Author's Note
This is a very old story, maybe from 2018 (and using canon from that time). I found it while going through my gdrive. I'm no longer truly part of the fandom, but I figured it may have some value to someone out there. Make of it what you will.
Oneshot
The vessel was silent.
Void spilled in through the broken airlocks. The lights had given out, and even if there were any air to carry the sound, the speakers had none to make. The broken cables would crackle as sparks jumped between them in blinding flashes of light, or the alarm sirens would go off about the empty fuel tanks and broken systems. Or perhaps the recordings would tell stories of far-off planets or of a space-dweller race. But no sound could be heard in the void.
Yet, some unknown force warded the core from entropy for centuries now. It was built to last a dozen decades, but now it had drifted for over a millennium.
If you touched it, it’d feel warm. Perhaps you’d feel a faint heartbeat, or a presence. Perhaps you’d see a faint silhouette in the corner of your eye that’d vanish when looked at, or have a strange feeling of being watched when entering the core’s chamber.
There was no fuel left to correct the course. There was no crew to guide the vessel and no one left to mount a rescue. Gravity wells of planets and stars had since skewed the trajectory from open, uncharted space into a planet, far, far off. Now the vessel sped, just shy of the speed of light, to its journey’s end.
“I’ve never seen anything like it, Princess Luna.” The telescope Twilight gazed into was far larger than her, like an enormous metal leviathan. Yet, she operated the numerous levers and turned the wheels at its sides with ease, making minuscule adjustments every few minutes. “It looks like somepony moulded a chunk of metal, maybe even painted it, before shooting it off into space. And the speed it’s going at is unbelievable!”
Luna sat on the floor of the observatory, staring through the enormous glass window into the vastness of space. Somehow they both gazed at the same point, Twilight thanks to her star charts and calculation, while Luna felt the errant celestial motions like you’d feel your own limbs moving. The errant chunk of metal speeding toward Equus had been on Luna’s mind for a while now, if for reasons different than what Twilight would expect.
“Is it dangerous?” Twilight tore her gaze away from the telescope to look at Luna. “It doesn’t look too big, but it’s going straight for Equus. I’m not sure about its mass, but I’ve made some calculations and, provided my presumptions about its mass are correct, its kinetic energy-”
“It’ll fall into the empty plateaus southward,” Luna interrupted. “It puts our world in peril, true, but we’ve ample time to prepare afore it reaches us. It can be stopped, if enough magic is put to the task. Tis’ not why we… why I called you here.”
Twilight cocked her head slightly. “Why then?”
Luna didn’t as much as flinch, but there was a tension about her that Twilight was oblivious to. She refused to gaze at her, staring into the same point in space instead. “There’s little I’m sure of yet, but this artifact approaches from a far end of the galaxy, and it’s no ordinary chunk of metal. But first, Twilight, do you believe there is life in space?”
Twilight scratched her chin. “It seems really likely, what with all the stars out there and the planets orbiting them, that some must’ve been friendly enough to house life.” Her pupils shrunk suddenly and her eyes opened wide. “Are you saying that-”
“That it’s the creation of such life? I suspect as much. Some races that dwell out there have taken to the stars.”
“Wait, wait, wait! You’re saying you know there is life in space and that it can travel between the stars?!” Twilight raised her voice, almost shouting, then she gasped and continued in a much more hushed tone. “Why didn’t you tell anypony so? Do you know how much science could’ve advanced thanks to that? Perhaps we could’ve made contact with it!”
“Science?” Luna glanced at Twilight with an ironic smirk. “Would you call blind belief in visions and instincts of an alicorn ‘science’?”
Twilight lowered her gaze and shook her head.
“And regarding any contact, I’d rather stave it off until we have progressed enough to defend ourselves. I only know there is life in space; I know none of its intentions.” She returned her eyes back to the cosmos. “I suspect this artifact to be one of the vessels of such a race. Like our vessels traverse the sea, it traverses the stars. It has ventured far, that much I can say, but why it is here, or what it’s purpose is, I cannot.”
“There’s so much we could learn from it!” Twilight’s eyes lit up. “We need to capture and study it.”
“I agree, we ought to. But we know not of the danger it poses. It may be a trap laid for us by a fearful or hateful race. I trust you’ll take the necessary caution.”
“Me?” Twilight’s tail twitched and she grinned widely.
“You, indeed. I trust you, not just as a scientist, but as a pony, that whatever you find inside does not corrupt you. I’ll be with you every step of the way, of course. Anything you ask for, I will provide. I hope you’ll be able to set your duties aside, at least for a couple months.”
Twilight took a deep breath. Then she took another and another one until her twitching tail subsided and her grin decreased into manageable proportions. “Of course, Princess. I’ll be sure to do my best!”
Even a naked eye could see the dot approaching in the sky. With each day the dot grew into a more defined shape. In the lenses of binoculars and telescopes it turned into a statue, a moulded metal resembling perhaps a unicorn horn, or a creature of the sea, but much less curved, much sharper.
It’d taken an ever-mounting effort of propaganda, public appearances and scholarly articles alike to keep both the public and the less inquisitive scientific elements from panic about seeing it. The more inquisitive ones were drafted to aid.
Litres of ink were lost to hundreds of crumpled pages; physical and arcane concepts that’d bend mortal minds were flung around in casual conversation like nothing; and energy capable of destroying nations was loaded into crystal machines in the sky. Pony, griffin, dragon and other races alike swarmed down below and in the sky, each fulfilling their own, irreplaceable role. Each the best, hoof(or claw)-picked expert, more than happy to be a cog in the finely-tuned machine.
Hovering far above it all and watching the tiny creatures on the ground, Luna chuckled.
“Is there anything funny about it, Princess?”
“Ironic, Twilight. We are mounting a worldwide effort to catch what star-faring races would consider space debris. We are like those ants that gather together to grab a piece of fruit that fell from equine hooves. Even now, I feel countless numbers of such vessels coursing galaxies far beyond this one, waging war, exchanging goods, and exploring the farthest reaches of creation. But they are all so far away, their civilisations would vanquish before even one reached us.”
Weeks before, all that could be done had been done. Days before, things that couldn’t be done, had been done. Hours before came time for miracles.
On a material level, the contraption they’d set up looked like a chandelier of crystals hanging in the sky, each glimmering arrays and rainbows of colours. Long pathways of light and crystal wound endless labyrinths on the ground. Towers of concrete and iron rose between them, filled with maintenance crews. Finally, rings of crystal-imbued metal hovered, suspended in the air with minute precision, to form the skeleton of a tower.
The machine was already set in motion, devouring leyline energy and inching the Artifact’s fall pattern from far, far off toward the desired location. Even now the damage both the drain and magical emissions did would render the surroundings dead for decades to come. The grass wilted and turned to ash when the ground dried and hardened. The machine’s surroundings had already turned into a dirt wasteland, and the deed was not yet done.
Even more power would be needed when the time came. For that purpose, hundreds of unicorns, and a handful of other races and species, each with magic in abundance, had gathered at the ends of the light pathways. The soul of each was linked with the light machine, and would drain as much magic as they were willing to give - and then some.
The Artifact fell like a comet, a bright ball of fire, descending onto the tower carved out of pure light. The event was so bright, it could be seen a continent away as two stars meeting each other on the horizon. Within the tower itself, intricate magics cushioned the fall, extinguished it, and prevented it from falling to pieces. Instead of crushing destruction, the Artifact settled gently on the ground.
Once it settled, the crystals and rings that’d formed the tower descended, instead forming and fuelling an opaque white dome. Every protective spell imaginable (and some not quite) had been woven into this dome, and all air from within had been removed, to both protect the Artifact from the planet, and the planet from it.
A thousand steps turned into a leap. It was done.
Celestia panted heavily. She wasn’t used to this level of magical exertion. She noticed fainted ponies, even a cracked horn or two. This was an insurmountable task, one for which Equestria was ill-prepared.
“Tia?” Luna spoke.
Celestia was in awe at her level voice. She had to take a few moments before she could gather enough air to respond. “Yes, Luna?”
“Can I ask you for a favour?”
“Of course, Luna.”
“Leave it to me, sis. Solely to me.”
Celestia paused. She looked at Luna, who in turn refused to meet her gaze. Her eyes were instead cast at the dome, and her features expressionless. “Why?”
“Stars are my domain. All dangers and corruption that comes from them is my responsibility. And this vessel... tears out old scars.”
Celestia sighed. “Very well, Luna. But remember that I’m your sister. We must talk about this when you’re ready. We mustn’t hold any secrets, regardless of how harrowing they are. Not anymore.”
“I need time, Tia. We’ll talk once this” - she nodded at the white dome - “is done.”
Countless tents, barracks, cheap, fast-drying concrete and wooden housing erected around the site took the form of a town within a week. It was soon supplied with its own water and commodities, its population carefully vetted, controlled and kept low. Twilight christened it Starsville, as approved by Luna, and the work on the mysterious vessel had begun.
They took very different, perhaps unexpected, roles, the two of them. Twilight was the supervisor: She was awake during the day, she ventured into the dome, and she kept check of the city’s administration. There was a darker side to her work and diligence, however. She rarely ever slept, the testament to which were the bags under her eyes. She often used magic to hide them, but there were days she forgot to.
Luna, well, there was a reason Luna had stayed. She noticed the little changes in Twilight’s behaviour, the dark bags under her eyes, and eventually she saw the plaque, too. Though they rarely talked about it, she vowed to stay, and perform her duties from Starsville. She watched over the town and the other princess like a mother, and it gave her a purpose.
Usually she and Twilight exchanged their findings at dusk and dawn: Twilight from the day, and Luna from the night. Now, however, Luna found herself running late, very late, to their meeting. She found Twilight’s door closed, but not locked, and Twilight herself sprawled on her spartan bed, amidst piles of notes she’d prepared. It’d be an adorable image had Twilight not been thrashing about and whimpering in her sleep, scattering and crumpling the notes.
There had been rumours about Twilight not handling the casualties and stress well. The bags under her eyes could be waved away, of course, but there were other signs - the crying coming from her barrack sometimes, the constant nightmares she had, the overprotectiveness she showed toward anyone venturing anywhere near the artifact.
Luna’s horn lit a dim, gentle light when she cast a spell to calm Twilight’s dreams. A temporary bandage for Twilight’s thoughts. When the latter calmed down, she placed a brief, motherly kiss on her forehead and left the barrack.
The night was quiet. There were no sounds of animals for miles. Sometimes you could hear conversations from barracks that still had their lights up. One place that always had light shine from its windows was the archive. See, nothing within the dome was moved until a particle-perfect copy of it had been made outside and stored in the archive. Only then were the airproof doors opened and the interior explored.
The ever-imposing presence of the dome captured her attention for the umpteenth time this night, but she refused to look at it. She instead made her turns around it, venturing the empty streets of Starsville and nodding to the few poor souls on the night watch. Eventually, willing or not, her steps carried her to the dome’s gateway. With a sigh she stepped before the gates.
The guards nodded at her with respect as she passed, but she felt at least half a dozen screening spells wash over her - one could never be too careful.
The crystals at the gateway flared when she passed by, leaving her inside a transparent bubble of air and protective spells. She dismissed them. No spellcraft had been detected inside the dome, and very few physical things could harm, let alone fell, an alicorn.
She recoiled. There was no pain or strong light to recoil from, but silence, frightening silence. The parched earth underneath, the milky void of the dome above. Only the sound of your own heartbeat reached your ears. It felt as if your soul tried to reach out and fill all that emptiness around you with itself, until you ceased to exist. It was where your own thoughts took sound and shape to fill the hollow. It was like the Moon.
The vessel amidst the dome was like a cylindrical monolith, with its sharp end pointing at the sky, and its base supported by fin-like wings. It was painted white with black edges, but paint had gone off here and there. In a few spots the metal was corrupted by dirty red rust. In some of those places, where the rust fell off, complex machinery could be seen. Numerous minute parts, half-eaten with rust, next to microscopic golden and silica etchings on polymer boards, surrounded with sparking copper wires.
Her resolve drained, every step felt like a thousand when she neared the Artifact. Sorrow and despair that put her millennium on the Moon to shame hung around the vessel like a heavy miasma. Luna immersed herself in it. Almost instantly, tears came to her eyes and fell, soundlessly, on the scorched ground. Memories tore to the surface. Bits and pieces of the thousand voiceless years. Here she mouthed a curse toward her sister, toward Equus. There Nightmare whispered in her ear as she wept. Yet another time she etched grain-perfect sculptures and pictures into moondust, only to scatter them on a worse night.
She touched the vessel. It was old, very old. No older than her, of course, but older than any mortal who might’ve used it. When she touched it, she felt the warmth of hundreds of souls that wove themselves inadvertently into its hull. One struck metal from a vein, another refined it, yet another shaped it into parts or melted the parts together. They lived in their creation and in the imprints they left. Their souls had long since passed through the Aether, and there was mourning for them imbued permanently in the Artifact.
She outstretched her wings and let the pegasus magic lift her up. There was no use flapping them in the absence of air. She drifted carefully through the open metal door, her spellcraft working to feel out her surroundings and stop her from hitting anything. The moment she drifted in she realised the vessel lay on its back. The floor must’ve been in front of her, as the many strange boxes peppered with buttons and tool-like shapes with handles were attached there, and would be easily accessible had there been a gravity.
Luna found herself drifting through the vessel like a spectre, unaffected by gravity or lack of air. Through the little inklings of thought and emotion hanging in the air, she deciphered the purpose of the many rooms she wandered through, if not the purpose of the devices within.
Here was a hallway leading to bedrooms, littered with personal belongings. Some had faded pictures or strange talismans amongst them, others had just clothes, tools, and a simple bed. Here was a small gym, there – a workshop. She paced through a place where plants of all kinds were stashed in small pots. Void has spilled in there and killed many of them, but perhaps there were still living seeds somewhere in the vessel. She had read of all those rooms in numerous reports of ponies who wandered through them.
There was one room in the lower deck of the vessel, however, of which the report contained just a few sentences. Ponies refused to go in there, and strange things happened near it. Silhouettes could be seen from the corner of your eye, incoherent whispers or faint hoofsteps could sometimes be heard behind the wall. The door elicited upon touch a strange warmth that didn’t show up on infrared readings.
Luna saw those silhouettes and heard those whispers, but they were no more frightening than Nightmare’s ever-present shadow on the Moon, and the quiet whispers that ensnared her in hatred. No, there was nothing frightening about it. She could sense the despair permeating the air around the room, and thickening deeper within. The door was closed, its steel shining, untouched by warmth, void or rust. Luna opened it.
Within, unlike the completely dark interior of the ship, the space was only barely dim, thanks to colourless lights underneath the floor tiles. In the middle of the room there stood a pillar. Numerous smaller light arrays showed symbols like the ones she’d seen in the vessel’s books. There were buttons underneath them, bearing those same symbols.
She used her magic to pull herself down and alight on the glass floor. Her hooves made brief, hollow sounds whenever she stepped. She paced around the pillar in the middle, examining it from every side. While the symbols on every side looked somewhat different, the layout of each was the same: light array on top, buttons on the bottom. She sat down in front of it, her mind fooled by the fake gravity she produced to keep herself from falling. Her thoughts were muddled by the mixture of emotions hanging in the air. She couldn’t make sense of the symbols and lights.
There was a quiet swoosh behind her. An open door, with a dimly lit hallway behind. She looked around for anything that might’ve opened it, but saw nothing. She ventured in.
Beyond the short hallway, the path expanded into a much bigger room, lit in the same way as the hallway and the room before. In the middle of it stood a black metal orb, connected to the ceiling and the floor with a cylindrical pillar. The room itself was far warmer than anything else in the ship, but not unpleasantly so. She felt as though she was standing right next to another pony. She touched the black orb.
She felt a very, very faint heartbeat within. Was the ship itself alive? Was there life the divination magic somehow couldn’t find?
She recast the spells other ponies had cast time and time again: nothing. There was nothing alive on the ship. There had once been, of course, but not now. Why did the black orb have a beating heart within, then? Was it demonic spellcraft? Was there a soul within?
Was there a soul within?
Luna’s horn lit up brightly. She reached out to spellcraft ancient even to her. She was, perhaps, the only one who remembered this spell even existed.
Cracks appeared in the structure of the vessel, more and more running through the glass floor and down the metal walls. But there was no milky dome beyond them, or the darkness of other rooms. When the walls crumbled bit-by-bit, there was nothing beyond them. The indescribable un-colour, seeing which would drive many ponies insane. Then the world fell apart to the nothing.
In front of her, in the un-sea, hovered a dim, half-transparent orb of light - a soul. Waves of deep blue drifted from it in constant pulses. Luna drifted to it, reached out. For a moment they hung together as their souls adjusted, looking for the simplest common images and thoughts. They were alien and strange to one another. Unimaginable.
Four answers.
“What art thou?”
“Child of Adam and Eve. Man.”
“Wheresoever is thy kind?”
“Beyond Aether.”
“Whither goest thou?”
“Away. Until the engines break and the heart rusts, or until the remnant of Mankind reaches the edge of creation.”
“What mayeth we do for thee? Desirest thou a new vessel for thy soul? A new life amongst us?”
“Fuel. Give me fuel. Let me fly.”
The un-sea dissolved. Cracks and holes appeared in it, and it flowed out through them. It’d be weeks before Luna can cast the spell again, but that was unnecessary. All that could’ve been said had been. When she blinked again, the dimly lit chamber was again before her, and she made her way out of the vessel.
“Twilight.”
“Princess Luna! Ohmygosh!” Twilight slid the sheets over her head and hid beneath them, forming a small sheet mountain, with a horn sticking out. “My mane’s all dishevelled!
“I’m sorry I was late yesterday.” Luna averted her gaze for Twilight’s sake, but the sheet mountain didn’t budge. “I wish to talk.”
“Please, um, just let me get ready.” The sheets shifted back and forth clumsily, until a dishevelled unicorn fell out. She hit the floor right by the bed with an oof.
“Of course.” Luna levitated a brush in Twilight’s general direction. “I’ll wait outside.” She stepped out and closed the door behind her.
The only other room in the barrack besides Twilight’s cramped bedroom was a slightly larger office-study. There was a desk full of papers to sign, an old, dusty couch, and a few basic sets of rules printed and hanged on the walls - work safety regulations, fundamentals of magic use in absence of leylines, basic rules of conduct within the town of Starsville that differ from the custom law of Equestria, and a few others. There was a picture of all Twilight’s friends together, there was a shot of the Artifact’s landing, showing ponies and creatures of all shapes and sizes standing before the light labirynth. Some closing their eyes, some gritting their teeth, all in deep focus as they channelled the magic to fuel the dome.
Twilight stepped in through the door, her mane freshly brushed, tail even more so. She had a steaming cup of coffee in her hoof, and a ready to face the day kind of smile on her face. Her wings could use preening, though.
“Would you care for a morning flight?” Luna flapped her wings for emphasis.
Twilight blinked. Her bloodshot eyes told that no, she would rather not care. She would, in fact, be quite opposed. “Sure!”
Twilight’s coffee soon cooled off, standing forgotten on her desk, as the two princesses were far up, watching Starsville from the sky. At first they spoke little, Luna watching Twilight’s ascent to make sure her groggy morning state didn’t cause an accident in flight. To her surprise, however, Twilight made enormous progress since first receiving her wings. She could swear it’d happened just yesterday.
From here, clouds blocked some of the view, and what remained of the town was but a white semisphere, like a snowglobe, with tiny blocks littered around it. It was a curious thought, that world-changing things would occur on this little splotch of land by the sea.
They hovered in place, watching the dome, enraptured. After a moment of silence, Luna spoke, “I wished to talk here. The walls of barracks are thin.”
Twilight nodded. “What would you like to talk about, Princess?”
Luna took flight and motioned for Twilight to follow. They moved slowly enough that the wind didn’t whistle in their ears. “I’ve heeded your advice and been to the vessel.”
Twilight grinned. “That’s great! I bet you saw something me and our scientists didn’t! I told you your insight would be irreplaceable here!”
“I did, after a fashion. But first, I’ll have to ask you to believe what I’ll tell you, regardless of how strange it may sound.”
“I will, Princess.”
“It is a bad habit.” Luna’s lips formed a thin line. “Never take my words for truth without evidence.”
“I’ve enough evidence of you speaking truth to not worry about that.” Twilight smiled reassuringly, though the smile was lost on Luna, who looked on ahead as she flew slightly ahead of Twilight.
“Best liars weave their lies in-between truth. But this is no time for a lesson on this, Twilight. First, let me remind you of the conversation we had about the artifact a few months prior.”
“You’d mentioned other races, ones that could traverse the stars. You said one of them could’ve built something like this.” Twilight nodded at the dome, or rather, at what lay within it.
“Yes. Now a question, how much do you know of what happened a thousand years ago?”
“Well, I’ve read a lot about Discord and King Sombra. And, um.” Twilight trailed off, looking for the least offending words to put what she had on her mind.
“I speak of my own downfall.”
“Oh.” There was a note of finality in Twilight’s voice. When she got out of bed that morning she probably didn’t quite expect they’d touch on Nightmare Moon but half an hour later. “A… a bit. But I’m not sure how much of that is true.”
Luna scratched her chin in thought. “Let me start from elsewhere, then. There was a cataclysm. A very close one, in the same galaxy no less. Do you remember how I told you I can feel all the little movements of vessels between planets, all the streaks of comets and impacts of asteroids?”
“Only the first. But… it sounds fascinating, and in a way unimaginable. How do you handle all this?”
Luna fell silent for a moment, then she slowed down to a hover and pointed at the town down below. “Do you see all those barracks down there? Do you see the ponies, too? Your eye sees all of them, but your mind registers only the small group you look at. You could probably count them, but it’d take you a while to process. Or you could choose to look at the sun instead, and not see the town at all. That’s sort of the way I can feel the movements of stars, if I choose so.”
Twilight nodded, her eyes focused intently on Luna’s unreadable expression. “All right, I think I understand it better now.”
“That’s not all. Imagine the dome were to explode. Imagine a spell so powerful and world-tearing, that its blast wave would reach all the way here and smash us out of the sky. That was the cataclysm. There would be no way to ignore it. You may avoid looking at the sun, but its rays touch you and warm the whole earth all the same.”
Twilight remained silent now, still looking at Luna, who in turn studied the antlike movements of ponies down below.
“The cataclysm was the death of a planet. The death of an intelligent race that lived there alone, unlike us. It was billions of minds crying out as their souls were wrung out of their bodies and thrust into the Aether. It could be neither ignored nor blocked out, not this close.” Luna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There were creases of weariness on her face, and her jaw looked tense, clenched, for a brief moment. “It hit me then, that thousand years ago. It was neither the last straw, nor the greatest one, but it was one of the many bricks that built the wall between me and Celestia. She did not feel it. She could not understand. Nopony could, after all. I closed myself off in my room for days, weeping for a race nopony would ever hear of, undone all at once.”
Luna fell silent, and Twilight placed a gentle hoof on her shoulder. She tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but Luna refused to meet her gaze at first. When she did, Twilight saw cold determination, and a whole sea of grief buried underneath. Twilight’s mouth worked soundlessly. Eventually she just closed it, tears welling up in her eyes.
“You needn’t pity me, Twilight.” Luna drew her into an embrace. Bringing down all this on Twilight right now was nothing short of vile, but truth was more important than how long it’d take her to understand. “I have since moved on. But this vessel… it reminded me of the time I turned against Celestia. That’s why I refused to enter it for so long. I am glad I did now, however.”
Twilight pulled back, there was a bright smile on her lips and hope in her eyes. “Did you find something?”
Luna nodded. “Indeed. And there was no way the scientists could’ve found out, so do be easy on them for it. See, the vessel could not have survived in this state for such a long time. It was simply not designed to do so. There is, however, an explanation to that. See, there is a soul of one of its crew that somehow fused itself into the vessel’s heart after death. It kept the vessel preserved, though how, I can’t quite imagine. By now, however, its only drive is moving forward, to let the remnants of its kind reach where no other has reached before. It asked for fuel. It wishes the vessel to be set free.”
Twilight’s eyes were wide as saucers and her mouth was agape. Her mind wasn’t quite in the state to ask coherent questions just yet.
“Now, I’d like to ask you, would it be possible to make a particle-perfect copy of the vessel for our study, and to synthesize whatever chemicals it used as fuel?”
It took a few moments for Twilight to regain her speech capabilities “I-I think i-it’d be possible. Perhaps? Maybe? Do you still have contact with this creature? Perhaps we could ask it what kind of fuel the vessel uses and…” Twilight’s gaze darted upward and and she scratched her chin, murmuring calculations.
Luna shook her head. “I only had a few questions to ask. It’ll be long before I can speak to it again, and I doubt I’d be able to acquire as sophisticated answer as the chemical components of the fuel it used. Perhaps there’s aught in the pages of the books we’ve recovered.”
“Oh, that… that’ll take a bit longer then. We’d have to decipher the language first. We’re making progress though. We’re looking at at least seven or eight weeks that it’d take, perhaps two or three months, which would be more likely. I’m not sure about any breakthroughs we make or the time interval between them. But I think it’s possible.”
Luna looked into Twilight’s eyes, her own glistening. “Thank you, Twilight. It’d mean so much to me, to close that chapter off in my life.”
“We’ll do all we can.” Twilight muttered, lost in thought.
When Luna emerged from her barrack that day, a solar guard already awaited her. “Your majesty! The scientists have reached a breakthrough. Princess Twilight awaits your presence at the artifact.” Luna made haste across the town and was allowed into the dome with as much as a nod.
Luna’s horn blinked briefly as she entered the dome, reaching out to the moon to check the hour. Twilight rarely stayed up that late, not to mention they agreed not to meet this evening (so that they’d both get their sleep - bags under Twilight’s eyes looked worrying at that point), and yet here she was, eyes bloodshot and twitching. Her grin was way too wide. She was disturbing to look at.
“Princess Luna! I couldn’t wait! We’ve got the books! And the logs! We know the words now! All the words!” And just like that, Luna knew it wasn’t Twilight’s first, but third night without sleep.
“You’ve deciphered the language?”
Twilight nodded vigorously.
“You’ve told me it’d take weeks, and it’s been barely eight days.”
“We worked real hard to get it done as fast as possible.”
Taking a look around her at the dishevelled herd of scientists proved that indeed sleep must’ve been the name of a foreign spice to them. Most moved around groggily, twitchingly, and some of them had large mugs of coffee, though she was the most suspicious of the ones that looked relatively normal. Luna wondered if Twilight hadn’t overdone some modern stimulant to this end.
It was quite pitiful to see them drag themselves (or what was more horrifying - walk energetically) after Twilight and Luna as they made their way into the vessel. Enough of it has been copied to turn it safely on its “belly”. If it were to fly, it’d have to be moved on its posterior again.
They made their way to an assortment of lights and buttons, with an enormous piece of glass in the middle. From Twilight’s earlier explanations, Luna gathered it was the “main display”, where the letters in the strange language would appear, and one could choose what they wished to do. One of the scientists turned a lever here, another connected two cables, third pressed some buttons, fourth snored too loudly on the floor and was dragged away. Twilight cast the translation spell.
“We’ll start from the most recent ones, then go back,” Twilight said.
The glass turned opaque and lit. First blue, then black with white letters that mentioned reports and concepts Luna had no idea about. After a few button presses from Twilight, a straight line showed itself. It waved in tandem with rising and falling voice that, thanks to the translation spell, spoke modern Equestrian.
“To think… after all this time we came home. It’s, uh, I didn’t see the continent when we were landing. But I bet some airforce’s gonna pick us up soon. Just look at the landscape. Makes me think I’m home if I close my eyes, ya know. The rolling clouds above, the green grass at my feet. It’s gonna rain soon.” There’s a brief pause, full of heavy breathing.
“That… that hill over there. And that oak tree. Dan, we’re... holy shit. Dan, we’re home! What do you mean a leak in the suit? Ain’t gonna matter if it’s Terra! Just let me climb that hill. Dad’s farm should be right around it.“ Footsteps, more heavy breathing.
“Dan… do you see? There, over there, the fence. And dad’s farm, a little bit farther there. And the cattle. That tree we used to play on. Yeah, the one I was afraid to climb at first. And then I realized you could see all the fields from there, and refused to get off.” There’s a short bout of wheezing laughter. “Who’d have thought? I’m left all wheezing climbing this hill. It’s like I’ve not exercised enough on the ship, have I? Zero G does things to a man, doesn’t it. Shoulda made a… a spinnin’ ship like in… Odyssey, ya know…”
The breathing becomes heavier, the pause longer.
“Get going? Go on your own, Dan. Get to the edge of creation for all I care. I’m gonna stay here, on the farm. Take care of the cattle... hell, I… I need to take a breath. Everything… everything’s going fuzzy... just lemme, lemme sit down for a minute. I… I’m all right. I just… need a breath or two.”
Static.
The black box reports the ship waited on the planet for a month, but the voice of . Then its airlock closed on its own and set off again, using what remnants of fuel it could for thrust.
The logs play out from latest to earliest. This one was made right before the ship reached Equus. An earlier one is loaded in.
“Dan, see that planet there? Gettin’ closer, ain’t it? And there’s the sun - a yellow dwarf. But it’s okay since the orbit’s just far enough for it to sustain life. And I see the other planets in the system... Have we… have we turned around? Are we back at Terra?”
Brief pause in which regular beeps can be heard.
“See? See it?! All lush and green! Continents floating in a blue sea. It’s home, ain’t it? We’ve turned around and came back. We made no progress. Hell. Y’know what? We’ll land. We’ll go back to the farm, drop this starship business. I will, at least, you do you. I’ve had enough space bullshit for a while.”
Another pause.
“We’ll land, refuel and all. I just… just wanna see home again. You go take the ship and fly it off if you want.”
Chair creaking as someone stands up from it.
“This one seems days if not years earlier than the last two,” Twilight said. “The dating on them is inconsistent at best, and absolutely wrong at worst. I’m not even sure they’re arranged in chronological order! So much of it is corrupted.”
Sound came from the speakers.
“Ya remember Ashley, Dan? Ya know I was sweet on ‘er, all those years ago? And she knew it, I think... But in the end she screwed us both, didn’t she?” Short bout of bitter chuckles, then gulps of someone drinking from a bottle. “You deserved it, you woman-stealin’ motherfucker.” Longer pause, more gulps. “You had it all. Mother loved you more, ‘s why you were always such a clown. You got better grades, better girls. They even got you higher up on the same damn ship. Little did they know you’d get yourself blown up before we even got off.” Wheezing, bitter laughter. “But I run the ship now! I! And you’ve got jack shit to say about it!” The sound of a glass bottle being shattered.
There was a long, long pause that stretched into minutes, then an hour. The silence was overbearing. Only quiet breaths could be heard from the links of the scientists’ air bubbles. Luna flinched and felt Twilight’s tense form right by her.
“It’s gettin’ to me, ain’t it?” Another, brief pause. “They screened us for this shit, prepped us for all sortsa scenarios. But not for this.
“It eats away at you. Deconstructs you like ants an’ maggots eatin’ a dead dog. They don’t care all the other dogs are dead, ya know? They don’t give a damn the dog’s friends and family are gone. They don’t give no fucks. First you start talkin’ to people that ain’t there, then you drink more and more. Then you start seein’ shit. And then it gets you. And you’re gone. Just like that…
“You know, they screened us for this shit but not well enough. They asked: was Dad okay, and he was. They asked: was mom okay, and we said she was, but she wasn’t, not really. She never told you cause she wanted to spare you, but she was always a little fucked in the head, ya know? Saw things that weren’t there, talked to people we didn’t see. Said she sees ghosts of the dead. Said her father saw ‘em too.
“When we were alone, she told me ‘You’re gonna see them, Josie. You’re gonna see them when you grow up.’ And I said to her ‘No mum, I ain’t gonna see no ghosts.’ I was just a lil’ kid, you know? And then she’d say that, over and over ‘Just you wait, Josie, there’s one standing next to you, watching over you. You’ll see him soon enough.’ When I was a kid it sounded cool. I thought I was gonna see spirits. But then I grew up and realised mom was just really, really sick.
“But she was right, wasn’t she?”
There’s a bout of bitter chuckling, then it fades into ragged breaths, then static.
There was a very long pause, though not as long as within the duration of the log. Twilight and the scientists take a sight that seems almost simultaneous. Then with a flick of Twilight’s horn another log clicks in.
There’s a lot of static. “It says ‘corrupted data’.” Twilight’s horn blinks a few times as she performs some nondescript operations on the device. “I think it’s like ink being smudged or bleak over time, or a disk becoming worn off. Let’s see the others.”
Static. Again and again static, until one of the logs finally worked.
“It’s the end, ya know, Dan? It’s just about coming to terms with it.” The sound of someone gulping down a small bottle in a single swig. “There’s no ‘them’ anymore. No ‘home’ or ‘goal’. It’s just us two, and her.” Two taps on the metal wall of the vessel can be heard. “Just, uh, I know mine’s gonna come sooner or later. I hope it’s sooner, for both our sakes. Until then I’ll be her janitor. I’ll fix things, I’ll maintain things, I’ll keep her going. Where? You know better than to ask stupid questions like that, Dan. Nowhere, of course.
“You know, when I’m done for, just keep ‘er goin’. That’s all we’ve got left - moving forward. In a metaphorical and literal sense. So that the creation of Man reaches the edge of creation of God.” The laughter that comes from the speakers is quite different from natural. “Y’think it’s some kind of a punishment? That we’ve fucked up in some major way and got wiped out because of that? Or maybe we just had crazy bad luck?
“Me? Prefer not to think ‘bout it. Got enough reasons to drink already...
“Fuck, why me, Dan? Why not Martha or Stanley? Is this a punishment or a reward? And if the latter, then whoever gave itcan shove it right up their ass!” The last part of that sentence is shouted out.
After that, the log cut off, so Twilight again went through dozens of corrupted ones before anything coherent could be heard from the speakers.
“This is captain Joseph Halford, log sixty-seventh of Phoenix One. There’s still 98% of fuel left, all systems are operational, as noted on the daily checks. I’ve recently done repairs to the water reclamation systems. Third time this week, but it was apparently a production flaw. We were about to receive replacements before… before the cataclysm. I’m able to fix them, though, even if I have to use duct tape and glue. The water reclamation systems are up and running, the oxygen pumps are up and running, the water in the- wait. When did I circulate the water in the…” There’s a deep sigh.
“All right, it’s not like anyone’ll hear those logs anyway. See, I think I’m losing my mind. It’s been going on for a while, a long while. Ever since Daniel died. It’s been mostly weird little things: some systems that needed to be shut off getting shut off on their own, same with some small computer-handled tasks that I’d need to initiate at the right time. I don’t remember doing any of this. I recall a few incidents where the crew reported somebody doing their job for them, as if trying to one-up them or something. Or just watching over them. Unless...
“Well, are you there, Dan? Could you send me a sign? Is there a way we could talk? I still have so many things I’ve never gotten to tell you.”
Then a mutter. “I’m just losing my damn mind.”
More static. Twilight flipped through the logs, though it took her considerably more effort now, as though her mind was slowing down. Most of the scientists looked like they were hanging on to their last drops of consciousness, coalesced in the form of murky coffee.
“This is captain Joseph Halford, log fourty-six of Phoenix One. Fuel still at 99%, systems operational. Any damage sustained to the hull by the debris seems to have been fixed, nothing’s causing problems, besides the water reclamation, but that’s been there since manufacturing.
“All right, it’s 6AM GMT 0, I’m starting up solar panel and radar recalibration procedure. The ship’s relevant systems are up and running already, awaiting response from Mars.”
Brief pause.
“Mars, do you read? Stanley, can you hear me? Stan!” Sound of an iron-reinforced boot slamming an iron device. “Work, you piece of crap!” Same sound, but louder.
“Kate, could you wake Stan up? Kate? Mars-Revival do you copy? Anyone?!”
Longer break.
“Oh god… it… it looks like Revival station on Mars is… gone. Just… gone. There’s debris scattered around as if there was a large explosion.
“Why? God, whoever’s out there, why?
“Thrusters angling for descent, autopilot set on landing protocol. I’ll get a suit. Maybe there’s someone still out there?”
“That’s the last one, Princess Luna,” said Twilight in a groggy voice.
“This is the f-f-first log of Ph-ph-ph-ph-...” There’s a moment of silence, then a deep breath. ”This is the first log of Phoenix One. I am Captain Joseph Halford. We’re in Terra’s orbit and...” Long pause.
“I can see it through the glass. It’s like it isn’t happening. The pieces just slowly drifting away, the molten core’s droplets drifting apart like those zero-g water experiments we’ve done. It’s like the best special effects I’ve seen. It’s...” Another long pause.
“I, Captain Joseph Halford, hereby report that on the thirty-sixth of the third quarter of the year two thousand and fifty-five... Terra has… ceased to exist. Numerous nuclear launches on and beneath the surface whose reason we haven’t yet discerned have cracked it to pieces. Its atmosphere is dissolving. Everyone on the surface of those pieces has either died or will die. Heaven preserve us. We are alone.”
A feminine voice sounds over the static, “Sir, we’re receiving news! Mobile station Joan D’arc and heavily damaged shuttle Wraith are still up.”
“Very well. Thank you, Kate. Crew, take course on Wraith. We’ll take her people onboard and try to help Joan D’arc land on the surface of Mars.”
The sound of a throat being cleared.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this isn’t over. Mankind has persisted in the face of doom and adversity numerous times, and this will be no different. We must, and we will continue our mission. The burden of preserving Mankind falls on us, and we will we carry it with pride and diligence. May we never forget the billions down there, along with our former captain Daniel Halford, who gave their lives so that Mankind could reach a brighter future in the stars. Let us not disappoint them. So help us God.”
Static.
Luna became aware of a warm weight pressing against her side. She saw Twilight there, fast asleep, wet streaks falling down her cheeks. The scientists around showed a range of responses between crying and falling asleep, to staring forward absent-mindedly. Luna gently levitated Twilight up onto her back and carried her out. On the way she told the guards to make sure all the scientists made it out, so they didn’t fall asleep in the dome.
She gently deposited Twilight on her bed and took to flight. There was much to think of, and there would be still those following days.
The revelations of the ship and its makers’ fate weighed heavily on the ponies of Starsville, especially in the days directly following the first viewing of the logs. Many apocalyptic prophecies and speculations spread throughout the town, and later the nation. That perhaps ponykind and Equus could be met with the same fate as Terra. That perhaps the same gods that punished that world could punish them, or perhaps same mistakes could be made. Perhaps the artifact was a harbinger, or worse, an agent of this destruction. Those thoughts never lived long in the end, though.
For Luna, though, it was a means of healing. It tore out old scars, of course, and the process was terribly painful. It reminded her of the Moon and the years leading up to the exile. It reminded her of her hatred and her errors. But it also allowed her to understand, to bring closure and reconcile with another part of herself that caused a dull ache in the back of her mind. Now she felt much more complete.
“The vessel’s been propped upright.”
“The fuel tanks are as full as they get ma’am!”
“So, what now ma’am? We just stand here and wait until it launches itself?”
“Pretty much,” Twilight concluded. She looked to Luna sitting at her side. “We could launch it ourselves, Princess Luna. We even have the necessary spells woven into the tower.”
The light-tower of Babel, the peak creation of ponykind, the device to reach the stars, stood in all its glory before them. Gone was the milky white dome and its enclosed confinement. The tower was transparent on its side and completely bare on top, more an intricate webbing than an opaque, enclosed structure that the dome was. The crystals supporting its weight in magic shone an ever-changing rainbow of colours, each their own spectrum, and radiated harmonic ripples of colour down the webbing.
“Nay, Twilight. Have the workers retreat, secure the structure from heat and kinetic force. We shall wait.”
“Already getting done, Princess. We’ll have it done in half an hour.”
From the barren hill they sat on, there was a good view on both the tower and the light-labyrinth at its base. The errors that caused mass injury in its original use had since been corrected, but if all went well, none would need to use their magic to aid the ship.
There was a brief pop of teleportation, and from the flash, a slightly dishevelled Celestia emerged. “I’m terribly sorry, Luna, Twilight. I got caught up in–” she levitated a kerchief to wipe out marple syrup from the corners of her mouth “morning duties.”
“You’re not late, Tia. Have a seat.” Luna nodded at a red pillow between her blue and Twilight’s purple one.
Celestia took a seat. It took a few moments since Celestia was a tad wider than the two of them expected, but eventually they settled. “Luna, I’ve… I’ve been thinking about what you told me and–” She felt Luna’s hoof press against her lips.
“Shush. We’ll talk once it’s done.” Luna nodded at the tower and the labyrinth beneath. Its hue was settling on a deeper and deeper purple, falling almost into garnet.
“Marvellous,” Celestia whispered under her breath. She carefully wrapped her wings around the two other princesses and drew them closer. Neither protested.
The communication crystal blinked a few times. “It’s done ma’am. We retreated. The whole thing’s secure. We can also start the kinetic launch procedure right away, if it doesn’t start on its own.”
“Just wait,” Twilight said into the crystal.
There was a garnet and orange burst of fire at the base of the tower. Clouds of dust kicked off. The brilliant fire trailed upward, the artifact at its peak, as it left the highest rings of Babel. Up, up it soared, above the heavens, into the stars.
“It is done,” Luna said with a sense of finality.
“Did you decide to let it go?” Celestia looked at Luna with confusion in her eyes.
“We’ve made numerous copies of its parts and one of the full artifact,” Twilight chirped in. “Letting the original go was the least we could do.”
Luna nodded and smiled at Twilight. “Get some rest, Twilight. A lot of rest, actually. You’ve earned it.”
Twilight chuckled, and nodded. She took one last sip from the mug of coffee she was holding.
Then she turned her gaze to Celestia. They shared a brief, sisterly look that spoke more than the words could in that moment. “And as to you, Tia, let us take to the sky. We’ve a lot to talk about.”
THE END
