Twilight Sparkle - Journal - Entry 3

1003 P.N.M (Post Nightmare Moon)
March - Friday - 5:32 AM

Sorry for writing shortly. I can't think straight.

I thought Spike took it well. He was quiet about it at first, but eventually got curious and wanted to see. I showed him the inside; Barnon had left his side open, so Spike could see the inside of the ship. He looked at it silently, eyes wide. Normally he gets excited -- little more cautious then I am, but excited, like I do. He asked me if he could think about it; I said of course. It was a lot, for anypony. That was yesterday night.

I found him sending a secret letter to Celestia not even ten minutes ago. I'd walked in on him, having stayed up late from my experiments when I heard a noise in his room. He said something about being sorry, but the Princess asked him to let her know if I ever tried anything relating to portals. Apparently that wasn't even the first letter; they'd been talking through the night.

He handed me the latest letter that came in.

I don't know how to feel right now. I'm sick to my stomach.

I don't know what to do.

Barnon is halfway dressed. The suit sits at his waist, pack on the ground beside him as he adjusts his underclothes. The worst thing was when it pinched or rolled, and he couldn't reach it, tormenting him until his next break.

It was Friday. Scans showed there was just enough Borutine left to make another days haul worth it; then, it'd be off to deliver it to Sector 52, the Yurn Tri-Star Area. Buyer would be waiting for him at Handelgrohba Station. He was looking forward to the time off; about a week and a half flight or so to reach it, and he was pooped.

He was used to the work, sure; it even kept him pretty fit. But he wasn't used to Borutine. Had to focus and not splash any of it with his beam. Been doing a good job though; only one mess-up, and thankfully there was enough surplus he could remedy the mistake. Even turned it into a little gift for Twilight, getting some use out of it.

Something iffy was bugging him, though. He hadn't spoken to Twilight since Wednesday.

Barnon slings the shoulders of his suit up, working his arm into the sleeve. Since they had gotten to talking, after their first 'incident', they'd hardly missed a day; at the least talking for a few minutes when they could spare the chance, before checking if the other was busy. But her sides been closed since she said she'd try telling Spike.

He hoped everything went alright, but he couldn't wait around forever.

Barnon clasps the suit sealed, helmet tucked under his arm. Power Pack slung and secured to his back, Barnon pauses, glancing at the Macrowave. Sure, it felt silly. The whole situation.

But he hoped she was alright.

The airlock doors slowly shut behind him, helmet clicking into place as the air around him hisses, de-pressurizing the room.

March - Friday ‐ 8:02 AM

Spike got a letter back from Princess Celestia. He couldn't look me in the eye when he handed it to me.

Princess Celestia told me to stay at the Library, that she was coming to deal with the situation herself.

I don't know what to do.

She's going to close the portal, I know it.

I can't even say goodbye to Barnon; he's off the ship, working.

I don't want to say goodbye.

I...

I think I figured it out. The Spell.

I'm sorry I disappointed you, Princess. But I don't think it's fair. You sent me to Ponyville to make friends, and I did. And now, I've found a friend from somewhere beyond the stars. I don't see what's wrong with that. I've been careful. I've been doing it right.

I'm not going to waste the coincidence that brought us together. You told me to value my friendships.

So I will.

I'll be back, I promise.

Barnon slowly drifts from one now-emptied pit, tether dangling in a floating, curling twist behind him as his belt slowly propels him around the asteroid. By this point, it's surface has been pock-marked with cracks and melted stone. His scanner was showing one last pocket of ore, then he could wrap up for the day.

He takes the moment, letting the lack of gravity, his helmet pulling up his Stoopify playlists. What to listen to...

His comms crackle softly, a notification ping drawing him from his indecision.

"Bitch." His ship AI chirps. Still funny.

"What's up?" Barnon hums, watching his proximity to the ore.

"Ship sensors find One(1) more Individual aboard than usually recorded, with no prior pings from Airlock. Potential Intruder detected. Would you like to alert Spamazon Sublight Security?" The ship calmly informs.

Huh. Lifeform hidden in the veins? Improbable, but he's heard stories of gross parasites or the like sneaking onboard. Usually a pain more than anything.

"Uhh... delay for now. Detailed scan? Specific location?" Barnon requests. Funny enough, he's gotten that warning once or twice before; usually following shady, too-cheap-to-be-true purchases, leading to some awkward pesty stowaways.

There's the final ore pocket. His beam slowly whirs to life, melting and cracking the ore around it as his belt serves as a counterweight, propelling him in the opposite direction, matching force.

"One moment, Bitch." The Ship chirps, before the pending sound of his requests getting handled replaced its chatter.

Barnon continues to work quietly, his music still paused. Ship sensors hadn't picked anything up outside, so not pirates. Stowaway? No way, wouldn't have gone undetected this long. Short trips, maybe, but Barnon had spent weeks in deep space to reach this job.

The final chunk of Borutine splinters free, the asteroid officially devoid of any worthwhile material. The mining laser slowly powers down, finding its place back on his pack; Barnon lobs the final ore chunk towards the ship, watching the mechanical arm reach for it, propulsion taking him towards the airlock.

"...Update." The ship chirps.

"Gimme gimme." Barnon grunts, trying not to get wrapped in his own tether.

"Unknown Quadrupedal Species with Elevated Heart Rate, currently situated in the Living Section of the Ship-Post. Recommend either Biozac for calming nerves, available for 9.99, a prompt call of Spamazon Sublight Security, or a call to the United Species Catalogue Association. Bitch."

"...Shit."

"Your suit is not equipped with Porta-Potter. It would not be recommended. Bitch."

Less funny.