice. “What are you waiting for?! Do your damn jobs and kill that traitor!”

“You came in here too late, my friends,” Thaddeus cautioned as the guards raised their weapons. He leveraged his long career to keep his voice both steady and certain. “Think about it. The Commodore’s been shot. Twice. You know full well what happens to those who fail him so badly. And I suspect you also know what his definition of failure is.”

Two of the bodyguards were sweating, and their guns waivered. Seeing this through unsteady eyes, the Commodore jabbed a pointed finger at them. “Obey me, and I’ll shower you with money, females, I’ll even give you three a command!”

“A command? We all know that’s a lie. He’ll sing your praises today, and have you poisoned tomorrow.” Thaddeus tapped a pocket on his uniform jacket. “I have an ice pick right here. You three walk away, and I can hack his codes and credentials. I’ll countermand any orders he gives against you.”

One of the bodyguards' nerves cracked. “Let me see it!”

Slowly, Thaddeus dug into his pocket and produced a long and thin device with multiple connectors on it. “Think it over, you walk away, you come out on top. Kill me, and the Commodore will lift you up on the highest pedestal before knocking you right back down again.”

“Ya know what?” said the bodyguard on the left. “I didn’t see nothing, right guys?”

“Just a bit a noise, that’s all,” lied another as he put his gun down. He put a firm hand on the third guard. “I think we all need a drink.”

“Yeah.” A vindictive smirk crossed the last guard and he aimed at the Commodore who was frozen between fear and abject fury. “He’s all yours Admiral, but just in case…” He fired off a couple of bursts, two rounds hit the Commodore’s front left leg, and the other three bullets sank deep into his lower chest, ensuring that he would bleed out without medical attention.

All three turned to depart, fully ignoring the Commodore’s screams of pain as he flailed on the floor.

Feeling like a great weight had been lifted from him, Thaddeus gathered his wits and walked over to confront the dying dictator. “Proper marines would have never even let me open my mouth… It’s over, Commodore.”

“Damn you.” He got control over himself and turned his head to glare every ounce of his fury at Thaddeus. “I should have killed you the moment you tried to drag yourself out of the gutter. You could have lived buried in money and women! You’re a fossil clinging to the old ways. The navy wasted itself on honorable conduct when we could have annihilated the Initiative had we let loose.”

“And you are a failure of a man who blinded himself with power, instead of seeing the existential threat the weapon presents.” Thaddeus was heaving labored breaths, a hand clutched his chest as crimson blood leaked around it, a hit taken from a bullet that pierced through Felin’s wings.

“Save it for someone who cares.” The Commodore looked down at his left hand which he had been using to put pressure on a wound, only to see it completely covered in blood. “Our people debased themselves long before I took control.” The Commodore growled in agony as he tried to move, only for the wounds in his legs flashed again. He slumped, to try and relieve it. “Before you finish this, I want to know how you did it.” He wheezed as curiosity started to overcome his drive to protect himself. “Did you take a dose of your drug before coming here?”

Had his opponent been anyone else, Thaddeus wouldn’t bother answering and simply end it with a shot to the head. But he didn’t want to grant anything close to a warrior’s death to the toppled dictator. Being allowed to bleed out while help was right in front of him was a much greater disgrace.

May the ancestors shun you. Given the other bullet wounds, Thaddeus realized that even if a medic got to him now, the Commodore wasn’t going to survive. “It is not a vaccine, it is little more than a bandage. PX7 only prolongs your life, you will still die if the weapon makes contact. I had hoped to trick you into taking a dose, and then testing your newfound ‘immunity’ so you would die soon after.” Thaddeus looked out in Felin’s direction, hoping she was holding it together.

The drake was slumped against the pedestal, trying to apply bio foam to her wounds. Upon seeing that, he expected her to survive. “As for Felin and I…” Thaddeus dug into his right ear and pulled out an ear piece. “I had my leg replaced with an AI driven lookalike, as long as I don’t think about it, I can walk normally. As for my internals, I had empty facsimiles take their place, and used an external device to send any messages to my ear piece so I could respond as normal.”

The Commodore laughed grimly and was wracked with bloody coughing. “All that effort, only for you to kill me with a damned bullet.”

“As if you are worthy of my bullet.” Shaking his head, and taking the ice spike in hand, Thaddeus lorded over the fallen centuari. “But I might end it quickly if you let this happen.”

Coughing up blood, the Commodore chuckled darkly. The act made new shoots of pain try to force him to double over, but he clenched and refused to fall any further. “Don’t stand there and feign moral superiority. I stood right where you are now when I took control. I won’t beg for a quick death.”

Rejecting the Commodore’s taunts, Thaddeus walked over to lord over the fading Commodore. “Have it your way.” He grabbed the Commodore by the shoulder to stabilize him, then jabbed the ice pick into his neck connector.

“Go shove that spike through your neck when you’re done,” the Commodore spat at him with contempt. The spike made his chrome itch as it scoured him for his credentials. His pain made resisting it a useless gesture, so he focused on his usurper. “You’ll die soon enough. You don’t have the stones to rule.” He was about to continue his tirade, if for no other reason than to pass the time until his death, when an alert flashed in the middle of his vision, causing his gaze to become distant.

Thaddeus watched as a look of horror fell over the Commodore, only for a grim smirk to replace it in a real hurry. He had a cold fear welling up that the Commodore was looking beyond the moon. “What is it?”

Blinking, the Commodore looked at him with that same smirk. “The aliens, the ones that fought the Akira. They just dropped in on the host planet.”

Thaddeus’ blood froze, and didn’t see the ice pick light up green. He shook off the fright as quickly as it had come. “Lying about that just for a cheap jab? There are no depths you won’t sink to now are there?”

Weak laughter and coughing filled the room as the Commodore faded. “It doesn't matter if you believe me or not.” He slumped onto the floor as Thaddeus let go of him, and he was too tired to bother trying to get back up. “The only thing you will rule… is a - tomb.” The Commodore went slack, and didn’t speak again. Only his vindictive grin remained, as even his own death could not wipe it away.

Wincing from his chest wound as he stood back up, a cold pit of fear clung to Thaddeus as the Commodore passed away. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, or perhaps it was simply not wanting to believe the last bit of spite from the Commodore, Thaddeus ignored the warning. He retreated to the testing area, and found Felin slumped against the pedestal. She had removed her shirt and uniform jacket to administer her wounds. Her breathing came in shallow and shaky. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t know if I can stand.”

Thaddeus claimed the tube of bio-foam loosely resting in her right hand. He squeezed what was left into his chest wound. It wasn’t much, but it would hold for now. “Then climb on. We need to get you to medical, and then move on from there.”

Felin gave him a stunned look. No one rode atop a centauri as it was a sign of dominance over them. “Sir, it might be expedient, but what will others think? Ours is a forbidden love.”

Cracking a darkly humored grin, Thaddeus gently grabbed her to move the drake into position. “You must have lost a lot of blood if you’re trying to be funny.”

Still not exactly happy riding his back, Felin tried to at least make it less uncomfortable. “Are we abandoning the plan to wipe the server farm?”

Standing back up, and ensuring she was stable, Thaddeus walked carefully to the front doors. “You just focus on staying awake. We can deal with everything else after you get back on your feet.” He claimed Felin’s jacket on the table, and gave it back to her. Moving carefully to keep Felin on his back, he made his way into the hallway to find the bodyguards had abandoned their posts completely. Yet after rounding the corner into the main hallway, he saw they hadn’t gone far.

One centauri had fallen over a table, and the other two had collapsed right there on the floor. Thaddeus ran over to check the one on the table. Terror gripped him as he saw the foaming mouth and frozen mask of searing agony.

“By the stars… he was telling the truth!”

He ran over to a nearby window. Both he and Felin stared out into a scene of destruction. The moon was awash with fires from crashed aircraft. One of the docking corvettes was drifting dangerously close to the rest of the naval spires, it would only be a matter of time before it collided, and the other four docked ships were sent tumbling down.

“Everyone is dead aren’t they?” Felin asked as stinging tears rolled down her scales. “That’s all it takes. Them just showing up, and a whole moon is dead…”

The scene before him was more painful than his defeat against Howling Tempest by a hundred fold. Thaddeus may not have had many allies, let alone friends, but the moon had been a second home. And now it all falls apart in a matter of seconds. Despair threatened to drag him down and crush him. Yet before he could fall into that pit, he looked at Felin. She has to survive. “Not everyone,” he mustered at last. “The discarded of yesterday are the kings of today. If we can get word out to the Innies, they have a chance to defeat the Waylan. After that, they can rescue whoever we can save.”

“They’ll kill you,” Felin warned with the same protectiveness he was showing her. “If for nothing else then your attack on Trireme. Best case they try and sentence you to death.”

“I did my duty, just as I am going to do so today.” Thaddeus pulled away from the window and called an elevator. “We need to act quickly before the Waylan arrive overhead. There’s no telling what they’ll do after that.”

The elevator arrived quickly and they were soon off towards medical. The hallways leading to medical were choked with the dead and the dying. Yet as if by cruel irony, medical itself was empty, save for an autodoc who had just put the two nurses into stasis. Thankfully, the Commodore had spared no expense in kitting the place out. The autodoc was currently in a loop trying to reach the doctors on call, but was receiving no reply.

Thaddeus set Felin down on one of the examination tables, and waved the hacking spike across the autodoc. It immediately gave up on its task to look at him. “Go tend to my second. She needs surgery and a blood transfusion.”

“My sensors indicate you are injured, Commodore, you take priority.”

The cold logic and being called ‘Commodore’ grated him, and Thaddeus firmly pushed the robot back. “Do as I command, I can survive until Felin is stabilized.”

“...As you wish.”

With Felin being tended to, Thaddeus found his way over to the nurse’s station. He took some gauze to press against his wound for now. It was a simple task to log out and then relog in as the Commodore. There’s no telling how long it will take before comms break down.

Without his chrome to speed things along, gaining access to comms took longer than it should have. Every moment was nerve wracking as he was expected to lose connection at any second.

When the connection activated, he practically jumped at the camera. “This is Admiral Thaddeus of the Ruby Navy to any Initiative government or naval vessel, respond!”

Nothing yet. He chanced a look towards Felin. The autodoc was in the middle of addressing her wounds. “This is Admiral Thaddeus, respond!”

A few pirate patrols beyond the moon’s orbit were among the first to answer. He gave them a curt briefing of what happened, and ordered them to surrender to the Initiative. If for no other reason than that they could not survive without a home port.

However, he kept a channel open to the ponies. He was in the middle of briefing a corvette when a call came in from an old foe.

“This is Captain Molded Clay of the Rainbow Dash. We hear you, Admiral.” The earth stallion’s brown face appeared on the console with a hard scowl. “Hardly discrete of you to hail us on an open channel.”

Thaddeus half hoped his gunshot wound wasn’t showing on screen. “The time for discretion is over, Captain. The Waylan have just killed my home.”

20: Passing the Torch

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.”

21: Honor

The flotilla split up shortly after receiving a visual of the Waylan. The Akira and Tough Love raced ahead with a cloud of drones coasting behind them. With hyperspace being fairly calm between them and the Waylan, it would only be half a day before any fighting could begin.

Nestled deep within the heart of her ship, Flurry Heart was preparing herself for battle. Her place was not on the bridge, but a ten foot square spherical room that was so saturated with magic that it was on par with a ley line. Four other similar rooms ringed her own, yet only two would be crewed by their appointee mages, as the other two were too cyberized to participate. The replacements would be of poor training, but a manned gun was better than no gunner at all.

Activating the chamber, the dark blue sea of hyperspace appeared before her. She stood in place of her ship with the Akira off her port bow. Much like how the Akira enhanced Morales’ powers, the Tough Love did much the same for Flurry Heart. But it was not a true warship, lacking the arms and armor of a vessel its weight would demand. Only the shield ring gave it an edge.

So it was that when Cadence called her, Flurry Heart practically leapt onto the answer button. “Anything?”

The pink face of her mother looked as if she had only given herself an hour of sleep, but the weary half-smile was the best thing Flurry Heart had seen all day. “Ballistically, you’re out gunned. But so long as you keep those two aliens off screen, I might have an out for you.”

An alert distracted Flurry and she looked away from her mother. “I hope you’re right because it looks like we’ve been spotted. The Waylan are headed our way.”

Cadence’s hologram fizzled a bit before her exhausted visage was replaced by one with serene grace and regal bearing. “Then it is time for me to play my part. Get ready to start broadcasting this signal to those corporate bots.”

Flurry Heart saw the file Cadence gave her and quickly relayed it to comms. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I do,” Cadence said with careful consideration. “I just hope the Akira’s records are accurate about our foe. You don’t mind me using your chamber here as a meeting place, do you?” She asked as if Flurry could actually say no. No matter how many centuries passed or how technically close they were in age, Cadence never had mercy on pulling the ‘mother’ card. “I will have to summon the holograms of the Akira’s bridge crew if this is going to work.”

Had it been something petty, Flurry would have rebelled on principle. Here though, she wasn’t too keen on staring down the barrels of three warships and a carrier. She had seen just how accurate and quick the Waylan heavy scout’s pd had been against the mines, and her drone carriers had been half-stocked with construction and mining drones, not just fighters. It still would have been enough against pirates. “Fine, fine. So how are we going to hail them?”

“Via the Akira of course. Even if the aliens shared the comm codes with us, we’re still using Cathrex protocols. We’re fighting our way uphill no matter what in this situation.”

Shivering a bit, Flurry Heart nodded. “Anything before we actually hail them?”

“Yes.” This time, Cadence grew uneasy giving this command. “I’m going to require Morales and Mote off the Akira’s bridge. I’d prefer putting them both in stasis, but I’ll leave that call up to you.”

“You think we need to go that far?”

“We don’t know how precise the Waylan sensors are. If they detect an awake cathrex, it could derail everything. If they are in stasis, we can claim they were like that when we found them.”

Taking a steadying breath, Flurry slowly nodded. “Agreed. I’ll see it done.”

“That’ll do. Let me know when you’ve arranged everything on your end. The sooner the better.”

Later, when the two forces were mere hours away from missile range, Flurry’s casting room had been prepared. The holograms of Wiggly and Live Wire stood beside a table while Flurry Heart and her mother took position in the center with the expected projection of the Waylan representative in front of the exit. Winter had opted out so she could be ready if things went hot.

Wiggly was in a sour mood about sending her alien friends into stasis, but when two queens gave an order, even a criminal kingpin would bow and scrap.

Yet when the young mare’s hologram manifested in the room, Cadence instantly took notice of the hat she was wearing. She cast a quick look at her daughter who grinned in a silent reply. “So an imperial engineer walks among us again.” Cadence approached the tense mare and stallion who bowed low. Cadence gestured for them to rise before speaking again. “My apologies for our first meeting with you in such dire circumstances, but fate rarely cares about our wishes.”

Unwilling to speak out about Morales, Wiggly dipped her head again out of respect. “We serve at your pleasure, High Queen.”

Well I’ve made a right good first impression haven't I? Cadence couldn’t see that hat without also seeing Twilight Sparkle, a closer sister she could ever ask for. Yet she was once again a stranger with a gulf of rank and time between them. It doesn’t matter if my call proves correct, feelings don’t care about facts. I’ll have to make it up to her somehow. “Right then. Let’s hope our guests are willing to speak. Captain Sprocket, hail them, and reroute any answer here.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Wiggly made a show of entering some commands. Wire focused on his console, and waited for a long moment before shaking his head.

“No response.”

Wiggly eyed her own readings. “The Waylan are advancing our way. They’re launching fighters.” She had expected at least a hundred, given the number and size of the ships, but the numbers kept growing, as did her fear. “One twenty, fourty, sixty, by the stars there’s over two hundred!”

Cadence held firm, even as the calculus of battle weighed against her. The carriers they had brought with them were not at full strength and could only match the Waylan’s strikecraft in numbers. I don’t like fighting somepony I have no tactical data on. “Open a channel. This isn’t a fight we should push for.” When Wire gave his acknowledgement, Cadence continued. “This is High Queen Mi Amora Cadenza of the United Pony Space Initiative. We demand parlay under article 45 of the Universal Rights Decree.”

“We’re getting a response!” Wire half-shouted out of suprise. “Rerouting.”

What appeared before them all was a floating cathrex face of six eyes, a snake-like jaw, and an expression of off-putting corporate politeness. “Combine vessel, your parlay request is accepted.” The face’s eyes independently looked over the gathered ponies. “You may request a death song before you are liquidated.”

Cadence stepped forward, her head high and voice forceful. “We are not cathrex, you threaten a neutral party.”

The intelligence behind the disturbing face seemed unmoved. “You are in possession of a Nakiha-pattern frigate, a known classification of Combine vessels. You are using Combine comms protocols. If you are not cathrex, you are allied to them. A legal target. Do you require a death song?”

There was no emotion to play off of, as Cadence feared. “We salvaged that ship, the crew aboard it were dead long before we claimed it. By right of salvage, all ties, both legal or otherwise, are nulled by that act.”

The intelligence paused, and gauged each pony in turn. It’s records spoke of a few xenotypes similar to the organics before it. Those same records mentioned they came from preexisting aliens. “Possible. If you are not cathrex, you must prove it.”

“How?” Cadence offered with what she hoped would be seen as equally polite.

“I require fifteen complete instances of strands from your species. Each one no more related to each other than eighth cousins. I also require your complete set of laws in respect to corporate entities.”

“That’s agreeable.” Cadence gestured to her daughter to comply. “I have read your old laws. I must invoke the Declaration of Appeasement. No biological agents will be made using these samples.“

“Noted. I will be sending retrieval drones to collect genetic samples. Do not resist its efforts.”

Cadence stiffened at the requirement. “We can send you the data you need from here.”

“Unacceptable. Even if the strands are genuine, they may not be your strands.”

“I have a question, Flurry Heart put out there before Cadence could say anything. “You’ve been in the star system directly below you, yes?” The Waylan turned its gaze to match Flurry’s, yet said nothing. “I bet you have, or at least part of your forces are down there right now, and you’re just a covering force.”

“Irrelevant. The civilization we found on the moon does not match your own.”

“The moon?” Wiggly blurted out before hastily covering her mouth, and glancing about. She expected silent reprimands from the queens, yet neither did more than look at her expectantly. When Flurry gestured for her to continue, Sprocket did not shakily. “That’s where the Rubies were.”

An idea flashed in Cadence’s mind and she spoke up before Wiggly could say anything compromising. “Ah, our protectorate.” That earned a stunned look from the siblings, yet a sly one from Flurry. “You see, we just fought a war with the Rubies, and annexed everything but their homeworld.”

The Waylan remained silent for a time as it sifted through its archives of the organics it sampled from the moon. The AI only found three samples, but it located instances of beings that matched the equine creatures standing before it instead of any terracorns. And more importantly, they lacked any sign of cathrex technology or genetic tampering.

Probability of organics lying… unable to determine. Insufficient data on emotional signals for truth or deceit. Technological signatures indicate recent acquisition of the ship. Probability of Nakiha being salvaged upgraded to acceptable tolerances. Even so, some due diligence was called for. “If you are familiar with the moon station, display phenotypes of the beings present.”

“Considering most of them are dead…” Wiggly managed to hide her vindictive smirk as she tapped away at her console. As soon as she had the species list, she forwarded it to the projectors. Everything from centuari to zebras appeared.

“It is as you say. Identity as non-cathrex confirmed. You are entitled to legal compensation for asset losses.” The Waylan adopted a much more pleasant demeanor, yet it was obvious to all that it was simply a façade.

Except for Cadence, everyone had a flash of greed take hold. For the loss of a moon and its people, lives none of them truly cared for, the possibilities were endless. And it was that greed that kept them from speaking up before Cadence. “We need you to leave, and never return.”

“What?!” Flurry hissed hotly.

The Waylan nodded, and spoke as emotionless as ever. “Consider it done. This verbal agreement is considered valid and binding. As required, I will give you a copy of all actions that could nullify this agreement. Do note that this representative does not represent all corporations you would know as ‘Waylan’, therefore this entity is not at fault for any of their incursions. Good day.”

The AI’s face vanished, and moments later, the fleet recalled its strikecraft, then turned to depart. Neither Flurry or Wiggly were in any mood to testify their luck and call the Waylan back, but it didn’t stop them from glowering at the elder alicorn.

“What in Tartarus was that?!” Flurry seethed. “We could have gotten a lot more than that!”

“We got exactly what we needed and no more.” Cadence stated with dire conviction. “The Initiative is still recovering from the war, we just learned of a new form of FTL, we have the mess of advanced gene tailoring to look forward to, a whole generation of terracorns to rear, the discovery that Equiss is not the sole source of intelligent life, and the potential trade agreement that could lead other Waylan factions to our door.”

Cadence studied their faces carefully. Live Wire was mollified instantly, while Wiggly took a few seconds. Flurry Heart hid it, but Cadence could tell she wasn’t too happy. “That is too many shocks all at once. We need time to process all this before it turns into a cascade of problems that get out of control, and I’ll be damned before I jeopardize us by having any further dealings with the Waylan.”

“If that is your will as Grand Ambassador, then it will be done,” Flurry Heart stated with professional stoicism.

“It is.” Cadence took a cup of coffee from off screen and downed a few gulps before addressing Wiggly. “Moving along, I am glad to see a new Imperial Engineer has been named. We’ve been too long without one.”

Standing a bit straighter, Wiggly nodded respectfully. She was unsure how to handle Cadence. As much as Sprocket was relieved over not having to fight such an overpowering enemy, she was still sour over Morales being ordered into stasis. Even more so now that it didn’t seem necessary. “I received it just this morning, your highness.” She kept herself as professionally cold as before.

The attitude irked Cadence. Flurry’s little rebellions were one thing, but Cadence adored Twilight, and got along famously with Shining Light. It’s times like this I wish Terra had just made you an alicorn, or at least let you be like every other spark out there. This amnesia is too cruel. “I’m sure you have more than earned it, far beyond you know.”

Flurry Heart was known far and wide to take chances on ponies, and was usually right. But for Cadence to lay praise before Wiggly felt she earned it left the pegacorn unsettled. “I’m not exactly sure how, but who am I to question a high queen’s rubric?”

“You are the Imperial Engineer, that’s who,” Cadence replied right back, leaving Wiggly speechless. “It is my opinion that we queens are at extreme risk of getting too old and too big picture. We need ponies like you to keep us grounded. Follow whatever mandate my daughter has you on, but do not forget that you have the right to call us out if you see us slipping.”

“In your case, in matters of technology,” Flurry Heart clarified. It was a half-truth, and she expected her mother to correct the record with a hidden grin.

“In any matter,” Cadence quickly shot back, completely falling for the bait. She eyed her daughter with ‘just try to contradict me’ energy. “But all of that can wait. You lot have a star system to reintegrate, and I have forty eight hours of sleep to catch up on. Until next time.”

Cadence’s hologram vanished, leaving everyone in a few moments of silence. Live Wire didn’t much care for the oppressive quiet so he piped up. “So hey, the Waylan have made good, and left. How about we pop back into Lilian and give everypony the good news?”

“Sounds good.” Flurry prepared to close down her chamber and make her way to the bridge. “I’ll be in Lilian until the portal station is complete. Celestia and Luna may be the queenpins on rebuilding a planet, but I’m no slouch. But the two of you are free to do whatever you want.”

“Well…” Sprocket idly commanded the Akira to head for the colony, and told Mote to wake Morales. “The local navy has more ships to repair than space in the shipyard. We could always stick around until they catch up.

“That would be good for the mid term,” Live Wire began with a sly smirk. “But after the festivities of your arrival, my sister and I have a debt to settle.”

With the Waylan out of the way, the Akira and the others appeared over top of the Lilian colony. The celebrations held weeks prior were a pale shadow compared to what awaited after Flurry Heart made her appearance.

Parties, paraded fighters and bombers in formation, drinking, and dancing filled the air waves for four days and nights. At last, Lilian was no longer alone. It was on that fifth day that the celebrations calmed down enough for one issue the local ponies had not yet settled on: the pirate survivors.

Flurry Heart brought a select group of marines with her to a pleasure yacht orbiting the planet. The Phallus had been towed within the firing arcs of a battleship-turned-weapons platform and a couple of explosives strapped to the engines to ensure it went nowhere. As soon as the shuttle docked, the queen saw a squad of pony marines waiting for them. A warden earth pony saluted her arrival.

The warden was irritated, and it shone through his gruff exterior. “High Queen, you honor this filth by granting them too much of your time. We’d be more than happy to carry out the executions ourselves.”

“As much as I would love to let you have them, it is out of my hooves.” With a swiping gesture, she had her regalia send a copy of the peace treaty to the staff. “Read it later, for now, have the prisoners assemble in a commons room or mess hall.”

The warden didn’t need to read anything more than the title to know what was going to happen. With a spiteful snort, he addressed his second. “Eason, gather them up on deck three over at the swimming pool.” As the officer started giving orders, the warden turned back to Flurry Heart. “A pity the mayor dithered so long. We should have executed all of them the moment this ship surrendered.”

“And it would have been in your right to do so until I gave you that copy.” Flurry Heart matched his sour look with one of her own. “When it comes to treaties, even a queen has her limits.”

Roughly twenty minutes later, Flurry stood at the front of the swimming pool. It had been drained while in standby, so a number of survivors were waiting there while Thaddeus and Felin stood on the opposite side by the deep end.

The marines tasked with holding them took up station one story up at the observation balconies. All with weapons drawn and itching to shoot anyone who so much as sneezed in Flurry’s direction. As for the pirates themselves, they were largely in two groups, the wasterals and destitutes Thaddeus rescued from the moon who sat inside the dry pool. The captains and crew stood along the lip of the pool deck itself.

Flurry Heart eyed everyone with unmasked hatred. She had every single marine activate their body cameras. “I… loathe pirates,” she openly admitted to the crowd who grew intensely nervous. “If I had it my way, I’d give each and every one of you a pressure suit and throw you out of an airlock and let you burn up on reentry of a gas giant. Surrender be damned. Fortunately for you, the peace treaty stays my hoof.” Flurry met the eyes of anyone who even remotely looked defiant.

“As it stipulates, any star system that is isolated from the homeworld is considered still at war until contact is reestablished. Whatever local treaties or agreements you had established are voided, and all hostility is considered acts of war up until contact is reestablished.”

A wave of relief flooded the Rubies before her. If true, it absolved all of them from criminal charges. Against the ponies at least. A number of them had to sit down to emotionally recover from expecting certain death.

“However!” Flurry Heart shouted over the growing commotion of excitement. “The treaty also stipulates in instances as extreme as this, where both recognized legitimate governments agreed to peace, only for you to break it afterwards, the most aggrieved is entitled to a pound of flesh.” Flurry took some satisfaction that the jubilation evaporated real quick. “Unfortunately, since the Waylan killed so many of you, I can really only get away with executing one of you.”

She continued with every word filled with venom. “I could pick one out myself, but there’s so many of you worthy of getting spaced, I can’t decide. So you have ten minutes to pick someone before I start a lottery.”

Thaddeus doubted the treaty truly said that, but he doubted the alicorn would do this if the Alliance was in any position to denounce her. He knew exactly what she was here for: the one who killed her son. Yet as he stood to present himself, one of the shipmasters, a griffon, jumped up. “Take Thaddeus! He’s the one who broke Trireme station.”

His small crew joined in, followed by another shipmaster. “That’s right he - he’s the one in charge!”

A ship’s mate from a third ship chimed in. “Hey yeah, you’re High Queen Flurry Heart right? Right?! Thaddeus was the admiral during Sword Fall. He killed your son!”

“Enough you cowards!” Felin roared to silence them all. She moved to say more, but Thaddeus placed a hand across her chest.

It was painful to be so quickly sold out by his countrymen. And yet, he expected it. Everyone knew he had the Commodore’s codes, and it was no secret the only way he could have them, is if the Commodore was alive when it happened. Every last pirate knew he killed the Commodore. Resigned to this fate before Flurry Heart had ever arrived, he squared his shoulders. In the silence that hung in the air, he spoke with grim conviction. “It is all true. If you require my head, I freely give it if it means the rest can live.”

Felin tried to protest, but a sharp glare from Thaddeus stilled her restless tongue.

Flurry’s silent ire flared into a simmering rage at the sight of him. Yet as she raised a hoof to make a pronouncement, one of the drakes from the pool took flight, ignoring the marines aiming their weapons at him. “High Queen, I beg of you to spare the high admiral. If you need a corpse, than take mine!”

The chamber fell into bedlam as those standing around the pool yelled condemnations to the interloper.
A magically charged shout from Flurry enforced silence. The weight of it rocked the flying drake. “Why should I take you in his place?”

Clasping his hands in a pleading motion, Flurry could see past his threadbare shirt and torn pants that staying in the air was heavily taxing the emaciated reptile. “Though his crimes against you are great, he is the reason any of us still live.”

A three-legged kirin blinded in one eye stepped out of the crowded pool. “If he is not enough, then take me as well. I have nothing but my life, but I will give it freely to keep that honorable man alive.”

A centauri pulled free of the crowded pool. From her thin, scraggly hair to her leathery skin and missing teeth, the woman had lived a harsh life. “High Queen, the admiral may be a villain to you, but he is a hero to me. Spare him, and I will open my veins here and now!”

A fourth stepped up, then a fifth, a sixth, and more. Thaddeus would have wept if he had not kept a tight control of himself. Felin fared little better, and distracted herself by glaring hotly at any of the sailors who dared cast their gaze upon Thaddeus.

The cacophony of voices continued to grow as the pirates started trying to shout those in the pool down for the perceived useless gestures. Those in the pool stood as one in Thaddeus’ defense.

The noise was making the marines nervous, and Flurry Heart saw a riot coming if something wasn’t done. Charging her horn, she cast a spell to briefly paralyze everyone. The vessel’s life support struggled to reverse the sudden blizzard she wrought upon them all. “I will have order.” Her low icy tone brooked no argument when she released only Thaddeus, leaving the room deathly quiet. “Admiral, what say you?”

Thaddeus couldn’t suppress the shivering, but refused to cross his arms to warm up. “I did not save these people only to use them to avoid a death sentence. I will go with you.”

Flurry Heart inhaled sharply, and a humorless grin crossed her lips. “Good.” She magically grabbed him and pulled Thaddeus over the pool and placed him beside her. “Warden, take him to the airlock. I want the rest of the prisoners restricted to the brig or quarters if there isn’t enough room.”

Wiggly Sprocket and the others watched the end of the pool incident from the Akira’s bridge. They had grown up with this background of anger always sitting in their past. The pirates were despised, but a special place of loathing had been for the one who commanded the Rubies at the sundering of Trireme. To now have his name and to see how many tried to condemn him, they were left feeling vindicated. Those who rose to his defense meant nothing to the siblings.

Wiggly rattled her console like a drum. “Yes! Finally that bastard will get what’s coming to him!”

“That’s what you get for Trireme!” Live Wire cheered with a holler.

Morales recalled the repeated memorial shows about the war, and how Trireme was kept active partially out of desperation, and more out of pure stubborn pride. His people had no such victory to harken back on, save the simple act of survival, so he took what vicarious joy he could.

Mote however, was nervously biting a nail. “Statement. S-she can’t do that.”

The hushed comment drew a lot of attention. “What do you mean she can’t?” Wiggly protested.

“Flurry’s a high queen.” Winter reminded her with less irritation than Wiggly did. “Her word is law.”

Twisting in her seat to face the two mares, Mote pressed on. “Explanation. But there is nothing in the treaty about a ‘pound of flesh’ or any other sort of revenge clause.”

Morales thumped his tank. “Are you saying if she does this, she’ll break the treaty?”

“So what if she does?” Live Wire countered with a snort. “We won the war, remember? The Rubies won’t give two flicks about one centauri. Even if they did, they can pound sand.” Sprocket had fallen quiet however. Wire looked to his sister for support, only to find she had taken off her hat and was holding it in front of her face. “Wiggs?”

Looking up at him with a start, Wiggly wrestled with herself. “It’s something Cadence said. That - that if a queen makes a mistake, it’s my job to call it out.” Winter was taken aback, and looked to her coltfriend to see what he’d do.

Growing incensed, Wire unbuckled himself so he could fully turn to face her. “This is not a mistake! That monster has to die!”

“I know that!” Wiggly shouted back with her eyes misting over. She met his hard gaze with a shaky one of her own. “Mote. Are you sure there isn’t anything that gives Flurry the right?”

“She’s a high queen, she has every right.” Live Wire seethed at the very idea of letting his parents’ killer go free. “Tell her, Winter!”

Licking her parched lips, Winter reluctantly shook her head. “I’m sorry but - I can’t do that. Sprocket can’t command a queen to do anything, but she can give advice.”

Finding no support there, Live Wire focused intently on his sister. “Don’t do this!”

“If this was a week ago I wouldn’t!” Wiggly half-yelled with hot tears running down her face. She shook her hat at him. “I took this seriously, Wire!” She fell back in her seats, sniffling. “Terra as my witness I did, and do because Twilight Sparkle wore it. Twilight could throw her life away to end enstripement.” Sprocket clenched her teeth dearly wishing she could let Flurry have her way. “If she can do that, then I have to tell Flurry she’s in the wrong.”

Live Wire backed up a bit. He could see how much the decision pained his sister, and he couldn’t stand it. “Damn it, Mote, find something!”

Flinching at the force in his voice, and wishing she had kept her mouth shut, Mote still managed to stand her ground. “Statement. I can’t give you what doesn’t exist.”

In spite of her own words, Wiggly still found it difficult to make that call. She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw started to ache. The more she thought about it, the more painful her choice became. “Damn it all.” Before she could regret it, Wiggly entered the commands to call Flurry Heart.

Even though Live Wire had control over the comms, he couldn’t bring himself to stop his sister. “I need some air.” He marched out of the control room, leaving Wiggly to her unenviable task.

The long walk to the airlock started off quietly, even as the heavy hoofsteps were muffled by the carpeting. Thaddeus couldn’t help but to feel a measure of peace. Dying in the gutter or to the Commodore’s bullet would have been a waste. Here though, Thaddeus believed a high queen would keep her word and spare the survivors if he cooperated.

“Would you care to know how low my defeat at your son’s hooves brought me?”

Flurry Heart stopped in the middle of the hallway, prompting the others to do the same. “Why? Looking for pity?”

“Never.” Thaddeus risked turning around to meet her in the eyes. The marines tightened the grip on their weapons, but made no move to stop him. “But perhaps you will get some extra measure of solace by knowing how your son ruined me for a time.”

Twisting her face into a grimace, Flurry Heart eventually let off a shivering sigh. “Do you know how many sons and daughters I have buried, Admiral? Forty seven,” she answered, not expecting an answer.

“I have three children alive today, along with a great many grandchildren beyond them. A third of them have died in battle.” Flurry looked past the centauri and to the stars beyond. ”My agelessness has not weakened the pain of loss that each funeral brings, but I have learned how to not be blinded by my grief. As queen, I can not afford it.” She straightened up and stared directly into his eyes. “Admiral Thaddeus, you killed my son and ruined Trireme as legal acts of war, and as such it would be improper to punish you specifically for it. No matter what my personal feelings on the matter are.”

Thaddeus was floored by the admission. He stole glances at the marines who were not happy, but didn’t dare contradict her. “I don’t understand. If this wasn’t some elaborate theater to legally execute me, then why do all this?”

“The treaty doesn’t have a ‘pound of flesh’ clause, and yet Lilian demands satisfaction.” Flurry’s grin morphed into a frosty scowl. “I loathe pirates. Soldiers and sailors I respect, but pirates? By the stars I despise them. See I could not execute your - detractors without it being politically messy. Now, I won’t have to lift a feather to see them dead.” The frown was wiped away with a more neutral one taking its place. “Besides, I already know how low your defeat at Trireme brought you.” She glanced around at the marines around her before continuing. “Drowning yourself in the bottle being reduced to a street bum instead of participating in piracy. For that, you are far more honorable than any of those who took up the cutlass.”

Feeling utterly embarrassed, doubly so in front of the pony marines, Thaddeus’ military bearing threatened to crack. “You know about that?”

A slight upward tug on Flurry's clips showed forth. “You rescued one of our spies. Avoiding names, he had been captured and stripped of his chrome. He was left to die in those slave pens if you had not shown up to rescue. From what else I heard, Captain Howling Tempest spoke highly of you, as one sailor to another. But more importantly, you gave critical information to him at risk to yourself, and held back the Commodore’s usage of the Waylan weapon.”

While Flurry Heart remained calm, the marines around the two were in utter shock. The one centauri who they reviled for sundering Trireme had quite possibly saved the whole colony. None of this had been known outside of the top brass, but with the pirates rendered impotent, secrecy was no longer needed.

Thaddeus’ face fell into a mild frown and he glanced around at the marines who bore far less hostility. “If I was half the man you make me out to be, the Commodore would have never come to power. All I did these last several months was in penance. There will be no fanfare for my return, let alone a place in the navy.”

Unwilling to argue a point he would know better in, Flurry Heart nodded solemnly. “I can’t forgive you for what you did to the Cloud Jumper, but you have my thanks for saving my citizens.”

Thaddeus recoiled from the freighter’s name and when Flurry gestured towards him. After a moment, he realized she was holding out a hoof to shake. Summoning the strength to hold firm to a stoic expression, he firmly returned the gesture.

When it was over, Flurry moved on. “You and the other prisoners will be restricted to quarters, admiral. The Phallus will be crewed by my ponies until it can be dropped off at the first Alliance port.”

“I understand, your highness.”

“Good.” She looked to the marine escorts. “Take him to the executive suites. Ensure no other prisoners know he is alive until you reach an Alliance port.”

“As you wish,” the marines replied dutifully as they moved to flank the centauri.

“I know I am in no place to ask,” Thaddeus said, halting the marines. “But could you place my second, Felin, in my quarters? She was the drake who stood beside me. She and I are the only real friends we have. If she thinks I’m dead, I’m worried she might cause a lot of trouble.” Thaddeus leaned in just a bit. “You know how drakes can be.”

“I have complete faith in my marines to handle an ornery drake, admiral. But…” Flurry gave a ghost of a grin. “I can respect that. Your lover may join you.”

Flurry immediately walked off, leaving Thaddeus flustered. “Felin isn’t my-!” He stopped himself after realizing it was pointless to argue. Instead he opted to nod in thanks before allowing his escorts to take him away.

Originally planning to simply leave right then and there, but the sheer gaudiness of the pleasure yacht’s fully carpeted interior, complete with statues of gold, silver, and jade left her artistically curious. I suppose I can afford a small tour while the marines are busy moving the Rubies to their ‘cells’.

With only a single marine left to protect her, Flurry felt the need to expend her turbulent mood with some lighthearted fun at the marine’s expense. Poor colt barely looks twenty years old. I wonder how much of an art critic he is.

Yet before she could start bombarding the hapless marine with in-depth analysis of style and motifs, her secretary chimed in on her ear. “Your highness,
your new imperial engineer is requesting a word, says it’s urgent.”

“Is it now? Put her through.” Wiggly’s small holographic disembodied head appeared in front of Flurry’s nose. “Yes, Miss Sprocket?”

The younger mare looked pensive and unsure of herself right from the start. “Your highness, you haven’t spaced Thaddeus yet, have you?”

For a split second, Flurry was about to tell the truth, but decided against it just as her lips parted. “Why? If you wanted to push the button yourself, you shouldn’t be halfway to Trireme.”

“W- uh - I remember you telling me not to go with you,” Wiggly replied with a sheepish face.

“You could have insisted,” Flurry countered with just a hint of annoyance to put her off balance. “But to answer your question, no, I was about to though. Want to watch?”

“As much as I would really like to, it’d-” Wiggly wrung her hooves with the stress of looking into the alicorn’s terse expression. “It’d be a bad idea to execute Thaddeus.” Wiggly had to shore up her courage at seeing Flurry Heart bristle with indignation. If she was going to make her case, she had to do it now. “The treaty doesn’t give us the right to execute them like this!” She blurted out as fast as her mouth could move. “Trust me, I’d love to see him get spaced. I don’t know about your son, but I know damn well mine and Wire’s parents would want him dead, but not if it kicked off another war.”

Inwardly, Flurry was both irritated by her son being brought up again, yet at the same time couldn’t fault her for it. “I just broadcasted his condemnation to the whole system. You better be right about this, now where does it say that?”

Flinching back and flattening her ears, Wiggly struggled to stay in her seat. “Well - um - it’s more like what it doesn’t say. Right?” she directed at Mote.

Rather than her usual meek demeanor, Mote stood firm in the face of Flurry’s smoldering ire. “Statement. It is the truth of the matter. The Peace of Iron Hooves is quite clear in its wording.”

Furrowing her brow, Flurry tilted an ear. “You just so happened to read peace treaties for fun?”

All eyes fell on the gynoid who only offered a nervous laugh. “Admission. We cathrex haven’t seen a peace treaty in millennia, and I was curious. Plus, if I am going to be living in the Initiative, it behooves me to learn its laws and treaties.”

Unseen by all, Morales couldn’t help but to feel she was talking more to him than the queen. Hey now, I’ve been busy reading up on pony medical journals.

Flurry Heart turned her gaze back to Wiggly, and rewarded her with a slight frown as she acted as if she pulled up a personal AI to search the document. A few seconds later, she feigned a disgruntled huff. “It seems you’re right.” She looked off screen to the marine. “Escort the prisoner to his quarters.”

The whole time, the marine had been wondering why he was still there, and jumped a bit at being given an impossible order. “I - he’s-”

Quick as a flash, Flurry sighed aggressively. “I know what I said, just do it.”

“Yes your highness!” Not knowing what to really do, he snapped a sharp salute and ran off to make doubly sure Thaddeus was in his quarters.

Faking a few breathing exercises to calm down, Flurry eventually gave Wiggly a curt nod. “I’ll drum up a reason for sparing Thaddeus. Selling some of the Alliance’s secrets or some such. You did well today, I’ll speak with you later.”

Flurry ended the call, leaving Wiggly to slump in her seat. The stress of it all left her still feeling tense. “For the love of Cadence, I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Correction. You deserve more credit than I do.” Mote played nervously with her tail. “I only pointed it out. You were the one who made the call.”

“Captain,” Morales announced, breaking Wiggy out of her stupor. “We’re on approach to Trireme station. Should I call for Winter Gale from her nap so she can start docking procedures, or should we wait?”

Letting off a long groan, Sprocket eventually waggled a wing in the station’s direction. “Go ahead. I need to find my brother.”

Several hours later, and great many lightyears away, Cadence was seated in person with the Ruby Alliance ambassador: Star Marshal Callithor. He had a history of being hard nosed, aggressive centauri, traditional and above all else, valued honor. Now though, after the war had been spent, he had come to enjoy Cadence’s company, as much as the harsh military man could like a mare that was celebrated for her compassion and silver tongue.

They were in a lounge back on Equiss situated on neutral ground: the rebuilt castle of the Storm King after both he and his legions had been laid to ruin long ago.

Fine leather creaked as Cadence shifted her weight. “I never can get enough of the seaside beaches,” she swooned while sipping from a multicolored drink.

“Probably why I rarely hear of you leaving the homeworld,” Callthor chided in his signature gruff tone. “I’m sure we can make a better version on Dethan.”

A planet as deep into Alliance territory as one can go? “Only if you come to Victoria for our famous meatball frambe.”

Chuckling low and in a tone that had terrified thousands of recruits, Callthor actually considered it for a moment. “Perhaps another time.”

Taking a long sip from her straw, Cadence magically produced a data chip from her dress and slid it over to him. “We found some luckless survivors in Lilian. Ninety seven in all.”

Arching an eyebrow, the graying centauri claimed the chip and inserted it into his wrist. The first thing to pop up was a list of names. “Less than a hundred?” He leveled a callous eye at her. “I suppose Feldspar must give up the distinction of our worst defeat.” He gave her the benefit of the doubt that his people went down fighting instead of being slaughtered in surrender.

“I’m afraid neither pony nor suicide had any hoof in this massacre.”

Callthor snapped his eyes up at her. “What? You don’t mean to tell me that Waylan nonsense is real, do you?”

“You’re well informed,” Cadence mused aloud, only for her inner frown to sour further when he almost smirked.

“Gaaah, our informants whispered about some terror you ponies found out there.” Callthor started filtering the names, hoping someone of consequence still lived. “To think they struck us first.” He found a few he was thankful for. Thaddeus being chief among the petty officers and two captains. That was when he saw a video file addressed directly to him. “A recording?”

Cadence was quiet for a bit as she enjoyed her fruity drink. “Just a little speech my daughter made to the survivors.”

Instantly suspicious, Callthor activated the video. The longer it went, the more his mood darkened. His fists tightened until he broke the shot glass in his hand, mixing blood and whisky. When it was over he yanked the chip out and tossed it over to Cadence. “Ambassador…” His anger laid bare, and his meaning understood.

“The admiral lives,” Cadence assured him, making Callthor glare at her. “My daughter is many things, but she is not so vindictive as to execute an honorable being such as him. I think we can both agree that hating each other for children lost in war would have seen the stars burn long before now.”

Callthor’s anger remained, only now it shifted targets. He nodded, after a time. “Where are the survivors now?”

“I suppose if you know about the Waylan, you know about the cathrex, yes?”

Sighing bitterly, Callthor nodded briskly. “Your new friends are making waves, but that can wait.”

Nodding in agreement, Cadence continued. “The survivors are en route as we speak. They’ll be leaving the Lilian system in half a day.”

Going silent for a long moment, Callthor eventually started pulling broken glass out of his hand and using a cloth napkin for a bandage. “I’ll arrange things on our end. Thaddeus and the citizens in the pool are to be brought back to us. The Alliance has no use for the rest of them.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason, marshal.” Cadence raised her glass in a toast. “To a lasting peace.”

Snorting dismissively, Callthor claimed the water glass nearby and refused to tap glass just yet. “Now where is the joy in that? A glorious death, that is worthy of a toast.” He tinked her glass and downed the water in one go. “Make it painful, Cadenza.” Callthor’s hostile tone flared back up. “Thaddeus’ family is well respected, and I can assure you, you will go easier on them compared to what we will do if they set hoof back on home soil.”

A grinning mask slid over Cadence’s face at the thought of what Flurry Heart would do. “That sounds most agreeable.”

The Akira docked with Trireme station to limited fanfare. Only the scant few friends that both siblings still had met them at the docking port or the elevators. Yet as much as Wiggly wanted to catch up with them, her attention was locked on locating her brother who had disembarked before she could. Yet before she could even get that far, a distantly familiar administrator was waiting for her at the main thoroughfare into the rest of the station.

The professionally terse face the administrator wore faltered upon seeing the hat Wiggly was wearing. It was a reaction that was a first for the pegacorn as she came to a stop. “Hey, your Director Still Water, right?”

Clearing her throat and composing herself, Water nodded. “I am.”

Approaching her, Wiggly wore a bit of a smirk. “I never had a chance to thank you for that day. Nor settle my debt.”

Adopting a firm posture, Still Water nodded firmly. “Correct. Are you going to tell me the queen annulled it, Imperial Engineer?”

“Not a chance.” Wiggly’s smirk widened to a genuine grin. “You may have been trying to squeeze every blip you could out of us, but at the end of the day, you still let us sail the midnight sea. I’ve got a cargo hold full of food and parts we couldn’t make ourselves locally. Enough to get the drum rotating again at least. I’m willing to trade it all at cost with the remainder going into Trireme’s coffers.”

Still Water’s mask broke and her bewilderment was laid bare. “Why?”

Tilting her head, Sprocket shrugged her wings. “Because even though I'm leaving, a lot of my friends decided to stick around.” Wiggly tipped her hat. “They want to get this station back the way it was, and I'm hoping these supplies will get you started in that direction.”

Letting off a stressful sigh, Still Water averted her gaze to avoid showing some tears. “We’ve all been scraping the barrel trying to keep this station alive. You’re probably going to leave and never look back, Wiggly Sprocket.”

“Bring back the grass and warm houses, and that might change.” Sprocket walked past her, waving a wing in farewell. “Take care of yourself, admin.”

Still Water stood there, rooted in place, watching the new imperial engineer slip into the crowd. So many of them paid her no heed. Have we been without an engineer so long that it is almost forgotten, or have we relied too much on our chrome to remember such things? Still Water shook her head. One way or another, that mare will remind them.

When Wiggly didn’t find her brother in his usual places or even that one secret haunt, she went to the space suit rental place. The clerk at the desk was idling on his phone, and didn’t recognize Wiggly as she entered, and gave a lukewarm greeting. “Welcome valued customer, how can I help you?”

She approached the desk, and nervously dug at the ground. “I’m looking for my brother, Live Wire. Did he rent a suit from here?”

There were privacy policies in place, but the minimum wage clerk didn’t care. He also didn’t care enough to look either. “Might have been.” He glanced at her with zero recognition, then went back to his tablet.

Annoyed by his apathy, Wiggly set a money chit on the counter. “I’ll take a flier’s suit for the day.”

Taking the chit in hoof, he swiped it through the process and moved a screen towards her. “Sign the waiver, then take the seventh blue suit around back.”

Taking the stylus, she left her signature. “So hey, did you see the high queen deal with the pirates?”

That earned a bit of genuine interest out of the clerk. “No.” He gave her a puzzled look as if he could possibly be hearing about such news from word of mouth instead of his media feed. “What did she do? Nevermind,” he said dismissively as he started digging into the local news.

Being thoroughly rebuffed, Wiggly let off a whining huff and moved on to the suit racks. At least they smell clean. She went about putting it on, and found a clip-on case they could safely store her hat. She just snapped the helmet on her belt when the clerk called out to her. “There’s nothing about Flurry doing anything. Just that Cadence is in talks with the Rubies about them.”

“What?!” Wiggly extended her wings to sniff out the truth. She had gotten a lot of practice remotely connecting to networks, and a quick search query revealed nothing. Not the broadcast, not a statement about its removal, not even the discussion lobbies showed any sign of the near execution. “What - the -Tartarus is going on?”

The clerk saw what she was doing and fear struck him. “Wait a minute, are you still cyberized? Girl, those Waylan could come here any minute and kill you in a second!”

“Flurry and Cadence got them to go away though,” Wiggly countered while refolding her wings. A part of her was amused that he hadn’t even paid enough attention to her to realize she was a pegacorn.

“Psssh, and you think those deranged robots will listen forever? They’ll be back, no doubt. That’s why I’m getting out of Lilian the instant the star liners start back up again.”

That wasn’t a concern she could ignore nor aleve. “Well best of luck to you.”

Wiggly went straight to the ruined drum that used to be Trireme’s habitation section. Those buildings that survived the battle and decompression had been perfectly preserved in the void. Most houses had been made of concrete or locally grown wood, so the stucco faces and wooden bones of the homes remained even as everything else was stripped out by looters or salvagers.

She did not have to look very hard. Floating passed once familiar streets, flanked by lawns of rich grass and manicured trees. Now the grass was prickly and desiccated. The trees were bare and dead, and the empty windows were dark.

To those who were too young to remember the drum before the sundering, it was a place of stillness and dread. To Sprocket, it was haunting.

She came upon her family home. It had been white stucco with a short decorative fence around the lawn. Even her old plastic playhouse was still there, held down by a chain to a nearby tree.

On the other side of the fence sat Live Wire’s home, and she found him sitting on the steps, his magic keeping him in place. He was gazing up at the massive gash in the drum, a hole so large an entire neighborhood had been lost to the void.

He spotted her movement, yet did not move as Wiggly floated over, and joined him on the steps.

“I was wondering if I would find you before Winter did.”

“She did already come here,” Wire said with a fatigued sigh. “She flew off to grab some lunch.” Abandoning the idea of food, he turned around to peer beyond the broken front door and into the pitch black interior of his childhood home. “I still remember dad saying they wanted at least three foals. Mom and him bickered over breakfast about naming them.”

The mournful words threatened to drag Wiggly to tears. She wrapped a wing around him, and nuzzled Wire as best she could through the suits. “My parents probably said the same things… but I can’t remember.”

Live Wire could never truly remain angry at his adopted sister; it simply wasn’t in him. Even before the sundering Wiggly meant the world to him. He returned the embrace in earnest, their suits creaking under the strain.

Upon letting go, Live Wire’s gaze returned to the gash in the drum. “I sorta gave up on any sort of revenge a long time ago. It was just the Rubies who did this. I never even bothered looking up the admiral's name because what would be the point? But… today I just …”

“The pirates could have been lying,” Wiggly offered halfheartedly. “It’s not like the guy stepped up first. Thaddeus was probably just playing the martyr to try and get sympathy from Flurry Heart.”

“Leave it to a pirate to take advantage of Harmony.” Wire didn’t really know if he could believe that or not.

“Exactly,” Wiggly pressed on. “Think of all the clout he thinks he’s earning for the afterlife by taking credit for that?”

That was more believable to Live Wire. “I suppose.”

“Heyya!” Winter announced herself over the radio as she smoothly arrived on blasts of maneuvering jets. Much to Wiggly’s surprise, the thestral was being followed by one of her mechan. “I brought lunch for threeee!” She smirked at the dumbfounded look on Wiggly’s face. “Oh come on, dear, I knew you’d find your way to Wire the instant you could peel away from your old friends.”

Wanting to scratch the back of her head, Wiggly nodded sheepishly. “You’re a queen in your own right, Winter. But how did you steal a mechan without me knowing about it?”

Giving off a playful hum, Winter told the mechan to land. “You really haven’t done much with their security. This one is still telling you it is recharging isn’t it?” The scowl that met Winter told her all she needed. “Mechy, be a dear and deploy the projector would you?”

Giving an acknowledgement, the mechan lugged a device off its back. Switching it on, it projected an atmospheric shield just large enough for a picnic, and dispensed enough air and heat to enjoy it. The shield also produced enough inward pull to simulate a quarter gravity, just enough to eat with. Winter followed up by tilting her head in gratitude. “My thanks. Do you mind waiting over there until we need you to carry it back?”

She briefly watched it depart before shaking some plastic bags at the others. “I brought a platter of mixed burritos, a nacho supreme, and enough cheap rum and soda to drown in. I’d have preferred wine, but this was the best I could get locally.”

Live Wire was caught between thankfulness and utter revulsion. “Rum with… ahh - wow Winny, you’re one in a million.”

Utterly missing the horrified look due to the misting gasses and the suit, Winter felt rather proud about it. “I do what I can.” She added a kiss at the end as she set everything down.

Wiggly however knew him well enough to get a mischievous grin. “I’ll be the designated flier. You two drink up.”

“You’re too kind,” Wire said through clenched teeth.

“And as for you, thief, I’m going to find a way to keep you out.”

Waggling her eyebrows, Winter cooed over the delights to come. “You’re welcome to try, dear. You know your way around a spanner, but I’m the code horse here.”

A few minutes passed as the food was laid out and the mini atmosphere stabilized. They stripped off just their helmets though as a precaution. Winter was just about to give a toast when everyone’s comms rang.

Upon answering, Flurry Heart’s holographic head appeared in between them. Each of them jumped to their hooves at attention. “You’re all together? Perfect, at ease. As much as I’d rather not interrupt your - odd choice of picnic spots, I have a confession to make.” She met each of them in the eyes as they loosened up. “I’m sure you may have taken notice, or soon will, that the pool incident was never broadcast to the wider Lilian system. Only the Akira and my mother saw it.” Deep confusion washed over her audience, leaving her to finish. “I never had any intention of executing Thaddeus.”

“What?!” Wiggly almost shouted in shock. Her brother echoed the sentiment a second later.

“Why?” He had difficulty keeping his flashing temper under control.

“For one, I didn’t expect the pirates to shove Thaddeus out the airlock like they did.” Flurry Heart shook her head, still bemused by it. “He’s a high admiral in case you didn’t. You don’t make it that far in the Alliance by being unpopular. I had expected some random captain to be singled out for me.”

Flurry Heart saw the smoldering look Winter was giving her. She knows the game, every princess does. “Secondly… I - I needed to know if you could tell me when I am in the wrong.”

For several moments, the siblings didn’t know what to think, let alone say, leaving Winter to say what Flurry was unwilling to. “You remember what Cadence said about calling out a high queen. If just any pony does that, it probably gets ignored, maybe even censured. If you do it, oh imperial engineer, a queen will take heed. But that ear pull doesn’t mean a thing if you’re too afraid or unwilling to do it.” Winter saw Flurry huff a bit at her phrasing. “Pony up, Wiggs, you’re in the inner circle now.”

Shivering badly, all Sprocket could do was nod dumbly. Live Wire however was more incensed. “So you threatened all those pirates for a test? They deserve a lot worse than that slap across the face.”

“Oh believe me, you will have justice.” Flurry’s face and tone shifted and became colder than an arctic blizzard, scaring the fire right out of Wire. “You see, testing you was only half of it. My mother showed that recording to the Ruby ambassador.” The siblings didn’t respond much to that, but Winter Gale’s jaw dropped. ”It may not feel like it, growing up under such a heavy pirate threat, but the larger Alliance values honor as much as we do Harmony. After the pool incident was shown to the ambassador, he declared the ones who threw Thaddeus at my hooves as persona non grata.”

The siblings jumped in surprise, and it was Wiggly who voiced what the others were thinking. “They can get what’s coming to them. Right?!”

“Exactly.” Flurry May have had a chillingly stony face, but none of them doubted the malice that it concealed. “Believe me when I say this, they will wish the Waylan had killed them by the time I am done.”

Closure

Weeks Later

Howling Tempest sat in his new office in the academy. His orientation was over, yet his arrival was in the middle of the semester, so he was left to build his lessons for next year.

Supply stretching and counter piracy. He typed up the headline more to inspire further writings than anything else. grumbled at the concepts before deleting the line. “As if that hasn’t already been done to death.” He sighed in frustration at his career change. “Maybe I just need to read up on it and see if I have anything to add.”

A knock on the wooden office door was a welcome distraction, he didn’t care who it was. He waved the holographic keyboard to disappear. “Come in.”

The eather stallion that entered made Tempest jump up and salute. “Superintendent Darkwood.”

Returning the salute, the dark furred stallion spoke with professional courtesy. “At ease, Captain.” He claimed the guest chair, allowing Tempest to sit back down. “I wanted to compliment you on your presentation on independent carrier operations this morning. Being so soon after Celestia put out word of the exploratory captain program. You turned a lot of heads.”

Giving a not entirely happy grin, Tempest fidgeted in his seat. “I merely benefited from some ‘insider trading’ on the matter. That, and my years with the Rainbow Dash and our supply problems in Lilian gave me some useful experiences to draw from.”

“So I gathered from your lecture. I want you to focus on this. Draw up a class on this peacetime use of exploratory, hybrid carriers. Something that can hold its own, but not necessarily a war-capable ship. I already ordered the ship architect instructors to start drawing up purpose built vessels. You’ll be doubling up by offering insights there as well.”

Humming in contemplation, Tempest mulled over it. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to make students of command and engineering see these two classes as electives for the other. See what synergies we can produce from it.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” The commandant gave an amused snort. “I think you’ll do well here, Captain.”

Nodding firmly, Tempest spoke with partial conviction. “Perhaps so.”

Thaddeus and Felin stepped off the Phallus and onto the hard steel floor of a proper Alliance space station. Ignoring the soldiers and officials waiting for them, it was a relief to be among proper disciplined sailors again.

The pair barely got a moment to collect themselves when a gruff centauri in ambassadorial garb closed the short distance between them. “There he is. Good tidings, High Admiral. I trust the ponies treated you well.”

Thaddeus stumbled a bit as the ambassador gave a heavy, jovial slap on his back. “Callthor! It is good to see you still wear the sash. As for the treatment, it was far better than those they executed.”

Callthor was never a fan of a sash being his badge of office, but tradition always stilled his tongue. “And Lieutenant Felin, glad to see you kept this old war hound in one piece.” Even as she responded, Callthor guided them further into the station.

“It hasn’t always been easy. But then again what is these days?” A fierce look of pride swept over her scaly face.

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Mindful of unwanted ears, Callthor pushed the conversation down until they arrived at his personal quarters. It was decorated for someone of his station, but he had no intention of unpacking.

Felin and Thaddeus felt an emotional weight slide off of them. It took them strong effort to avoid sitting down before their host went into the kitchenette to bring out some pre-ordered food. “How did the war go, old friend. I was able to read the pony side of things, but I would prefer your word over anything of theirs.”

“It was glorious!” Callthor cheered as he busted out a wine bottle. “The ponies have always been worthy adversaries, and they have yet to disappoint. The ponies would have you think they won by defending their claims over the Feldwind Expanse, but we all know it was never about territory.” He set the glasses down and had a serving drone deliver the plates of piping hot food. “I am also to extend your wife and children’s apologies for not welcoming you here. In your wife’s words ‘I fear my husband would prefer to clean himself up first before his grand return.”

Snorting in agreement, Thaddeus nodded. “Aye. Seathora was always about appearances.”

“Don’t you worry,” Felin proclaimed with a sly grin. “I’ll make him presentable by day’s end.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Callthor noted how Thaddeus was avoiding his wine, and discreetly had the drone fetch something non-alcoholic. “Now, before we delve into matters abroad, did you hear what the ponies did with your… detractors?”

“Afraid not.” Thaddeus tested the dish and found it sublime. “I know they planned to execute the lot of them.”

“Oh they did indeed.” Callthor took a bite to organize his thoughts. “While tales of blood are welcome at my table, the…” Callthor idly grinned widely. “Flurry’s revenge is a bit too much. What I will say is that it involved being entombed into a coffin with air holes, a milk bath, honey, and being placed in a jungle.”

Thaddeus stopped his effort to eat and stared up at the ambassador with growing discomfort. “She certainly is… inventive.”

“I for one think she still went soft on them,” Felin stated while having no such lapse in appetite. “But it is an acceptable punishment all the same.”

The conversation lapsed as everyone ate for a minute or so. “So then,” Callthor began anew with more dour words. “These Waylan. Our spies say one thing, but I want your take. Are they a threat?”

“Absolutely,” both survivors replied strongly. Felin gestured for Thaddeus to continue. “Death was near instant with little warning and of no effort on their part. Anyone with chrome wired to their nerves are at risk. They have no qualms about desecrating the dead either for whatever purposes drive them. It is my opinion that we need to abandon any future wars with our brother species, and focus on this threat.”

Callthor stopped cutting his steak, and mulled over the idea. Honor was always a concern, but Callthor liked to entertain the idea that the alliance ultimately conducted regular wars to keep itself strong and focused. The ponies and other species may hate them for it, but no force of arms remained powerful in the peaceful times the alicorns would have liked to have ushered in were it not for the Alliance. “So you believe these Waylan are the foe we’ve been waiting for?”

“I do.” Thaddeus put all of his command voice into his tone. “What happened to us in Lilian could just as easily happen to the entire sector. The Waylan would not even have to fire a single shot to wipe us out.”

Callthor eyed the two survivors’ implants. Outwardly they seemed normal, but he had noticed the slight limp Thaddeus had, marking his false leg as being autonomous. “Decyberization will be difficult, doubly so for the navy, and I fear the junta and the admiralty are too comfortable warring against our brother-species.”

“Then we must make them see the threat for what it is.” Felin stated sharply while stabbing her food with a fork. “The ponies, and even worse, the hippogriffs, will use this new FTL to explore abroad. They’ll bring the Waylan right to us whether the junta are prepared or not.”

“I fear you’re right.” Callthor mentally started writing missives and sent them out to his contacts. “That FTL is still limited for now. I must speak with Cadenza as soon as possible to try and limit its use for as long as possible.” He stood up. “Forgive me, but this can’t wait. Eat and rest, there is much to do in the coming days.”

Wiggly Sprocket wobbled through the hallway in a fatigued slump. Her muscles burned and her energy was gone. She was only kept on her hooves due to a mechan giving her support. For the last twenty hours, she had been neck deep in repairing a navy cruiser that was being pulled out of mothball and retrofitted to serve as an asteroid miner. Her position as imperial engineer and local hero had opened many opportunities for her, and working on a naval ship was such a joy that the work chief had to order her to go to take a break. Not that it was enforceable, but Wiggly heeded it all the same.

So she retreated to the Akira’s mess hall for the day and crashed onto the expensive restaurant sofa they had salvaged. She shared quick greetings and some accolades before Mote came in and tactfully claimed the nearby chair. The mechan retreated as the alien warmly waved at her. “Observation. I see you managed to pull yourself free from work.”

Wearing a tired smile, Wiggly struggled to stay awake. “Is it really work if you love what you do?”

A smirk played across the alien’s face. “Statement. My people believe in ‘shalthe’ or peace through productive labor. Cherish such efforts, as they come rarely.”

The two fell into sluggish small talk for a short while as Wiggly drifted in and out of sleep before heavier hoof falls tugged on Wiggly’s ears and quieted Mote.

“Mind if I join you?”

Looking up with bleary eyes, Sprocket jumped at realizing Flurry Heart had snuck up on them. “Your highness!” Wiggly scrambled to make room and tried to hide rubbing the drool off her face. “Of course, of course.” She shot Mote a quizzical look, only for the gynoid to shrug helplessly.

The larger mare sat down with casual thanks before offering a silver drink can. “Want some power thirst? You probably need it after skipping two meals.”

“Never had it.” Wiggly accepted the dubious can out of curiosity. The image of a racing pegasus chased by lightning felt enticing. Taking a sip felt like a power line had landed on her tongue. She recoiled so hard she threw the can. Expecting it, Flurry caught the can in her magic. Sputtering badly as magical steam wafted away from her muzzle, Wiggly tried to cool off. “By the stars what was that?!” Wiggly coughed raggedly.

“Only the toughest drink outside of alcohol,” Flurry chuckled as she took a drag in solidarity and her face twisted like she just downed some whisky sours. “Oph, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that, but boy does it wake you up. Want some more?”

Wiggly baulked at the can being shoved her way. “No no no… I mean, ah - just no thank you.”

Giving a coy grin, Flurry directed the can towards Mote. “How about it?”

“Statement. Logically, I should pass… but I’ll do it anyway.”

“Aahhh, I knew I liked you!” Flurry gave the can over, and eagerly watched Mote take a swig.

At first, Mote tasted nothing. Instead of a flavor, she saw machine code detailing the content of the drink. So she faked a response as best she could. Mote went straight into coughing and hacking, and turned away, hoping her act was believable. Wiggly was still too out of sorts to notice, but Flurry could see the act for what it was.

What Wiggly did notice, was that Flurry put the can aside instead of taking a second sip. Did I just get pranked by a queen? Shaking that thought away before it got her into trouble, Sprocket sat back down. “Thanks for the wake up, I guess.”

Laughing richly, Flurry sighed wistfully before replying. “Stuff like that got me through my tutors. Part of the problem with agelessness is that I never develop a real tolerance for the stuff.”

Shivering to finish her recovery, Wiggly adopted a more friendly tone. ”Did you need something your highness, or was the prank it?”

Though she hid it well, Flurry still felt uncomfortable with Wiggly addressing her so formally. “I wish I could say this was just a spur of the moment, but - well - yes I do.

“As you know, Lilian wasn’t the only system isolated by the war. Our little relief effort was thrown together faster than a bread sandwich because of the Waylan threat. I received word this morning that proper relief fleets have finished rallying up. Celestia and Luna will be going to separate systems, but there is a fourth one, including Lilian. I was hoping you would go with the last group.”

“Me?!” What scant few vestiges of fatigue Wiggly had were cast to the wind. “I’m not a - that’s too much for me.”

Trying to give off a disarming laugh, Flurry tried to press Wiggly on. “Trust me, I wouldn’t dream of placing you in charge of something you’re not ready for. You’d be there for morale purposes,” Flurry rocked her head back and forth a bit. “And to lend your wrench wherever you can. This isn’t the first war where a system’s been isolated. Tradition says a high queen is the first one through the repaired portal station, but there aren't enough of us to go around. My mother has to ‘hold down the fort’ so to say. The fleet you’ll be joining has plenty of administrators and the like to do the heavy lifting. All I want is somepony that can rally the survivors, and you’ve done a great job of it here.”

Wiggly glanced about the room, only now realizing Flurry must have gotten the others to leave without her noticing. Licking her dry lips, Wiggly soldiered on. “This is because you named me the engineer, isn’t it?” The silent nod was all Wiggly needed to get a bit desperate. “Why though? Sure I’m good with a wrench, but I’m not a star. Lilian is my home, but I’ve got no connection with a different system. Why are you putting so much faith in me?”

Flurry Heart began with a somber expression. She saw so much of her aunt in Wiggly her heart ached with a twisting agony. “Because…” She so dearly wished to unburden her with the truth, but after her second life, Flurry couldn’t risk it. “Because I know you. Nothing as mundane as your favorite food or who you crush on. I told you once that I am the talent hunter of the queens. I know you to be a pony of greatness in both character and talent. There are those who can only excel under constant duress, and others who must drag themselves up from nothing to realize their potential. You are the kind of pony who needs only the opportunity to realize who you can be. You can do it. Yes you’ll stumble,” Flurry said almost dismissively. “But who doesn’t? What matters for the moment is that ponies will rally to the imperial engineer. I leave it to you, to make ponies rally to Wiggly Sprocket.”

“That’s - pretty heavy, your highness.” Wiggly scratched the back of her head as she tried to come to terms with such celebrity. “Twilight and Shining were giants. They’ll take one look at me and think I’m a joke.”

“Do the ponies here think that?” Flurry countered.

“Well - uh - not to my face at least.”

“Encouragement. That is a better start than most.” Mote developed a coy expression and her tail swished lightly. “If I were you, I’d think of the position as a hereditary one. A freshly promoted prince to king is not always fully prepared for the role, yet it is thrust upon them. No?”

Flurry shot a dark look at the alien, an act missed by the introspective pegacorn.

“Hereditary… psh, if only I could claim to be even remotely related to those two. Is this an order or a- oh who am I kidding.” Wiggly stumbled to stand back up. “I’ll tell the crew and we’ll be ready to go by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll just need the details And some sleep.”

Giving a thin smile, Flurry nodded. “You’ll have them within the hour. And I agree, you do need some actual rest. That one taste you had won’t last you another five minutes and you’ll crash, hard.”

Freaking out a bit, Wiggly hastily bowed. “I think I’ll go to medical first then.” As tactfully as possible, Wiggly bolted away.

With the room cleared, Flurry scowled at the gynoid. “You haven’t been sprinkling little hints like that which is going to make her freak out the day she finds out about her past have you?”

“Confession. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Mote raised her hands to ward off any further ire, even as she kept a slightly playful grin. “I simply thought it was the best way to approach the issue.”

Not entirely buying it, Flurry let it go all the same. “Perhaps. I wish I could see the Akira off, but duties rob the powerful of their time.”

Mote paused long enough to be sure that Flurry was intending to leave. “Statement. I must say, I’m surprised you haven’t tried to speak to her flame.” Mote remained seated as she watched the alicorn stop her departure. When Furry did not speak up, Mote continued. “Morales is the one being trained enough in the technique to do it safely. He may say he wishes to stay, but he and I have been out of contact with the homeworld for years. He could change his mind before we return from this new endeavor.”

Turning at last to look at Mote, Flurry felt like chastising herself. “You are quite the needling spy, aren’t you? Always going for that gossip you won’t find in databases or reports.”

Feeling nervous, Mote’s tail started swishing quickly. “Clarification. I am merely a final witness. I carry the last thoughts and prayers of each crew member who dies under my watch and confess them to who you call Terra when I too pass on. My purpose is centered on death, so to see someone who is a genuine reincarnation is fascinating beyond measure.”

Furry turned to face the alien, her protectiveness still on high alert. “Wiggly Sprocket is far too precious to me to risk those little snippets of yours before she is ready for the truth. They stop, now.”

Bowing low, Mote hoped to defuse the tension. “Compliance. Your will be done.”

Mollified enough, Furry magically pulled Mote back up to her feet. “If recollection is so central to your job, remember that.”

Nodding once more, Mote still tried to press her luck. “Query. When she is ready? Dare I ask how that will be determined?”

Narrowing her eyes, trying to gauge Mote closely, Flurry erected a privacy field and weaved a spell into her voice. Her words came with a noticeable reverb and echo as the spell etched itself into Mote’s mind. “What I am about to say, you will be incapable of repeating. And I only tell you because I rather like you.

“Wiggly will be ready when the day comes that Live Wire dies and later returns to her. On that day, she will know who she truly is.”

Mote’s eyes dilated as far as they could go. “He is a bound spirit?!”

“He wouldn’t see it that way.” Flurry Heart looked passed the walls into the direction of the siblings’ quarters. “His first real life was by the name Pinkie Pie. I do not know what prompted Terra to bind them together, but come hell or high water, Pinkie Pie always seems to find her way back to Twilight Sparkle, no matter what life she is in. Yet Pinkie changes much more than Twilight does, save her eternal devotion to her sister, and the notion that they are siblings and not lovers.

“Through means I can only guess at, when Live Wire dies, he will reincarnate and feel utterly driven to seek Wiggly out as soon as possible. In both her previous lives, Wiggly knew it was her guardian upon locking eyes. It matters not what form Pinkie takes in each life, they instinctively trust and love each other implicitly.” Flurry Heart turned back to Mote with watery eyes. “As a child of love itself, their relationship is unequally beautiful to me. Which is why I won’t let you poison Wiggly’s… innocence.”

Mote was left shell shocked, as she believed every word. “ Euphoria. I had no idea. Is - are they unique, or are there other paired flames among your people?”

“It is difficult to say for sure.” Flurry Heart thought on the issue, but nothing immediately struck her. “Wiggly and Wire are only noticeable because Wiggly has been a long—lived pegacorn all three times. I also see Twilight more as a second mother than an aunt, so I have always looked out for her after death.”

Mote gasped as a thought struck her. “Revelation. That is why you gave her the power to rebuke a queen’s action. A mother’s chastisement.”

A begrudging nod of approval left Flurry. “You do catch on quick. But I have lingered long enough.” The magical alterations to her voice vanished. “While you can’t speak of this conversation to anyone, I am not entirely sure how effective my magic is on you. Do not try to find a loophole, and I better not get a call from Wiggly or Wire asking about any of this, or I will give you the same mercy I did the pirates.”

Not even waiting for a reply, Flurry departed, leaving Mote feeling as if she was dancing on a cliff’s edge. Statement. Perhaps I am slipping from courage to recklessness. Still though, when I stand before Terra, I hope he will listen to me long enough to hear this. Or… perhaps I should hold my tongue even then in case Terra decides to break their bond because of my loose lips.

The house had come, and Wiggly’s bridge crew were conducting final checks before departure. While Wiggly was a bit annoyed by having to leave, Live Wire was quite enthusiastic. “Engineering reports green across the board. We’re good to go, sis.”

Replying with more neutral professionalism than joy, Wiggly craned her neck to look backwards at the tube. “Well that’s it then. Mores, would you do the honor?”

“Gladly.” He tapped into the intercom. “Attention all personnel. Prepare for hyperspace transition.”

Space warped and bent until the Akira vanished from the colony’s orbit. Mote kept a close eye on the sensors and breathed easy. “No contacts on sensors. We’re free and clear.”

“Good. Winter, lay a course.”

As her crew finished ensuring the Akira didn’t develop any issues from the jump, Wiggly tried to mentally prepare herself for the job to come. Ready my tail. For all I know, the whole system is in chaos and it’ll be my head if it can’t fix it.

Still, come what may, it’s a far cry from where I started. That was more than enough for her.

Author's Note

And here we come to an end. I had originally planned for longer, but I feel that this is a good enough stopping point. I’ll likely be moving on to an independent IP from here on out. Thanks for coming with me all this way, and I hope you enjoyed the ride.

10: The Midnight Sea

It took almost a full day before everyone except Winter roused from their beds. With the complications of gravity sickness and the medication exiting their systems, Wiggly and Wire were left stiff and bruised both inside and out. But they were alive, and that was enough.

Morales awoke with a crippling headache in his bunk. His throat was parched and his thoughts full of cotton, and his fur from head to tail fiercely itched. A dull pain in his arm was new and he saw an age old tool: an IV drip drone hovering over him. The faintly blue glowing liquid was instantly recognized as mana infused saline.

“It's kinda weird how some really old solutions work so well,” Sprocket announced herself from a chair she had been reading in. She got up and carefully pushed the quietly hovering drone out of the way. She fixed a warm grin upon her face. “Winter’s not a bad nurse, and Mote was a big help.”

A beleaguered, weak smile tugged at his lips as he resisted the urge to scratch. “You seem to be doing well yourself.”

Mote manifested nearby with a bow. “Prognosis. Your metathermic levels have risen enough for you to be out of danger. I’m sure you will be pleased to know that the ration bar has resolved your iron and vitamin A deficiency.” She paused and grinned after seeing Morales burst out into pained laughter. “Yes, I thought’s appreciate the news. However, I would advise you to remain outside of your ‘fish tank’ for a day or two.”

“I’ll be fine.” Morales fixed the hologram with a brief unamused glare about his job before grabbing a recessed shelf near his bunk, and tried to pull himself up. Wiggly helped prop him up with a hoof into a sitting position. Every muscle was stiff, but he was able to move. “So. You got up before I did. What next?”

A bigger grin cleaved her muzzle. “Next is brunch. We didn’t just bring ration bars. Winter kept a few MRE’s in her cabin, so we’re cracking those open to celebrate. My brother cooks a mean soup by the way.”

Morales’ hunger roared to the fore, and he was already salivating. “A soup?” He was almost giddy at the idea of a foreign meal, even one as simple as that. “Truly?”

Nodding, Sprocket took a few steps to the door. “We only need to know what kind of spices we can use. Not exactly an easy thing to test when you were out of it.”

Morales all too eagerly rose to his hooves. He had to think about translating his terms for a bit. “Anything! If I can’t handle it, I’ll use the lab to edit myself until I can.”

That’s a bit extreme for spices. Sprocket opted to keep that to herself, and mentally shifted gears. “The Akira has a genetics lab?”

“Naturally,” he replied with growing anticipation of the meal to come. “I only wish I could’ve had enough power to make the salads and lizards more palatable.”

The existence of that lab both worried her, and dare she think it, intrigued her. “We can nose around it later. Come on, I’ll let Winter know to join us in the mess hall.”

“Most exciting.” He paused a moment as Mote’s pad caught his eye. “Erm. Now that we have power again, I have a couple of things to take care of. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

The request was not unexpected, but as much as Wiggly’s curiosity wanted to pry, she had technical journals and manuals to read. “Of course. I’ll see you there.”

As she trotted away, Morales had to grasp his nightstand for stability due to a sudden bout of lightheadedness. It was there that his fingers grazed Mote’s pad. “Right. Time to put you back together.”

After a brief wobble, he claimed the pad with Mote projecting herself into his vision. “Statement. It is good to see you are ambulatory. More or less.”

Snorting in amusement, Morales stretched his face with his hands before shaking himself to limber up. He finished by rubbing his hands along the exposed parts of his limbs to get his fur all going in the proper direction. With an almost restful absent mindedness, he watched a few loose bits of fur drift leisurely to the ground. “This weak gravity is a big help. But I think it is high time you stop being lazy and carry yourself around for a change.”

Mote giggled excitedly as he stumbled his way to the bridge. “Agreement. I do miss being more than a slab.”

Thanks to his pounding headache, Morales had to squint halfway through the ship due to the strong lighting. His tail dragged a bit on the metal plating as he arrived at a small closet sized room. Within, bound by clamps on the arms, legs and torso was a powered down cathrex gynoid. It had gray fur that felt both smooth yet clearly artificial, and that was the theme for the rest of the body. Her clothes were form fitting and covered only what was required to preserve her modesty. Her vibrant blond hair was done up in a high braided ponytail. One might presume her to be a well preserved corpse were it not for Morales revealing a thin, rectangular hole below her ribs by peeling back a rubber plug. Off to the side, a small screen indicated the body had been fully charged.

Morales ran a finger across her shoulders and exaggerated his disgust at finding dust. “You really need to bathe more. This is just unseemly.”

Mote tapped her paw impatiently on a nonexistent floor, and her tail thrashed about. “Rebuke. And whose fault is that? You’ve had a monopoly on the physical hands around here.”

Acting as if he had just been slapped, he recoiled with a dramatic flare. “And put my hands on a helpless jane? How criminal.”

Her eyes flared with indignation and she held an accusatory claw up with a deep pout on her lips. Yet she held her tongue for a moment until Morales relented with a cracking grin. “Factual statement. You are so mean.”

“Me? Never.” Morales reached for a small recess along the wall and pressed it. A small autoclave hissed open, and he placed the pad within. After wiping away five years worth of fingerprints and dirt from the pad, he reclaimed the pad before pressing it into the socket below the gyroid’s ribs.

Taking a step back, the pad was accepted by the gynoid and disappeared behind furry skin that sealed up behind it. Slowly, small lights of various colors lit up from under her fur along her spine, arms, legs, and quite prominently along her tail before her face started twitching. Mote opened her eyes to reveal luminous sapphire irises as more multicolored lights appeared along some of the contours of her jawline and ears.

Starting from above, the clamps released her one by one. When she was free, Mote gave a halting step forward and stumbled with a foot catching the door’s recess. Morales caught her, yet surprise and her weight nearly toppled him over. “Observation. Seems my joints need time to loosen up.”

“Join the party,” he added with a wink.

As the gynoid steadied herself by resting a hand on the wall, and stood upright she gave quiet thanks to him. She held her hands in front of herself and wiggled her fingers. “Exaltation. It feels so good to be tactile again!” She pounced Morales into a bear hug, her strength limited to organic norms.

“Ow,” he yelped in pain as his sore back protested, yet he managed to return the embrace. Even her limited state was too much for him. “Too tight, too tight!”

Letting him go, Mote’s gaze shifted back and forth down the hallway, checking for their guests. As her mind finished expanding to fill the dormant nooks and crannies of her complete self, her thoughts returned to the ponies and the deal that was made. Satisfied none were around to investigate Morales’ cries for mercy, she stretched herself to be tall enough to whisper in his ear. “Cautionary. You risk a lot letting these ponies keep the ship.”

She fell back into a normal posture as he let off a regretful sigh. He scratched an arm, and let off a tense gasp. “You don’t honestly think they’d just walk away do you? Even if they did, we can’t crew the Akira by ourselves.” He leaned back as he thought his ear caught the sound of movement, but it turned out to be a few small hatches opening. Upon seeing cleaning drones march out to perform their function, he faced her once more. “Besides, trust is all we have right now, and I’m hoping these three follow that creed of Harmony they espouse so much.”

“Cautionary. What is said on media can be very different from the practice of individuals.” On a whim, Mote dragged her tongue around her mouth, and was disgusted to find dust and mold. Her body wracked with shivers over it, yet she held fast. The soup will take care of it.

Lifting a curious eyebrow at the sudden case of jitters from Mote, Morales nevertheless stayed on topic. “I’m sure my father species’ sense of morality is as varied as our own. But right now we all need each other. So long as they believe both of us are irreplaceable, we’ll be fine.”

“Will we?” Mote crossed her arms, and tendrils of fear bled from her. “Observation. These ponies. The Initiative. They did not go down the path of ever producing a PI, or anything close to a GI hopefully. They haven’t even begun the discussion on synthetic rights, and here I go walking right into that. Winter Gale and Live Wire, those two might be fooled into thinking I can not be replaced, but Wiggly Sprocket? She sees machines as a weaver looks upon strands. She will see that you and the onboard intelligence is all the Akira needs to enter hyperspace. Not me.”

Growing tense, much of Morales’ mirth fell away like ash. “As your whole self, you are as much alive as any of us. You mechatrex are people, not tools.”

Mote turned around to take a few nervous steps away. Out of her direct control, the synthetic blood pumped loudly in her ear, and she started nervously pressing both sets of claws into her arms. The stinging pain made her flinch.. “Query. Do you honestly believe they will care? Once the wider Initiative realizes the potential of their own terracorns, we are expendable.”

Morales came up to her and carefully pulled a claw off of her arms, frowning at the blue blood leaking out of the cuts. “My xenotype. We are renowned for being a friendly bunch. Too trusting at times, and loyal to a fault.” He turned her around to Mote would look him in the eye. “I prefer to believe a good deal of that come from my fathers. So long as we act with honor, I believe so will they.”

Looking down at her remaining claws, Mote gently releases her other arm. “Maybe you’re right...” he let her go as well, allowing Mote to lick her wounds. Much like most other xenotypes, the act released a wound knitting salve. Satisfied she was no longer bleeding, Mote bowed her head a bit. “Thank you for not telling them about my erstwhile kin.”

Morales pulled Mote into a comforting hug as she began to cry. “I would rather you be the first synthetic face they see.” They remained together for several moments so she could exhale the growing stress.

It was Mote who broke away first, the lights on her face burning red and her tail wiggled against her wishes. “I’m a mess.”

Flashing a disarming smile, Morales gently pulled her by the arm to a nearby washroom. “You’ve been separated from your greater self for five years. You’ll be fine. Now come on. Let’s get you washed up before reintroducing you to the new crew.”

Clasping her hands over her muzzle, Mote pulled free and bolted into the washroom, but stopped at the door to face him once more. “Query. How should I do that, exactly?”

Waving her to go inside, Morales stood guard at the door as Mote retreated inside to wash up. That gave him time to think, and turned to the most obvious thing he knew of the ponies: Harmony. “These ponies are a strange species for being more or less as evolution made them. At their base, they are both prey and predator. Just go with what feels… Honest.”

Running water splashed from within, making normal speech difficult. “Commentary. I think we’ve already been to honest with them already.”

Throwing his hands up a bit, Morales went with the next best thing. “Then try laughter. Be obnoxious and cheerful. You know, how you always are.”

In the mess hall, Live Wire was whistling a joyful tune as he improved the rations provided by taste tested ferns and grasses. The lack of the usual herbs and spices was a challenge he was up for. The saving grace for it all were the two ration packs of beef cubes for his soup stock.

Wiggly Sprocket was nose deep in a data pad she found in the chief engineer’s quarters and was overjoyed that Mote was able to translate it all, and to find it held technical schematics and journals about the various systems found on the Akira. While the engines and hyperspace transit systems held her focus at first, it was the mosaic of technologies that gave the frigate its form that locked her interest. She was so absorbed by it that she heard nothing of Winter Gale’s holo-vid about recent news and fashions. The pilot was using a screen she had pilfered from her escape pod to play it for Wiggly’s sake. For all the good it did for the distracted mare.

“Absolutely astounding,” Wiggly announced to no one but herself. “And frustrating. Some of this stuff I’ve only seen in fiction, and other stuff is outmoded even for us! I wouldn’t be half surprised if a piece of an ancient chemical rocket component was in here.”

While professional curiosity pulled Winter towards the odd declaration, she quickly realized Sprocket was lost in her own world. So she opted to leave the pegacorn well enough alone.

The talking heads of the news switched topics that made her fur stand up. “The Navy spokesmare made an announcement today. Thirty six hours ago, the centuari pirates attempted to launch an ambush against our valiant defender the Rainbow Dash. Scout craft spotted the ambush of over six vessels and two dozen strikecraft. Revealing once again just how far they’ve fallen, the centuari fled before the Rainbow Dash could strike the cowards. Seeing them on the run, our brave scouts engaged and destroyed four centauri fighters before being recalled.”

Winter didn’t care much about the propagandized spin, she had lived that life in the cockpit. They made a move on us. A big one. If they’re willing to commit that much strength, then they must be manufacturing more ships. Even an idiot should see a coward was in command. That won’t happen again.

The quiet steps Morales was known for caught her ear right before he stepped into the dining area. What she had not expected was the gynoid behind him.

“Everyone,” he announced with a wave of his hands behind him. “I would like to introduce you to Static Carillon, or as you’ve known her lesser self: Mote.”

“Salutation. So glad to meet you in my full self.” She curtsied formally, and eyed each of them with fraying nerves. The shocked mares weren't helping Mote’s growing anxiety. Live Wire poking his head out from the kitchen was followed by a low whistle. “Well grease my pan. You look like a cathrex version of Gearbox.”

The comment broke Wiggly from her stupor and she gasped. “No way. Ack! You’re right she does!” The pigeon blue pegacorn jumped up to prop herself up on the table so she could better observe it all. “Right down to the light pattern!” Embarrassed with herself, Wiggly sat back down, and rubbed her mane smooth. “Sorry, it’s a character from a kids show we used to watch.”

Mote laughed haltingly at that, hoping the comparison disarmed them about her. “Assurance. Ahh. Well, I can tell you I at least never acted.”

Winter tilted her head a bit as she intensely studied the gynoid. “Lesser self? It must have been horribly dreadful being restricted to a pad.”

Feeling encouraged, Mote spun in place, with her tail thwapping Morales across the leg before ending the spin by grasping back of a chair. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I’m just glad to be able to move at all!”

Wiggly’s eyes ran all over Silent Carillon while also straining her ears to listen for any machine noises as Silent Carillon moved around, finding none. “Amazing! You move so fluidly.” A high pitched girly whine escaped her, causing Wiggly to cover her mouth.

“Gratitude. You’re too kind.” Still unsure how to take such an animated response, Mote mentally did a little dance before claiming a seat near Sprocket.

Wire was pulled back to the stove when he smelled the beginning of something burning. That left Winter to take a more measured assessment of the synthetic cathrex in front of her. “So what name do you prefer?”

“Explanation. Silent Carillon is my formal name. Mote is a name I took up when I was diminished.” She touched thumbs and fingers together to form a thin rectangle. “But since you met me as Mote, it would not be incorrect to continue calling me as such.”

Morales sat down next to Mote and playfully leaned his whole weight against her shoulder, causing the jane to ‘gack’ out of surprise, and grip the table to keep from falling to the floor. “You lot are a lucky bunch. Normally she’s very formal about names and titles.”

“Command. Get off, get ooooff!” She whined until Mote managed to scramble out from under him, causing him to fall to the floor. She rubbed her shoulder to massage the pain away. “You are such a squid.”

“I like her!” Wiggly proclaimed with a firm head nod towards Winter. She spread her wings and hovered around to lend a hoof to help Morales back up, but the cathrex was already climbing to his feet. Sprocket turned her attention towards Silent Carillon, and kept looking for signs of mechanical joints under the jane’s full body jumpsuit, but it all seemed organic. “Now I got a big question. If you guys can make somep - someone like Mote, why is the Akira such a hot mess?”

Winter raised an interested eyebrow as well. “I must confess my curiosity falls along the same lines.”

Patting her on the back, Morales gave Silent Carillion a sly wink. “I said once before we tried to create xenotypes for all manner of planets we were too impatient to terraform. When biology failed us, we took a different approach. Carillion here is a Personified Intelligence.”

“Personified?” Winter took special interest in the word. She glanced at Wiggly, and was glad to see the engineer picked up on it too. “If that is your custom, I can assure you, the Initiative will respect it as well. But I must confess I’m interested in the matter beyond just a legal status.”

Mote didn’t release the breath she was holding until she spoke. Morales’ stunt had only been a temporary reprieve from the stress that was painted over her face and animated tail. “Recitation. To echo the argument that allowed my xenotype to be recognized, we learned to mimic life so well and in so many ways that we became truly alive. That effort saved us in the end.”

“Does that mean you can eat a good soup?” Live Wire announced as he entered the room with a serving bowl of steaming food and five small bowls floating around his head. “Because if so, that’s enough for me.”

He set the food down and the two cathrex took long, deep whiffs of the tantalizing meal before them. Live Wire had taken a pair of jerky rations, cut it up into small pieces and used it to stock soup before thickening it up with some taste tested grasses and ferns from outside. All of it being gathered by Winter Gale. “We seem to have somewhat similar palettes. The garden you have seems all to be edible for us as well. Or at least it’s going to take longer before I break out in hives or go into anaphylactic shock.” He finished it all by placing a pile of salt and pepper packets, and tiny bottles of hot sauce in between everyone. He raised a ladle and small bowl up. He had to be careful that the low gravity didn’t make the meal fly out of his control. “First helping goes to the good doctor for saving our tails.”

Morales could barely contain himself as the hearty soup was presented to him. It was his knowledge that ponies preferred to eat only after everyone else was served that kept him in check.

The two mares opted to save any further questions for the time being and gave him thanks for the delivered food.

Silent Carillon was barely any better than Morales. She had to keep her hands off her spoon for fear that she couldn’t control herself if she touched it. “Oh I can eat food alright. Electricity can only do so much.” The ponies were surprised to see Carillon was actually drooling over the smell.

Live Wire put a bit more haste into serving the mares and then himself. Once complete, he lifted his spoon and cheered. “For survival!”

“For survival,” everyone cheered back.

The two cathrex leapt upon their bowls with abandon while the siblings ate with equal gusto. Only Winter Gale ate in a dignified manner, taking time to actually enjoy her meal.

The soup was hardly fine dining, but to the taste starved group, it might as well be. They were all silently eating until Wiggly Sprocket came up for air after guzzling her broth. “That-” she took another breath. “Was the best beef I’ve ever had.”

It was a sentiment that was shared around the table. Morales was fully moved to tears, and had to refrain from licking the bowl. “If this is what you can make from rations, I must taste what you can do with a properly stocked kitchen.”

Live Wire took a deep sense of pride in his cooking, and grinned widely at the praise. “And I might find just that in Ponipolous.”

“Speaking of which,” Wiggly asked as her wings quivered with anticipation. “The code box made it through intact, all we need to do is get back up there. So how exactly are we getting this bird to do that with only maneuvering thrusters?”

Morales gave a knowing glance towards Mote. “Because we don’t need the engines to slip into hyperspace. Only Silent Carillon and myself.”

A day later, after everything was prepared, the ponies sat uncomfortably on the bridge. The chairs did not agree with their quadrupedal anatomy, but at least the controls were made accessible to Winter and Live Wire via cable connectors after Wiggly rigged up some poor-man’s adapters. Winter Gale strapped into the pilot’s seat with Wire manning the gunnery station. Wiggly claimed the captain’s chair had to use a holographic interface. Morales was in his ‘fish tank’, and Mote claimed the comms station. She did not touch the controls, instead her tail had a series of wires connecting to ports below the chair, and her gaze was vacant.

Live Wire cautiously tapped a few commands to boot the console in front of him. “Let’s hope that crash course was enough.” He took the role of co-pilot, but had few illusion he would actually take control over Winter.

Wiggly had taken to learning the ins and outs of every aspect of commanding the frigate, yet she felt nervous about how new it all was. Give me an engine room any day over this.

Mote’s voice chimed in from the PA speakers all around them. “Declaration. Finalizing setting biometric locks and passcodes. In the absence of the original crew, I will serve as officiator. Wiggly Sprocket. Do you agree to accept the role and responsibilities as captain and chief engineer?”

Still not entirely sure why this little ceremony was necessary, the ponies went along with it. Wiggly wasn’t sure if she had to nod at some hidden camera. “I do.”

“Live Wire, do you accept the position of executive officer and ship’s chef?”

The stallion was a bit giddy at having such a formal title, even if it meant little outside the ship itself. “Absolutely.”

“Second Lieutenant Winter Gale, do you accept the helm and tactical command?”

“Naturally.”

Silent Carillion wiggled a bit out of excitement. After being marooned for so long with minimal power, she was glad to be underway. “Crew registry updated. Gravitor Morales, we are clear to begin transition.”

“Gladly.” Morales’ horn lit a rich emerald light that bathed the upper half of the bridge in its brilliance. He held his hands up and out as far as the tube allowed with his eyes closed. The Akira groaned and shuttered from its rest.

As his magic flooded the ship and the surrounding greenhouse, Silent Carillion leveraged the Akira’s systems to mold it properly. While she could have let the onboard computer handle it, Mote was still nervous about appearing superfluous around the two cyborgs.

While the crew was protected within the hull, the space immediately surrounding the vessel warped and tore as gravimetric shearing increased to the point where the roof and walls of the greenhouse started breaking down.

Winter Gale saw the ground was becoming soft and unstable. Even after reading the manual Silent Carillion provided, it was a little heartbreaking to watch the small patch of life being torn asunder. Poor things. I know they claim the plants `n adapt to the moon’s atmosphere, but what about the rest? Having to shelf that concern away, she kicked on the maneuvering thrusters. “Keeping us stable.”

Wiggly kept an eye on the power draw and was amazed how fast the capacitors were depleting. The backup reactor could only produce so much power, and she was growing worried they’d run out before long. “Capacitors are down to forty two percent.”

No one answered straight away, leaving the mare to bite her hoof with growing anxiety.

Then, the outside world was masked by the warped and twisting light until it, or more accurately, the Akira, vanished. In its wake, the damaged greenhouse shattered and was left open to the outside air.

The next moment, Wiggly peered through the cameras, only to see what looked like light purple fluid. They were submerged in what quickly appeared to be a universe sized ocean.

All of the ponies could see this, and even with the briefing the cathrex provided, it was truly shocking to behold. Yet before Wiggly could think to check the readouts to ensure the massive hull breach over the engineering compartment was not leaving them compromised, the Akira began drifting and was pulled into the opposite direction.

There. Looming over them as if they were nose to nose with its atmosphere was the pale green gas giant. Close enough now to see the hurricane force winds and storms below. The proximity of it felt as if it was dragging Sprocket inexorably down the giant’s gullet. “W-why is it suddenly so close?!”

“Spatial contraction,” Morales explained with an even temperament. “It only looks that close because of the gravity well’s lensing effect. Didn’t you read the primer Mote created for you?”

Struggling to calm down, Wiggly looked to her fellow ponies. Winter was more or less still cool and collected, her focus set on getting the Akira moving towards the planet. Exhaling slowly, Wiggly sat back down. “Hey! A lot of the bags I’m having to wear comes with too much reading to do in a single day.”

“If you knew her like I do, that’s saying something,” Live Wire chimed in with a reassuring nod in her direction.

“Suggestion. Hyperspace has a beauty of its own. Perhaps you should observe it while we’re still here.”

Sluggishly, Winter dragged them out of the foggy purple waters and into a thin layer of clear blue between the distortion of the moon’s gravity, and the monstrous gas giant. In those brief seconds, Wiggly could see the wider expanse of hyperspace. Instead of a distant white light, the star appeared as massive now as the gas giant had from the moon’s surface. Foggy spheres of purple mist amidst the ocean of thin blue marked the smaller planets’ locations while the other gas giants could be seen by the naked eye. Beyond that, dense clouds of roiling fluid seemed to burn and light up in sudden violent energies that gave the impression of storms. One such storm fully encompassed the system along the western section of the elliptical plane.

“Warning! We’re about to be pulled back into real space. Expect turbulence beyond what the inertia dampeners can compensate for!”

Turning her cameras back to the front, Wiggly grasped her chair for dear life as the Akira passed through what felt like the surface of a raindrop. In a snap, the blues and purples of hyperspace vanished, and the darkness of real space and the gas giant returned. Instead of feeling close enough to reach out and touch the planet with a hoof, the Akira found itself in between the moon and the gas giant.

Morales plastered his face against the glass to try and get a better look at the wonder laced panic still written all over Wiggly’s face. “That went well.”

Seemingly ignorant of his gentle teasing, Sprocket looked to her readouts. “Ahh… The hull made it through okay. No new breaches or anything. We burned through all but a quarter of the last AM tank.”

Winter used the report to shake off her jitters from the transition. “Right. We’re - Ah - four hours away from Ponipolous at full thrusters. Turning there now.”

“Advisement. All systems at energy saving mode,” Silent Carillion said with tittering cheer as she struggled to remain professional for a few moments longer. “Navigation shielding is active, and that signal box of yours survived as well.”

“Oh yeah! Clownfish, we’re back in business!” Live Wire reached over to offer a high one to Wiggly, and she hauntingly returned the gesture, and she struggled to recollect herself. The gas giant was no longer brushing her face, but a safe distance out. Turning to see, the star was back where it belonged. The moon no longer held them in its grasp.

Shaking it off as best she could, Wiggly focused on the work that laid ahead of her. “Right then. Let’s go to the store and pick up a new engine room. You think they left one on the shelf?”

Author's Note

Surely nothing followed the Akira here right? Probably not. That'd be like, way too far to bother.

12: Xenotype

For a single frigate, the broken hulk of Ponipolous was a treasure trove. At the time of its destruction, the navy still had the capability to recover the bodies and had stripped away the easily accessible fuel and supplies.

What was left for the Akira were smaller quantities of everything. Smaller civilian docking berths still had some gasps of fuel left, a dozen drones left their berths from the Akira. Small little things, barely more than a motor, battery, and sensor package that were released inside the lifeless hulk of Ponipolous to avoid activating the mines.

With Wire and Winter off to search for food, that left Wiggly to search for the laundry list of parts and materials the frigate needed to be brought back up to specs. The sheer scale of the repairs needed for the Akira to be restored threatened to overwhelm Wiggly. The Jumper was a wreck, but the Akira’s going to need the whole engine room replaced. How in blazes am I going to pull that off?

The security center she sat in was a cramped room towards the stern of the Akira. Mote had gone off to explore the ruins which left Wiggly with Morales who was the one controlling the drones.

Wiggly absently watched the monitors, a pall of foreboding lording over her as the only one among the crew possessing any talent with a wrench. Fixing something is one thing, but to replace a whole engine room? The euphoria of escaping the moon had waned, and the reality of the work ahead of her had smacked her in the face. The foundries of Ponipolous were cold wrecks. If there was to be a new engine room, it’d have to be made from whatever pieces she could find from scratch, or more dauntingly try to resurrect one of the great foundries. All by myself? No else here could have a ghost of a chance helping with that.

“This looks promising,” Morales stated with hope, breaking Wiggly from her ruminations. “It matches the description you gave.”

Dragged from her brooding thoughts, Wiggly floated into the air to see. One of the drones had been picking through a spare parts store, and had one highlighted. “Yeah. Good find, we’re going to need at least five of those.”

“Perfect. I’ll mark this location for later.”

Wiggly studied the various camera feeds trying to find something. “What we really need is to access the central computer. We’ll need it to upload the schematics of a replacement engine room.”

“In a place like this? I hope you can point me in some kind of direction.” He shot her a thin smile. He found her charming enough, and couldn’t complain about her company. A shame she’s got four legs though.

“No idea. Send a few drones to the commons area. There could be an information center there.”

“Rightio.”

As she watched him over the next few minutes, jealousy tugged at her once again. I wish I could command a cloud of drones. By Luna’s stars, I’d settle for just being able to interface. Suppressing a need to groan, she allowed weightlessness to drift her away from the console. I’d settle for a datalink at the very least. Her gaze over Morales’ tail and the tendril linking him to the console before him. Finally taking an actual look at it, an idea popped in her mind as she realized how organic it was.

“Say…Morales?”

He briefly looked away from the monitors before going right back to keep one drone from flying straight into a steel beam. “Yes?”

“You say cathrex use genetic engineering for all sorts of things. Does that include what we ponies use cybernetics for?”

Glad that he was presently turned away from her, Morales grew a bit nervous. “We - yes, that’s right.” With her fellow ponies being cyborgs, he feared the question that was sure to come.

Sprocket felt the need to be careful. “Could you adapt that sorta thing for me, without making me a cathrex?” She felt as though it was a difficult request to fulfill. The accord between them was a marriage of convenience, but to share such genetic technology with her felt almost too monumental for her to ask in the first place.

Stunned by the unexpected direction she went with, Morales paused all the drones so he could give Sprocket his full attention. “You want me to weave your strands?”

Blushing a bit, Wiggly averted her gaze and nervously played with her mane. “Well. It’s - yes, I do. Because I can’t be cyberized.”

Tilting his head in growing curiosity, Morales hummed in realization. “So that is why you are clean.”

“Clean?” It was an old slur, one she had heard in old media, and it made her unease.

Fearing he might have caused an insult, Morales coughed hard. “My apologies. I simply mean free of machine and metal.”

Obviously. Deciding to feign ignorance, she gave a disarming snort. “Ah.” Sprocket looked back over to him with a dash of hope. “Yeah. It’s my tribe. The same thing that lets me live so long also makes implantation, errr… ill advisable. Deadly even.”

So that is why she avoided the same mistake as her kin. Your ‘allergy’ is a blessing in disguise. His own distaste for cybernetics aside, Morales was not blind to the prevalence of cyberization among the Initiative. He could not recall any character on the holovids lacking a datajack at the very least. Save for other pegacorns now that I think about it. Masking it all, Morales adopted a contemplative look. “I can see how troublesome that can be. It must feel as if you are missing a -” He wanted to say arm, yet bare caught himself. “A leg.”

“Exactly!” Wiggly corrected her drifting to float eye to eye with him. “I’ve just had to live with it ya know? Like an earth pony lives with no magic or flight. But cyberhorns have been a thing for centuries and if you’re rich enough, wing implants that mimic my natural ones are plentiful enough. Even if I owned a planet I couldn’t use any of that.”

Morales rubbed his chin and his tail flicked back and forth from thought. “So a three legged pony wishes to run. I wouldn’t not be against assisting you in this matter. Still… Were you a fellow cathrex, I would do this without recompense. But since our two peoples have no treaty together…”

He let the sentence hang, clueing Wiggly in quick smart. She had not expected it to be free, but it had been a thin hope. “What do you want?”

Growing a touch nervous, Morales wrung his hands and briefly glanced away. “I am not entirely familiar with how ponies run their ships, but with the Combine, the captain’s word is law. Especially since we are far from Cathrex space. Mote and I have no say in what conflict the captain chooses to enter.”

A shiver ran down Wiggly’s spine as she imagined if their circumstances had been reversed. “I’m not a sailor. Civilians who don’t want to fight can demand to be let off at the nearest port if a fight can be realistically avoided.”

“A right Mote and I would have likely exercised were we not so very far from home.”

Nodding with a solemn frown, Sprocket took a risk and laid a hoof on his arm. “I won’t take you into a battle you don’t wish to take part in.”

Moved by both the offer and the physical touch, a thread bare smile appeared on the doctor’s muzzle. “I appreciate the offer, but… how can I put this properly.” He vigorously rubbed his mane trying to marry both cultures in his head. “The Combine sacrificed much to survive. Our people, our dignity, and first among it all was our honor.” He sighed heavily. “We wish to reclaim that honor, and if that means I die for a just cause, then so be it. All I ask is that you ensure our fights are noble.”

The request felt heavy to Sprocket. Joining the navy had been a flash in the pan idea, but now that she had a ship again, combat was not on her agenda. So she fixed him with a firm stare. “You have my word.”

A pleased, and no small amount of relief, smile crossed his lips. “Once we break for lunch we’ll go to the lab to see what needs to be done. And,” he started with a hungry look towards the door. “That leftover soup sings to me. We can discuss exactly what you want while we eat.”

Quickly growing ecstatic, Wiggly quickly followed after him. “I don’t have my brother’s skills with a spatula, but I’ve been reheating his stuff long enough to know how to keep the flavor intact. Actually… Let me talk to Wire before we get started. If I just spring this on him, I’ll never hear the end of it.

Deep within the confines of Ponipolous, Winter and Wire grunted with effort as they muscled a stubborn metal door open. Surprising them both, the hiss of venting atmosphere greeted them upon cracking it open.

Once that first crack was made and the air pressure faded, pushing the door open wide proved much easier. “Kinda wish I knew how to use Wigg’s scanner,” Wire mused as the couple moved inside. “It’d’ve made air pockets easier to deal with.”

Tugging along a trio of power packs, they pressed inside. Their helmet lights ran across the interior, revealing an intact up-scale restaurant. Aside from the disruption caused by decompression, chairs were still restrained to the top of tables or the bar. No silverware was to be found, and not one light had been on when the power went out.

Winter glanced around, looking for the entrance to the kitchen. Flashes of dogfighting and frantic transmissions echoed distantly in her ear. “I remember the battle. It was early local morning when the Ruby Navy hit. A place like this would have been closed.”

An idea crossed Wire’s mind and he grinned broadly. “Say, this is a kirin barbecue joint. I bet they have gas and wood stoves for that authentic flavor. Do you know how expensive those kinds of low-G stoves can go for?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Winter answered truthfully. “But today, I believe we’re here for the salvager’s discount, yes?”

Thankfully for them both, there were no bodies amidst the restaurant, allowing both of them a chance to reminisce in peace. Memories of better times came to them both as they propelled themselves through the dining area. Winter could see upscale diners at a glance looking cordial and friendly. She tried to ignore knowing better and how many of those conversations were filled with deal making and back stabbing.

Live Wire’s recollection was much cloudier. He vaguely remembered loud rooms filled with chatter, laughter, and so many delicious smells that sparked his love of cooking. As they passed a table, he imagined with a smile of a family of four praising food that he cooked.

In a much better mood than his marefriend, he dropped his tail over her back, an act that had replaced nuzzling while in environment suits. “What do you think? We ditch the salvaging gig, and open a restaurant together.”

The sentiment brought some much needed warmth to her, and Winter rested a wing on him. “Only if we make it a flying restaurant, going from star to star.”

A massive grin crossed his muzzle. “That’d be perfect. We could convert the Akira into that. Add in a repair bay for Wiggly to run her own shop, and we’d be set. Not to mention we already have plenty of room for a family.”

Stepping into the kitchen, Winter Gale was already seeing her mother’s disappointment. The thought of it produced a rebellious grin. Marrying a chef of all ponies, oh how she would fuss. “Sounds like a good life to me.”

In the gloom, Wire’s light passed over the freezer and he waved Winter towards it when a call materialized in his vision. As he answered, Wiggly’s destiny mark appeared. He motioned to Winter he was on a call, to which she saluted before wandering off to look for preserved food.

Live Wire stated with dramatic disappointment.

A pouty huff heralded her grumbling response. Wiggly paused to collect herself, long enough for Wire to point Winter towards the pantry.

Live Wire stepped into the freezer and was elated by the stock he found. This place must have received a shipment not too long before the attack. Trying to split his focus wasn’t easy as he checked various meats for damage.

Wiggly Sprocket explained her plan with Morales and there genetics lab as tactically as she could, but no amount of care was going to stop the,

she interjected with an attempt to calm him down.

Live Wire was flooded with nightmares of his sister being controlled by Morales or being turned into a monster.

The vitriol in his voice irked her. Wiggly tried to press before Wire could get any angrier.

Live Wire was so worked up he was pacing in circles.

Wiggly wished she had her goggles so she could glare him down.

Growling his frustration and spinning in place as the growl became a shout, Live Wire stopped suddenly to focus.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sprocket was thankful she could avoid the headache that had been looming.

In no mood to go specialty shopping anymore, Wire put his hoof down.

He snorted dismissively, trying to hide his further irritation at her correctly guessing his meal plan. He audibly grumbled as Wiggly’s point lingered and he could just see her smug look.

Still fuming, Wire ended the call, and only then noticed Winter Gale had been watching from the door with a bag of crackers nestled against her chest. A troubled look had fallen over her.

“Did something happen?”

With the call over, Live Wire’s true anger shone forth as a harsh scowl. “My sister has found a whole new way to go Wigglynanas. Let’s finish grabbing food and then we’re going to have a little chat with our alien ‘friends’.”

Not too long after eating lunch, Mote had returned with a half-filled canister of fuel, giving the Akira plenty of power for months, barring any need for travel.

Both cathrex and Wiggly Sprocket were inside the genetics lab. Out of everything, the lab had escaped the parts scrounging the original crew had inflicted on other systems. So it was thankfully operational for the task at hand.

The lab itself consisted of three broad consoles with transparent data screens. An equal number of matching beds were adjacent to each console while the walls were mounted by a mainframe independent of the main computer.

Tapping away on the central console, Morales was analyzing some of Wiggly’s shed fur for her genetic code. Mote was on the conjoined bed and was leaning over to watch him work as her tail danced about in focused curiosity. Morales was beside himself with a professional yet nearly instinctual thrill of investigating new sequences.

Seated on the far console, Wiggly was parsing through the hundreds of xenotypes on record. Many were fairly close to Mote’s form, but a vast majority violated the one-two-two law. Yet to her surprise, there was an indicator on the top that labeled each one as legal or not. Some of the legal ones seemed to violate the law, so she leaned over towards the bipeds. “Hey, are wings and things legal too?”

Mote rolled over to sit on the bed and face her. “Clarification. Wings are, not sure about things.”

Wiggly slid back to a few dubious xenotypes. “This one has bug antenna and mandibles.”

A sour look fell over the jane, and she walked over to look at Wiggly’s screen. “Oh. Them.” She crossed her arms and her sour face wrinkled further. She glanced at Morales who held her gaze before averting his eyes. “Lament. We are a lost people, Captain. I think what we lost first, was kindness. We struggle to reclaim something you ponies have enshrined. Pray, you never lose it.”

“You seem kind enough to me.” Wiggly beckoned Mote over. “Just follow my lead.” Her conversation with her brother floated back to her mind. “Don’t worry so much if my brother gets snippy.”

Both cathrex became pensive with Morales starting to say something, but thought better of it and remained silently working away. Finding their reaction a bit disheartening, Wiggly pointed Mote at the terminal she was using. “It’s hard to type on your boards. Can you sniff out a xenotype that was good at controlling multiple drones or something? If I’m ever to put in a new engine room I need a full team, not a hodgepodge of laymares.”

Mote was left confounded at how quickly Wiggly had adopted them as friends. It brought a tear to her eye that the gynoid sheepishly brushed away. The solution came easily to Mote as she was quick to claim the seat Wiggly vacated. “Answer. The mechanteers would be my vote.” The announcement drew a concerned ear and eye from Morales.

After a few button presses Mote brought up the named file depicting a male and female mechanteer. At first glance, they looked quite similar to baseline cathrex: bipedal feline analogs. What visibly set them apart were two prominent wings that were much like Wiggly’s own. Sprouting from the middle of their backs and possessing a wing span a fair bit longer than their arms, Wiggly was taken by the kinship. Bereft of linking leathery membranes or feathers, their wings were quite bony looking. The male had similar bone-like frills swept backwards along the scalpel whereas the female had more flexible versions intermixed with her hair. Lastly, their long tails ended in a small collection of connectors Wiggly mentally matched to that of a diagnostic tool.

Mote looked pleased with her finding and moved aside so Sprocket could take a better look. “Clarification. You want a master drone controller, look no further.”

Accepting the invitation, Sprocket tapped a few parts of the screen, prompting more information about various body parts. “The bony bits act like transceivers?!” The tail was the real kicker for her. “You’re seriously telling me this isn’t a cyborg? I mean look at that.”

Morales craned his neck over his console to speak up. “As I mentioned before, the Combine hasn’t practiced cyberization for millennia. That being said, I thought all you wanted was a datalink.”

“At first, sure, but in for a step go for a mile. But yeah, why go through so much effort biologicalizing this?” Wiggly waggled her hoof at the presented file. “I can’t imagine doing this genetically was easier than installing some wire and metal.”

Mote glanced at Morales, the two debating on how much they could say. “Clarification. We had serious problems with cyberization when we first discovered magic. I’m sure as a pony, you need no convincing as to magic’s usefulness, and everyone wanted to wield it. Even the poor managed to lobby successfully to make such modifications accessible.”

Running with the explanation, Morales chimed in. “We were already masters of weaving strains, so we among those who remained with the Combine universally abandoned cyberization. By the time we discovered a workaround to the Thaumaturgical Constant, cyberization was seen as being backwards and obsolete.”

Outwardly, Wiggly nodded in thought, seemingly accepting their words. However, she was doubtful it was even close to a half-truth. I don’t care how much they must like genetic tinkering, some things are simply easier to do with machines. I bet they’re just saying that to avoid some embarrassment.

Ultimately deciding the omissions were not dangerous to her, Wiggly let the matter drop. “No wonder you’ve been giving Winter and my brother weird looks.”

Both cathrex flushed with intense embarrassment, with Mote looking away in shame. “Placation. I’m sorry. I - Ah - realize that can seem ironic, given what I must be to you.”

“No need to apologize to me. Just be sure to say so to them. It might help with trust issues, eh?”

Wiggly looked away, sparing them both from further awkwardness. As her attention returned to the mechanteer, she rubbed her chin as daydreams of her leading an army of drones filled her thoughts. Instead of hiring a crew I could be a one mare repair team. I could strip a ship in a fraction of the time! Her wild eyes were starting to unnerve Mote who developed a reluctant, and hopefully disarming, smile. When Sprocket managed to break out of it, she pulled back and started sweating out of embarrassment. “Aaanyway, how about it? Can you hybridize me with these mechanteer?”

Thinking it over, Morales could not deny a level of excitement on his part. To make the first pony xenotype. Ah, I might get my name in history after all. His mind made up, he pulled up the genetic data for the xenotype. “Absolutely. Is it safe to presume you wish to remain as ponish as possible?”

“Naturally.”

Mote pulled in close to the tom’s ear. “Cautionary. Are you sure this is a good idea? You could be censured for this.”

It gave him pause, but only for a moment. “She is not cathrex. The board will understand.” He turned to Wiggly. “Problem is, I’m not sure how tightly the one-two-two law is enforced. Attempting to do so will cause some sort of reaction from the computer I’m sure.”

“We’re not going to be attacked by some hidden turrets or something, are we?” Sprocket started glancing around for hidden panels.

Scoffing at the notion, Morales keyed in the parameters. “I doubt it. An alert though…” He hit the last key, and was immediately hit by a deep red warning and his console was locked.

A klaxon bellowed four deep whining notes before a mechanical voice called out, flattening Wiggly’s ears. “Security to genetics. Security to genetics.”

For a moment, Wiggly half expected marines to materialize out of nowhere and hold them all at gunpoint. “You were saying?!”

Irritated at the noise, Morales waved her over to the console he was using. “I suppose you did. Since you’re the captain, you need to end the lockdown.”

Wincing badly with her tail flailing heavily against anything close by, Mote spoke rapidly. “Request: please do so quickly. You may not hear it, but the Akira is being flooded with really painful alert radio signals.”

Rushing over to Morales’ side, Wiggly looked to the screen, only to see it was all still in the cathrex language. “What do I do?”

Morales pointed to a microphone embedded into the console. “Repeat after me.”

Following his prompting, Wiggly leaned in. “This is Captain Wiggly Sprocket speaking.”

The alarms went silent and the computer spoke again. “Captain. Medica Morales is conducting illegal splicing as per the Unification Act.”

Morales continued to whisper into Wiggly’s ear, and she parroted, “as my position as captain, I proclaim this to be an extenuating circumstance. His actions are to be continued.”

Mote hastily shimmied over, and moved a lock of hair out from her eyes. “This is Silent Callerion, serving as ship PI. I second the captain’s assessment.”

“Override acknowledged. Two-four-four is clear. Any attempt to create a xenotype outside of legal boundaries is forbidden. Be aware this incident will be logged and sent to the XID upon returning to Combine space. Any attempt to delete the log will be met with lethal force.”

With that, the alarms vanished and the screens returned to normal. Morales sighed as he went about preparing Wiggly’s request. “The review board’ll hound me for years over this. Even with you being an actual different species.”

Wiggly cracked what she hoped was an uplifting smile. “Then it’s a good thing you’ll be with us sampling exotic food for a while, right?” Her smile widened when he gave an amused snort.

“True enough.” He hummed irritably as the computer refused to proceed with the project. “Seems we have a problem.” Morales finally thought to command the screen to display both languages. “Weaving your strands is being blocked.”

“Is there no way to work around it?” Wiggly tried to keep her hopes up.

Sucking in a breath, Morales checked around. “There is, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Sprocket eyed the screen when all the red turned green. “A pet? You’re going to label me as a pet?”

Shrugging helplessly, Morales scowled at Mote who was giggling at everyone’s expense. “I’m not exactly proud of it either, but until a law can be passed to make exceptions for ponies, it’s the best I can do.” Wiggly gave him her best evil eye, glowering him into submission. “I - um…” Morales tried a few more things while avoiding eye contact. “Ah - yes. I can relabel it to an uplift project.”

“Better, I guess.” Sprocket declared, all while Mote was delighting in the tension.

“At any rate, this is going to take me all night to clean up and prepare. You can review the projected phenotype in the morning.”

Wiggly stayed put and gave him a firm look that brooked no argument. “Are you seriously planning on changing a mare’s looks without said mare hovering over your shoulder the whole time?”

Mote wholeheartedly laughed behind both hands while Morales looked dumbfounded for a moment. “Ahhh. Right. In that case, Mote, could you grab some drinks and snacks?”

“Delightment. Certainly, but only if I get to do the drone search while you two are busy.”

Later that night, Live Wire walked into the genetics lab levitating two plates of steaming food and some drink cans. He found Wiggly and Morales nose deep in their work. Neither of them reacted to the door sliding open, but Wiggly’s nose drifted away from the screen and right to the food. Her eyes widened and she instantly started drooling. “Is that skeddy?!” She fell over herself trying to scramble over to the plate, her hooves thrashing to reach the plate as fast as possible. “Spaghettiiiii!”

Live Wire relinquished the plate and glass of red wine. Wiggly cackled madly before absconding with her prize to the nearest observation bed to feast with gusto.

Morales watched the whole thing with flaring interest. He cupped his hands and bowed to the unicorn. “Live Wire, I must profess my gratitude for this meal. If her endorsement is even half deserved, I will remember this night for years.”

The flattery over his cooking always managed to drag a proud grin out of him. “You’re in luck then. I made enough sauce for days, and it only gets better with age.”

Taking the offered plate, Morales inspected the meaty red sauce and pale tan noodles beneath. “Ahh. Looks much like felloca.” He was getting excited now, but he held back so as to build the anticipation. “Oh ho ho, I can already smell the spices. Excuse me.” Bowing with the plate above his head, Morales retreated to join Sprocket at the bed.

To no surprise, Wiggly had buried her muzzle into her food and ate like a mare possessed. Morales took his time with each fork-full, savoring each bite like a gourmand.

With both of them distracted, Live Wire took a long look at the screen. The text was split between ponish and cathrex. Presently, only a left wing was actually depicted both in a flared and folded position. Aside from the fingers looking thicker and sturdier, it appeared normal to him. What surprised him was that the bone was replaced with horn ivory, and the alterations in her mana channeling were barely comprehensible to him.

“Master chef,” Morales called out while presenting a cut piece of meat on a fork. “This is a... sausage yes? Pray tell, what kind is it?” He closed his eyes, recalling the sharp heavenly flavor. “The flavor is deep and perfectly compliments the rest of the sauce.”

Begrudgingly reacting to the distraction, Live Wire let a proud grin shine forth, Live Wire answered, “that particular style is Lunarian. You won’t find a better sausage for spaghetti. It was even authentic stuff straight from the homeworld.”

“Then I am truly blessed this night.” Morales was lost in his delight, allowing Live Wire to approach his sister.

The front of Wiggly’s muzzle was splattered with bits of sauce and a few pieces of a mauled meatball. “So, how goes this…” Wire held back from insulting the genetics planning. After seeing how closely his sister seemed to be working on it, he was having second thoughts. “…Progress on your work?”

Wiggly licked her lips, briefly pulling away from her meal. “Pretty well actually. The computer is simulating it now to weed out defects. Mores says the serum should be ready sometime after breakfast.”

With his thoughts returning to what would become of his sister's wings, Live Wire's demeanor became a bit tense. “That quickly?”

“Indeed.” Morales paused eating, allowing the delay to refresh his pallet a little. “Long term missions like this one necessitate a lab for temporary edits for whatever challenges we may come across.”

“I added some touch ups,” Wiggly interjected with an eye waggle. “And a good thing too. I’d’ve ended up looking like I had little spikes coming out the back of my head if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“If what I've seen of you ponies so far,” Morales replied with jovial defensiveness, “making the act of hugging you difficult would be a horrible crime indeed.“

Live Wire furrowed his brow and rounded the bed so he could be closer to the doctor. “You said temporary?”

Morales looked up from his plate, his slowly swishing tail went still as he stared into the strangely anxious expression on the stallion’s face. “Of course. Think of it as putting on a suit. You do your work in it, then take it back off. I can tell you, adapting to the vacuum of space is unpleasant for anything longer than a day or so.”

Flashing a wide grin, Morales looked at the others expectantly, only to wilt under their puzzled looks. “Eehhh, it sounded funnier in my head.”

Shaking his head to clear the air, Live Wire pressed on. “Sure. Anyway, I want a reversal serum or whatever for this whole project.”

“Now wait a minute!” Wiggly cried out with bits of spaghetti flying.

“No, you wait,” Wire shot back forcefully enough to cow her for a moment longer. “I don’t like any of this. There’s a reason the high queens limited genetic engineering like they did. If this puts you in any danger, I want it reversible right then and there!”

Not having any of it, Wiggly propped herself up on the bed in a rush. She would have kicked her plate off the bed, were it not for a timely intervention by Morales scooting it out of the way. “Don't you dare hang that dagger over my head. I get one headache, and you’ll jab me with it!”

Looking pensive, Live Wire kept his eyes fixed on hers. “You’re my sunshine, Wiggs. I have to protect you.”

Wiggly growled in exasperation and moved forward on the bed, and kicked her plate off, only for it to be saved by Morales. She pointed an angry hoof at him. “Don’t pull sunshine on me like this. That’s not fair!”

“Isn’t it?” He challenged firmly. “Wiggs, what you're doing is like taking all of Winter’s bionics all in one surgery. That’s not something you can just do on a whim. It’s dangerous, and who knows if what the computer thinks is a defect is actually a defect?”

“I need this,” was all Sprocket could think to say at that moment. “We need this.”

“If that’s true…” Live Wire leaned back and took in his sister a whole, terrified this could be the last he saw of her true self. “Then I need the reversal treatment at the ready.”

With the siblings so distracted, Morales popped two pieces of Wiggly’s sausage off her plate as payment for saving the meal. He put her plate back down on the bed, and covered his mouth to mask his chewing. “A reversal treatment is not only reasonable, but is standard procedure,” he announced, breaking the deadlock. As the siblings turned to look at him, he hastily swallowed. “Along with a baseline neurological test before and after administration. If there are any unexpected changes, they can be reversed.”

The wording sparked Live Wire’s protectiveness. “What exactly would constitute expected changes?!”

“I would imagine similar ones you experienced when getting cyberized,” Morales commented coolly while forking his meal. “Or perhaps less so, I can not say. All cathrex are born with the ability to commune with machines akin to your own interfaces. How a pony mind will react to that is something the computer is addressing with a light touch. We will all have to see.”

“I guess we will,” Wiggly stated with iron. “And I’m not budging.”

“Fine then.” Live Wire got up and made for the door. “But if you get anything worse than a headache, I’ll reverse this farce myself if I have to.”