Unlimited Books, But No Book

by scrungusbungus

Rating: mature
Tags: Human, Twilight Sparkle, Anon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, My Little Pony Comic, Romance, Science Fiction, Comedy, Profanity, Violence, Princess Celestia, Sex
Length: 34443

A Sci-Fi HIE / Anon X Twilight Romance Story about a Deep Space Miner & Derelict Ship Scrapper Anon, whose Microwave becomes a portal to a particular purple ponies kitchen.

[Cover by kyorisu on Tiktok]

Barnon E. Morse is a Deep Space Asteroid Miner & Junk Ship Scrapper. Since the two have overlapping tools, he'd grabbed both at a 2 for 1 sale on the licenses. Now, cruising through space in his one-man Privateer-Class Vessel, the Ship-Post, he's leaned back in his piloting seat, spun around to face his holo-view, feet are kicked up on the console, demolishing a bucket of extra-buttered buttered popcorn to a cheesy neo-drama about Gorgut the Destroyer & his love life.

His Macrowave dings, signaling that his Four-Cheese and Psuedo-Bacon Burrito is done. Already salivating in excitement, the popcorn is easily forgotten as Anon hops to his feet, eager to rip into his awaiting, culturally-dead mass-produced megameal.

When he pops open the Macrowave door however, he's not greeted with the inside of a Macrowave, nor his awaiting meal. There's some kind of treehouse library, and a small, purple horse staring at him, holding a half-eaten burrito with some kind of purplish glow surrounding it. She's staring back at him with dinner-plate sized eyes, a smear of his lunch on her face.

Bitch ate his burrito.

A Sci-Fi HIE / Anon X Twilight Romance Story, about Anon and Twilight's Microwaves becoming portals between their dimensions; two spergs connected through time and space.

Published 2024-03-10 10:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-05-06 07:44:43 UTC

Chapter 3 - Forgiveness in a Fifteen-Cheese Blend

"You're... making me something?" Twilight muttered apprehensively through his Macrowave, watching him at his stove. She'd been scooting closer, lately; though the topic of eating anything from his side might very well scare her away.

Three days until Barnon would reach the Borutine Deposit. Just a few chunks of floating rock that had spiraled off an asteroid after a bump and impacted on a local moon. He's got the contract pulled up on his Holopad, scrawling the details as a reminder while he messes with a pair of the burritos.

"Yeah, consider it an apology. Wanna show you one of my favorite styles of Burrito -- no 'M' word in it, promise" Barnon assures her, giving her an empathetic expression.

He thinks she's got some kind of stool or chair in front of the Macrowave now. She's watching everything he does curiously, and can sit there for a quite a while. Looks like she's higher up, too.

"You don't have to avoid saying meat for me, Barnon. It's... appreciated though." She sighs, shifting to get comfortable. She almost had her head sticking through, though seemed apprehensive about crossing the boundary herself. While travel between had already been confirmed when Barnon snatched the burrito back, Twilight was playing it cautious, for now. No telling how it might react to her magic.

"What is that?" She asks, ear flicking.

Barbon gives her a side-eye, waiting for her to specify. She'd spent four hours yesterday asking him what every visible piece of machinery, furniture or object that was in line of sight to the Macrowave was. She was still coming to terms that he was a 'Spaceman'.

"Why do you have two Burritos spilled open like that? And... what's that glowing thing you keep looking at?" She tilts her head.

Barnon claps his hands together, rubbing them.
"Alright. Here, hold this while I explain the forbidden fifteen-cheese burrito."

Before she can ask what, Barnon picks up the Holopad, and tosses it into the Macrowave. Twilight flinches back as it flies into her side, grabbing it with her magic before she falls off the stool that she'd propped up on her kitchen counter.

Magic glowing around it, Twilight brings the Holopad closer to herself. It's like a... glowing metal book, but rather than opens, it projects its words. Twilight paws at it with her hoof, eyes growing wide as it responds to her touch.

Barnon raises an eyebrow, still getting used to her whole magic thing, but goes back to his craft.

The current holopage is about that contract that Barnon had been talking about. Mining on the moon?

"Now, to achieve the fifteen forbidden cheeses, you need to mix..." He trails off, noticing how she's completely and utterly distracted.
"Nevermind. My fault for leading with the Holopad. Knock yourself out, just pass it back when you're done."

Twilight absently nods, eyes glued to the piece of technology. It contrasted everything around her, as if it was built from a world that held different principles.

... Because it was. Sweet Celestia.

Barnon buries himself in his craft, forging a pair of forbidden fifteen-cheese burritos, spanning mozzarella to yhutaim string-cheese. They're abhorrently overpacked, and slid into the oven.

Wiping his hands, he peeks on Twilight. Eyes the size of dinnerplates, entirely absorbed in slowly scrawling the Holopad, its orange interface softly lighting her face.

These Pony things were kinda cute. Like, in an adorable way. But they had that hint of normalcy; the eye bags, the slipped speech... like a human in pony form, almost. And they spoke the same language, without needing his translator? And could read, judging by how she was glued to the Holopad.

When they'd been talking about each of their worlds, the amount of similarities seemed too common to be coincidence. While technologically lacking in comparison, their tech stance was... really inconsistent. They had trains and airships, but also club music and DJ's. No guns, but cannons? Weird little melting pot.

After a good half an hour of tenderly warming the burritos, and checking in on the stupefied Twilight now and then, his craft was finished. Plated, steaming and ready, he stands in front of the Macrowave.

"Twilight."

Nothing. She's still right there, like, smackably close, but is staring in utter and absolute fascination at the Holopad.

"Hey. Twilight. Burrito."

She slowly blinks, scrolling more.

"Alright."

Barnon reaches through the Macrowave, and flicks her ear. She flinches, startling, snapping out of her stupor as she re-processes her surroundings -- locking on the Burrito on a plate being held in front of her.

"Oh. Oh! Sorry, Barnon, I got uh... distracted. Here, let me..." She trails off, idly grabbing the plate with her magic as she goes to look back at the Holopad.

"Oh no you don't." Barnon tsks -- ever the snatchmaster, Twilight can't react in time as he plucks it out of her hooves.

"N-No, Barnon WAIT--" Twilight squeaks, freezing as he looks at the display.

She's got like 15 tabs open. How did she figure this thing out so fast--

Is that a dick?

Barnon squints, his own plate of Burrito put back on the countertop as he looks over the tabs.

Human Anatomy Flickipedia Page.

Full 360 of Naked Human Males - HD 8k.

Sweaty human male aerobic exercises & stretching.

Oiled Up -- alright. Barnon stops reading.

He slowly, ever so excruciatingly pans his glare to settle on Twilight. She's entirely turned around, facing away, a rampant blush peeking out on her cheeks, fidgeting rapidly with her Mane.

"...Explain later. Burrito while its warm." Barnon says bluntly, closing the tabs.

"B-but I c-can--" Twilight starts, turning around.

"Nuh uh. We can talk about why the first thing you did on my Holopad was look up dicks later. Eat your Burrito and fall prey to its fifteen cheese techniques, its... fervent blend of... ugh. Just eat the fucking thing." Barnon groans. It just didn't feel the same, now. Way to spoil the mood, horndog.

"O-okay." She mumbles, softly chewing the Burrito after staring at it quietly for a moment.

They eat in an awkward silence, Barnon meandering to his bed and sitting on the edge of it.

It's during this silence that Twilight quietly realizes that Barnon had reached through the portal, again. And made physical contact with her. A playful ear flick, sure -- but as far as she could tell... no averse effects.

She gets excited, ripping into the burrito with renewed vigor.

It was also really bucking good.

Barnon was just glad she wasn't put off from Burritos entirely thanks to that earlier mishap.

What was not good, was trying to explain her search history. The altered Burritos had been consumed, and now came the awkward part. Why the Unicorn was looking up dicks.

Barnon is leaning against the counter, watching Twilight stutter and try to explain her reasoning, now that she had a meal to think it over.

"I-it's because I can't see you that well, and it's confusing!" Twilight exclaims.

"You can't see me that well through my Macrowave... so you look up what I would look like naked?" Barnon states bluntly.

"N-not like that! Y-Your Holopad is like a super-book, with whatever topics I could ever want under one cover! S-so I got curious and started searching, b-because sometimes you're wearing your full skin-suit thing, other times you walk around in nothing but those little pants! I don't get it! Ponies don't wear clothes! You're also not shaped like anything in my world, and all the information w-was just... there! Scientific curiosity! Honest!" She flusters, waving her hooves.

Barnon places an abhorred hand against his chest, looking at Twilight with shock.
"You've been watching me in my underwear? You ARE a little perverted purple pony, aren't you?!" Barnon accuses, wiggling a finger at her.

"W-what?! No! You keep leaving your Micro--Macrowave door open and walking past, listening to your loud scrunkly music! I try talking to you and you start dancing! It--its--" She fumbles, as Barnon gasps loudly.

"I leave my Macrowave door open for you, so you can talk to me when you want, and you use it to SPY, AND WATCH ME and my most VULNERABLE moments?" Barnon sputters, like he's about to faint.

Twilight has achieved an entirely new color on her face with the sheer embarrassment she's exuding. Barnon barely stifles a laugh.

"I'm fucking with you, Sparkplug. Just ask first; there's a lot of shitty sites with shifty ads, especially when it comes to horny shit. I don't give a shit if you want to look at dick or scientific models of human anatomy -- though I don't know how scientific 'Oiled Up' is." Barnon teases, pausing as Twilight buries her head in her hooves.

"...Promise you're not mad?" She asks quietly.

"What? Psh. Course I'm not. But now YOU owe ME a book on oiled-up Pony anatomy. I expect big asses, too -- or flanks, or whatever you call them." Barnon snort-laughs.

Twilight groans, her head thunking against her kitchen countertop, the embarrassment practically steaming off of her.

Author's Note

Chapter 1 - An Unusual MacroMeeting

Barnon E. Morse aboard the Ship-Post, a Single-User Mining Scrapping Privateer Class Vessel - 3034 Galactic Year

"Good Morning, Laborer-Class Citizen Mr. Morse! It is currently 6:02 AM Galactic Standard Time. It's time to get up! There's Credits to be making! Time to get up! Time to get up! TIME TO GET--"
Barnon slaps the top of his alarm clock, the annoying corporate chirping ceasing.

He blinks slowly, one eye at a time, staring at the ceiling of his ship.

A low groan escapes him as a viscious battle takes place inside of him, one of violent enough caliber that it could leave generations scarred.

Stay in bed, or get up and piss.

...

He weren't no bedpisser. With a long, exaggerated huff that would make the prissiest of daddies little princesses proud, Barnon rolls off his foldable bed-couch, bare feet slapping on the cold metal floor.

Barnon lived in a Privateer Class Vessel, the smallest form of Spaceship; basically one size above escape pod.

The size of a studio apartment, he had everything he needed for his extended stay in deep space.

The front of the ship was dedicated to flying the thing. A big, comfy spinny captains chair that could slide towards or away from the console systems. He had AI systems for casual flying, holding position and long distance travel, but manual flying was a good way to stop being bored. Until he almost hits something. Then its back to AI for a week, until his nerve builds up again.

Space and its innumerable stars slowly scroll past through the front window, streaking by as he travels through blipspeed to get to his next contract.

In the middle of the ship was the 'living' section. A compact but well stocked kitchen that had been built around a SpamazonTM Deposit Chute. He had all the basics, and anything else he needed could be ordered from Blipspeed Capable Drones that could auto-dock and deposit things aboard his vessel automatically through Spamazon. FlashFridge, Macrowave, Dish-De-Atomizer -- he had the works, and was proud of it. He was good at his job, after all.

His bed folded up and doubled as his couch, sat directly between his Kitchen, and his Entertainment center; which was also easily viewable from the cockpit if he span his chair around, thanks to its adjustable view. Big TV. Extendable, auto-adjusting arm that leveraged it to the wall, for auto-adjusting to best face you no matter where one stood on the ship. It took 5 different live services to get rid of all the commercials.

Then, just past the living space, was the large docking-door. His ship had a small airlock, where he could pressurize as needed for leaving his vessel, or if he needed to connect to a station or another derelict vessel. Directly beside it, his bathroom pod. Boasting a Smart-Toilet with all the works, Barnon was fierce about treating his Stomach, Dopamine Receptors and Butt like a king. The rest of the bathroom was as expected, fit with standing nutra-shower, designed to recycle his onboard water and enrich it so he'd get his needed vitamins through skin-absorption -- he installed a stool, because even standing long enough for a shower was sometimes just too taxing of a task. And again, kingly butt. It deserved it.

Past the crapper chamber, the back half of his ship was dedicated to the big, expensive parts of keeping his vessel running, and his actual job. There he could access the engines, propulsion system, pseudo-gravity system; shit he watched Virtua-Courses to know how to repair. Then, his space suit, mining laser (also great for ripping apart derelict vessels), gravitational beam lance (good for pulling ore and pricy, recovered ship parts towards his ships storage bay, which ran underneath his entire ship, accessible by a hatch in the back of his vessel), processing table, scanning and processing table, etc.

Basically, everything a lone bachelor would need to brave space for his corporate overlords.

From the outside, she was a chunky little thing, the Ship-Post. Bulky, not very pretty, but sturdy, and could get bumped around pretty heavily without worry. No weapons, unless something was stupid to sit in front of the front-facing ship-class mining laser as it spooled up, or got close enough that he could grab it with the manipulator-crane (big funny grabby hand for inserting cargo into the underlying cargo bay).

Barnon had been working this job ever since he'd gotten out of Virtual Highschool. Started as a little runt working alongside a crew, got a good deal, paid off this chunky little lady, and now flew contracts. Sometimes teamed up with other groups or individuals for a paycheck, sometimes worked solo.

Compared to life on some of the actual Planets, he had it pretty good.

The door to his bathroom pod whizzes open, and Barnon takes a comfortable seat, grabbing his nanobrush. Fancy name, its a toothbrush.

Humanity had taken to the stars, primarily thanks to corporate greed and the discovery of Blipspeed, pioneered by Spamazon when they tried to make a Drone that could travel between Earth and the Moon with some proprietary tech. They lost track of it -- only to realize it was already waiting for them, at the moon.

And it spiraled from there.

Pretty much everything Planet-Side and Station-Side is ran through corporations, parent companies, subsidiaries, and so on. But, Barnon had found his comfortable medium. Still plenty tied to the bazillion services they offered, Barnon could work when he wanted, as much as he wanted. Which, basically meant he had days to even weeks of downtime between weeks of work, alternating as he stored valuable goods or materials, ferried them, sold them, and repeated.

Lots of time for movies, games, shitposting and catching up on his orange YouTube subscription.

Oh, and they found aliens like 400 years ago. Whole galactic community out there. It stopped being new and cool like 300 years ago, so Barnon was already jaded to it. If you could think it, there was probably some weird species that looked like it. There's been some intermingling and immigration, but apparently most of their societies took the same paths. Corporate overlords, wherever you look.

His bathroom pod whizzes shut, and he muses on what's for breakfast. Cup noodles, frozen burrito, or meatballs.

Meatballs were the spaceman's hotdogs. Unknowable meat, jammed into a ball and packaged. Healthy? Not by a long shot. Yummy? The additives made sure of that.

...He stumbles over to his console, leaning against its cold, steel framed edges. He needed to turn the heat up.

"...Computer, turn Heat up by 5 Degrees." Barnon clears his throat, taking a droll, flat tone of voice. Easier for the AI to process.

"Okay, bitch." The AI voice chirped back.

Barnon grinned, remembering the Custom AI Voice pack he'd downloaded last night. Still funny.

There's a low, radiating hum somewhere in the bowels of his little studio-sized ship as the heat kicks up a few degrees. He turns his attention to the console screen, squinting. Still about a week out from that Borutine Deposit that'd been marked.

...Shit, speaking of last night.
"I didn't finish Gorgut! Oh, fuck no. Computer, resume last nights session of Gorgut. I don't care what time it is, I'm not getting spoilered by waiting.

If he waits, that's a monumental increase in the chances he idly sees some bullshit spoiler posted on the Galactic Net. Not happening. Barnon loved his Gorgut. Big sensitive intergalactic warlord. Big guns, big heart. Good budget.

His piloting chair was a lot more comfortable than his bed for movies, by presence of lumbar support. Honestly, he didn't even fold the bed from its bed-form half the time, couch form forgotten.

Buttery fingers galore, Barnon is kicked back in his seat, the large holo-screen leaning several feet from the wall, its mechanical arm holding it for the best possible angle. Ripping through a pack of Rock-O-Pops Extra-Buttery Buttered Popcorn, Barnons got a Burrito warming up in the Macrowave. Slower then a microwave, but actually warmed all sides of the fucking thing, including the inside.

Those were grim days at the start of his career. The half-cold burrito.

Barnon shivers, pushing the bad thought away, and turns his attention back to Gorgut.

"But... Sarah. I, Gorgut, Conqueror of worlds, slaughterer of Millions and claimant of the stars... Love you!" The 8-foot tall, completely armored and very spiky Astral warlord exclaims, falling to his knees. Sarah, the 4-foot oceanic species Flubian bubbles and bubbles. The subtitles say that she can't accept his love, for he isn't Flubian, and her father would never approve.

Barnon is shoveling popcorn down, fully invested.

Until the Macrowave beeps, and he slams the bucket to the side. Best part of the fucking day. Breakfast Burrito.

With a giddiness to his step, Barnon slides in front of the macrowave, face level with its door. He pushes the big button on the bottom, and it swings open, the wafting smell of a well-sizzled four cheese and psu--

Where was his burrito

Where was the inside of his macrowave

Why was there a small purple horse currently eating his burrito

Competent thought has all but left Barnon as he witnesses tragedy of an untold kind. The purple horse finally opens its (fucking big) eyes from the bliss of eating his stolen meal, locking into a stare with him. It makes a small, startled eep as its caught red handed. Hoofed? Its not even holding his burrito, its just floating, surrounded by some glowy purple shit.

The two stare at each other for a long moment, Barnons scowl clear. Some kind of... colorful library is past it, and some of what looks like a kitchen. Gorgut is but an ambient mumble in the background, now.

Arnon didn't know what the fuck this was, but he know it just ate half his burrito.

Barnon suddenly lunges forward, shoving his arm through the microwave. He snatches the burrito out of the air, dumb little purple wisps of bullshit fizzling away as he wrenches the burrito back to his side. The purple horse flinches back in surprise, and starts to open its mouth -- Barnon slams the macrowave door shut.

Gorgut still drones in the back as he stares at his silent Macrowave, half-eaten burrito in hand.

Was this even a victory? At such a hefty cost. And what the fuck was that? Did he have some kind of pest infection? Was it in his walls and it hollowed out his macrowave? It was literally fine when he put the burrito in.

Barnon takes a sad, slow bite of his already pre-eaten burrito, chewing slowly.

... He realizes he just bit exactly where the horse thing did, and was helping himself to a four-cheese, psuedo bacon and horse drool chew.

... Why the fuck did he taste lavender?

... He keeps chewing.

Barnon has spent most of the day stewing about the Burrito. Even Gorgut couldn't help, though he did manage to convince Sarah's father that he was the one for her. By conquering her planet and enacting law that he could marry her. Classic Gorgut.

Barnon idly browses Spamazon, his Holo-Tv barely a foot from his face as he scrolls it with a hand. Apparently the 'Horse Repellant' category wasn't as flush as he'd hoped it would be, it just kept trying to redirect him to a security license that would clear him for a gun.

He didn't really feel like blasting a little purple thing in the face for eating his burrito. Close, but that was a smidge too far for his taste.

... He could fart spray his microwave. Might backfire though. Yeah, no, he's not eating fart smell for the next month. Terrible idea. Prank it? Pranksters Kit for 39.99 Credits. That could be funny.

Barnon glances at the time. 8:56 PM, Galactic Standard. He'd spent nearly the whole day spitefully scrawling Spamazon. He checks his cart to see the fruits of his labors.

Backscratcher, Boptarts and Toilet Paper.

Barnon groans, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his eyes.

There's a knock at the door.

He pauses, leaning forward against his knee.

What?

He glances at his airlock doors.

"...Computer, Proximity Scan?"

"...Wait a second, bitch." It chirps. Still funny.

"...No nearby entities, Organic or Synthetic, in close proximity to the Ship-Post. Detecting one Time-And-Space related anomaly centralized in your Living Section. Would you like to alert Spamazon Support? Bitch?" It follows up, waiting.

"...Uh, no, I've got it covered." Barnon mumbles. There's an affirmative beep, and the ship is quiet again.

Then there's another knock.

It's coming from his fucking Macrowave.

A who-what Anomaly? He should've asked earlier, that's a whole different category on Spamazon than Horse Repellant.

Barnon slowly creeps towards the sound, pausing beside the Macrowave. He leans close, pressing an ear to it.

...

Knock knock.

He frowns, huffs, and opens the door.

The purple horse startles, staring back at him. Behind it, it looks like its... does it live in a tree? It might be night for it. He wonders if they follow the same time schedule.

The two stare at each other for a long moment, the horse twiddling its hooves.

"...Yeah?" Barnon finally speaks up, and the purple horses eyes get even wider.

"Y-you can speak?!" It stutters. Its got a soft voice, like a girl. Girl purple pony?

"And you ate my burrito." Barnon grunts.

"...Huh? No, you stole MY burrito!" She refutes, the shocked look slowly falling from her face as judgement takes its place.

Oh no, she wasn't spinning this around on Barnon.

"No, I put MY burrito in MY Macrowave, you--" He starts, pointing a finger.

"It's Microwave." She huffs smugly, giving his finger a weird look.

"It's Macrowave, you second millennium slugspawn. I would know, I paid for the fucking thing." Barnon bites back, surprising the purple horse, who now looks offended.

"S--Slugspawn? W--" She stutters.

"And it was MY four-cheese psuedo-bacon Burrito you stole, you little hamburglar. Don't bullshit me, I put it in there in the first place." Barnon continues, huffy.

Purple horse shakes her head. "No, I put my Burrito in, and casted a cook-quicker spell because I was hungry! You--" She pauses, ears slowly pressing against her head. "Bacon?"

"Yeah, dumbass. I know you could taste an actually good burrito, the way you had your fuckin' eyes closed in bliss." Barnon hisses.

"...It tasted... different... than usual. That was..?" She trails off, a horrified look on her face.

"Bacon. Pig. Its Pseudo-Bacon, so its not even real bacon. Its whatever meat they get their hands on processed to LOOK and TASTE like bacon. Probably chicken, cow, brognak-- you name it." Barnon huffs.

Purple horse looks like she's about to vomit, going from purple to green.

"Next time, ask before you chow down on someone else's meal, numbnuts." Barnon finishes, flashing a sarcastic smile.

"Computer?" Barnon calls.

"Bitch." Computer states. Purple Horse looks like a horrible mix of horrified, sick and about to yuck it up, as Barnon slams the door shut.

Quiet returns to his little abode again.

That'll teach it a lesson.

... Though the inside of his Macrowave was still wherever that thing was.

Shit, he couldn't heat stuff up anymore. Would he actually have to use his oven? Ugh.

"Thanks, Computer." Barnon sighs, slumping onto his bed. The victory was hollow. His Macrowave was still contested.

"You're welcome, Bitch." The computer chirps helpfully.

A muffled 'Heh' escapes Barnon. Still funny.

Author's Note

Chapter 2 - Could've Been Nicer

Laundry day.

Two days have passed since Barnon slammed the door on the purple pony. He hadn't touched his Macrowave since, and had been cooking things in the oven. Wasn't as fast or convenient, but he would survive this trial.

Standing in naut but his boxers, Barnon shoves his three, entirely similar jumpsuits into the small Wash&Dry receptacle thats tucked beside his smart toilet. Laundry day was every time each of his jumpsuits had a smell to them, or the day before he arrived for a job. Still five days out from his contract, he had another two laundry days ahead of him, before he reached that deposit.

The bathroom pod door hisses shut as Barnon leaves, stretching. Having caught up on Gorgut, he was in a bit of a run for what to do. No new games that caught his eye had come out, and he wasn't in the mood for anything specific.

He tsks, meandering by the kitchen.

He pauses.

His gaze slowly flicks to the Macrowave.

... He wondered if the purple horse would be there, if he opened it. Or would he see a closed door?

"Computer?" Barnon asks aloud.

"Yes, Bitch?" It chirps back.

"How unhealthy is repeated interaction with Reality-Bending Anomalies?" He asks rhetorically. He didn't really care for an answer. He was just trying to decide if he actually wanted to face the weird thing, or if he was just that bored.

"No current health tracking for interaction with Dimensional, Reality-Bending, Time-And-Space or Vertical Anomalies. The topic of Anomalies is best discussed with Spamazon Support Staff. Would you like me to contact their Support Line, Bitch?" It beeps, waiting.

"...Nah."

The computer beeps with affirmation and Barnon is alone again.

He purses his lip. Chews it. Mulls.

It was a burrito thief.

... But he may have been too mean. A little. Only a smidge.

Barnon tsks, mind made up. He pokes the button, and watches the door swing open.

He sees the inside door to a Microwave. Huh. But still no inside, like it was just door to door.

He reaches up, and knocks against it a few times with his knuckles.

He waits.

Barnon scratches his nose.

He knocks again.

He waits.

Meh, he shrugs. Waste of--

He tilts his head slightly. He hears slow, tentative steps. Approaching. As they get close to the door...

Silence again.

Another knock from Barnon.

As his hand lowers, the door to the Microwave slowly opens, purple horse on the other side.

And she looks fucking terrible.

Bags under her eyes, like she hasn't slept in two days. Said eyes are raw -- has she been crying? Mane looks kind of greasy.. oh, she's got a fucking horn. Purple Unicorn, not horse. No idea how he didn't notice that. Makes... sense? Not really? Said something about a spell and was holding his burrito without hands. Or hooves. Or whatever. Alright, purple magic Unicorn in his Macrowave. That's probably a whole new section on Spamazon.

Barbon can see past her that there's several tubs of ice cream sitting on a table, and several boxes of tissues.

Did he do that? Yikes. Guilt settles in his stomach, as the two apprehensively stare at each other.

"...You, uh... good?" Barnon asks quietly.

Purple Unicorn is silent for a long moment, before weakly nodding.

Barnon purses his lips. He wasn't good at this kind of stuff, he was used to calling people slurs on holoboards. He named his ship after shitposts, for fucks sake.
"...Sorry, if I -- no, I was pretty mean to you."

"...Y-you were." She says quietly, though it hardly sounds accusatory.

"...You were making a burrito too, right?" He asks. She dry heaves, getting a concerned look from Barnon.

"I think whatever... happened, meant you got my burrito, though I don't know where yours went. Sorry, you... ate... I won't say it." He trails off.

"...It was good. I hate how good it was. I didn't even notice. It feels... wrong." She mumbles. "Good Ponies don't eat... other living things. I don't know what the Princess would think of me if she..." She trails off, tears forming in the corners of her already red eyes.

Woah, alright. Lot to process there. Try to reel it in, Barnon.
"I, uh... don't know if its any consolation, but... you said you're a 'Pony', right?"

She nods weakly, sniffling.

"To me, you look like something from my world called Horses. And even though they're Herbivores, most Herbivores in my planet were... opportunistically carnivorous? Like, they'd eat a little meat if they ever came across it." He tries explaining.

She listens, lip wobbling. "So they just... kill and eat other sentient things?"

Oop. That's not helping. "Uh... everything that the Burrito was made out of is pretty stupid, actually. Like, can't speak stupid. Unevolved stupid." Barnon tries to explain, hoping that'd help instead.

Purple Unicorn is processing. She doesn't seem any better... but doesn't seem any worse?

"...So you don't kill and eat things that can talk? Neither do these 'Horses'?" She asks quietly.

"I just buy the thing and heat it up. I've never killed a thing in my life. And Horses are one of the dumb things, too." He shrugs. "Not that I'm trying to call you a dumb thing, or anything."

She rubs a hoof against her eyes, drying the tears.
"...I'm Twilight. Can I ask your name?"

"Barnon. Good to, uh... meet you, Macrowave buddy." Barnon hums.

"It's Microwave." She retorts weakly, the smallest hint of a smile showing. Before she dry heaves again.

Barnon lays in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Twilight Sparkle, student of the Princess of the Sun, was in his Macrowave.

A fair bit torn up about eating meat, they talked a bit longer about it. Seemed to help her process it a little better, but it primarily stemmed from her personal self-dislike of how she had enjoyed the taste without realizing. They're apparently pretty hard-core herbivore around there, so that saddled her with some pretty existential questions about herself. Might be a topic that comes up later. Or not -- and she might want to forget she ever touched the thing.

They exchanged some basic info. There's definitely a severe technological gap.

Apparently, Twilight's leading theory is this whole situation was caused because of a 'Spell' Twilight had cast on her own food, when they were cooking their burritos. Something about a one in billion timing sparked by another one in billion match of energy, like that "run into a wall enough times and your atoms might perfectly align and you'll slip right through" type shit. Barnon would spare his brain the strain of thinking about it any longer.

His searches on the net didn't get him any closer to answers, either. His Macrowave wasn't a defective brand. Purple Unicorn was a website for a very particular activity with aliens, so no leads there. ~~Barnon may or may not have bookmarked it.~~ And no, no Unicorn repellant. He did find how to disable the Anomaly warning though. That was a conversation he wasn't terribly keen on having. Space age call centers were not great. Part of Barnon wondered if that might bite him in the ass later, if he ever stumbled on another Anomaly. But what were the chances of that?

Barnon still felt bad. He could tell their talk helped, but... Twilight had told him this was a pretty big fuck up for her, and in the midst of what was basically a panic attack, he'd doubled down on her, leaving her to stew on that for two days. She appreciated him knocking though. She asked if they could talk again soon, but asked him not to knock again until she gave the go-ahead; keeping this whole thing as their secret.

He tilts his head, looking at the clock. Its been a few hours since their last conversation...

With a grunt, he rolls off the bed for the Macrowave. When he opens it, Twilight is already nearby, fidgeting with her hooves; like she was debating on knocking. They might be more similar than he thought.

"Hey, Twi." Barnon whispers.

Her ears flicker as she perks up, looking over. She trots up, climbing onto her kitchen counter, putting her face close to the door, smiling softly. She looked better, the red under her eyes faded.
"Hello, Barnon." She whispers back. "Why are we whispering?"

"Oh, I didn't know if that whole 'secret' thing meant we had to be quiet or something." Barnon shrugs.

The Purple Pony stifles a giggle with her hoof.

Maybe having someone to talk to wouldn't be so bad.

Author's Note

Chapter 4 - Chewing The Fat

Well, she delivered on the book. Two, actually. Though she couldn't look Barnon in the eyes as she hoofed them over.

One, a proper anatomical study on Ponies, with a slight bias towards Mares. Nothing saucy, proper anatomical explanations, the whole lot. Diagrams, charts, what part is named what. They were pretty similar to Horses, actually; Barnon checking on his Holo TV, having the Flickipedia page for them pulled up. Hooves, Withers; though apparently, some Ponies had Wings, and some had Horns. A few even had both. Funky stuff.

The second... well, it was a magazine, not a book. And it showed Mares in a few different poses, alright. Actually, on the spectrum of what it could have been, it's kind of tame. Like one of those Pinup magazines, with a few variety-pack colors of Pony women in themed outfits, posing as you'd expect. What Barnon did notice though, is how they all had these... Butt Pictures. Marks, on the side of their butt. At first he thought it was like, a tramp stamp deal. But every single one of them had one.

It was also the first time Twilight had reached through the Portal, instead of Barnon doing it. That excitement was dampened by the fact that she was basically handing the first Human ever contacted by a pony, from another dimension, porn, because she got caught looking up 'Oiled-Up Humans' on his Holopad; but it was still there nonetheless, and it had Twilight experimenting with researching the 'Cook-Faster' spell that had bound their 'waves together. Her self-chastising for letting herself slip like that was mostly ignored by Barnon, who took some time to explain about predatory advertisements, scams, and to basically ask him before she did almost anything.

Barnon took it well, at least. He was reclined on his bed, still visible from the Macrowave, making various, over-exaggerated noises to continue teasing Twilight while he perused their contents. They'd pretty much both started just leaving their Macro/Microwave doors open while they did their own things inside their respective homes, though Twilight made sure to close hers when she she had company.

For Barnon, he lived alone, in Deep Space; he didn't have any company to worry about.

For Twilight, she'd been dodging a looming problem. Thankfully, Spike doesn't really use the Microwave, but any time she'd have company, she'd ask Barnon not to knock, and shut her side. Explaining that she had accidently bonded two dimensions and now had an extra-terrestrial friend she was sharing... 'things' with was... really, really not a good look, and not something she wanted to explain to anybody. Not the girls, not to her teacher. She'd find a... better way, later. If that ever happened. For all they knew, the spell could fritz out at any time. Or it could get worse. Or it could spread. Or implode. Or--

"So you guys have these... 'Cutie Marks', you said?" Barnon calls from his bed, glancing over. Twilight is ripped from her thoughts, leaning to look at him.

"Yes! Every Pony gets one when they're growing up, showing them their special skill or path in life." She nods.

"What's yours?" Barnon asks, shifting to sit up and look at her.

"Oh, it's a... well, a purple sparkle. With smaller sparkles." She explains, glancing down at herself. Not to check -- she knew, obviously, but she couldn't think of a time she'd ever had to... describe it.

For a moment, she'd considered physically trying to show him. For longer than she'd admit, she thought about how to actually pull that off -- floating herself, stacking chairs. But, the realization she'd basically just be shoving her flank into the microwave for him to ogle at was... Twilight hides a blush. Not happening.

"Weird. So what's your special talent? Or life path? To sparkle?" Barnon prods, confused.

"No, it's magic!" Twilight beams proudly.

Barnon hums. "Right. Magic." Honestly, he's more distracted by how cute her smile is. She's been looking way better recently. No bags under her eyes, Mane is fluffy and well kept. A far cry from how she'd been a week ago.

Speaking of a week ago, there was 1 Day left until he reached his contract. Barnon closes the pony-pin-up magazine, tossing it on the bed and groaning as he swings his feet over the side.
"You remember that Contract thing I showed you on the Holopad? Or do you only remember the wieners?" He teases.

Twilight huffs.
"I remember the Contract, Barnon. Mining for... Borunite on 'a' moon, right?"
The concept of casually interacting with multiple moons was a wild one to her, considering Princess Luna's recent return.

"Yeah -- But it's Borutine. I'll be pretty busy for like... probably a full week. You might see me in passing here or there, I'll leave the Macrowave door open, but I'm gonna be working, so I won't have much time to chat. I'll either be gone, or sleeping."

Twilight nods, understanding. She'd come to enjoy their... odd, teasing but playful interactions, with a good heap of curiosity underlying it all.
"You said I can watch? What do you mean?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna try to hook up some of my outside Cameras to a feed on the Holopad so you can see what I'm up to." He explains, waggling the Holopad around. "Since I'll be outside, mining deposits."

"I can use the Holopad again?!" Twilight squeaks, eyes bulging. He'd severely limited her access to it after her 'Oiled up' stunt, only looking things up with her, and heavily filtering her questions. Honestly, she had more questions about why it worked when it was on her side, but Barnon said as long as the doors are open, the Wi-Fi probably reaches. That gave her more questions, but he said he'd explain later.

"Don't get too excited. I've put a lot of Parental locks on this thing. You won't get very far besides the Camera feeds." Barnon warns. "No more Oiled. No more Up. No more naked dudes."

Well, other than the raunchy mirror selfies from that one night. He'd ordered Probruisian Whiskey and got so hammered he woke up locked in the bathroom capsule. That was from like... 3 months ago. He only remembered those now because of a certain Pony and their tendency to search where they shouldn't. He should get rid of those... eventually. For now, he's got locks on the Holopad and prep to do for work. He'd delete them after the Contract; he had prep to do.

Twilight, blushing shamefully, nods. She stuck by her reasonings, but she still got teased for it by Barnon, now and then. Barnon slips off his bed, bare feet on the cold metal floor, before rummaging on the countertop for a moment; the Holopad slides through their little portal, and Twilights eyes are wide as she handles (hoofles?) it again.

Wait... she felt like her obsession with this little glowing-pseudo-book was overwriting something.
"...Did you say you'd be outside?" She asks, unsure if she recalled his words right. "Like, in Space?"

"Yeah. Ship-Post's mining laser is meant for cracking open asteroids or heavy debris. I have to actually get out their with my hand-held laser to carve up the deposits. Pretty standard. Have to do it for junking jobs, too." He explains, stretching.

"You can just go to space? And visit the moon?" Twilight asks, incredulous. She didn't think he had any reason to lie, but... Space was up there. Way up there. With no air. Only Luna went to the Moon, and that was part of a whole... distant, binding spell thing seeped in Magic. Barnon kept saying his world had no magic.

"...Twilight, I'm in Space right now. I live in a Space-Ship. In Space. Actual, full space is like right outside that door." He explains, flatly, pointing towards the air lock.

Barnon watches as the Purple Pony's eyes nearly double in size, before it drops the Holopad and tries to jam its head through the Macrowave to see. It's kind of funny. Her horn keeps getting stuck, and she's just too big. Wasn't she all worried about inter-transitionary-dimensional-time-space-whatevery?

Barnon rubs his face, sighing. "Honestly, I have no idea how that never came up in conversation until now."

Chapter 5 - Getting To Work

Twilight sits on her own couch -- the first time in what was... probably a full week. She'd been spending so much time sitting on the kitchen countertop, and on a chair stuck on the kitchen countertop, that she forgot how comfortable cushions were. And how much her leg was cramping. She needed to find a way to make things more comfortable without making their little visits more obvious than they were.

Twilight had discovered that closing the Microwave door 'cut off' the connection to the Holopad, which made sense. Kind of. It wasn't magic, which would probably have kept working. The difference between Barnon's Space-Technology-Magic and her Real-Magic interested her to no end.

Though, now she had two things to hide. A Microwave leading to the Space-Ship of an alien species she'd made friends with, without consulting Princess Celestia about the potential Diplomatic issues. Very, very much without permission. And a glowing book made from Materials unknown, through Techniques unknown, that could show a direct view of space. And Dicks.

Not to mention the worries she had about the magic, how this whole thing was born of trying to cook a burrito faster. Was the spell flawed? It was so simple, but maybe it was part of another kind of spell, that when casted incorrectly, bore an entirely different result? Her quiet experiments into the matter hadn't bore any fruit yet, especially since she had to look into it without alerting anyone; which meant no no help from the Princess, and a lot of care hoof-tapping around topics.

But, nonetheless, she'd been messing with the Cook-Faster spell. Turns out, making something go faster messes with it on a deeper level, too; Barnon mentioned something about atoms, but Twilight didn't quite follow. She'd keep experimenting -- she'd like to see if she could recreate it, but she only had one Microwave. She had a theory that nobody else figured anything else about the spell, because the subjects of said spell were always promptly eaten.

Barnon was working, giving her a fair amount of time to herself. Not that she'd be getting up to much, outside of her now-usual loop. Experiment with spell, watch Holopad, worry about the consequences of her actions, stress nap, repeat.

Speaking of working, learning what that actually meant to Barnon... endlessly fascinated her.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Twilight tries to crane her neck, to get a better look into Barnon's ship; but whatever he's up to, its out of sight, towards the back part of the ship he liked to call the 'business side of things'. Making modifications, or something.

Twilights back on the chair she'd sat on her countertop, huffing. She'd managed to get Spike squared away with Rarity for the whole day, finding Gems or whatever they got up to, and even closed the Library for the day under the pretense of having some vague "Appointment", just so she could watch the first day of Barnon's Contract. Barnon had made it sound very important, and she didn't want to miss any of it.

And she was missing all of it! So far. Just the start of it. But still.

The camera link wasn't even operational on the Holopad yet. Barnon had said it would kick on once he got outside or something, but the purple pony was impatient. A whole new medium of knowledge for her to absorb, and she was sat on her kitchen counter, alone, staring through a microwave.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

She perks up. They're getting closer. Her eyes snap to their little portal through time, as Barnon steps into view, arms raised outward in presentation.

He's clad in a full-body, bulky jumpsuit that looks like it was made with a very thick material. Durable, its got several bits of metal, wiring and pieces running between a panel on the chest, gloves, belt and boots. His belt is bulky, and has these weird half-cone protrusions. His helmet is large, and its difficult to see his face through the very hazy visor, which is braced by metal.

Barnon does a little spin -- entirely lacking any grace -- and Twilight sees he has some kind of pack strapped to his back, a large cord connecting to some kind of rectangular device, which pulses quietly.

Either a Lethal Company ripoff, or one of those Starfield suits, or something from Death Stranding, if you ask me. Or your favorite self-insertable spacesuit. You're the one using your imagination here.

There's a crackling noise, and Twilight hears his voice -- but it's like it's being broadcast from the weird helmet he's wearing.
"Whad'ya think?"

"What is all that?" Twilight asks, her already peaked curiosity somehow finding new heights.

"My Spacesuit. Labor-Grade. Carbhearts; Keeping you safe in Space, since 2298!" Barnon announces proudly; this baby cost him a pretty penny. Carbheart was the workers brand, their little patch sat square on his shoulder. Honestly, most things in his ship did -- but he was proud of it all.

"And this lets you mine on the Moons?" Twilight follows, unsure of the process.

"Yep. You'll even have a camera attached to my suit to watch; that's why it hasn't booted up yet. Gotta calibrate it before I head out the airlock."

"So you'll go through those big doors... and just be right in space? Beside a moon?"

"Yeppers. Pulled into the orbit of Trion-3 about an hour ago, and I've had the AI slowly crack the designated mineral zone with the ships laser while I got dressed." Barnon continues, giving himself a final look-over and pat-down, adjusting one of his gloves.

"...Be safe, okay?" She says, quieter.

"Yeppest." Barnon responds automatically, before pausing. "Oh, uh... yeah. Thanks. I will be. And if you have to hide the Holopad or whatever, you can just chuck it into here. I'll hand it back later. I'll be out and in for a few hours each time, on rotation to refill my air, catch a nap or two, snack, that kind of thing."

Twilight nods, watching him waddle towards the big, metal doors. With that bulky suit on, he walks like he didn't make it to the bathroom in time. It was kind of funny.

"Computer. Lemme out." He crackles out again.

The Ship makes a soft 'Ping'. The doors slowly roll open, revealing a smaller space on the other side -- with another, even sturdier looking door. He steps inside, turning around so he's facing her again.

Barnon gives her a little wave. She waves back, and the doors slowly roll shut.

It's quiet, now. She keeps watching the door, but he said he wouldn't be back for a few hours, at least.

Twilight climbs down off her chair, setting it up to look somewhat normal again, Microwave door still open, before plopping back down on the couch.

Mid-sigh, the Holopad blinks to life, the purple Pony's eyes flashing open, as an entire camera feed fizzles into view. Port, Starboard, Stern, Bow, Topside; they all show the distant, deep, darkness of space, speckled with lights. Some of them even show these... distant clouds, frozen in mid-swirl. It's so similar to when she's looked to the stars through her telescope, but... he's actually up there. Twilight can't help but look up; ceiling is the only thing that greets her, but...

Wow.

The front camera shows the chunk of Asteroid he'd be mining from.

The sixth camera catches her eye, as its the only one that's moving; and slowly, she sees the familiar form of Barnon start to pop up on the other cameras, as he drifts through space. A long cord connects him to the ship, while the belt he has seems to... propel him around, drifting towards a big chunk of rock that the ship had parked in front of. Past it, she can see the pock-marked moon of Trion-3, the planet itself massive, and... green? Not forest green, but as if the ground itself was green, and covered in clouds. Huh.

She nestles in, watching with rapt attention, the holopad inches from her snout.

Once you got past the fear of floating away into endless nothing by accidentally cutting your own tether with your mining laser; nothing made you feel freer than space. That's one of the things Barnon enjoyed most about it.

Barnon, bundled deep in his protective mining suit, slowly propelled past the Ship-Post. He hoped the Camera feed was working; he could already imagine Twi glued to the screen.

He was imagining a lot of things about that Pony, recently.

He slowly approaches the ever-so-slowly moving chunk of busted asteroid, half of it now drifting away from itself in a variety of pieces and dust, cracked open an hour earlier by his ships laser; he can see the signature soft-blue ore peeking out.

Drifting closer, he slowly rustles the mining laser off its pack, slipping it under his arm; it's a complex contraption, but only in repairs. In use, it's real simple.

Flick the switch, let it charge. Then hold the trigger. Don't hold when the funny blinker is red.

The familiar vibration runs up his arm as it whirls up. Time to make some money.

Twilight Sparkle - Journal - Entry 1

A small, soft-cover book with a single binding string around it sits on Twilight's coffee table. A half-empty inkwell sits beside it, a still-wet quill inside. The front of the little book reads Journal.

The rest of the Library is quiet, most busy with the middling of a sunny day.

1003 P.N.M (Post Nightmare Moon)
March - Monday - 9:34 AM
Against my better judgement, I've elected to begin a journal; at least during the week I won't be able to talk to him very much. This Journal will pertain specifically, to; ~~Him~~ ~~The Human~~ ~~The Alien~~ (There's one more crossed out attempt, but it's so severely scratched out, it's impossible to read; seems she finally settles on just his name.)
Barnon.

I'm watching Barnon (Section 1-a of ~~Microwavial Life~~ Alien Life) on the Holopad, (See Subpage 13-b of Twilights Microwavial Research Notes) on the Camera Feed (Page Pending) that he provided for me. Most of the views don't tend to show much movement, but they're pretty to look at. I've seen space from my telescope before, but it's different seeing space... from space. Well, not from space physically myself; could you imagine? Sweet Celestia, I wish I could see it myself. No Pony other than Luna has ever gone so far; and that is hardly a topic she's willing to converse about.

No, but the technology that Barnon has at his fingertips (Human & Barnon Anatomy Sections 2-c through 4-e) is beyond anything that anypony in Equestria has on hoof. From what little I've seen, and heard from Barnon, it's... remarkable. Faster than light transportation through space, a supposed entire intergalactic network of other alien life; he even talks about these Drone things, not like Changelings, but little 'Robots' that can catch his ship while it flies to deliver supplies. Imagine something faster than Rainbow Dash, catching her during her Rainbow Boom, to deliver her something?!

And to him, it's entirely the norm. I'll come back and add the appropriate references to the other topics, like this entire galaxy of Aliens, when I find more information and finish the pages I'm currently working on.

But I'm getting off track. Barnon pilots the "Ship-Post" (He snickers whenever he says it, but refuses to allow me context.) and works as a Deep-Space Miner and Ship Recycler. He flies through Space, taking contracts from various businesses, to attain valuable materials from wherever they normally appear; other times, he finds broken or abandoned vessels, and straps the valuable parts to compensate the loss of the entire ship.

It's a fascinating process.

Currently, he is mining Borutine, a blue-tinted metal that develops in clusters deep under rock. He is currently above a planet called Trion-3, near its Moon. (He explained that Uninhabited planets are typically named the same, and Numbered based off the name of their associated star system.) Something about a chunk of asteroid that was pulled into Orbit, and a Survey Probe picked up the Borutine signals.

Borutine is apparently a luxury / high demand material, used sparingly for important pieces in some niche technological works. He said it should be a well paying job. (Side note - They do not use Bits, but Credits. A non-physical Currency that is stored in Chits, and managed through an elaborate system that still eludes me. Something about "Online" and "The internet", which is apparently where I found... the Human things. That were oiled up.)

Right now, my informational inflow is severely limited. Barnon has (Understandably) limited my access in the Holopad with something called Parental Controls. Whenever I try to go to his "Goo-ghel Search", it requires a password. The 'Hint' for the password simply states "Quit Trying, Purple."

Fair enough.

Also; No, I do not know why we both speak and read the same language, despite our severe differences in Physiology. And while I have researching that on my Planner, I'm far more concerned about what even brought us together in the first place.

Looking at the Camera feed, Barnon has some kind of... laser, he produces from part of the machine that is strapped to his back, instead of a Unicorn horn on his head. But it's not magic. He said it was pure Energy? He slowly carves out the stone around the Borutine, before taking the large chunks, and floating them towards his Ship-Post. Watching him work as if nothing weighs anything is confusing, but I think I'm starting to get it.

Barnon says he's alone, but that his "Ships AI" helps serve as a second worker. I can see the ship, using a large metal 'arm', automatically reach for the drifting chunk of ore, pulling it into the underside of itself. Fascinating. I'd love to meet this AI.

I should write about Barnon, too. He's nice. At first, he wasn't; we had a very rude meeting, but reviewing the circumstances, he didn't react in a way that any Pony might not react. Our Microwaves (He claims his is a Macrowave, will require research to prove) merged, and our food at the time either combined, or replaced. So, when I ate my food; it was actually his food. We just happened to be eating near-similar meals at the same time.

Actually, a lot of our interaction seems to be full of coincidence. I refuse to believe this is by chance; they just keep piling up. But; Barnon is actually surprisingly... fun to talk to. He apologized, reaching out to me about it. He made up for it, cooking something for me. We've gotten to chatting, quite a bit, and he's... I like him. He's different than the Ponies around here. Obviously, not just because he's an Alien. But, I find myself looking forward to every chance I can to talk to him. He leaves his side open; so I constantly check mine to see what he's up to.

He's also alright with being observed. He usually meanders about his ship, in some variance of clothing, typically light, busying himself with the variety of items he's procured. At first, it seemed boring; why didn't he leave? Now, that I know how his job and home works, it makes sense. It's a continual lift and fall of enjoyment to requirement. He spends time relaxing and using his income, then takes a job, works hard, refills his cashflow, and repeats, trailing around space as he takes jobs. There's a whole society up there that wants the things he mines for, and he's apparently not even the only one.

Talk later, Journal. I can hear someone at the door.

Barnon hums the theme to "The Krogularkian Five" to himself, bobbing his head as his mining laser busts open the next ore deposit; the music softly playing in his helmet keeping him distracted.

He was glad he stayed up until like 4 AM, Galactic Standard Time. Wouldn't have had first dibs on snatching up the Contract if he didn't.

As he works, Barnon keeps checking on the little chest-camera he'd strapped to himself, making sure it was clean of debris, and angled well.

He wasn't sure how much of this Twi was actually watching; he'd have to ask, later.

Well deep into his thoughts, Barnon tosses the next chunk of ore towards the Ship-Post, watching the mechanical arm automatically move to intercept it, the bottom storage hatch opening.

...This job was gonna pay pretty good. Borutine has a low melting cap, so he has to aim carefully. But, means if he does his job well, big bucks.

Maybe he should buy Twi something. She'd get a kick out of that.

"Hey, Ship." Barnon crackles over comms.

"Yes, Bitch?" Still funny.

"Start a Spamazon Wishlist. Title it "Purple Porny.". No autocorrect."

"Already done, Bitch."

Twilight Sparkle - Journal - Entry 2

1003 P.N.M (Post Nightmare Moon)
March - Wednesday - 11:06 AM

Well, I had been hoping to keep this Journal updated Day-To-Day, but I'll have to add recounts of days prior. Finding time to properly Journal is becoming more difficult.

Between trying to be available in case Barnon returns, ~~trying to get into the Holopad and past the password~~, and keeping everything secret from the others, I don't have as much time as I'd like. And I'm not about to start withholding time from my experiments with the Cook-Fast spell.

I should probably stop calling it that, but I've yet to identify a better name. I'm getting closer to figuring it out.

Without a spare microwave, I've only managed to induce a very small portal to somewhere in Equestria; I believe it was the Dragonlands, considering the heat that it exuded before I closed it. Much too small to fit anything in or out of, but that confirms that recreating the circumstances are possible.

It did, kind of... maybe... detonate half of my laboratory, though. Still ironing it out, and I won't be touching the existing portals structure anytime soon.

If I could recreate the portal... I could talk to Barnon in a way that wasn't through my microwave. I could actually see him, in-pony. Theoretically. Maybe.

But first, yesterday. And the day before. Starting with Monday. Dash, AJ and Pinkie came over. They had me running around in a panic to keep them from finding out.

Not Applejack; she was polite. But Dash kept trying to use the microwave, having brought food with her that she was complaining was too cold; probably because she flew here from Cloudsdale with it in her mouth.

She gave me a weird look, but I managed to convince her to use the oven.

Pinkie is a problem. She doesn't know what I'm up to, but she knows I'm up to something. Hiding something. I keep finding her snooping. I'll need some kind of distraction to keep her from finding the Holopad. Hopefully, she doesn't suspect the microwave.

I should find a way to fully lock off the library. Maybe I can claim a termite infestation? I've already pulled the sick card too many times. Maybe I can fake a Canterlot trip, and just keep my windows shut. I can only keep sending Spike to go hang out with Rarity so many times, though. Hmm. Speaking of Spike, he's starting to figure out I'm up to something. He's caught me sitting in front of the microwave too many times.

Should I tell him?

I'll think about it. Need to run risk calculations.

Now, yesterday.

I managed to catch Barnon while he was back for a few hours. He was a lot more tired than he's ever been when we talk; it must be straining work. He was half undressed, sprawled on his bed with his suit piled on the floor. We didn't get to talk for very long, before he passed out mid conversation, beginning to snore. He sleeps funny, the way his limbs dangle around; I wish I had more of a chance to speak with him, but... it was kind of soothing seeing him like that. Relaxed. He's always so willing to just... be himself, around me.

I checked on him a few more times. The second and third, each an hour apart, he was still out cold. One of the times I checked on him, I think one of those Drones that delivers him supplies arrived. I heard some weird, industrial sounds before a 'bing' noise, right beside the Microwave. It announced "Delivery for Purple Porny list". I don't know what that is... but I'm the only purple thing I think he's seen in a while. I think. But it's Pony, not Porny. Did he order something for me?

The fourth time I checked on him, he was gone; back out in space, working away.

Rarity and some of the other girls wanted to hang out at Cafe Hay, so I couldn't wait for him for very long.

But, that takes us to today.

He did get me something. Not from the Drone, though.

I found it this morning, sitting on my side of the portal, inside the Microwave. He was already gone, so I don't know how long it was sitting there for.

It's a small, cleaned up portion of Borutine. It's polished, giving it a soft sheen, and unlike the gems that Spike is so fond of; its a sturdy chunk of Ore, but is surprisingly soft to the touch?

My first, real, space-ore. I haven't stopped staring at it. Toying with it in my hooves, with my magic, looking it over. One day, I'll have it sat out somewhere pretty, ~~but it stays in the stash for now.~~ I don't need Spike asking if he can eat it. Especially not alien Ores not of Equestria. But, this is huge. Scientifically for Equestria, this is one of the few and only materials from beyond our own world. Given to us by an Alien with technology far, far beyond our level.

And... it's pretty.

~~I've started a stash, underneath the couch. It's where I tuck the Holopad now, and it's where I keep his gifts.~~ (It seems like someone came back to this entry, and heavily scribbled this portion out.)

Off to do some errands. Write later.

March - Wednesday - 6:46 PM

Heard a knocking on the Microwave an hour ago. Spike had just got back from helping Rarity; he gave me the oddest look as I ran to stop him from opening it.

I'm going to have to tell him. He knows something is up, and I'd rather I get the chance to explain it before he finds it for himself, freaks out and tells everybody.

I'll do it tomorrow. I will. I really don't want to... but if I don't, it's just going to get even worse.

Thankfully, Barnon is okay with it. After I managed to shoo Spike away, I got some time to talk to him. He said he finished up for the day; "Cracked a surprisingly big vein and passed quota for the day", so he actually had the energy to talk.

It'd only been three days, and I realized how much I missed, and enjoyed our conversations.

Barnon is fun. He jokes, he's raunchy -- he's pragmatic even, but he's also real. I can talk to him about any of my problems, and he gives advice that I feel like I'd hear from Princess Celestia; he doesn't just assure me that I can do things, but walks me through my thoughts, my worries. Doesn't get upset when I come off as rude or don't word something right; just asks me to clarify and laughs about it after.

He got me something else, too, from that Drone that arrived yesterday. He said he's been trying to find me interesting things I might like.

He got me this weird metal cup, with a twisty top. Said its called a 'Thermos' and can keep things cold or warm for a long time, without magic or electricity.

He also got me a few packs of those burritos he likes. Made sure none of them were the meat type. A 'Peace Offering' and an apology; said he still thinks about how he was probably a bit too mean, not used to interacting with "People" directly. They're pretty tasty. He's surprisingly thoughtful.

I've made a little progress with the spell. I'm being as careful as I can with it. No direct improvements to the portal, its distance or its size yet, but I'm getting a feeling for the formula. I might be able to substitute the electricity that served as a conduit for our connection with magic.

I've given Barnon a small, magically charged Gem in the meantime. I felt a little bad being the only one getting Gifts, so I tried to think of something useful. Since he mines for a living, he's probably used to Gems... but that's not the point. It's Cerul, a Gemstone that's particularly conductive of magic. If I'm lucky, I can use it as an anchor point for spells. I didn't tell him that yet though. Just said to hang onto it. I don't want him being scared of it or anything, since he's not used to magic.

I tried filling the Thermos with some tea. Going to record how long it stays warm for, and will report back. Need to clean up the Library a bit, and get ready to tell Spike. I'm hoping he takes it well.

Barnon, recently showered, lays boxers-only on his bed, idly toying with the little, vibrantly green gem that Twilight had given him. She didn't make it sound like a gift, really... more like she was asking him to hang onto it? He wasn't quite sure, but it was pretty. Part of him wondered just what she was up to... but he was also just too damn tired.

The work itself wasn't too laborious, but being suited up and out there meant it was like tensing his mental and physical muscles the whole time. Space walking was one big drain on the energy. Sure, you could space out. But you need to make sure you're not clipping your suit, tangling your tether, not overheating your drill; 90% just focusing on keeping yourself from doing dumb shit, 10% doing the actual mining.

He should pick up one of those fancy grid-projection-shield arm holographers. Funky little tech he heard about recently that helps shield from debris; he got battered pretty good today by some loose rocks that launched out when he was cracking a vein.

Twilight seemed very excited by every gift he got her. It made him feel good. He didn't get to do this kind of thing with people. Or ponies; his mind idly wanders to what else he could get her.

Oh, right. She asked if she could tell Spike; apparently he was like... her adoptive baby brother, slash adoptive kid? Who was a baby dragon? That she raised? It was kind of weird, but if she thought it would go alright, he didn't mind. He wasn't the one playing the secrecy game.

Barnon wonders what she's up to, playing catch with the little twinkling gem. What did she call it, Cerul? Why did that sound familiar?

Twilight Sparkle - Journal - Entry 3

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.

Chapter 6 - Surprise Guest

Barnon doesn't know whether to dread the opening of the giant, metal doors he floats outside of, or wish they'd hurry up and open. The slow float through endless, star-speckled void back to the ship had been tense; not a hint of his expected relief from a finished job. His mind is far too busy wandering, playlists paused and forgotten.

He doesn't really know what to expect. Well, he kind of does, but... also not really.

Theories of what it is inside his ship keep coming to mind. Old wives tales, stowaways, aliens to eat his brains... anything to delay the obvious. He already knows just who is waiting inside his ship. Why, however, is what worries him.

Last time they spoke, she said she'd be telling Spike about him. From what they'd talked about, Spike was like a... Brother/Son situation? She raised him herself for most of his life, but they had a very casual 'friendship' style relationship, treating Twilight's mother as their 'Mutual' Mother. Or something. She'd often talk very sweetly about him, whenever he came up in conversation.

Barnon thinks it's closer to Son than Brother.

But... if she was here, did it go poorly? Did it go well? She'd always been worried about physically crossing the threshold. How'd she even do it? She couldn't fit through his Macrowave. Could she? Maybe she was here because it went so great, her 'Elevated Heart Rate' was from sheer excitement.

Or she'd been exiled.

The AI voice of his ship pings in his ear again; a reminder. Right. Oust the little horse to the mega-corporations? Pass.

"Uh... No, I've got this covered." He'd told the Ship. "And drop the 'Bitch' Personality Sub-Addition." It was really funny -- but not right now.

There's a soft 'Ping' as it complies.
"Very well. 'Call Me Bitch' Vocal Module will be stored for later restoration. Any awaiting Contacts to the previously listed Individuals, Companies, Organizations or Businesses will be put on hold, thanks to your 'I Value My Privacy' package. However, you lack the sufficient Security Licenses to defend the inside section of your own Vessel. Shall I purchase the 'My Ship Is My Castle' Laborer Self-Defense License for you? Only 49.99 a month, sponsored by Half-foods; your Healthiest and Only Organic Option." It informs, the Half-Foods jingle playing at the end.

"No, it's friendly. If I need it, I'll let you know." Barnon deflects.

The AI voice makes another affirmative ping, and he's left to his own thoughts.

Barnon was happy he made enough cash to afford all these dumb packages. Maybe not ALL of them, but the ones important to him. Funny enough, he had the License to defend the outside of his ship, to melt a hole in anything that floated too close, but not if they actually got on his ship. Dumb loophole, but he figured if they got inside, he was good as done anyway.

The sturdy doors silently hisses, ejecting steam into the nothingness around him as it opens; pulled from his thoughts, the soft orange glow of his Airlock greets Barnon as he enters, belt propulsors softly nudging him inside as his sturdy boots gravitize to the floor. The satisfying pulse of them connecting reverberates through his body, as the doors seal shut behind him.

The the room slowly pulses, re-pressurizing as recycled air slowly fills it. Barnon's gaze is stuck to the blinking light on the wall, idly flashing red.

Red.

Still... Red...

It dings, flicking to Green.

The moment that light switches, Barnon's got his helmet unclasped, and promptly racked on the wall. His mining pack's straps click, the pack itself secured to its charging station right beside it. He's got a mantle for his suit -- and it takes him a minute to dress and undress.

He's only just got his arms out, as the inner-Airlock doors slowly hiss open; suit half slung off of himself, empty sleeves dangling around his waist. The inside of the Ship-Post reveals its (not so) mystery occupant; he hadn't even managed to finish undressing, hair still slick with sweat, before he sees her.

Sat on his bed, hooves draped over the side side of it, butt-sparkle-mark exactly as described, was the purple pony he'd spent the last two weeks talking to. Now, there was a body to put to the face. It looked like she'd come up to his waist if they stood in front of each other.

She had that same violet wide-eyed stare she had when they'd first seen each-other, through the doors of their appliances. But now, with less shock, and more... nervousness. Behind her, the Macrowave is closed -- and nothing else looks any worse for wear. She twiddles her hooves together, staring at Barnon.

One of the reasons they got along so well makes itself prevalent again; just how socially awkward they both actually were. They stare at each-other for nearly a minute, one waiting for the other to say something, do something, make a move, anything.

Barnon's suit slides down his legs, crumpling to the floor, drawing both of their eyes. That'd do for an icebreaker.

"Uh... Hey, Twilight." Barnon tees up first, stepping out of what's left of his suit.

"...Hi, Barnon." Twilight awkwardly squeaks, glancing away and trying to subtly clear her throat.

"Did things with Spike go well?" He fields, hopeful. The quick glance-away tells him things may very well have not.

"...Barnon, could I... stay here for a few days?" She deflects; her face is tilted down, but she looks up towards him from underneath her bangs with hopeful, quivering eyes.

Barnon is thrown by the sudden question, but scratches the back of his neck, looking around his little Ship.
"I, uh... I dunno if my Ship is really geared up for multiple people..." He mumbles.

He can practically hear the breath catch in her throat, Twilight going still.

"I don't have like, girl products or whatever... but I could probably order some." His face scrunches in thought. "Yeah, sure, we can figure it out or whatever. I don't mind if you stay." Barnon shrugs. With the entire catalogue of Spamazon available, they could probably just order whatever she needed.

"OhSweetCelestiaThankYouIWasSoWorried." The Purple Pony exhales all at once, sinking into his bed like a deflated balloon. It's like every ounce of tension just seeped out of her, leaving her boneless and flopped overtop his mattress.

Barnon watches her face sink into his pillow. Was having a Pony on your bed weird? He did already share his forbidden fifteen cheese blend with her... and his bed was pretty baller. Yeah, whatever.
"You good there, Twi?"

"...I may have used the pre-existing portal as a template in order to find where to go, how much magic to use, the Cerul Gem I gave you as an anchor, and-- well, basically... the portals closed. I'm kind of stuck here." She admits, a guilty, sheepish smile slowly taking her face. "I was really, really banking on you being okay with me staying with you. For a little bit. Just a smidge. Until I figure out... what to do. Oh, and... I didn't have time to grab your stuff. Sorry." She mumbles, tensing for a scolding.

Barnon raises an eyebrow. He steps past the bed, into the kitchen section, swinging open the Macrowave door.

Look at that. It's the inside of his Macrowave. No funny portal, no funny pony. The funny pony was on this side now. It felt weird seeing the actual, proper inside again after these last few weeks.

He shuts the Macrowave, turning and leaning against the countertop.

"I mean, everything was pretty much a gift, minus the Holopad. That kind of sucks." He admits, sucking air through his teeth.
"But how about you tell me what happened, before I decide how upset I should be?"

Twilight nods, shifting to a proper sit as she retells him how things went on her side, for the last week.

Author's Note

Chapter 7 - Not Quite As Planned

It's been about an hour. An hour of awkward tension that's slowly been fading, as the pair find comfort in the familiarity of their talks. Only difference now, they're like a foot or two from each other, sitting on the only thing big enough on Barnon's ship to seat multiple people. His bed.

They could've folded it into the couch form, but honestly, the bed form was just the shit; it gave them room to sprawl and lay about, giving both Barnon's natural lazy posturing, and Twilight's Pony anatomy, a way to get properly comfortable. A tray of some of the lighter snacks from his fridge, and off-brand soda sat on the coffee table beside them. (Twi wasn't as surprised by the carbonation as Barnon thought she'd be--did they have Soda over there?)

"So... she was furious." Barnon guesses.

Twilight had explained... most, of what had happened, leaving out a few details... like her Journal, and was finally recounting the moments before she appeared on his ship.

"I've never seen her so upset. So disappointed. Not even at the Canterlot Wedding... that was the first time she ever looked at me like that!" Twilight throws her hooves in the air, slumping across the bed again.
"She was yelling at me to show her where it was. How portals like that can destabilize the very balance of the world, shift realities!"

"...Can they?" Barnon asks, glancing at the Macrowave. Didn't look any different than usual.

"Some portals. B-but not this one! I tested it, numerous times! Daily, almost! All my research into it showed that it was stabilized!" Twilight protests.

"Do you think she meant what happened between the portals, rather than just the portal itself? Like the objects that were being passed through, or us reaching through it?" Barnon offers, taking a nibble of a snack from the tray.

Twilight shakes her head.
"I thoroughly tested every single item that you gave me, including the Holopad." She states; though gives him a guilty look about having left it behind. "Not a single one was emitting, causing or serving as the catalyst for any reality-destabilizing behavior."

"...Sounds to me like she's got some pretty loaded experience with Portals and things going shifty, and doesn't want the same happening to you." Barnon muses, chewing.

"Oh." Twilight deflates, remembering.

"Oh?" Barnon shifts, attention renewed.

"...Yeah, she does. There was a whole... Mirror issue that she told me about. When she was younger... when Starswirl, her mentor, was alive. It almost combined our worlds, and she had to give up the Pony she loved to keep them stable..." Twilight summarizes, looking down at the floor.

"Yikes. Think its the whole "Doesn't want you going through what she went through" thing?" Barnon asks.

Twilight falls silent, sighing.
"...Probably. I feel terrible about it, but...it's a little late for that." She mumbles.

"So what happened? She came to close the portal, right? Why did that end with you using it to hop here?" Barnon leans back, joining her in the slump-across-the-bed.

"...I, uh... at least wanted a chance to say goodbye." Twilight says muffled into her hooves, before idly stroking her mane.

"Dawwww." Barnon lets out an exaggerated, lip quivering 'aw' -- earning him a slap on the shoulder by a particularly purple hoof.

"She said there wasn't time. That we had to shut the portal, now. So... I did. Just... with me on the other side." She sighs, taking a deep breath. She still remembered the absolutely shocked face Celestia made when she realized what Twilight was doing.

"And now I'm... here." She finishes, quietly. She stares at the floor for a long moment, before finally speaking up again; her tone wobbly and filled with worry.
"Did I make a mistake, Barnon? What if she was right? I tested it so many times, but I could have missed something -- and she's my Mentor, my Teacher. She knows better. And what about Spike? What if opening a portal to go home does cause a problem this time? I can't just leave him there. Sure, he could go home to Canterlot, with my Mom and Dad -- but I don't want him to think I abandoned him or s-something." Twilight starts to ramble, sniffing.

She feels a warm hand tussle her mane, rubbing against her head.
"Oh, I'm sure the Macrowave/Microwave interchange stabilized the polarity of the Portals, ensuring an equal footing of Time and Space. If it was a Reality based issue, than the items we'd exchanged would've already caused a significant problem in regards to distortion and dilation. You can probably use that magic-soaked Gem you gave me as a powerbank to help boost your return trip, too, whenever you want to go back. Or at the least, we could send a letter? You're the Princesses prized Student after all -- even if she's upset by this particular path you've set into motion, as long as you commit to it with your full chest, there'll be no shame behind the consequences."
Barnon explains, bullshit flowing from his mouth. He had no idea about anything he just said. It sounded smart, though. And hopefully comforting. Sage-like, was what he was going for.

The little purple pony looks up at him from underneath her bangs, sniffling and wiping her nose with a hoof.
"Y-you think so?"

He had no clue.
"Don't see why not. You're a clever one; you'll probably know this whole ship better than me in a weeks time."

She stifles a giggle.
"Are you sure you don't mind? About me staying, the Holopad..."

"Nah, you seem like good company. You gave me my Macrowave back, too. We'll call it even." Barnon shrugs, giving her mane a final ruffle. She was fucking soft.
"Oh, we'll probably need to establish ground rules or something. And a list of the things you'll need."

"What do you mean?" Twilight asks, rubbing away another sniffle.

"Like, don't use my toothbrush -- and if you'll need a toothbrush. Or a regular hair brush. Or like... well, tell you what. Let's do it this way." Barnon starts, but decides to cut to an easier route.

He rolls back on the bed, hands supporting his head.
"Pooputer?"

"Yes?" The AI Ship-Post voice chirps over the internal speakers. Twilights ears twitch as she glances around for the voice.

"Uh... check previous Spamazon orders for Holopad, re-order same, Quantity of 1, Elite Shipping. Import Bookmarks, Cookies and Cloud-Saved Files. Nothing else."

There's an affirmative ping. "299.89 deducted from your dedicated Spamazon account. Spamazon thanks you for your continued, non-negotiable consumerism."

Silence takes the little ship again.

Twilight leans closer to Barnon, whispering.
"Barnon... I've been meaning to ask, who is that?"

"The Ship. It's got like an... assistant thing built-in, so I can speak to it and have it handle basic or pre-programmed commands, instead of having to type shit into my console." Barnon explains, rolling onto his side so he's facing the purple pony. They're closer, now. "Give it like... two hours, and we'll have a new Holopad."

Twilight nods, idly tapping her hooves. "She sounds... nice." Twilight mumbles, still not entirely sure what any of that meant.

"Oh, check this out. Shidooder?" Barnon loved having a long, preset list of things that sounded even remotely close to Ship, Computer, or AI. Barnon is pretty sure if he moaned at the right pitch, it would activate. The fun he had, all alone, deep in space.

"Yes?" It chirps.

"Swap Personality Program." Barnon states. Twilight watches him, curious.

"Certainly. Which would you prefer?" There's an inquisitive ping, awaiting answer.

"List currently licensed."

"Certainly. In regards to Personality Modules, Voice Modules, and Sub-Additions; you currently have temporary, revokable at any time ownership of..." The Computer voice begins to list several options.

"Eldritch Horrors and Screams from Beyond the Void, V.012"
"Farts, and only Farts V2 - More Farts"
"Intergalactic Recognized Spanish; Un-Gendered."
"Historical Earth Spanish; Re-Gendered."
"Mo'Tisha, the Ghartuvian Comedian."
"Jerry Seinfeld from Seinfeld."
"Regular Voice, but muffled to simulate Tunnels underneath the Ship. Feat - New, New York Ambience - Optional Yiddish Ambience."
"Racist Grandfather - Alcoholic and Religious Options, with Ethnicity Variations available."

"This concludes page 1 of 13. Shall I continue?" The Computer chirps.

Barnon gives Twilight an expectant look. She seems completely overwhelmed by both the situation, and the options.
"Go on, pick one, or try the next page." Barnon urges, giving her side a poke. He spent way too much money on this kind of shit, anyway. "We've got like two hours to kill."

"To... kill?" Twilight asks, confused.

"To waste. Sorry, Human saying." Barnon corrects. She makes an 'Ooohhhh' face, tapping her hoof against her chin.

"... What's Yiddish Ambience?" Twilight asks.

Chapter 8 - A New Pad

The Spamazon Drone quietly docks with the Ship-Post, which still sits like a quiet hunk of metal outside the mining site. It hasn't taken off yet -- Barnon and Twilight have been... distracted.

They're doubled over, laughing, tears in their eyes.

They've spent the last two hours roughly going over the Ships layout, some ground rules like what to touch and what not to touch; and most importantly, Barnon got to show off the veritable hoard of bullshit he's purchased that had yet to be spaced. From defunct, limited-time items, bullshit purchased off Knockoff Drop shipping sites, to the sheer cultural shock between their two worlds that gave it a level of underlying comedy. Over the ships speakers, a playlist of music, once ranging from Earth Classic Rock, now devolved into the absolute brainrot of Neo-Vibe-Grunge-Phonk, plays ambiently.

Twilight's worries were eased, at least for the moment; the two simply... having fun.

The Ping of the Drone Arrival Alert takes them away from their most recent distraction, Barnon wheezing as he stumbles to the Kitchen. The package thumps out of its associated Slot, and Barnon starts to open it with one of the kitchen knives.

"Computer?" Twilight pipes up. "Another quote from the ancient scholar, Joe of Rogan, please." She requests, stifling a giggle.

"I don't care if you're Gay, Black, Chinese, Straight. That means nothing to me. It's all an illusion." The Computer helpfully pings.

"...What's a Chinese?" Twilight asks, tilting her head. That gets a snort out of Barnon; but he wouldn't be trying to tackle that today.

"You'll find out eventually, it's just a type of human. First --" Barnon spins around, holding up another Holopad. It slowly boots up, a bar of light blinking several times before it kicks on. It displays a circular loading sign, as it imports the previous Holopad's settings, saved locally on the Ship-Post.

"Won't have the most recent stuff, like the Camera Feeds anymore, but it should have most of it. I can always re-install that later, anyway." Barnon says, holding it out to her as it finishes booting.

Twilight takes it carefully in her magic, holding it close. Her eyes are wide, glancing between it and Barnon. "So, everything from... last week and before, right?" She asks, and Barnon nods.

"Since you're... here, just don't look up illegal shit. Or more oiled up humans. Ask first, basically, and I won't put any Parental locks on it, or whatever." Barnon shrugs, teasing. Twilight doesn't fluster as much as he thought she would.

"Go on uh... Spamazon, that icon right there." He points out with a finger. "And look up some of the stuff you need if you'll be staying here. Like, toiletries, vitamins or... whatever. Shampoo. That kind of shit. I don't have much, but I've got a few Credits in the account, so we can load you up at least."

Barnon blows a raspberry, glancing around. He could use a shower -- and he needed to get the ship going.
"Just don't buy anything, yet. Put it in the cart, and we'll check it after." Barnon explains, pushing off the kitchen counter. He had no idea how long she actually wanted to stay for, but... well, they could talk about that later.

Twilight nods.
"Anything I need? Really?"

"Yeah, go for it. Computer?" Barnon nods, before glancing upwards, vaugely.

The computer Pings in affirmation.

"Sector 52, Handelgrohba Station. Blipspeed." Barnon rattles off, scratching the back of his head. Honestly, could use a nap, too.

The Computer pings again.
"Affirmative. Calculating route... Two Week estimated travel time. Is this acceptable, or would you like to upgrade to our Sub-Blink Package? Warning: Sub-Blink is outside your current Tax Bracket, but is achievable through Loans that would persist for... 34 years, at reasonable rates."

Shit, forgot to pay the License to quit the Spamazon advertising. Happens every time he needs to set a route, but since he'd fly for like, a week straight, if not more, it always slipped his mind until he had to go somewhere again.
"Confirm Route, no on Upgrade." He huffs.

The Computer pings.

Twilight glances at him.
"...What Station?"

"Hand. Del. Groh. Bah. Station." He spaces out. Gave him trouble the first time, too. Twilight tries to mouth it out with him, frowning.
"Big space station. Think my Ship, but town sized, and it doesn't really move." Barnon explains.

He didn't think those pretty purple eyes could get any wider. Yet here they were, taking up most of her face.
"They get BIGGER?!"

"Yep."

She slowly looks down to the Holopad, starting to paw at it with a hoof. It blinks awake, loading.

"Alright, have fun. I'm gonna catch a shower -- still stinky." He mutters, thumbing towards the Bathroom, starting to turn.

"...I don't mind your smell." Twilight mumbles.

"What was that?" Barnon pauses, glancing over his shoulder.

"O-oh, uh. Nothing. Just... thanks. For everything." Twilight covers, sighing in relief as Barnon just nods.

"Yeah, sure thing. You would've done the same for me if I got dumped on your side of the portal, right?" Barnon asks, rhetorically. He throws her a smile, before the Bathroom Capsule hisses shut, leaving Twilight alone again.

Well, less alone than when she first arrived. He was just in the bathroom.

Her eyes float down to the Holopad, heart-rate starting to kick up.

Barnon said that most of everything on the Holopad had been preserved.

To tell the truth, she'd cracked the Password on the fourth day, through Trial and Error. And she'd... snooped, a little.

Quietly, glancing up to the bathroom several times as she hears the muffled sounds of the shower, Twilight opens the pictures & videos app. She knows exactly what she's looking for.

She scrolls up for a moment, before finding the pictures of Barnon.

The ones of him in the bathroom. Naked. Posing. Likely having been drinking, judging by the bottle, having fun by himself.

Her heart is pounding, like she's getting away with something she shouldn't be. She opens the first picture, biting her lip.

The Bathroom Capsule hisses open, Barnon sticking his head out, now just a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Hey, you didn't need to piss or anything before I went in, right?" He asks.

Twilight startles, making a loud 'EEP' as she throttles the Holopad underneath the closest Pillow, leaning on it as casually as she could.
"N-NOPE! T-THANKS THOUGH!" Twilight 'Casually Shouts', very un-suspiciously.

Barnon gives her an odd look, but shrugs. He'd just check what she'd been searching up later.

The Capsule seals shut again, and Twilight lets out a trembling sigh.

Within a minute, she's already looking at the picture again, staring with eyes that behold indecent thoughts.

Chapter 9 - Purely Scientific

Barnon thought it'd be a good idea to take a longer shower, since Twilight likely had a good few pile of items she'd wanna add to the shopping cart. It was his last post-work shower, too; leaned back comfortably on the shower stool, the warm, recycled water poured over Barnon, steaming up the small bathroom. With little room for more than a Shower, Shitter, Sink and Mirror, it was a 'Capsule' Class Bathroom, everything in reach of the other by about a foot. Not the roomiest, but it wasn't like he hung out in here, other than using up all the hot water.

...Actually, maybe he shouldn't stay in here too long. Twilight might like a shower. She'd probably like warm water, too.

How long had it been, anyway? Fifteen, Twenty minutes? Half an hour, tops. Not like he has a water bill to worry about. Ship runs a set amount of water, recycled from all the various uses. Just don't think about it.

With a long sigh, Barnon goes to reach for the shower handle -- though, if Twilight does want a shower, he should just keep it running. This thing's been needing a tune-up; takes forever to warm up properly. Like many tasks that needed doing that didn't outright threaten his life if ignored, Barnon had the how-to video bookmarked somewhere, ready to be tackled whenever it became an actual problem.

He rises, water dripping off his body as he reaches for a towel, stepping out of the shower, the water still running. The bathroom has a good, heavy steam to it now, mirror fogged, as the sound of the water splashing on the floor masking the sounds of anything outside the bathroom.

The ponies basically wore nothing, from what he'd heard; and now seen. Plus, Twi was already used to him dressing like he did, so a towel should be fine. Not like he brought any clothes in here.

The capsule door hisses open, steam rolling out from behind himself as Barnon emerges, refreshed.

"You want a go, Twi? Left the water running for you, nice and hot." He asks, glancing over.

She hadn't moved since he got in the shower -- funny, and kind of what he expected to happen the moment he handed over a Holopad. She was always glued to those things.

She's completely frozen as he steps out, sitting on her haunches, Holopad propped on one of his pillows, watching him.
"U-uh..." She stutters, pawing at the holopad.

"You should be able to fit just fine; might be a little small since it's made for standing, but you've got your magic to like, reach the handle and stuff? You guys have showers and stuff, yeah?" Barnon starts crossing over, joining her by the bed, standing beside it.

"W-we, uh..." Twilight continues to stutter, hoof picking up speed as it keeps bumping the Holopad.

Anon leans, taking a gander. What'd she find that had her so confuzzled?

Oh. It's the naked pictures of him, posing raunchy in the bathroom that he forgot to delete. Guess those got carried over in the data import, too.

Why was his dick on his Ships cloud folder?

No, wrong question.

Why was she staring at his nudes? She had access to the galactic internet, she could go right back to looking up oiled men or whatever. How'd she even find those?

"...Twi, when you asked about the data being preserved..." Barnon trails off.

Somehow, she's letting off more steam than the shower that's still running. She's staring straight down, ashamed.

Twilight was horrified. She'd been using the sound of the shower to let her know when he'd come out, but he didn't turn off the shower -- Sweet Celestia he was just staring at her. He probably hated her. Right after he accepted her into his home? Curse her obsessive desire to snoop.

Barnon tsks. He was kind of flattered, honestly; but also completely blindsided that these little packets of crayon-colored mini horses could get up to something like this.

She still hasn't said anything, like Montegri Space-Deer in a ships headlights, just staring down.

"You, uh... well I mean, first of all, I'm flattered. Uh... maybe not on the bed, though?" Barnon scratches the back of his head.

"Oh! N-no, I wasn't doing anything like that!" She looks up at him, sniffing.
"Sorry, Barnon. I shouldn't have... you trusted me, and I... I'm sorry, but I just find you so... fascinating. You're like nothing on my world that I've seen before."

She's surprised as the bed creaks, weight shifting as Barnon sits on the bed beside her.
"Well, again, flattered -- but nah, it's my fault for leaving that kind of thing on there. Honestly, I should thank you for not freaking out about it, thinking I'm trying to make some kind of sly move on you." Barnon teases, holding out a hand and reaching for the Holopad.

"Here, lemme wipe some of the stuff that shouldn't be on there, you hop in and take a shower. It'll be fixed by the time you're out." Barnon says, in an attempt to comfort her -- but a hoof stops him.

Twilight swallows, hard. She was wrestling with some serious social awkwardness here -- she was given refuge in his own home, and the first thing she does is dig up the pictures of him she'd already found on the other Holopad? Again? No, she didn't want this to go poorly. She's already a mile out of her element; potentially an entire dimension.

She didn't know why she was so interested in him, but every time she looked at those pictures, at him... sat on the bed beside her, a towel loosely draped over his waist, barely hiding... it.

The clothes, honestly, made it a lot better when there weren't any.

"Would you... be upset, if I asked you to leave the pictures on there?" She asks, quietly -- but surprisingly firmly. "For entirely scientific and academic purposes."

Barnon raises an eyebrow. Alright purple. Two can play that game.
"Why? You've got the genuine article right here." He gestures to himself.

That gets a reaction. Her ears shoot straight up, lips pursing. Honestly, it gets Barnon's heart racing a little too. That was bold.

She looks to him, searching his face. For affirmation, before she slowly looks to his body, still half-dried from the shower, water dribbling down it. Barely covered by the towel, less tied around him, and more loosely draped.

Her hoof slowly slides up his arm, to his shoulder. She's so focused, on the contours of his body. The feel of his skin.

"You are... abnormally warm." She mutters to herself, alongside a myriad of other muttered notes. "Body is... soft, malleable."

Barnon flexes; he's no bodybuilder, but his work keeps him trim.

Twilight pauses, watching his arms.
"...And firm." She adds, giving him a particular look.

Was he showing off for her? Twilight's roaming thoughts are quickly interrupted.

"Hate to uh, cut in here. But you gonna use the shower? Otherwise I'll shut it off." Barnon thumbs towards the still-running shower, hot steam rolling from the open door.

She... was a bit sweaty. From the worry, from the panic, from the surprisingly taxing magic to get here...
"Uh... I don't know how to work it. Could you... show me?" She asks quietly.

"Gonna be awfully cramped in there if I do." Barnon warns. "Small bathroom."

"I-I meant, uh... do you mean together?" She asks, glancing to the bathroom.

"Sure. We can save whatever this is for after." Barnon teases, smiling. Twilight doesn't smile.

"...I wouldn't mind being close to you. And... you could demonstrate the dexterity of your limbs. If it doesn't bother you." She mumbles, throwing him a worried side-eye.

"You asking me to wash you, purple?" Barnon asks, returning the side eye.

"N-no, I meant demonstrate the... shower... would you?" She goes to deflect but, Twilight folds to the idea; she... wouldn't mind that, actually. "My magic is weaker since I used the spell to get here, and... I trust you."

Barnon hums. Alright.
"Sure, Twi."

Barnon pushes off the bed, Twilight watching him.

The towel slips off of his waist, slumping on the ground.

Her eyes are glued to his butt, as he steps into the bathroom doorway. He pauses, glancing back.

"You coming? Won't stay hot forever." Barnon calls, the warm steam tingling his skin again.

Twilight swallows, hard.

Her interests were purely academic in nature. Scientific. For learning purposes, to find information of an alien species.

Mostly.

Probably.

At least a little.

She climbs off the bed, Holopad blinking shut as it enters sleep-mode from lack of use.

Chapter 10 - Cramped Capsule

Barnon sits on the shower stool. Twilight is propped up, leaning on him; her hooves around his waist, her back hooves still on the shower floor.

Warm water pours over the both of them, squeezed into this tiny shower.

This was not the plan.

It just kind of... ended up this way.

"I don't have any, uh... Pony Products, or whatever you guys use. Obviously. You alright if I just use my 15 In 1 Male Shampoo, Conditioner, Body Wash, Shaving Cream, Aftershave, Liquid Deoderant, Motor Oil--" Barnon starts lifting off, but a muffled Twilight, head sat... very close to his crotch, cuts in.

"It's fine, Barnon. Just wash my Mane, and my Fur, and my Tail. That should help me until my magic returns properly." Twilight politely informs.
"...If you don't mind. Thank you."

They didn't really have a good reason for why they were positioned like this. Barnon could have helped from outside the shower. Or she could have sat on the floor, between his legs. Or he could have put something on he didn't mind getting wet. This was kind of just the first position they managed to figure out what wouldn't leave either long-term uncomfortable.

He had a feeling they were both kind of just... moving forward. Trying to figure out some complex things. And Twilight had a lot on her mind. But, now that they had worked through some things... Barnon feels the grip around his waist tighten, her fuzzy head nuzzling his stomach. One of his arms comes down to wrap around her, the other slowly, and clumsily, working the cap to the bottle open. He resorts to using his teeth -- not the worst taste. This was, probably, the best pose for this kind of thing actually. Without it feeling like he was washing a big dog in a bathtub, which would kind of ruin the mood they were building up.

Barnon thinks Twilight was looking for comfort, too. Physical contact. The adrenaline and excitement may have worn off, and Twilight might be realizing that she just leapfrogged from her world to his -- and might not have a confirmed way home, throwing all of her troubles on someone she's known for two weeks.

He can hear her sniffle, muffled against him. Shit, man. He wasn't built for complex feelings. He called people Gay on the intergalactic web and paid his Derogatory Sexuality Remarks Fine.

But, she was the closest thing he had to a friend. He knew people, obviously, but they were all work acquaintances... And she put a whole lot of trust in him. So he'd put that same trust in her.

"You're alright. Do whatever you need, take as long as you need." Barnon comforts, the bottle farting as he starts to lather up her fur. It helps ease the tension of the moment, Barnon snickering.

His own worries ease slightly as Twilight makes a short, weak giggle, and Barnon can feel Twilight nod against himself. This... this was open. Honest. He'd never opened to someone like this before... and he wanted to make sure she was alright. He cared for her. He liked her. And Barnon was pretty sure she liked him, too.

She wouldn't be clung to him in the shower, inches from his dick if she didn't, right? Ogling pictures of him on his Holopad.

He slowly rakes his fingers through the fur along her back; his turn to appreciate the contours of her body. She's surprisingly shapely for a miniature horse, widening out at the flank and shoulders. Working up a good lather, he leans down slightly.

"Close your eyes; I'm going to start on your Mane." Barnon warns.

He can feel her nod against him, horn softly poking his midsection.

"Do I need to watch for the horn?" Barnon asks, giving it a glance. He's actually never stared at it for very long. It peeks up out of her bangs, and looks... he can't tell if its actually hard like a horn, or covered in a thin fur, since it's the same color. Not until he can actually touch it with his hands.

She mumbles something, but its hard to hear over the water.

"Sorry?"

"...Gentle, please." Twilight says louder. The way she speaks, the way the words catch in her throat; she's definitely letting a few tears flow, hidden in the water. Still thinking about the full impact of what she's done.

"Sure, Twi. If you wanna talk, I'm here, too; but maybe wait a second so you aren't eating soap." Barnon teases, rubbing his hands together. He slowly pushes through her bangs, sweeping down the rest of her hair. He carefully avoids the horn, intending that to be last.

"...I shouldn't have ran. I'm supposed to be more responsible then that." Barnon hears Twilight mumble against himself.

"Why did you, then?" Barnon asks, tracing along the base of her horn.

"...I wanted to say goodbye. I think. I didn't want to, but I had to." She continues, sniffling again. "She wasn't going to let me, and... I wanted you to know."

"Very sweet of you, Twi; but what makes the guy you've known for two weeks worth potentially stranding yourself in another world for?" Barnon teases, gently.

He can feel her start to look up -- but he stops her with a hand.
"You'll get soap in the eyes. Hold on."

She nods, and he lifts off the stool slightly, reaching for the extendable nozzle. Bringing it close, he rinses the soap out of her fur, her mane; he'd still have to get the back and tail, but...

Barnon freezes, looking down. Between soaked bangs, those big, Violet eyes blink a few times, clearing themselves of water, staring up at him. They stare at each-other for a surprisingly long moment.

"...I don't know. When I look at you, I feel... strange. I missed you, when you were gone, working. Part of me feels so terrible, so bad for leaving..." She sighs heavily, but presses against him again, face buried in his stomach, hooves holding him tight.
"But it feels like I did the right thing? Does that make me a bad Mare, Barnon?"

One hell of a confession. Barnon takes a second, trying to process... trying to offer more than just hollow affirmations. It was clearly a heavy choice that weighed on her, and that's what made it more meaningful that she still came here.
"...I'll be honest, Twi. I spent most of the last week thinking about you while I worked. Even started a little list of things I wanted to get for you. What I thought you'd like to try, places you might like to see along my routes -- stuff you'd want if you ever stayed with me." Barnon admits. Floating around mining Borutine, he almost slipped up several times, a certain Purple Pony living rent-free in his brain. "I don't do that for people; which makes you pretty special."

"Really?" She asks; its a quiet, simple question. A soft plead for the truth. For affirmation that she had done something, anything right.

"I'm glad you're here with me, Twi." Barnon whispers, barely audible above the steaming shower; but they're leant close enough that it hardly matters. "Whatever happens, I'll see it through with you, together. Wanting something doesn't make you a bad person, or a bad pony. Whether you stay with me, go home, or whatever we have to do; it'll be alright."

"...I can't reach you from here, Barnon." She mutters, the water trickling down her face.

"What do you mean?" Barnon asks softly.

"I need you to lean down, so I can kiss you." She states, firmly. Her eyes are still red -- but no tears flow, now. "If that's alright."

Barnon feels a pit drop in his stomach. Oh. Shit. A lot of feelings to process real quick. She was a Pony, he was a Human, and --

Barnon remembers the kind of stuff he's got bookmarked. Actually, this was a lot less of a problem than he thought it was. He was just nervous.

Swallowing down fear, Barnon leans down, as Twilight adjusts to use the stool for leverage, leaning against it and tilting her head up.

Their noses touch, neither of them making the first move. The water slowly sprinkles against the timid pair, Twilights sudden confidence already faltering.

Barnon smiles at her.

Her heart flutters. That's all she needs.

Twilight tilts forward, purple, plush lips meeting his human ones; Barnon's arms slowly wrapping around the little horse, sharing their tender moment, tucked away in a tiny shower, in a tiny bathroom, in a tiny ship, that softly coasts through the infinite void of space.

Ponyville - Twilight's Library

Several Royal Guards stand posted outside of Twilight's library, sectioned off for Royal Investigation. The usually quiet, rural atmosphere is upended, the denizens of Ponyville whisper and theorize as to why they're here, and why they can't get any new books, or see Twilight.

Princess Celestia stands within the Library, in Twilight's living room. Her eyes are closed shut, tight -- her horn glowing a brilliant, bright gold as magic seeps from it.

For the last day, she's been trying to trace the magic that Twilight had used. To follow the source of the Portal that she used, if possible.

Princess Celestia was... upset. Her Prized Student still sat in her mind.

The way she cried, defied so suddenly when Celestia had warned that a Portal like that could destabilize the world around them. That reality itself would merge, the two worlds clashing and colliding. Twilight was smart; of course she'd understand the dangers.

It's why Princess Celestia was thrown for such a hard loop, why her thoughts remained troubled as her magic permeates the magical residue around herself.

The way that Twilight had reacted, so poorly. How she apparently met some creature, having known him for two weeks. Long enough, apparently, that she wanted to throw everything else away. Celestia didn't know what kind of creature could take such a cruel grasp of a Ponies senses, but she would save her beloved student.

Celestia had read the journal, which had been sat on the table. She found the stash, despite Twilight's best attempts to ward it and hide her tracks. Some kind of metal book that glows, a rock, and some other things. These didn't matter. They were already on their way to the Canterlot vaults for securement, investigation; and then destruction.

Her student at least still seemed to hold her senses, despite her selfish choice. Celestia sighs. She doesn't like how much she's reminded of a younger self. Of her time with Starswirl, and the Mirror Portals. It pained her to do what she did to her student; but of anypony, Twilight was the one who should have been able to handle it.

Instead, she looked Celestia dead in the eyes, thanked her, and overflowed the portal. Like she was fully prepared to never return.

There's a murmur of noise by the front door, as Princess Luna steps inside, the guards bowing. She's trailed by two of the Elements; Rarity, and Applejack.

The living room itself is fine, but the kitchen has been quarantined. Rope crosses it off, as Celestia's magic drifts over towards the Microwave, where the portal once was. There had been no meltdowns or reality-ending scenarios thankfully. Now it was just an empty appliance.

"Our Sister; any luck?" Luna asks, standing beside Celestia, touching sides.

"None so far, I'm afraid. The lingering magics are not dangerous, thankfully. But the traces... they are confused, jumbled. Hard to read. It will take time to decipher this." Celestia relents, the glow finally parting from her horn.

"We will handle anything you need us to, Sister, so you can focus on finding your student." Luna reaffirms, getting an appreciative sigh from Celestia. Things would go much faster if she can focus without distractions.

"Ah' uh, hate t' interrupt..." Applejack pipes up. "But is Twi alright? Where'd she go?"

"I was trying to be polite and wait, of course, but I echo Applejacks worries; what has happened to our friend?" Rarity adds, stepping in beside her.

Celestia sighs, turning to face the little ponies.
"I am sure you found Twilights behavior the last few weeks... odd." She starts, as both nod.

"Said somethin' about a Termite infestation? Think she doubled back on that one n' said somethin' about bein' sick. At very random times. Or needin' t' race home for somethin'." Applejack nods, recounting her odd behavior.

"I adore Spike as much as the next, but I've also never had him over at my Boutique for so many days in a row. He's Twilight's assistant after all; and it's as if he simply didn't have those duties!" Rarity agrees. "Not to mention how worried the poor thing looked over the last few days."

"Sounds t' me like she was up t' somethin' she didn't want others seein'." AppleJack guesses, glancing from Rarity to the Princesses.

While Luna idly looks over the kitchen, Celestia nods.
"Over the past two weeks, Twilight accidentally made contact with a creature from beyond our world. An Alien."

AJ and Rarity share a concerned stare.
"Like, some Discord type?" Applejack fields cautiously.

"...I do not know. I tried my best to have the portal closed, promptly the moment I found out about it, but she seems unreasonably attached to the creature. It's something from Space; and we don't know if its even within our dimension. She has... gone to it, and closed the Portal behind herself." Celestia summarizes.

AppleJacks hoof taps the floor in frustration. "Darnit, Twi. Ah' hope she's alright. How can y' even find her?"

"Having read her Journal, I've some idea of a magical trace that she gave to it. She calls the Creature 'Barnon', and they exchanged gifts. One of which, from her to him, held magic. I am trying to reach out through her lingering vestiges of magic, and find it. It will take time." Celestia informs. Applejack can only nod; magic was beyond her.

"Might I see the Journal? If I am not being presumptious." Rarity asks, finding the small book floated towards her by Celestia.

"Any insights you have, Rarity, would be helpful." Celestia smiles, turning to face the kitchen again. Luna is cautiously looking over the microwave, her own horn glowing softly.

Rarity sits, perusing the short journal.

"I've got t' get back to the farm, but I'll help where ah' can. Good luck, Princesses. Please, get Twi home." AppleJack bows, before heading out, escorted by guards.

Rarity gasps softly, earning a raised eyebrow from Celestia. Had she found something she missed?

"Well, Goodness, this might explain a bit." Rarity mutters.

"Any chance you could elaborate?" Celestia asks, sitting gently beside Rarity.

"...Princess, I may just be a Mare with a penchant for Romance Novels, but... I believe Twi finds herself smitten with the creature. You called him 'Barnon'?" She asks, looking up at the Princess.

"...Yes. I believe it may be some kind of creature that plays on emotions, like Changelings. I don't know. I never had a chance to see it myself." Celestia sighs.

"Oh, dear." Rarity tsks, re-reading the Journal. She... didn't know if that was the case. This was not a twisted fascination of love being used. This was... a young Mares Journal and honest thoughts, twisted into worried self-doubt. Easily, an early stage of one of her usual reads.

"...I can only hope the poor thing is alright." Rarity mumbles, getting a saddened nod from Celestia.

"Barnon!" Twilight giggles, a flailing, wet mass of purple hooves. "Stop!"

"Quit wriggling, will you? I'm not having you trail water all over the ship." Barnon tsks, towel in hand, trying to corner the purple pony.

"I said I have a spell for it!" She protests, trying to dart past him -- and in a move that would make his Paleolithic-Era Ancestors proud, fling the towel; it spirals open, catching the little escapist like a net. Vision blurred and front-hooves tangled, she makes a loud squeak noise as she's caught, the towel promptly rubbed in against her face, her mane, and soon her body as Barnon works her over. Twilight deflates, defeated.

Thankfully, it was a different towel than the one he'd been wearing. Twilight wasn't sure how she'd react to having that one in her face, considering his... scent.

She sighs, defeated. At least his fingers felt divine, working into her musculature as he dries her off. That shower... she felt a lot, lot better.

"Hey." She huffs, twisting to look at Barnon, as he dries off her flank.

"Huh?" He glances up, innocently. He'd been the same in the shower, too; treating her gently. Letting her lead.

She shifts around, planting a small kiss on his cheek, throwing him a look. "The towel is nice and all, but... remember the part where you're abnormally warm?"

"Well, I feel usually-warm, minus the fact that I just had two, hot steaming showers. I'm probably running pretty hot, actually." He muses, nodding.

Twilight uses the moment to climb onto his bed, digging the blankets up with her horn, curling up underneath them, only her head sticking out.
"Could you... warm me up? I want to, uh... run an experiment on the matter."

"An experiment." Barnon echoes, folding up the wet towel, tossing it into the laundry chute.

"Mmhm." She nods, innocently, watching him with half-lidded eyes. "I've found physical contact with you is... host to numerous upsides, and my fur keeps moisture more than your skin. And you don't have a hairdryer. So, I request your assistance in an idea to dry me off. Faster. Through contact."

"When do you think you'll run out of ways to say you want a cuddle?" Barnon teases.

"Probably at some point before you remember to put on pants." She returns, a cheeky smile sliding on her face.

Barnon glances down -- the recent situation had been very... distracting, and he still wasn't wearing much. "Right, let me, uh--"

"Ponies don't wear clothes, you know. Outside of special events, or... particular nights." Twilight adds, watching him from the bed, head laid on a pillow.

He pauses his search for underwear, or one of his usual jumpsuits.

"It might even... get in the way of sharing heat." She continues. Still watching him.

Barnon purses his lips. He slowly approaches the bed, search forgotten.

The sheets lift, Twilight using a hoof to hold them up, making room.

He climbs inside his own bed, now joined by... someone, or somepony, very special to him. Tucked under the blankets, he pulls her soft, mostly-dry form against himself, her back pressed to his stomach, his nose in her mane. She smelt like lavender. She makes a pleased, soft whinny; a noise that surprises them both, both stifling a giggle.

"...I'll need to record the... influence, you have on me. I don't normally make noises like... that." Twilight says, trying to save face. The Holopad slowly pulls towards her, floating silently in a purple glow, but Barnon catches it, setting it aside.

"Just say you like me, purple. I think that'll cover it." Barnon mumbles into her mane.

"...That should work." She concurs, nuzzling against him.

Chapter 11 - Budding Roommates

Barnon & Twilight
1 Week, 6 Days from Handelgrohba Station

The Ship-Post is cruising through space at Blipspeed, stars veering past as the Ship moves at incredible speeds. Inside the Ship, however, it felt like it was completely still. The wonders of fake gravity.

It would take one week, and six days to reach Handelgrohba Station. They'd already been flying for one; a fact Twilight didn't realize until she got a chance to stare out the window. Which, she was now doing.

Twilight wasn't sure how long she was going to stay for. She had a general idea of how to re-open the portal and return... but she kept putting it off.

"Still torn on when to go back?" Barnon asks, tearing the little pony from her thoughts.

Barnon was kicked back in the Pilots chair, feet up on the console, wearing one of his usual jumpsuits, halfway through one of his Macrowavable Meals. Yet another meal with vague, supplemented mixtures of any percentage of meat and vegetable, spiced to taste good no matter what.

Beside him, front hooves up on one of the lightly blinking machines, Twilight stares out into space; her thoughts kept at bay as whole worlds, stars, whole star systems, rolled by as nothing more than the streaking blink of light. She was probably the first Pony to ever see such a thing. Second, only to Luna, to see the stars from somewhere other than Equestria.

"How could you tell?" Twilight asks, head tilting, glancing out of the corner of her eye -- still hard for her to tear her eyes away from it.

"You get this little face-scrunch when you think about stuff for too long." Barnon demonstrates, over-scrunching his own face and puckering his lips, finger waggling in his own face.

"I do not! Do I? Is it bad?" She weakly protests, realizing she just scrunched her face in retort. Barnon chuckles, and Twilight sighs, shaking her head. "...I'm feeling better about the whole thing, but I'm still unsure."

"Well..." Barnon dramatically taps his chin. "What about, you stick around until after we hit the Station? It's actually one of the decently-sized ones, not just one of the refueling kinds, so you might get to see some neat stuff." Barnon offers, helping himself to another bite. "Then you can head home. Little space-age vacation, and back."

The weight of his offer finally loops Twilight. She had the chance, to visit a 'Space Station', a giant version of his ship, floating in space, filled with other sentient space creatures like him? That... she couldn't refuse that. There was no way she could. She'd be crazy not to. The scientific community demanded it!
"OKAY!" She shouts suddenly, brimming with excitement; startling Barnon, who nearly drops his food.

"Oh, sorry!" Twilight sheepishly grins. "I think that's a great idea. If, you uh... are good with hosting me. Until then. If that's --" Twilight starts to ramble, but finds her flank poked by Barnon's foot.

"Already said you can stay as long as you want. Mi casa su casa; I think that's the wordplay." Barnon scratches his chin. A fair amount of Old-Earths saying's had survived, but not all of them survived unscathed.

"Su casa?" Twilight asks, tilting her head.

"My people have like, a bazillion different sayings that melted together over the years. Its supposed to be; What's mine is yours."

Twilight makes a little 'Ohh' face. She turns, hopping down off the console she'd been leaning on, turning to face him. She smiles, nuzzling his leg and looking up at him through her bangs.
"Thank you, Barnon."

Thing was too damn cute for it's own good. It'd put him in the grave, the strain on his heart. Those big-ass eyes didn't help, either. They were... really bright. Sparkling. Ha. Sparkle. Like Twil--okay.
"...You have really pretty eyes." Barnon finds himself muttering. A little louder than he thought.

A small blush takes Twilight's cheeks, glancing away.

Barnon is finding out just how much Twilight is reliant on her magic. She does almost everything using it; and in in-between moments, he can see she's easily capable of doing some of these things herself.

The moment her magic had a day to refresh, or recharge, or however Pony horn magic worked; there was always something glowing a soft purple on the ship.

Actually, the moment she got comfortable, and was assured that she wasn't overstepping -- Barnon noticed she got settled very, very quickly.

Poking in and around his ship, reading the manuals for every piece and part that kept it running, every installation manual for every piece of furniture or appliance he had; she was ferociously just devouring any and all information, digging through drawers and unscrewing flaps to stare at machinery. He got her to promise not to actually start pressing buttons or taking things apart; but as if enacting the monkey paw, the Spamazon cart on the Holopad swelled with items she wanted.

She figured out how the Computer's Voice works, after Barnon set her as a Guest-Account. She's constantly calling out to it, asking questions or requesting for things to be added to the ever growing list. Every single time the AI asked if she wanted a new service that was tied to her questions, she'd look at Barnon expectantly. Currently, only 1 of 33 expectant-looks got the go-ahead.

And despite coming from, what Barnon assumed was a less technologically advanced society... she was clicking onto this stuff really, really quickly. Like, fiendishly quickly.

Obsessive disorder type shit. He even had to remind her to eat, which he had to pull her from underneath one of his machines in the back.

She might be a lot, and a little boundary-pushy (okay a lot actually), but she didn't overstep. Yet. But he'd give her that chance, because she kept checking with him. Trust, for trust.

Worst comes to worst, after all, they both only die horrifically in a violent explosion while succumbing to the vast, airless and frigid expanse of space.

Could Ponies suffocate? He didn't really wanna know.

Barnon & Twilight
1 Week, 5 Days from Handelgrohba Station

Barnon dangles from the bed, upper body entirely half off of it, head upside-down and near the floor. He's watching Twilight investigate the fridge. And every item in the fridge, get organized into piles based on what she can and cannot eat. Mostly meat v non meat.

The sleeping arrangement... they figured it out pretty quickly. 'Scientifically speaking', Twilight found it most optimal that rather than order another bed or other comfortable setup, Barnon's sizable bed would serve them both. At the same time.

When asked if it was because he was warm to cuddle with, no further questions were to be answered regarding the topic, Twilight declared. While blushing. And looking away.

... Barnon frowns, watching Twilight. This angle feels dirty. He's basically just staring up at her ass while she rummages around. Or is it flank? And like, sure, he did that sometimes. But this felt a little too blatant.

He was here first, though; she went over to the fridge while he was mid-dangle. So that clears him of fault.

But that didn't make it better. She wasn't even wearing clothes. He still wondered about that. Not yet, anyway; he may have bought here something. But that one was a secret. Shh.

Internal debate over morality and stubbornness rattles in Barnons brain. Its a bloody, ruthless battle. Outside of his brain, he nearly goes cross-eyed from disassociating so hard.

Barnon pushes himself off the floor, fully back onto the bed. Not upsetting the purple pony won out.

"...They operate on remarkably similar systems, but Magic seems to supplement or outright replace several options..." Twilight mumbles, none the wiser.

Barnon & Twilight
1 Week, 4 Days from Handelgrohba Station

Twilight stares at the Spamazon package sat on the coffee table, trotting excitedly in place only a foot from it; forced to wait, while Barnon dug around for something to open it with.

"You said this is the first one for me?" She asks excitedly -- when she gets excited, she speaks very quickly. Words have been launching out of her mouth the last few days, eyes almost bulging as they stare at the package.

The first bulk of her variety of orders had come in, all stacked in one Spamazon package. She was ready and raring to rip into it.

"Yep, your first cart order. Some funky stuff in here; and something from me." Barnon notes, finally popping up with a knife. Only to find she's already peeling it apart with her magic. Huh. He flicks the knife closed, tossing it back... somewhere. He'd find it again whenever he needed it.

"Isn't this all from you?" Twilight corrects; her magic rummages out the first couple of items. A... surprising amount of it was cheap toy-like knick knacks that had caught her attention. Actually, most of this looks like things she'd get off an infomercial. Classic; a true victim to capitalism.

Then she gets to the bottom of the box, and her eyes widen.

Her magic slowly pulls it out; revealing a bulky, bright-orange space suit fit for a quadruped. She slowly looks it over, turning her gaze to Barnon.
"This is... like your suit?"

He nods, grinning.
"Surprise. It's a... space suit for a dog, actually, but after checking your measurements, it was a really close fit. Even has a helmet; it's a big of a... big, bulky one on account of your horn, but y'know."

"...Big dog." Twilight muses; Winona was the biggest dog she knew, and this suit was her size?

But then she gets excited.
"Wait--is this so I can go into space?!"

"I've gotta spend the day calibrating it, making sure it's sealed and and that it fits; but yeah. Tomorrow, we can stop for an hour or two, and we could do a space walk. How's that sound?" Barnon offers, proudly. Good gift, Barnon. Smart lad.

His answer is nearly being tackled over by an extremely excited, borderline vibrating Purple Pony. She's wrapped around his midsection, holding him tight.
"Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyes!" She repeats, before trotting and hopping around the ship. Someone was very, very excited at the prospect of being the first pony in space.
"Wait -- when did you get my measurements?"

Oop.

Barnon & Twilight
1 Week, 3 Days from Handelgrohba Station

Barnon had spent a good chunk of the day fiddling with the suit. He got it from one of those reseller sites; someone's seeing-eye dog needed a suit, apparently, but they'd resettled somewhere where they didn't need it anymore. Got a good deal on it.

Twilight fidgets while she stands still, Barnon tugging at the suit, making sure it covers everything. Her hooves shouldn't tear through it, they aren't very sharp; the helmet had been made big, for a big dog skull, so thankfully her horn fit. So far, it all fit well. Just calibrations for the technical side, attaching an air canister, and she'd be ready to roll.

"Remember. It's super important that you can't take it off. The pressurization between inside and outside is vital too. I'll be with you, and I'll make sure nothing happens to you; but just be cautious, yeah?"

"Of course! I'm not an amateur, Barnon. Though, for the sake of... scientific curiosity, say I were to teleport out of my suit. What duress might I undergo?" She fields, curiously.

"...You can Teleport?"

"Yes! I've been avoiding it since we are moving at 'Blipspeed' as you call it, since I don't want to cause an issue with our travel by incorrectly calculating the momentum or another variable, but yes, I am capable of short-to-medium-range teleportation." Twilight grins proudly.

"Oh, that's pretty cool. Uh... you'd freeze to death and some of your organs would explode, I think. Unless your magic affects that, which could make it worse, like you detonate, or better, where you survive but aimlessly drift among the stars until you suffocate." Barnon helpfully offers with a shrug.

"...Noted. No teleporting." Twilight softly affirms, audibly swallowing hard. That was a mood killer.

Barnon clasps the air tank to her back, making sure it's snug.
"Hold this." He says, offering her the helmet. Her magic grasps it, and Barnon clasps a hose into its base.

"...Alright, Purple. You're all set." He nods, rising to his feet.

"Can we?! Now?!" Twilight beams, horrors of death promptly forgotten.

"Computer? Pause journey."

The ship Bings softly.
"Fuckin' done, ya slag." The voice affirms. Twilight and Barnon snort. They'd been using a new voice every day.

"Let me just get suited up, and we'll go." Barnon says, stepping around her for the airlock.

Twilight watches Barnon open the large double doors, stepping inside to dress. The moment he's out if sight, she trots in place, trying to silently contain the excitement as she paces around in a circle.

It's only a few moments, Barnon well used to throwing on his gear in a few short moments, before she's waved inside.

Twilight steadies her breathing as she joins Barnon inside the airlock. The door shuts behind her, Twilight glancing back at it.

"Ready? We've got Comms, so we'll be able to talk to each-other. Helmets on." He explains, sliding and clasping his own on. Barnon had explained the technical side of it yesterday, and she absorbed it like a sponge.

Using her magic, Twilight slides hers over her own head. Barnon had showed her a few times; on, twist, seal, clasp. The suit hisses, the purple Pony now protected in a suit that smelt oddly similar to Winona. But she could ignore that.

They stand side by side, each staring forward at the exit door. She'd only seen it through the cameras and the front window. Twilight was going to get to see space, herself. The airlock room pulses softly with that familiar orange glow, as the muffled sounds of hissing air pressure drain away.

Barnon leans down, clipping one of the tethers to her belt.

"You won't have my propulsion pack, but that's a bit complex for your first space walk. Just... feel things out, and have fun. If you get worried, talk to me, okay? I'll be right there with you." He says warmly, voice partially distorted as she hears it through her helmet. He pats her side before standing straight again.

Twilight nods.
"Okay. I'm ready."

The Airlock light flicks green. Barnon presses a button on the wall; and silently, the doors to outside open.

Infinity stares back at her. Endless black, speckled by distant lights and stars. Here, there's a single, hoof-sized planet floating... whoever knows how actually far away. She's... there's no words for this.

Twilight watches as Barnon coasts into her view, past the doors. He's turned to face her, watching. His arms wide, waiting.

She takes a tentative step forward; and realizes that there's no gravity whatsoever. It's an entirely new feeling, which gets her legs kicking rampantly; and she starts to float off the floor of the airlock, and out the doors. She's already tilting, about to go upside-down.
"B-Barnon, I'm--"

"There's no up in space, Twilight. Motion is continued. There's no friction." He explains; she can't see him, but she can tell he's smiling by his tone. That... calms her, a little. This is supposed to be fun.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The oddest thing is how... quiet it is. The only thing she can hear is Barnon breathing through the comms, and her own suits rustling. Her own breathing. Everything outside is... completely dead silent.

She continues to rotate, until she feels Barnon grasp her sides. She's slowed, and slowly turned to face the ship.

Barnon then slowly drifts past her, pulling a relaxed pose. He's upside down.

"...There really is no up?" Twilight asks, looking around.

"Up is relative to a planets gravity. You, me, the ship; the only thing up becomes relative to what's up, in space, is to you." Barnon explains. Now he's flying past her view, mock-swimming. She stifles a giggle, trying to wiggle her own hooves around. Without a surface to push off of, she just sits there.

When he comes around again, this time he softly bumps her side; and there she goes, drifting and tilting. She watches as the Ship-Post slowly rotates in her view, until it's upside down to herself. And she keeps going, slowly. He was right; there's no loss to her momentum whatsoever.

"How is this possible?" She mutters.

"No air. Nothing for your movements to drag against. There is, quite literally, nothing between you, me, or the Ship-Post." Barnon explains. "...Well, some might argue there's something like light or whatever, but I'm not up to date on my Bill Kry the Science Bhoktie. You can probably look it up when we're back inside. Whenever you want to go back in, of course."

"...Wow." Twilight hums.

She feels his hands again, and he sends her softly in another direction.

"Barnon... what's it like on a moon?" She asks softly. How could Princess Luna not come to mind? She was probably the first Pony to ever leave their own world.

"...Kind of like this, but with a small amount of gravity, depending on the moons size." Barnin explains; he's posed like the thinking man, floating past her view again.

"...Oh." Twilight hums softly.

"Thinking about that Princess you told me about?" He asks softly.

"...Yeah, Princess Luna. She spent a thousand years on the moon, alone." Twilight whispers.

"...Damn."

"Yeah."

Barnon slowly drifts back into her view; now he's looking like he's laid on his stomach. He slowly floats towards Twilight head-on.

"Barnon?" Twilight asks.

"What's up, Purple?" He responds. Same volume, no matter how far away he was.

"...Thank you. This is..."

"Anytime, Purple. Thanks, too."

"For what?" Twilight asks. Their helmets are close enough to touch, but Twilight can see his belt slowly stabilize him, matching her movement, her slow rotation. She can barely see his face through the haze of his visor; but she's pretty sure he's smiling.

"Dunno. Eating my burrito? Been a pretty fun last few weeks thanks to you." Barnon states.

Twilight can feel a small blush creep across her face.

Barnon feels her helmet tap against his -- he swears he can see a kissy face through her visor; this is reinforced by the startled noise she just made.

"Did you just--?" Barnon snorts.

"N-no! Did I what? I didn't --" Twilight stutters.

"Save it for the Ship, purple." Barnon teases; he suddenly drifts backwards, belt propelling him into a spiral.

Twilight stews in her suit, unable to do anything more than shamefully float in place, embarrassed.

Barnon & Twilight
1 Week, 2 Days from Handelgrohba Station

Twilight has gotten very, very comfortable with using her magic again, back to full magical strength.

On Barnon, especially.

He finds himself yanked around, floated, nudged -- that familiar purple glow is becoming a constant sight, and feel. She'll pick him up and move him over so she can walk through, yank his jumpsuit to stop him; he'd be a little more upset about it if she wasn't so damn efficient with it. There wasn't a rudeness or a sassiness to it; she was just fucking good at magic.

Right now, she's verbally recording research notes on the Holopad. Talking about her findings and experiences during the trip so far, her first space walk -- Barnon -- the whole shebang.

Of course, she's doing this on his bed, so he's got his feet kicked up in the pilot seat, listening to music on some headphones. A new song just got released from his favorite new-neo-funk-house-indie-phonk band, Blabbo-2. Another great track.

His eyes are closed, head tilted back as he bobs around, air-drumming (horribly and entirely off-time) to the beat.

Something pokes his leg. His eyes open, looking to the purple pony stood beside him. She says something; her lips move, but the music is too loud. Barbon shrugs, pointing to the headphones, grinning.

She rolls her eyes, turning away, mumbling something. Barnon lifts the headphones from his ears --

" -- such a foal, sometimes; I can't even begin to understand why I'm so fond of you." Twilight mutters to herself, aloud.

Barnons lips purse. The music plays loudly from his now-lifted headphones across the quiet ship.

Twilights head slowly turns, eyes wide, locking stares with Barnon.

"...Fond of you too, Spunkle." He grins.

Barnon slowly lowers the headphones back onto his ears, watching the blush take Twilights face. He leans back, closing his eyes, resuming his air-drumming.

Ignoring the frustrated hoof-pokes and taps against his leg.

Just keep on air drumming. Damn, they were serving it at this part of the song.

Oop, the poking stopped; but he feels her still leaning on his leg.

Barnon slowly creeps open a single eye, hands frozen midair.

Twilight is staring at him, pouting, stood on her back-hooves against his leg.

He slowly lifts the headphones again.

"...Fond how?" Twilight asks firmly.

...Yeah, cheeky answer.

"I mean... we showered together. We sleep in the same bed. Mashed faces nasty style. By Human accounts, we're dating." Barnon shrugs.

"...Oh." Twilights face softens, cheeks warming. "Do you have to say it like that?"

"Maybe. What do you Ponies call your relationship partners?" Barnon asks, still holding the headphones in the air. The music trails off as the next track begins to load in.

"...Marefriend. Coltfriend." She answers simply.

"So, according to the purely checklist manner of what constitutes a relationship; you would be my Marefriend?" Barnon asks, headset lowering to sit on his chest.

Twilight purses her lips, glancing away.

"And I would be your Coltfriend? My, my, Sparkle. Relations with an Alien. How forward thinking." Barnon teases. "You ever have one of those before?"

He watches her flinch.

"...I haven't had one either, honestly. An any-friend. We call them Girl and Boyfriends, funny enough." Barnon continues; a little nervous himself, now.

She slowly turns to look back at him.

"...and how do your people... handle, relationships?" Twilight asks.

"For life, typically." Barnon informs.

Twilight nods. "If... I was able to open the portal again. Would you come with me?" She asks softly.

Barnon's response is to lean forward, and gently kiss her nose.
"...Think this is more than an exotic, alien fascination?" He whispers into her fur.

She stares at him, nose still pressed to his lips.
"...I've never crossed worlds through a portal for a crush, before. I might have to say a hard, yes-leaning maybe." She retorts.

"Yours sounds cooler, I'm just lending you my shower. Let's work the answer out together, after we visit the station. Maybe if we're lucky, your world is a little less interdimensional than we thought. Might even be able to fly back." Barnon softly says, hopeful. Twilight seems to brim with excitement at the idea; probably wanting to show off the technology.

"I think that's a suitable arrangement." Twilight affirms, pulling her nose back to plant a kiss on his, in turn.

"...How do you always smell like lavender?" Barnon asks quietly.

"Magic."

"Ah. That tracks."

Barnon & Twilight
1 Week, 1 Day from Handelgrohba Station

Barnon is having trouble sleeping. Not the most unusual thing. No, this is something new.

It's not even that he's sharing his bed with a snoring Pony, whose nestled against his stomach while he sleeps on his side. No, he got used to that. It was pleasant.

Their affection towards each-other had been... ramping up, to say the least.

They've been kissing more. They shower together, Barnon washing her with his hands, and Twilight washing him with her magic. They sit beside each other, or make physical contact, all the time.

Even when Twilight wants to record things on the Holopad, some part of her desires to be touching Barnon. A hoof, a flank, anything.

He wasn't complaining, of course. It was... fun. Adorable. He was enjoying every second of it.

The problem was... him. Him Jr. The Barnon Below.

All this... affection. Close contact. Time together.

He was a little strained.

Would she mind if he...?

Barnon goes to slowly creep out of the bed, to head to the bathroom. To take care of... things.

Twilight grumbles it protest; he finds her swirling purple magic twist around him, and firmly pull him back to bed.

She even tucks him back in, snoring all the while, her magic fizzling away. He squints, lifting her bangs. She's dead asleep.

Fuck.

Barnon stews for another hour, tenting the sheets, staring at the ceiling.

"...Computer. What's the time?" He whispers.

The usual Computer ping, switched to Night Mode, makes a very soft Pong noise.
"1:34 AM, Galactic Time."

He groans. Twilight doesn't wake up until six.

Barnon purses his lips. A devious thought, brewed primarily by Barnon Jr.

Twilight is curled against his stomach, her head softly pressed to his chest. Hooves pulled in close, she's in a little ball.

Normally, he holds her in a hug when they sleep together. This time... his hand slowly traces her side, along her back.

She makes a small noise, but doesn't stir beyond her ears flicking.

Nervously, his hand roams lower. It traces over the back of her rear, close to the base of the tail, and down the side, finger dragging through the fur of her cutie mark.

Another small noise, but no reaction.

Barnon swallows, before taking her flank in his hand, and squeezing.

"Mm..." She hums, nuzzling against him.

Another squeeze, a little harder. Another content hum.

One of her hooves lifts, tracing over his chest. She's a very... active, sleeper, Barnon is finding out.

He starts to knead her rear, squeezing softly, digging into her butt-flesh with his fingers.

Twilight begins to stretch out of her sleep-ball, straddling his side, draping her hooves overtop of him, tucking in against him.

Oh.

Twilight's grinding against his leg, biting her lip; her hoof is pressed against his chest, her head nuzzling against his neck.

Barnon grips her ass tighter, giving her rear a hard couple of squeezes.

"Mmf." She gasps softly, pausing for a second.

Barnon slips his fingers against the lower section of her rear, giving it a few testing jiggles. He didn't know where she fell on the scale of Pony rears, considering she's the only Pony he's seen so far.

Damn, if it didn't have some wobble to it though.

She's clamped pretty tightly against his thigh with her back legs, pressed against him, gyrating. Her breathing is getting heavier, as his roaming hand gets... a little further.

Emboldened, Barnon makes a grave mistake, and lightly smacks her ass.

"G-oh!" Twilight gasps, eyes opening. She freezes.

Barnon is dead still, lips pursed, white as a sheet.

"...Sorry." He whispers softly, praying to whatever benevolent God may save him.

"...Not so rough." He hears whispered directly into his ear.

Slowly, he turns to look.

Twilight staring at him through half-lidded eyes, barely visible under her bangs. Her breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling, the fur brushing his bare skin.

"...Did I overstep?" He asks softly.

"...If I admit I've poked you over a few times when you sleep, can we be even?" She returns.

"...Yeah, that works for me." Barnon subtly nods. A quiet, long, tension-filled silence falls between the two.

"...What now?" Barnon whispers.

"...I have until after the Station to convince you... that you should come back with me, if I can re-open the portal, right?" She asks softly, those vibrant eyes dead-still, locked on his own. Barnon has a feeling she's not looking for an actual answer.

Instead, he gives her plush rear another squeeze. A surprisingly throaty purr escapes Twilight, pressing against him harder; a needy smile forms on her face. She starts to grind against him again, but this time, he sees her horn glow softly, lighting the dark room.

He feels something rustle in his underwear, as his hard member is suddenly grasped by -- did she just grab his dick with her magic?

The face she's making at him tells him yes. It's... a much odder feeling, compared to when she drags the whole him around. He had no idea she could refine her magic to such a dexterous degree.

Well, he can't be the only one left startled. In turn, Barnons hand slips up from her rear, traces along her side; then down her stomach, underneath the overlaid leg, until his fingers meet --

"Mmph!" Twilight suddenly bites her lip, stifling a gasp and clenching up against him.

"You wanna see what opposable thumbs can do?" Barnon whispers.

The magical grip around his member tightens, tracing up to the tip. It's Barnons turn to stifle a surprised noise.

"Thumbs versus Magic?" Twilight softly challenges, giving him a coy look.

"You're on. But be warned; I play dirty." Barnon grins, before nibbling her ear.

Twilight's face goes wide, making a soft squeak.

Barnon & Twilight
1 Week from Handelgrohba Station

Two tired, sweaty, soggy nerds currently sit in the shower, letting the warm water pelt their faces. Barnon is leant forward on the stool, as usual, and Twilight sits between his legs, on her haunches.

Outside the bathroom, it looks like someone set off a bomb in the middle of the bed. Sheets are everywhere, except on the mattress, and the pillows have followed a similar mantra; not to mention the large sweat stain.

Both are exhausted. A very... mutual situation played out last night, limited to Twilight's hooves and magic, versus Barnon's fingers and tongue.

Both let out a long, content sigh as the small bathroom fills with steam. Words... and complex thought are difficult approaches at the moment, but the pair seem to have found another step to their relationship.

The ambient sprinkling of the shower is broken by the Computer softly crackling over the ships comms, detecting the room they're both in.
"Sector 52 Entered. Traffic: Average. Distance to Destination: One Galactic Week." It pings, falling silent again.

"...One more week." Barnon echoes, getting a mouthful of water for his trouble. He feels Twilight shift, leaning against his leg. His hand idly combs through her wet mane.

"I'm excited to see the station." Twilight states simply.

"You've been looking it up on the Holopad, right?"

"Not Handelgrohba, but other ships. And other stations. You have a... Labor Class Privateer Vessel?"

"Mmhm. Standard size for solo. Any bigger, that's a team, and usually bankrolled by a company or benefactor. Go even bigger... that's company dollar, for sure. Only MegaCorporations can afford bigger vessels." Barnon explains. It takes him a while, between content sighs, and remembering to continue to comb through Twilight's mane, her ears flicking him when his attention lapses.

"...I like your ship." Twilight hums simply.

"I do too. Took me a long time to get her paid off, but she's mine." He nods to himself.

Twilight hears Barnon groan softly as he leans, pressing his lips against the wet fur on her head.

"...She can be yours, too, of course. If you ever want to stay."

Twilight hums softly, leaning into the affection.
"I... can't stay, Barnon. You know that."

"Not what I mean. I mean... figure a way to open a proper portal. One that isn't my Macrowave, and... come by, whenever you want."

"...Princess Celestia won't allow that, Barnon. Unless I could prove that our Portals do not cause any ill rifts, alterations or fragments to reality... but I can't here. I'd need my labratory. I've been looking. There is no trace, whatsoever, of Ponies in your... Universe. Which means, since we aren't on the same dimension... both of ours are at risk of my continued stay here." She explains, sighing softly.

Barnon mirrors that sigh, into her fur.
"...Which means I probably can't follow you, huh."

He can hear her sniffle softly, through the sprinkling shower.

"...Would you wait for me, Barnon? If I... did my best, to find a way to stabilize the portals. Or stabilize our presence. Through magic, or technology, or... anything. Whatever it might take, however long it might take. Would... you wait? I don't know how long, but..." She mumbles.

"Of course." Barnon interrupts, wrapping his arms around the purple pony. Not even a split second of hesitation, he's already sliding off the stool, sitting behind her and pulling her close. "As long as you need me to, I'll wait as long as it takes; until the sun burns out, waiting as I watch as the universe forges a new one. For you, I'd find a way to wait forever." Barnon whispers.

It's a good thing they were both in the shower. Showers are very helpful at hiding tear-ridden emotions.

Author's Note

Chapter 12 - Entering Sector 52

Barnon & Twilight
6 Days from Handelgrohba Station

Twilight slowly spins past Barnon, who idly floats a few meters from the ship.

They're suited up again and on their second space-walk, the Ship-Post slowly coasting past a tri-planet system. Shifting, swirling distant crimson galaxies pepper the distance, light-years away. This time, after some extensive reading, Twilight is the one wearing the propulsion belt.

Good thing it was adjustable.

She's picking up on the controls pretty quickly; it primarily handles all the calculations by itself, just need directing.

She spins past him, giggling as she tries to orbit the ship. The belt makes various, quick boosts of adjustment; rather than warn her, Barnon decides to let her discover her tether is only so long.

One loop.

Two loop.

There's no sound, but he hears her grunt over their comms as her line reaches its end, wrapped around the ship, and she thumps against the side of it.

Barnon can't help but laugh, getting an irked and confused Twilight questioning him.
"W-what happened? I didn't break something, did I? Why are you laughing?"

"You forgot about your tether." Barnon oh-so helpfully points out. Twilight glances back, gaze trailing up the sturdy cord that was now wrapped around the ship several times.

"...Oh."

"That's your lifeline, that stops you from flying away into nothingness. Always have to keep it in the back of your mind." Barnon explains. He wasn't so worried in her case, as he could just crawl his line back and fly over to catch her, but in solo scenarios, there was nobody to help.

But it was also funny seeing her wrap herself around the ship.
"Alright, now you gotta go back. Unwrap yourself." He wiggles a finger, reclined in nothingness.

"Okay." Twilight nods. She pushes off the ship, belt carefully adjusting her to reverse her process. It takes her longer, since she's trying to be so careful now.

Eventually, she's unwrapped, tether floating idly in space after her. She coasts towards him, belt pack carefully adjusting her to stop very, very close to him.

"Gonna try again?" Barnon teases, alluding to the last time they had their helmets this close together.

He can barely see the cheeky grin on her face through her visor, as her horn begins to glow.

"Twilight, what are you --" Barnon starts, glancing up.

A shimmering, purple glow begins to encapsulate them, blinking into existence above their heads. It slowly swirls around them, encapsulating them in a twinkling bubble. Their tethers are held still, the bubble formed around them and holding them firm.

Barnon waits with squinted eyes for something to happen.

Nothing happens.

"I've... studied the pressurization effects of the airlock." He hears Twilight say softly, voice crackly through the comms.

The bubble slowly shifts in hue, becoming more and more translucent, until it's nearly invisible.

Barnon watches as Twilight slowly unclasps her helmet with her magic, before he can reach out to stop her.

She shakes her mane once it's free, smiling at him. She's fine.

"...Did you just surround us in a warm pressurized bubble? With air?" Barnon asks quietly. She doesn't hear him; he's still wearing his helmet, and she's not wearing hers.

He feels his helmet get tugged on, hissing as it unclasps. A moment of panic instills Barnon; he's in space. Bubble or not, the helmet stays on.

Yet, off it goes, floating alongside hers.

He's in space. Without a helmet. The ship is past them, meters away, the void of nothingness held back by a thin, sparkling bubble that's barely visible.

"...How did you?" Barnon goes to ask -- only find a certain Purple Pony pushes herself forward with magic, pressing her lips to his. She wraps her hooves around him, leaning into him.

His arms slowly trace up her back, hugging her in turn; it's awkward with the air tank on her back, but...

Twilight pulls away, grinning proudly.
"...Didn't butt visors this time."

"Did you do all this just so you could--"

"Maybe."

"...I'm impressed, Purple. And also a little scared. How did you pull this off?"

"You know the answer, Barnon."

"Right; Magic."

"No--well, yes, but also hours of careful calculations and research. Matching the air composition and pressure, ensuring we wouldn't freeze or that the bubble wouldn't snap our tethers. Simple stuff."

"Right. Good job, Twi."

She grins, giggling. "Just good job?"

A hand softly brushes her cheek, cupping her chin.

"Amazing, as usual. Incredible. The one and only." Barnon whispers, Twilight giggling.

They lost track of how long they spent out there.

Barnon & Twilight
5 Days from Handelgrohba Station

Another package for the nerdy purple pony has arrived, the Spamazon Drone announcing its arrival as it slots onto the side of the ship.

Twilight has fully fallen to the dopamine circle of neo-capitalism, excitedly trotting in place in front of the drone chute. She doesn't even wait for Barnon, plucking the package from the slot with her magic.

Within moments, she's already tearing into it.

The bathroom hisses open as Barnon emerges, tugging at his jumpsuit, scratching his face. He pauses, looking at the package-pouncer.

"...Oh, delivery came in. Nice." He muses, walking over to slump across the cushy bed-couch-but-never-couch, watching her.

A variety pack of writing utensils -- apparently they only had quills and ink there, so pens and pencils were a big step up. They'd all probably get disassembled later to see how they worked.

A random combo-package of frozen meals to try. They really should try cooking at some point, but the cheap price made them just so, so tempting. Any with meat were obviously for Barnon, but Twilight seems to have adapted to the whole meat thing. Doesn't eat it herself, but doesn't go green when it's mentioned.

Ah -- that's what Barnon was watching for, smile on his face.

Twilight's pulled out a jumpsuit; sized for her, and styled close to his own.

Again, sourced from some distant space-dog program with surplus. Humanity really wanted dogs in space, so that left him some good wiggle room, since Twilight was about the size of some of the largest breeds.

"...Is this for me?" She grins, turning to look at him excitedly.

"Wanted you to have something to wear at the station. Not all species wear clothes or whatever, but I..." He trails off. How does he say, I thought it'd look cute if we matched, without sounding gay?

She bunches it up, holding it close to her nose, giving it a sniff.
"...Dog again?"

"Lucky you that an entire, domesticated species exists that fits your dimensions." Barnon nods. About as fluffy in some cases, too.

She's already checking the tag to see how to wash it. At least she liked it; he could tell by her smile, and the way she keeps holding it up to herself.

"Oh, should be something else in there." Barnon points to the box. Her ear flicks curiously, peering inside, before her magic pulls out a small... it looks like an earpiece, with a clip.

She looks at him quizzically, holding it up.

"Translator; goes in your ear. Not every species speaks Galactic Standard like we do... which, I'm still not going to even try to broach why we speak the same language."

Oop. Shes got that look on her face again, the one where she's about to go for a long winded explanation. Normally, Barnon doesn't mind those at all; except she just turned the translator on, gripping it too tightly with her magic.

His own translator, built into his surgically-installed translator (work requirement), pings. Uh oh.

With nothing to translate, being spoken in the same language, Barnon is delightfully treated to the same explanation, twice, one slightly delayed behind the other.

"Actually, it's a very interesting conundrum!"

"Twi."

"I've been reviewing the mutual histories of our worlds, and I've found some remarkable coincidences that could truly lean to one, or the other, almost appearing like an... inspiration to the other!"

"Twi."

"We share numerous technologies, several species of my world are mentioned in yours as legend -- I have several theories currently floating, each gaining more or less credibility with every new thing I learn. And the --"

"TWI." Barnon cuts in.

"Yes?"

He holds a finger up, waiting for the second, machine-translated Twilight to stop echoing the same words in his ear.

"You wanna turn off the translator when you don't need to translate?" He asks weakly, jamming a pinky in his ear.

"Oh. Oh! Was it trying to translate but had nothi--" She starts to summarize.

"Off first, please." He reminds, wincing again.

"Oop--" She mutters, fiddling with it with her magic, until it blinks off. "Sorry."

"...We're good. Continue?"

"That seems like a... significant oversight, to let them just echo like that." Twilight muses.

"Works for dialects of the same language, too. Accents." Barnon explains.

"Are you able to turn yours off?" She asks, tilting her head, unsure of where his is.

"Nope. Labor-Class Citizens are required to have a usable and ready Translator. Mixed species, mixed jobs." He explains, pointing to his right ear.

"And that never backfires?"

"Yours is a knockoff brand; mine and other Labor-Class are set to specific frequencies and codes, so we don't do that to each-other." He clarifies.

"Oh. Well -- so with this, I can speak to aliens, like you?"

"If they're a recognized species, but can't speak Galactic Standard, they'll have a language file that translates words, phrases, meanings and body language to you, depending on the organism." Barnon nods.

She ogles it, trying to blindly clip it to her own ear. Barnon leans over, helping nestle it against her ear, clipping it to the edge.

"Not quite the ear shape it was made for, but close enough." Barnon says, leaning back.

She nuzzles his leg in passing, bolting down the ship to get her suit washed.

Barnon squints, thinking back to her echoed explanation. Why were their worlds so awkwardly similar?

Barnon & Twilight
4 Days from Handelgrohba Station

"Oh, Ghorutal! You can't!" The four-armed, squiggly probably-a-woman Zhapdonian dramatically yells.

"But I must. Cry not for me; know that every sunrise, I rise with it, thinking only of you." The Ughdosan... something, whispers, holding its... face. Probably.

And then their numerous orifices meet very sloppily, on the cusp of a heroic sacrifice.

Twilight's lips are pursed, watching with... well, it was something alright. This seemed more Rarity's fare than hers. Not that she couldn't get into a good romance work...

She glances beside herself, to Barnon. The two were comfortably laid on the bed, watching some Intergalactic Dramas or whatever was popular at the time. Barnon seems far more invested than she is, sniffling and dabbing his wet eyes. She swears he even mutters something about how sweet the moment is. Yeah, he'd get along great with Rarity, Twilight chuckles to herself.

The sad pang of thought about the looming end of their time together is quickly ignored.

Honestly, she was just glad Barnon had the same amount of limbs, and roughly the same count of holes.

They have a few snacks on the coffee table, but those have long since been demolished. Twilight's stomach growls softly. She could use some actual food.

She turns, hopping off the back of the bed towards the kitchen.
"Want anything?" She asks aloud, pulling the fridge door with her magic. Frozen burritos, times five... and not much else that she was keen on touching. They weren't bad, but she was getting a little... tired of the same thing.

Barnon watches Twilight ruminate over the exact same five frozen meals, propping his head up.
"Want to order something?" He asks.

She tilts her head. "Like, from Spamazon?"

"No, from a restaurant. Now that we're in Sector 52, we're in range of a few places Delivery Distances." Barnon corrects.

Twilights eyes go wide at the prospect, slamming the fridge shut, practically launching herself back onto the bed.

"Computer; pause show, list all restaurants in Delivery Distance on TV?" Barnon calls out.

"Ay, fuck off yoo. Get it yerself." The computer helpfully pings, before the TV display flickers from the drama, to a listing of nearby places they could get delivery from.

"...Phasobar Pasta? Not on your life." Barnon gripes, face scrunching.

"What's wrong with Phasobar?" Twilight asks, curiously glancing between him and the TV.

"Not for our kind of digestive tracks. It's like... you know how coins taste? Now, absorb that, as pasta, through your skin."

Twilight looks objectively horrified, face contorted in a sickened shrivel.

"My thoughts exactly. Next is... Mexican. Not bad, but we've already been eating frozen that for weeks. Defeats the point."

"Huh. Burritos are from this Mexican in this place?" Twilight tilts her head.

"Well, it's a heavily watered down cultural food, spread across the stars. People will argue how true to form it is for hours. And sure, they have more than burritos, but..."

"Something new, if we're eating in." Twilight agrees.

"Bingo. Let's see... oh, hey. There's a food ship passing us soon." Barnon hums, curious.

"A what?"

"Oh, like a food truck, but in space."

"...A what?"

"A food... wagon?"

"Explain."

The rest of the day is spent looking up the long history of Food Trucks, their transition to Food Ships, and what cars even are.

They spent so long on it, they missed the window to order.

They went with Mexican.

Barnon & Twilight
3 Days from Handelgrohba Station

The soft low-light of Night Mode is the only thing that keeps the ship from being in pitch blackness.

Twilight lays nestled against Barnon's side, turned to him, while he lays on his back.

She's been having trouble falling asleep.

Barnon idly strokes her back, the other hand holding the hoof laid on his chest. He can tell by her quiet ruminations. Little pony, big thoughts.

Twilight lets out a long, built up sigh.

Very big thoughts.

"...Are you still awake, Barnon?" She asks softly. A little pinch of her flank tells her, he in fact, is.

"Do you ever miss your home, Barnon?"

"This is my home. If you mean, like... before, then no, not really." He shrugs.

She shifts to look at his face.
"Could you... tell me about it?"

"Little homesick?" He whispers back.

After a short pause, she nods.

"Sure, Purple. Nothing special really..." Barnon starts, taking in a slow breath as he recalls and regales Twilight.

Born on one of the thousand Colonies that Earth had long since shot to the stars, everything was idealic, even dreamy. His mother, father, three sisters and four brothers worked the Hydro-Farms, toiling the hours away alongside their mechanical laborers.

He called Hyderoxi-3 his home until he was a young man; there's only so many nights where you can look up from the crops, and stare at the stars, where the shipping lanes and frigates rocketed from the atmosphere towards, and wonder... when is it my turn?

Of course, it all went terribly when the Reapers attacked --

Twilight softly smacks his chest.

Barnon tsks. "Tried to slip that one by you, see if you fell asleep."

"Nope. Listening with rapt attention. Continue?" She prods; littlest smirk visible in the soft low-light.

Barnon chuckles, continuing.

Eventually, his chance came. A mining company ship that had stopped by to re-fuel, had put out a hiring notice among the locals; they were headed out to a job mining asteroids, and were looking for a few extra, cheap hands. A few of the younger guys, Barnon included, were interested; hard work, but a chance to see space. The stars.

And with a tearful goodbye, Barnon went. He had a few chances to go home, kept up now and then with his family through email, but... he just started doing his own thing. Got good at what he did, worked hard. Put forward a smart investment on a refurbished ship, later to be known as the Ship-Post, and within a few years, was doing things by himself.

"...And now I find myself sharing my little ship with a little pony, snuggled up on my bed." Barnon rounds it off, pressing her nose with a finger.

"How often do you talk to your family?" She asks.

Barnon shrugs. "Holidays, mostly. They were good, but... I'm better out here, on my own. Comfortable."

"What about friends? You don't seem to talk to many people, except the Computer, and those people you insult on the Forums." She muses quietly.

"Yeah. Just... work guys I knew. Little hard keeping relations in this line of work, and with a ship this size." Barnon relents; not before he gets a chuckle out of Twilight knowing what he gets up to.

"I think you'd like my friends. I hope you can meet them, one day." She sighs.

"Not making as much progress as you thought?"

"I'm trying to research your dimension, while trying to practice and ascertain as much of the spell as I can that brought me here. It's... difficult. I don't know if I'm missing something, or if your world... worlds, are just so different. But there's no magic here. Anywhere that I've seen. And without that to work off of..." Twilight starts to mutter in sad thought.

Barnon softly kisses the top of her head, just below the horn. He's gotta tilt his head to do it, but she always melted a little when he did.
"Told you, I'd wait as long as you need me to. Why don't you tell me about your home, then? About your friends? You've mentioned Spike a few times."

Twilight nods, shifting into a more comfortable lean, starting with how she first moved to Ponyville...

Barnon & Twilight
2 Days from Handelgrohba Station

Barnon sits comfortably on his captains chair, one leg crossed over the other.

Twilight is comfortably laid on the bed at the moment, doing her usual. She's started to commandeer both the Holopad, and the TV, using both for her research and note-taking. She'd figured out how to use a pen to tap on the keyboards, but felt like her voice was just faster.

Barnon enjoyed her voice, so he didn't mind. It let him chime in with interruptions; he could get away with one or two before she got snippy about it.

Barnon didn't mind basically being ousted from his entertainment sources. He was the one that showed her how the screens could cross over between devices.

No, his current problem... was trying to play off that he's been staring at Twilight for the last hour.

Whatever pose she got into that she found comfortable, half-tucked in blankets and propped up on pillows... it was fucking working for her. The back arch? Arching. The ass? Assing. Good lord. Lording.

She of course, was none the wiser, fully engrossed in her work. It was primarily split between discovering everything she could about his dimension, and experimenting with her magics and its effects in a place without magic.

The most notable thing, was how quickly she stopped casually using her magic. She realized that, without being 'home' to recharge her natural magic state, she was basically emptying a gas tank she had no way to refuel. While her body naturally produced magic, here, it was not at nearly enough of a rate.

She was relieved that she had left him that charged gem; it could serve as a power source if the demands of re-opening the portal were too much.

She was also trying to find if any other systems or planets were host to similar phenomenon like her magic, but nothing so far. It wasn't from a lack of trying, though. Barnon was always happy to bring her something to eat or a coffee to keep her going. It kept her mind off the very thing she was researching about.

Funny, that.

But back to the important part. Twilight's ass. She shifts her weight on the pillow she's got her hips on, Cutie Mark barely peeking out of the blankets. At the right angles, this little purple nerd had some serious curves.

Barnon has to bite his fist at one point, spinning around to watch the passing stars at they continue to zip through the endless void at BlipSpeed.

He turns around again pretty quickly. He doesn't even need to pretend to be doing anything else; not that she'd be upset or anything. She knows that he stares. But she's so entirely, completely distracted.

...

He should try grabbing her ass. But she's distracted. Well, that's the whole point. What if... she kept working. And he grabbed her ass. They were that far along, right? It was one thing to grab her flank when they were... in the mood, or being intimate. But just a candid ass grab?

...Fuck it.

Barnon slips from the chair, making it seem like he was casually meandering to the kitchen for a snack.

She's none the wiser, facing away.

Leaning against the countertop, Barnon plans his approach. He waits until she's in the middle of recording another of her findings, scrawling through a page, clearing her throat before she speaks.

"--orary log, Thirty-One. Today's research has proven fruitful. I continue to learn of Atoms, and the building-blocks that structure this reality. If my studies are to be believed, which after numerous quality-checks from a variety of sources, they are, Equestria too may be built of these 'Atoms', at the some molecular--"

Barnon slowly creeps forward, pushing off the counter. He steps slowly, and carefully, walking on the balls of his feet.

"--that magic itself, may be a molecular property. An independent study into the direct definition of magic would not be anything new, but--"

He's getting close to the edge of the bed, ever so carefully leaning, hands pressing slowly into it. She's none the wiser, poking at the Holopad with a hoof.

"--useful in my current search for a possible anchor between dimensions. I will include this in my... uh... -- hm." She pauses, tapping the pause button with a hoof.

She turns, glancing towards the Captains chair. "Barnon, how do I 'bookmark' again...? Barnon?"

Perfect.

"EEP!" Twilight squeaks loudly as both of Barnon's hands grab her flank, flinching upright.

"Yes?" Barnon answers, grinning -- Twilight's tail flicking his face several times in retaliation.

"Don't DO that!" Twilight huffs loudly, glaring over her shoulder at him.

Barnon grimaces, letting her go. "Oop. Sorry -- I thought that--"

"No, not that. You can... grab my flank, you dingwad. Just don't sneak up on me!" She pouts, glaring at him.

"...Oh, okay." Barnon nods, pursing his lips.

The two stare at each-other. Twilight glances between his hands, and her flank.

"...Well?" She tsks expectantly, kneading the bed with her hooves.

"Oh. Sorry." Barnon grabs her rear again.

Twilight hums.

"...Anyway, how do I 'bookmark' things I want to visit again?" She continues on, 'ignoring' his hands.

Squeeze.

Barnon & Twilight
1 Day from Handelgrohba Station

Another quiet 'night' in Galactic Standard time.

Another night spent side-by-side under the sheets of Barnon's bed.

Another night where neither are quite asleep yet.

Barnon was ready to conk out for the night; but a fidgeting purple pony nestled against his side, under his arm, was having trouble doing the same.

In an effort to keep it a surprise, he forbade her from searching up anything about Handelgrohba. It had the unfortunate side-effect of overexciting the Pony, and now she couldn't sleep.

Both stare up at the ceiling of the Ship-Post. Trying to stem her rampant, can't-sleep-jitters, she's been asking questions. A lot of them. Barnon is doing his best to humor her, and said questions, but is the actually tired one of the pair.

"...How many Aliens do you think we'll see?" Twilight asks quietly, hooves tapping together.

"At least three." Anon mumbles back through half-closed, tired eyes.

"What kind of ships do you think will be there? More like the Ship-Post?"

"Probably. A class or two higher at most. It's a labor-focused Station with some amenities for passing crews, so nothing crazy you've probably already looked up about other stations." Anon mumbles again, though now behind a playful side-eye.

Twilight purses her lips, guilty as charged. She may have snooped and circumvented his rule by looking up other, similar stations; also Residential, Commercial, Vacation -- lots of Station types. And ship types. And alien types.

"...I haven't been this nervous since I started tutoring under the Princess." Twilight admits, shifting to try and look at Barnon's face. He looks half asleep, but gives her a soft, reassuring smile.

"I think compared to that, this is nothing."

"Barnon. Visiting an Alien Space-Station? That's a first for Pony-Kind, on numerous fronts. The scientific documents that could be written from being able to say that sentence ALONE is crazy!" She protests.

"Perspective, then; because to me, having a Princess, who can move the Sun, whose sister moves the Moon, and is one of three Alicorns in all of existence, kind of tops visiting some space-trucker refuel gas-space-station." Barnon chuffs. "Makes you pretty damn special in my eyes, if you're her top student. Well, for more reasons than that, but still."

"Please, Barnon. It's not that impressive." She mutters, huffing to hide her growing blush; before she finds a hand tenderly holding her chin.

"Hard disagree, purple. Most special Pony I know."

"I'm the only Pony you know!"

"And if I knew another, you'd still be the most special."

She purses her lips, pouting.
"...Promise?"

"Promise."

Hoof on his chest, she slowly shifts to lean against him, pressing her lips to his.

Author's Note

Chapter 13 - Bribes & Borutine

Princess Celestia
Ponyville Library, 2 Weeks following Twilight's Disappearance

Ponyville was still in a tense state, one of it's Elements missing. There was a smaller guard presence, as the weeks carried on, now that the alarmed state had settled to a cautious investigation. The Library was still cordoned off and staffed, but seeing Princess Celestia through the windows, or discussing with the posted Royal Guards, was becoming the norm for the locals.

The other Elements would check in often, offering help or checking progress. Without their Element of Friendship, Equestria felt vulnerable, weak to any attack that might loom.

Princess Luna was maintaining Canterlot in Princess Celestia's absence; the Sun Princess having remained inside the library since this whole mess started, rarely leaving, requiring food and such to be brought to her. She was disheveled, forgoing self-care in her persistence to track down Twilight. There were scant few others who could; she was following two-week old magical traces of a now-closed portal, through a microwave, to who-knows-where. It was... trying work, and Celestia's appearance showed it. Her mane was frazzled, she had bags under her eyes, and her mood had soured significantly.

The objects recovered from this entire incident now sat quietly in the forbidden archives, secured under magical lock and key. Twilight's journal had been scoured, time and time again, hoping any new reading might give more insight. Other than her poorly crossed out sections trying to hide her 'stash' under the couch, nothing.

Her horn stops glowing, Celestia's head lowering as she sighs. She is tired. Tired of this... tired of losing students. Twilight's pained face, eyes red as her horn flashed with her magic -- the last moments Celestia saw Twilight still playing in her mind often. She was simply... doing as Starswirl taught her. That interdimensional travel, time travel... any, of these kinds of magics, were dangerous. That even trying to say goodbye was a risk.

Yet Twilight's sheer upset still rang in her head, mirroring Celestia's own upset at being barred from the mirror world, all those years ago.

The portal was closed now; but who knew how things were being affected by Twilight's presence over there. As dangerous as re-opening the portal could be, Celestia had to try. She wasn't losing another student.

With a weary breath, Celestia focuses, her horn glowing brilliant gold once-more, intermingling into the air, seeping through the library, the living room, the kitchen; the entire tree radiating her magic.

Her eyes flash open, her gasp nearly rending her from her spell.

She found Twilight. It's like her magic is a string that goes taut, snapping into place. Her surprise over-rides any long-term common sense. No time to tell anyone. No time to even so much as write a letter.

Without wasting a single moment, every passing second a risk to her student, Celestia's magic swirls and bundles around her in a twirling sphere -- and pops. Princess Celestia is gone, a curious guard peeking their head in through the front door, wondering what the noise was.

Barnon & Twilight
Handelgrohba Station

Twilight can barely contain her excitement, plodding in place as Barnon sits on the Captains chair. Its more of an obligation in case anything goes awry, the Computer handling the actual docking calculations and process; the Ship-Post approaches the large, structure in the distance, the ships screens showing its quiet conversation with the station, getting permission to dock. Ship licenses and docking codes scrawl by, the ship quietly adjusting it's approach.

The Station is sizable, and shaped like a big, blunted oval with several rotating half-rings. Metal and glowing lights, ships of a variety of sizes; it was one thing to look it up on the Holopad. It was another to see the sheer scale for herself. Twilight's eyes are huge, staring through the front window.

"Should be docking in the next... fifteen or so minutes." Barnon informs, leaning to read the console.

"...It's that simple?" Twilight asks, still staring. She looks good in her jumpsuit. It's very... form fitting. Twilight catches him staring, rolling her eyes.

"Uh, yeah. It's just protocol to keep someone in the chair during the whole thing, in case anything kicks up, but otherwise, all automatic." He diverts his gaze, motioning to the console. Twilight trots over, watching the exchange of code as the station gets ever closer, fascinated. Two walls of text, one Green, one Red, run alongside each-other on the screen, taking turns rapidly exchanging lines.

Soon, it's impossible to see the entirety of the station, they're so close. Details become clearer, the large ridges between massive bolted, welded and riveted plates keeping it all together. Blinking lights become easier to see, their scale surprising to even be visible in the eternal blackness that surrounds this floating hunk of metal.

Another small shift drifts away from the station, Twilight's eyes glued to it as they pass.

And after a few, long moments...

Cha-Gunk. A long hissing noise -- and the Ship-Post shakes, securing itself.

"And we have --" Barnon starts, but the Computer pings on loudly.

"Docking completed. Welcome to -- Handelgrohba Station. The food court is currently hosting... Three Deals, at associated Vendors. Medical, Educational, and Enjoyment features are readily available. Thank you for visiting Handelgrohba Sation; kept secure by Bubble Buddy, the lead manufacturer of Childrens Toys, and Ship-To-Ship Missiles." It beeps helpfully, the ship falling silent again.

The airlock light blinks green, signaling the threshold between ship and station is safe.

Barnon motions for the doors; Twilight is practically bouncing in place in excitement. It's hard not to let that infectious mood of hers affect him, catching himself smiling widely.

"Oh, right. I do need to stop and handle the finalization of this contract, but once I'm done with that, then we can check out the Station." Anon explains as they step into the airlock. He's wearing more clothes than he has in the last few weeks. Namely, shoes, socks, and a jacket over his jumpsuit. Spacer fashion at its finest.

She stares at him, lip wobbling, pouting.

"...If you can wait, I'll buy you whatever you want. Within reason." Barnon groans, folding quickly.

The lip-tremble is instantly gone, replaced by a wide, cheeky smile. Manipulative little pony. She knew exactly what she could do to him.

She leans over, nuzzling and resting against his leg.

... Alright, he was over it.

Somehow, Twilight's eyes were wider when the Airlock opened this time, compared to opening to the vast emptiness of space. This wasn't even one of the Luxury stations; more akin to a strip mall, gas station, small town amenities and a truck stop all jammed into one. But to a Pony whose never seen most of those before, Barnon gave her plenty of time to bask.

Industrial was definitely the word to use. Solid, heavy metals, wires and steel, bolts and rivets. Lights would blink, vents would hiss; large signs everywhere, most in Galactic Standard, warning to watch your head, hours of operations, the works.

The Airlock opens to the docking section, a multitude of sizable, simplistic steel hallways, each dwarfing the pair as they cross through them. Eventually, they funnel into a culmination that sections off to different docks for ships, like the one they just came through.

All the various halls culminate in a Checkpoint, eerily similar to an industrialized version of an Airport. Three different lanes are available, with a side waiting area, each organized by priority. A large sign hangs over each, monikering something about Citizen Class. Premium Elite Citizen, Elite Citizen, and Citizen; each progressively looking less tourist-friendly, each Guard stationed smiling less and less.

It's pretty quiet on this side of the Checkpoint, only another Alien in the Elite Citizen line getting paperwork checked. They look nearly human, but have weird slug-eye stalks and a shell on their back. The Checkpoint worker tending to them looks like... a bipedal Winona, panting included.

Twilight is both utterly fascinated, and quickly concerned. Paperwork. She doesn't have any.

Twilight's growing worries are confirmed as Barnon shuffles into the line with the meanest looking guard. Nearly half of this thing is teeth, covered in chitin, hunch-backed and sporting large mandibles. Like someone went crazy with the idea behind a Changeling, but went crazy with it. Big, squishy bug eyes stare at them as they approach.

"Barnon! I don't have papers! Do I need papers?!" Twilight hiss-whispers as she tries to stick close to him, ears pinned back.

Barnon didn't even have any papers. Why did that alien? What was the difference in all the lines?

"Huh? Oh, I'm a Labor-Class Citizen, we don't need those." He replies simply, shrugging.

"He doesn't look very... friendly." Twilight warns, trailing wearily.

"Just follow my lead, and roll with it, alright?" Barnon smiles.

That didn't really help her worries.

The creature chitters as they reach its desk. It's wearing a vest, with a little company logo on the front, matching the stations name.

Twilight can feel her translator make a small vibration, as its chitters, clicks and buzzes are converted.

"Docking. Bay? Ship?" It chitters.

"Bay Four, the Ship-Post." Barnon replies.

"Reason. For. Visit?" It demands, leaning forward.

"Delivery of Ore for the foundry, and resupply for the ship." Barnon informs.

"Cargo..." It buzzes quietly, checking a screen. "...Borutine. Passengers... One."

It leans over the desk, squinting at Twilight.

She tries to smile, but feels like she'd rather go running back to the ship; she compromises by partially hiding behind Barnon's leg.

"Anything. To. Declare?" It turns to look at Barnon.

"Hm? Oh, not at all. Just my... long-term spaceborn solitude support pet." Barnon simply shrugs, leaning against the desk.

The bugs eyes narrow.
"No. Pets. On. Station. Keep. In. Ship."

"Hey, right. Not without paying that uh... pet fee, right?" Barnon nods, glancing back and forth as he slips a small credit chit across the desk.

The bug quickly snatches it, looking under the desk for a few moments. It's wings buzz after a short pause.

"...It. Behaves?"

Barnon nods, throwing Twilight a grin. She frowns slightly, but forces a smile at the bug-man thing.

"Go." It buzzes quietly, shooing the two of them through. The gate blinks, blocker sliding out of the way.

Twilight finds herself quickly scooted through by Barnon's foot, as it shuts firmly behind them.

"...Barnon, did you just bribe that guard?" Twilight whispers once they've gotten a few feet from the checkpoint.

"Not at all. Just paying... fees, to individuals in places of fee-collecting positions." Barnon grins. "Happens all the time. If it wasn't for you, he'd probably have grilled me about the Borutine and some kind of new tariff on ores."

"Is that really how things work around here?" She asks, a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"On Labor stations like these, yeah. Being willing to grease a few palms, appendages or tentacles makes these trips a lot smoother." He continues to explain.

"...So I'm your pet now, huh? Tell me how you really feel." She huffs playfully, trying to ease herself out of her nerves.

"Well, easier than trying to explain you're an uncategorized, sapient species. Unless you'd like to wait the... two Galactic Work-Months and pay the 50,000 space-buck fee, before going in front of the committee to have your 'people' registered and tested for sapience." Barnon offers, throwing her a cheeky look.

Twilight is about to retort, but squints at him. Did he spend his time researching ways for her to stay? Okay, actually kind of sweet.

"...Just don't go buying me a collar or anything. I'm not into that, and the dog-outfits were enough." Twilight finally retorts.

"Duly noted."

The gate slowly opens up into the main hub of the Station; with a massive, supported roof, its like an industrialized multi-level space mall, with a variety of districts, drones flying overhead, and aliens passing by, selling goods, running shops, or milling around. Limbs vary in count, and they're just as colorful as the Ponies in Ponyville; though there's not a cutiemark to be seen. Even just at the entrance, there's already numerous things that draw the attention.

There's some kind of noodle shop being ran by a creature with near a dozen arms, serving some kind of armored bear-creature whose young hang off its back. Numerous more creatures, all varying in limb count -- even a few more humans -- can be seen huddled and sat around it, slurping loudly. Twilight had already seen other humans while scouring the net, but seeing them in person, as with other creatures, for comparison to Barnon? Her eyes were bulging out of her head already.

Further down, there looks to be some kind of Ship vendor, selling a variety of services and parts for passing vessels; he almost looks human, but frills sprout from his head, as do numerous eyes.

A group of chuckling, hefty creatures meander past, heading towards some kind of slummy bar, dressed in varying levels of overalls and working gear, not too dissimilar to Barnon's gear.

Barnon notices her staring, pausing to let her catch up.
"Those guys are Atmospheric Miners. They land in a drop pod on a planet, mine, load up and head back to their Carry-Ship. Different style of work, since they don't rely on lasers." Barnon explains, once she's back to trotting alongside him. "They have to deal with local flora and fauna, weather conditions... whole different beast from my work. And half the time, they still have to wear suits."

Twilight stares after them, looking into the bar. It seemed rowdy in there.

"Just need to confirm the delivery with the Contractor; tag says he's at the stations Foundry." Barnin adds, pausing again. He had a feeling he'd need to keep waiting for her, but he didn't mind. It was fun, seeing her rampant curiosity, her brain clearly brimming with thoughts and questions.

Whatever the Foundry was, it wasn't what Twilight was expecting. It looked like a massive workshop, with loud machines, massive conveyors and cranes, and numerous machines working. Barnon explained it as the Stations in-house means of producing what it needed; they had to get submitted through another checkpoint just to get to talk to his Contractor. Thankfully, no bribe this time.

It's like... a large, fat cat, sat on its back legs, in a business suit. Like Opal. But nearly eight feet tall, and almost as wide. It's talking to several of the workers, all donning hard hats and safety vests. The workers look like four-foot tall upright ants, of various species of ant. One of them has a comically large, flat head.

Barnon asks Twilight to sit back for a moment, before he approaches the large cat-thing. She watches curiously, as Barnon greets him with a... big, fluffy hug. Okay, maybe not so bad.

The two get into some conversation, the cat grinning widely. Very large, very sharp teeth, and predatory eyes that flicker around the room -- especially her. Twilight feels a shiver run down her spine. That might be why Barnon asked her to stay back.

The conversation doesn't seem to last terribly long; it's hard for Twilight to pick up anything past the sound of the machinery, and the hardhat they leant her temporarily. The two shake hands and paws, and Barnon heads back over towards her, nodding for him to follow.

Once they're back out if the Foundry, machinery no longer ringing in her ears, Twilight finds a chance to speak up
"So... who was that? Do you know him? Is that... it, now he has the Borutine? Do we need to bring it to him?" She starts peppering, curiosity overflowing.

"That was Mister Ograrrus Fudgepaw, an Offiander. They're almost 1:1 like the Cats from my world, but large and bipedal; their planet is apparently a lot bigger than ours, so they all have this... respiratory machine to help with their air intake." Barnon starts explaining; not quite what she asked, but he'd get there, and he knew any tidbit of information he was willing to offer, Twilight would gobble it up.

She nods along furiously, requiring some slight aiming with her foot so she doesn't bump into one of six legs of a passing Ubiqi. "S-sorry!" She shouts after it.

It jiggles at her, body made of some kind of jello. Her translator beeps softly, responding in a far less kind way, filled with a colorful variety of disgruntled slurs.

Twilight blinks several times, eyes wide, before quickly cantering to catch up to Barnon.

"Anyway, the Station will unload it from my storage Bay, and place it in Mr Fudgepaws. Once that's done and it's all accounted for, I get paid directly to my bank account." Barnon rounds up, putting hands in his pockets as he turns to Twilight, right as she comes to a stop in front of him.

"That seems awfully... trusting. Do you know him?" Twilight fields carefully.

"Nope, but there's little to worry. Most of it is automated, and heavy laws against skimping on work like this keep most people lined up straight. He'd get struck by some serious fines if he didn't pay, like I would if I failed to deliver without proper reasoning. Big company get mad when no get their precious ores." Barnon says in a mocking voice, chuckling. Since they arrived, he's been in a better mood. Probably because payday was around the corner.

"Proper reasoning? Like... if the Ore Deposit was small, or already mined?" Twilight guesses.

"Yeah, that kind of stuff." Barnon nods. "If it's an ore collection on an asteroid, it might have drifted between the reported times and when someone actually got out there, too far to be found..." Twilight makes a little 'Ooh' noise, nodding as Barnon continues to explain.

But a new curiosity tickles her little purple thinktank.
"So... why did I have to sit back? Could I have met the big cat guy, Ograrrus?"

"Oh fuck no." Barnon laughs loudly, confusing Twilight. When he's done chuckling, he holds up a hand to explain. "Offianders can only work with other Carnivores, and are dicey at best with Omnivores. They get hungry around Herbivores, and even us Humans barely squeeze in to get tolerated. If the deal was out in the wild and not on this station, he might've tried eating us."

Twilight's eyes are wide, mouth agape. He looked like a big, cuddly bipedal version of Rarity's pet, mind for the sharp teeth and creepy eyes. Now she knew why.

"He asked me like, three times if he could buy you, because you looked so tasty." Bardon explains, amused at the horrified look on Twilight's face.

"H-he what?!" She exclaims.

"Said no, obviously; explained you weren't for sale. But, since you aren't a recognized species, right now you're only protected by property laws, being listed as my Long-Term Spacetime Emotional Support Pet. So, uh... don't wander to far. And do not get stuck alone with that guy." Barnon grins sheepishly.

Twilight stares at him for several, long moments.

She... has been entirely relying on him to not be screwed over, considering the insane technological and cultural schism between their worlds. She's already this deep on trusting him... and he's been entirely upfront.

She did also have full unbridled access to his ship and information sources. Her world wasn't squeaky clean either... and she can't fault him for simply knowing how to navigate a harsher world that he was born into.

She sighs, bumping her flank against his leg.
"I am... safe, right Barnon?"

"Of course. Nothing will happen to you, I promise. We just have some extra rules to play around." Barnon reassures, smiling down at the little pony.

"Just no collars. Or leashes. Or saddles." Twilight chuffs, trying to lighten the mood.

"You guys know what Saddles are? Wait -- who rides them?" Barnon asks, face twisting in confusion.

Twilight looks at him, confused.
"Nobody rides a Saddle, Barnon." She snrrks, shaking her head.

...He'd break that one to her later.

As hooves and boots softly clank on the metal floors of the station, headed for more commercial and consumerist-focused sections to enjoy what Handelgrohba had to offer for the travel-sick and space-weary, chatting and joking about the oddities they passed.

Unaware of the quiet, yellow slitted eyes trailing them from behind, shifting through crowd and shop alike in the shadows.

Nor the sudden appearance of a large, confused white horse, directly into the Ship-Posts kitchen with a burst of golden light.