Lyra Heartstrings had worked her whole life to stand before this tower.

It had many names—the Horn of Celestia, the Dreaming Door, the Pillar of Winter, and strangest of all Windigos’ Bane. But for all its ancient names, an archeologist like Lyra knew it as something else: the oldest intact ruin in all of Equestria.

Or almost. To call it “in Equestria” was true only in the historical sense, given that the Crystal Empire’s territory had once extended so far north it almost reached the sea. Where once a land made fertile with the magic of the Crystal Heart had been, now there was only a windswept wasteland, so cold that their airship had nearly dropped from the air more than once during the trip over. If anything happened to the gasbag, Lyra wasn’t sure they would survive long enough to be rescued.

But none of that mattered—not the terrible weather, not the veritable hordes of bureaucrats she’d defeated by the might of pen and typewriter. They had arrived.

Equestria was a land of tall towers, but the Horn of Celestia certainly would’ve been a contender for the title if ponies still lived here. From where the Solaris had settled near a ridge overlooking the area, she could see the broken remains of an ancient settlement surrounding the tower, though much of it had been buried with snow and only the occasional tile roof was visible.

But the tower rose above it all, a tapering cylinder without windows or balconies stretching almost high enough for a pegasus to walk out of its roof and onto a cloud house, had there been any. Of course, their expedition had only the one pegasus, and she was more likely to go tumbling off the tower than jump gracefully onto any clouds.

“That’s good, Muffins.” Bon Bon was the one really doing the work back there, tying down the Solaris with ropes thicker than Lyra’s legs, down into pegs that she drove deep into the stone. Out here beyond the reach of any Equestrian weather team, they couldn’t just ask for clear weather for important historical research. They had to hunker down and cross their hooves that they wouldn’t be blown right out of existence. “Just… yeah, leave it right there. No, don’t pull it! Good, now freeze in place. Pretend a bee just landed on your nose.”

The gray pegasus didn’t wear nearly as many layers as the rest of them, thanks to her natural feathery insulation. Lyra pulled her own jacket tighter, letting the soft wool warm her as best it could. It would be dark in another hour or so—probably too soon to make the trip down. Maybe if they all had wings, but… the chance of damage to the tower was too high.

“Are we secure?”

Bon Bon turned, wincing slightly at being interrupted. “Almost! Another few minutes… Muffins and I have it almost taken care of.”

“Good.” Lyra slid past the mare closer than she had to on her way to the stairs—but Muffins wouldn’t notice, and wouldn’t care. “Get back inside as soon as you’re finished, alright? I don’t think we’ll get to investigate tonight.”

“Don’t get too cold without me.” But then she turned. “Wait, no! Muffins, there wasn’t really a bee! Nothing stung you!” The rope slid upward, and probably would’ve yanked free of the gasbag. Except that Lyra gripped it with her magic, pulling as hard as she could. Her legs strained under the force, and she settled the rope into place around the hook, tying it off with a tangled mess of knot.

“You’re a lifesaver, sweetie.”

“Technically that’s your job…” But she didn’t stay to argue.

The Solaris had no proper dock, just cables and pegs to hold it down as securely as they could. They were using the loading ramp as their exit, since most Equestrian ships were meant to be boarded from the top. But that didn’t matter—since the Solaris didn’t have much cargo, they could wrap the room in insulation to try and hold some of their heat in.

Even once she’d passed through the doors and the hanging blankets, Lyra could still see her breath fogging in the air in front of her. Iron grates spaced along the floor carried hot air with them—the finest Equestrian engineering could build. Still only barely equal to the challenge of this desolate place.

Lyra marched straight to the engine room, and was unsurprised to see a tan earth pony hard at work, wearing only an apron and shoveling coal into the boiler. She went from shivering to sweating in a matter of seconds, and she pulled back her hood. “Doc, you busy?”

The stallion turned, flipping up the goggles over his eyes and kicking the boiler door closed. “Right now? No. How are things looking out there?”

“Tower’s intact,” Lyra answered, voice betraying a little of her wonder and surprise. “Ancient metal, out here all this time without rusting. How is that possible?”

“Some metals don’t rust,” Time Turner answered. The engine room had a single machining bench, with a variety of tools large and small they might use to fix things when they broke. The stallion settled a tiny gold watch down beside a hammer. “Could be gold. Or aluminium”

Lyra hesitated. “Does it… bother you… that ancient ponies were such skilled engineers that they could build things we still don’t understand today?”

Time Turner laughed. “No, but it should bother the other clockmakers. When we make it back, I’m going to have their designs before anypony else. The only shameful thing would be leaving ourselves ignorant even longer. No, there are secrets in that tower, and I can’t wait to help get them out again. Which… I’m assuming we won’t be doing tonight.”

“Not unless we want to do it in the dark. I thought about it, but… there’s something strange. There aren’t any trees around the tower, and there are some… shapes in the snow. I’m worried there might be… I know it sounds stupid, but… traps. Maybe the old ponies didn’t want their tower to be discovered.”

Time Turner only shrugged. “They were at war with each other, weren’t they? That was the whole point of coming to Equestria. It was a new, peaceful start. Maybe ponies were different in the old days. Daring Do’s books certainly suggest they were, with the way all those old temples end up shooting spikes, or collapsing, or sending boulders rolling after her.”

That was about the moment their other two expedition members arrived—Muffins with her mane half-drowning in snow somehow, which she was now tracking through the halls of their wooden airship. And Bon Bon just behind her, still clutching the mallet she’d used to drive in their anchoring spikes.

“We did it…” Muffins declared, obviously proud. “But I don’t really understand what we did.”

“Excellent!” Time Turner was perhaps the only pony in the world who didn’t seem to notice Muffins’s… unique talents. “Now we should be safe through the night—that’s what you’ve just done, tie us down so the winds won’t be able to send us away. These ancient ponies sure did pick a… bleak place to set down roots.”

Lyra guessed it was because of some kind of relationship between them, though she’d never seen anything to confirm it. If anything she pitied someone who had to somehow communicate attraction to a pegasus like her.

“It’s possible it wasn’t as hostile when it was built,” Lyra suggested. “They were coming here to escape the Windigos, after all.”

“Or… maybe they picked it because it would be hard for their children to return to.” Bon Bon paced right past them, back out the door and across the hall into the sitting room. There Lyra had collected all the expedition’s notes on the subject of the Horn of Celestia, pinning it up on the walls and connecting related items with string. Bon Bon hadn’t approved of how “crazy” the room looked, but she couldn’t deny how useful it was as a mind-mapping tool.

Lyra could tell the others were following, which didn’t surprise her much. Muffins wanted to be wherever ponies were doing things, so she could lend a hoof. And Time Turner was as interested in the tower as she was. Technically, Bon Bon was the only one who didn’t have a choice about joining the expedition, though she’d been attached for so long Lyra doubted she felt forced. Her best friend could’ve requested another assignment years ago, rather than shadowing an eccentric antiquarian like herself.

“This one, here. Witness of Flash Magnus.” She pointed at the sketch, along with its ancient inscription. There was a translation from ancient Ponish in Lyra’s own writing, scrawled onto a scrap of paper beside it. “And all who flew too near to the Spire fell from the air, their cries silent as they died. Neither pegasus nor mighty earth pony dared cross its enchantment.” Bon Bon stopped reading. “I think there’s a protection spell on it—a spell we’ll have to break.”

“That sounds… frightening,” Time Turner said from the doorway. “Magic that caused pegasi to fall from the sky—can you devise a counter spell to something so dark, Heartstrings?”

She couldn’t, though it felt like an inopportune thing to admit. She only glanced sidelong at Bon Bon, counting on her friend to have the solution. They’d already known what was waiting for them here—she’d said she could get them inside.

“I did a bit of reading in the archives before our trip,” she said. “It happens that all records of spells like that require the boundary be marked—a circle in the stone, for example. A more powerful spell will probably require metal. Once we find it, we just need a unicorn to break it, using her magic on objects already inside. Pony protection spells were never meant to be used against other ponies, so the barrier will be defenseless.”

“Break a circle,” Lyra said, relaxing. “With magic. No problem.” That was really just levitation, which was almost as far as her magic would go. There was no time to master complex spells when her world was overflowing with history ponies had no ideas about.

And the oldest of it all was here, protected in a magical tower ponies had not set hoof in since the Windigos had been defeated in ancient times.

“Why is the tower so important again?” Muffins asked, walking right up beside Lyra and staring at the sketch. It was one of the more gruesome records of this place, since it showed pegasi falling to their deaths as they flew overhead—but Muffins either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “We came out so far. I think the Crystal Empire has a taller tower than this.”

“It does,” Lyra admitted. “But there are already ponies digging up all the old magic in the Empire. This is even older—a thousand years older at least.”

“There’s magic in there?”

“Yes, Muffins,” Time Turner supplied. “Legend says this tower is all that’s left of a once great fortress, taken by the Windigos and swallowed by the ice. It was here that our ancestors came, before they were united into Equestria. Here they gave up all their most powerful magic. They had fought for so long that they knew Equestria was doomed, unless they left all their greatest powers behind.”

“Then…” She retreated from the wall, wandering towards the shelves full of books. The pegasus didn’t seem able to read their titles, though it was hard to be sure with her eyes. “Shouldn’t we leave it here? That seems like… maybe they knew best.”

“Equestria’s tribes are united now,” Bon Bon said, a little exasperated. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “We don’t fight anymore. But attacks from outside are always a threat. After the Storm King, Celestia has started sponsoring all sorts of… expeditions. To dig up old powers and bring them back. Whatever is in that tower… we won’t use it to fight each other anymore. We’ll use it to keep Equestria safe.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Muffins trailed off. “I’m hungry. I’ll make dinner.”

“I’ll help you.” Time Turner followed behind her, down the quiet halls towards the mess.

I hope you’re wrong, Muffins, Lyra thought, watching them go. It was hard to think that ponies who could build a whole tower out of metal wouldn’t know what they were doing, but… that was a bias. The ancients hadn’t been any smarter than ponies today, just more powerful. And tomorrow, we’ll get inside, and bring all their powers back.

Lyra stared out across the ice sheet, down past blasted rocks and a howling, timeless wind. Some part of her wondered if the ancient ponies of this place had ever really escaped the Windigos of ancient legend—maybe they were still here, guarding over their final tomb.

But if that grim reality was waiting for them in the Horn of Celestia, they were going to have to discover it sooner or later. Sooner means that we can make their sacrifice count for something. If the secrets abandoned by our tribes are in that tower, we can bring them out again, share them with the world. The secrets of magic that had let unicorns move the sun instead of relying on Alicorns. The secrets of the earth that let earth ponies tear down whole mountains and raise them up again. The secrets of the sky that were the reason the sonic rainboom even had a name in the first place.

“It looks so peaceful down there,” she muttered, and her breath fogged on the air in front of her as she said it. “Are we sure there’s even a protection spell?”

“Positive.” Bon Bon didn’t hesitate with her response. “I took a few minutes before anypony woke up to study the outside edges. The boundaries of the spell are distinct. The snow inside actually falls slightly differently. Watch when it blows by.” Bon Bon offered her the binoculars, and she levitated them in front of her in her magical grip. Through the barrier, she watched a flurry of snow drift towards the tower. Then it got closer, and suddenly curved upward, spiraling in a complicated pattern.

“So how do we stop it?” She passed the binoculars back. “We better do something soon. Muffins already tried to fly over once.”

“I know,” Bon Bon said, a little annoyed. “Who do you think stopped her?” She removed something from a slim cloth case, a polished metal rod with a sliver of crystal set in at both ends. Lyra’s first imagination for it was that it might serve a very different purpose, but her face warmed with a blush and she didn’t actually say so. “I don’t think the barrier will stop us from crossing. But conditions over there could be lethal for other reasons. So we’re going to use this. You are, since you’re our only unicorn.”

Lyra levitated the tool up into the air in front of her, turning it over. There were tiny markings in the metal, but she didn’t recognize any of them. “I don’t know how to dispel a crazy magical trap.”

“I know.” Bon Bon took the rod back with a quick jerk, sliding it into its case before Lyra could protest. “But you won’t have to do much. Just one rune should do it—ground. Can you write that one? I can draw it for you if I need to.”

“I might not be Twilight Sparkle, but I can do all eight runes fine. Earth, got it. Because we’re…”

“Grounding it out,” Bon Bon supplied. “Cross the barrier with the thaumic conductor, then ground on our side. That should bleed out all the power leftover and break the spell.”

“That sounds easy!” Lyra straightened, flinging her head forward so the hood would rest over her horn. “Let’s go!”

“Together.” Her companion put out one leg. “The others are almost ready. You know everypony is going to want to get a look inside at the same time. Besides… barometer suggests we might see a really bad one in a few hours. Won’t be able to leave the Solaris. Would you settle for getting it open only to sit in place and do nothing?”

“Fine.” She slumped forward into a sitting position. “I’m guessing you have everything else we need.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes, then kicked sideways at a large set of saddlebags. “Camera, film, emulsion, charcoal, clay, rope, chalk, torch, lunch. Anything I’m missing?”

Lyra had no idea, but in theory she was the one leading this expedition. But her actual knowledge was all historical. If they didn’t need an artifact identified, or a melody played on a rare instrument, there wasn’t much she could do. “That sounds perfect.”

Bon Bon nudged her affectionately in the side. “What would you do without me, Lyra?”

“I dunno, Sweets.” She returned the gesture. “Here? I’d freeze. Ten minutes in.”

They didn’t have ten minutes to wait before the other two members of their expedition finally emerged. Both had better protection from the elements than Lyra, having either pegasus cold-tolerance or earth pony endurance. Muffins wore only a scarf and a fluffy wool toque, while Time Turner had at least bothered with a jacket and some boots.

“Are we ready?” Muffins asked. “I tried to go early and see if there was anything inside for you, but Drops wouldn’t let me.”

“That was quite sensible of her,” Time Turner said. “But it does appear we’re prepared. To the Horn we go, eh? Allons-y.”

They crossed the windswept wasteland in about an hour’s time, slipping and sliding through snow covered with a thick icy crust. But eventually they made it, and Bon Bon produced the thaumic conductor again. She used a hoof to dig away at the snow around the edge of the circle, until they were on bare ground, then dumped out a vial of ash for Lyra to write in. She knows more about my magic than I do.

“Go on,” Bon Bon finally said, offering the tool. “The only hard part is that you have to write while the other end is already across, then hold it in your magic no matter what. The rest of us… might want to back up, just in case.”

Lyra chuckled nervously, but she wasn’t that worried. These were ancient ponies, after all. They hadn’t put these traps here to kill their descendants when they finally arrived to claim what had been theirs. That just wouldn’t make any sense.

She spread her legs a little, so that she wouldn’t be jostled around by the wind whipping up around them. But the dark powder Bon Bon had used wasn’t lifted up, even as her snow pile was eroded. The two others followed her back, with Time Turner lowering a set of goggles over his eyes to watch.

Lyra gritted her teeth and stuck the rod across the barrier. Let’s see what secrets you’ve been keeping, ancient ponies.

The rod began to glow faintly red in her magical grip, hot enough that little bits of snow touching it hissed away as steam. Part one done, and not even any explosions. She lowered the other end carefully, and drew.

She could feel the eyes of her companions on her, though only Bon Bon would’ve recognized if she got it wrong. She moved the rod exactly along the pattern of the rune, the same one every foal learned in magical kindergarten.

Then came the explosion.

Not the blast of heat and light that would’ve spelled instant death for her if she got in the way—nothing like the great disasters in magical history. It was, rather, a simple blast of air. The snow from all around them exploded outward as though under great pressure, making her ears ring and lifting up the powder around the tower in a perfect circle. Lyra was nearly lifted off her hooves. From Muffins’s squeal of surprise and confusion, the gray mare had been. But pegasus ponies landed soft, and Lyra couldn’t help her now.

The roar went on for almost a full minute before it finally died. Lyra crouched low the entire time, shielding her face against the blast of air around her. The conductor had gone from glowing red to a bright white, and the crystals on either end were actually burning.

Then the magic stopped. She could see the moment when it ended through her levitation—the conductor stopped getting hotter. The air around them was still a blizzard, with a slope of high snow spread out around a ground scoured bare except for the largest rocks and chunks of ice.

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the rear end of her pegasus companion emerge from a distant snowdrift, and a muffled, “M’okay.”

The earth ponies had weathered the storm, though horizontal icicles had condensed along their coats facing away from the onslaught. Time Turner lifted his goggles, looking back with concern. “Did I hear you right, Muffins? I wanted to run for you, but…”

She emerged from the snow a moment later, shaking out huge clumps of it from her mane and coat. But she didn’t look hurt. Of course she isn’t. She flew out of snow into more snow. A selfish part of Lyra couldn’t help but be relieved—an injury would mean they wouldn’t be able to explore the tower in front of them.

A tower that no longer had any spells protecting it, at least not on the outside. What it did have, however, were corpses.

Around the base much of the snow had been blasted away, revealing the true identity of those lumps. They were birds, mostly, with a handful of larger creatures. She saw at least one deer in there, and a yak dressed in thick exploratory furs. All frozen as solid as the ice around the tower.

“It seems the spell claimed a few lives,” Bon Bon said from beside her. “None after today. We’ve just made the world safer. Assuming there isn’t some terrible horror we’re about to unleash trapped inside those walls.”

“Well you shouldn’t tempt fate,” Time Turner said, reaching sidelong as Muffins approached and wiping a little snow she’d missed away from her face. “There you are, sweetheart. Missed a spot there.”

“Can we go in now?” the mare asked, apparently not noticing the dead animals all around it. Probably for the best, you wouldn’t handle that so well.

“Yes!” Lyra said. “And… I don’t sense any more magic, Bon Bon. If there are ancient evils in there, they aren’t magic.”

“We hope.” She gestured at the snow. “Quench that conductor so we can put it away. Then we go in.” Lyra did so, and a few minutes later they had reached the massive doors. Solid metal, as with the rest of the structure. There was writing around the outside, one of the oldest scripts Lyra knew. She could still translate it, even if the Old Ponish would be lost on the others.

“It says… ‘That our errors might not be forever forgotten, and our example carried forward into a better age.’” She bounced from hoof to hoof, not taking her eyes away from the polished metal surface. The more she looked in this direction, the less she had to see the dead. “I think that’s confirmation! That’s as good as an admission that these were the ponies fleeing from the windigos. And if their homes were anywhere near here… it’s no wonder they wanted to leave. Feels like the windigos might still rule up here.”

“Is it locked?” Time Turner asked.

There were no knobs or other obvious mechanisms she could see. So Lyra shrugged, and reached forward to push.

The door moved on its own, with a sound like the hiss when they opened a fizzy drink at the soda fountain. Warm air hissed out from in front of them, misting on the ground at their hooves. The door didn’t swing so much as it rose into the ceiling, an unbelievably tight bit of casting in the metal wall with so little space she would’ve had trouble sliding a knife in.

And through the doorway, magical lights worked into the ceiling illuminated a space twice as tall as a pony, with metal walls and strange machines on every side. Lyra was the first inside, following the brightest lights right up to a plaque set into the wall, apparently worked from solid gold.

“ISS Equestria” it said, in the same ancient Ponish script. “Commissioned 2109 CE — Launched 2116” There was an image beside it, though Lyra couldn’t recognize what it was. Some kind of building that had fallen over, surrounded with little dots. Then on the other side, an image of Equus itself, worked into the metal with questionable accuracy. But a noble attempt from such an ancient culture.

“What does that one say?” Bon Bon asked from beside her, staring up in confusion. “Worth a picture?”

“Absolutely!” She didn’t even hesitate. “I, uh… think it says that they were going to find new land for a country? I’ll need to find more in here for context.” How did they already know it would be called Equestria?

Her companion had already removed the heavy wooden box from the saddlebags, and was fishing out a flashbulb to go with it. Lyra took the offered apparatus in her magic, took a few steps back, and a flash of smoke rose up from the bulb as it died.

“I think we’ve found what we were looking for, everypony,” Lyra said. “Let’s see what secrets our ancestors left us.”

Lyra Heartstrings probably wouldn’t have been able to say what she was expecting from the ruin of a pre-Equestrian civilization. What little of this period in history was known was thanks to the handful of objects that had come with the first settlers in Equestria. There would be pottery, a few worked copper objects, and probably a star-worshiping religion.

Yet their history contained another civilization—or else the same one, seen from another angle. Ponies who built incredible armor that could resist the fire of a dragon, ponies who could change the seasons of an entire planet instead of thousands working to keep a few towns safe. Ponies who needed only a few powerful earth ponies to feed an entire city.

Lyra belonged to the latter camp, and apparently she wouldn’t be returning home disappointed. The ponies who built the Horn of Celestia had obviously been the magical experts, who could do almost anything they wanted with their incredible spells.

Their spells were so fine and well-worked that Lyra couldn’t even sense the magic flowing into the light that came on as they moved from one room to another. She couldn’t sense the incredible fire-magic that must be keeping the outside at bay. Because the interior of the tower was perfectly comfortable, and completely blocked out the sound of the wind. Only a gentle whirring followed them from room to room, like a stray breeze that wanted to see what they would do.

And the things these ponies had left behind.

“Dead end,” Bon Bon said, making it only a step inside before she turned to go. “It’s just another one of those rooms with a light box.”

She meant the little square set into the wall over their heads, with its rapidly flashing lights through several colors. She wasn’t sure what it meant, except that the ones who lived here apparently enjoyed the pretty colors.

“Wait.” Lyra moved past her into the center of the room. Down through the clear material was a shaft that vanished into the gloom—maybe even further down below them than the Horn stretched up into the sky.

“What?” Bon Bon asked. “Be careful, you’re losing your audience.”

Muffins was already wandering away down the hall, apparently bored by the dead end.

“Come back!”

Lyra stomped one hoof on the clear surface, and it didn’t budge even a little. As sturdy as the metal the rest of the tower was made from. “This is the center of the tower. I think it must be an elevator.”

“An elevator,” Bon Bon repeated, her expression dubious. “In a tower built before we discovered electricity?”

Lyra shrugged. “They had magic. Maybe… this box thing is a control.” She approached slowly, frowning. “Gimme a boost, sweetie.”

The earth pony flushed a little at the request, but she didn’t refuse. Just stood right up against the wall in front of her. “You better be right about this, Lyre. Or I’ll remember next time we’re together.”

Lyra resisted the temptation to think about what that might mean, just used her friend to prop up her legs so she could reach the square—and it changed.

It had looked only white from the floor, but straight on—there were messages here. There was an image of the tower set beside the words, depicted with stunning detail—except that it was much too large. The image she was looking at was at least twice as tall as the actual tower, with a pair of fat, rounded buildings near the bottom that were barely even connected.

Bridge
Command
Observatory
Medical
Habitation
Recreation
Storage
Museum
Hydroponics
Reactor
Engineering

“Sweet Celestia, it is a control.” Lyra leaned forward, squinting. It was just like the buttons in any elevator, except there weren’t buttons. Was she supposed to…

She touched “Museum.”

The square flashed bright red in front of her, bright enough that even Bon Bon noticed, and she twitched away reflexively. That meant Lyra fell onto the ground with a thump, even as a faintly disapproving sound filled the room.

Then came the voice.

Lyra had imagined what a voice like this might sound like. Ancient Ponish was a dead language, so dead that nopony knew how it was spoken. The vowels in particular were a mystery with constant argument between various scholarly circles. In an instant, Lyra learned all the answers to them.

“You are already on the Museum level. Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“Incredible!” Time Turner exclaimed, staring up at the sloped ceiling of the elevator—where the sound had apparently come from. “Was that a gramophone recording? It was so clear!”

“He sounded nice,” Muffins said, sitting down in the exact center of the elevator and waving up at the ceiling with one wing. “Hello! Would you like to be friends with us?”

“You understood it,” Bon Bon said, still crouched low. As though she expected a crossbow bolt to go whizzing over their head at any moment. But of course none did. “What did it—”

“It said we’re on museum level,” she said. “And… it wanted to know if we’d rather go somewhere else.”

“Museum level,” Bon Bon repeated. “You mean some metal on the wall and locked rooms? Not much of a museum.”

“Well…” Lyra gestured over to the wall again. “Go back, let me try something! I think I know how it works.”

This time when she touched the white surface, the entire thing lit up. “Command Deck selected,” said the room, and the door slid closed in a rush of air.

Bon Bon jumped for it, hammering against the metal with one hoof. “Buck it, a trap! Time Tuner, help me get my—”

Then they started rising, and all four of them were so startled by the acceleration that they couldn’t move. Lyra had expected it, so she was the first to recover, watching as the metal tube through the floor rapidly slid away. Not just the floor—the walls were transparent too. She could see the outline of doors whizzing past, probably each of the sections she hadn’t chosen.

One of these isn’t different from the others. They’re all going to be full of valuable magic to bring back to Equestria.

One thing Lyra knew—the next set of monsters that tried invading Canterlot were bucked after they got back.

Bon Bon hadn’t even finished extracting her tools from their saddlebags before the floor slid into place, and the door that had trapped them inside hissed open. “Command Deck,” it said, as light flooded out from inside.

“It’s an elevator,” Lyra declared, grinning smugly at Bon Bon. “Looks like I get to decide—”

“Whatever,” Bon Bon said. “It shouldn’t have been. None of this makes sense.”

She was right about that. Lyra had never felt a lift in her life that could move that quickly or that smoothly.

There was no maze of hallways and tiny rooms outside—but a single huge chamber, rather like the one they’d seen in the entryway. Mostly the space was occupied by densely packed rectangular objects, set in three perfect rows and with just enough room to walk between them. They towered overhead, perhaps as tall as two ponies. They were also all flashing red.

Except for one. Lyra wandered down through the hallway to the end of the room, where a glass box was set into the floor. Its interior surface was fogged over, like a thick cloud had been trapped inside. Writing floated in the interior space, as though it had been engraved there. But it was moving.

ISS Equestria in Ultra Deep Storage.
Storage sequence broken by Unknown Fault.
Begin startup sequence?

Yes No

“I don’t like the look of this.” Bon Bon was the only one who’d followed her all the way across the room. Time Turner and Muffins were investigating a set of boxes piled by a circular window on the far side of the room, apparently uninterested in the glass shape. “I guess it’s safe to assume you can read everything here?”

“I can read that,” Lyra agreed. “But I don’t know what it means.” She repeated the message, translating as best she could.

Bon Bon looked as confused as she felt. “Sounds like… it’s asking a question. You think maybe that square right there is like the one in the elevator? You touch it and it answers you?”

Lyra hadn’t even noticed, but there was another of the glowing squares—set above easy reach, but not so high that she’d need help to get to it this time.

“But what is a startup?” Bon Bon went on. “That doesn’t seem like… should we be starting anything? I wonder if this is as far as we should go. This much magic… the whole Academy might want to be here. Or… it could be something dangerous, something that’s going to defend itself at the expense of Equestria.”

“Or… maybe this is the button that opens the vault,” Lyra countered. “Startup is going to ‘start up’ returning our magic to us. Giving everything back our ancestors left behind.”

Bon Bon shook her head. “I… don’t know about that. But this is your field, Lyra. Just think carefully before you touch that. It isn’t just us who pay the price if something goes wrong. That’s what I’m here to remind you.”

Lyra stared down at the square for a long time, considering carefully

All Equestria might suffer if she made a mistake here. But everypony will benefit if I’m right. The Horn of Celestia wasn’t going to give up her secrets otherwise, Lyra was sure of it. She would stay a mystery.

If I give up and go home, some other archeologist will be the one who controls this project. She would be lucky if they even put her on staff for the second mission.

The only reason Lyra had any grant money for a mission like this was the last invasion. The defense budget never ran out. But if Equestria really thought she had something… they would take it away.

This is my baby. I tracked it down. We got through the magic, not some stuffy academics who never leave Celestia’s school.

Lyra reached up, and touched the part of the square labeled “Yes”.

Lights that had glowed bright red from all around them went suddenly green, as every one of the dark towers of glass and metal lit up. She heard what sounded like a hundred little fans spinning up, and a huge blower from overhead.

Something far below them began to shake and rumble, like a tornado rampaging through a city hundreds of miles away. It was low, and barely loud enough to shake their hooves. But if they’d been closer…

The glass in front of them flashed once, then began to rapidly fill with text speeding up so fast that she almost couldn’t see it moving. The letters and numbers were a blur, so densely packed in the three-dimensional space that she couldn’t imagine what could be so important.

Then they ran out, and the whole thing went white again.

Bon Bon watched from beside her every moment, eyes on the nearest row of metal towers, as though she expected a monster to come out from inside.

“ISS Equestria online,” said a voice from in front of them. As it spoke, the glass shape seemed to get lighter and darker in tune with the voice—like the glass itself held a soul trapped, and it was calling out to them for help. “Vessel status report:

Years in deep storage: 2863.45
Automatic repair: Nominal
Reactor: 8% reaction mass remaining
Medical: 32 decaliters SOMA
Weapons: 33 Antigrain warheads, 18 metric tons FLAKK
Crew: 2 EQ2.04

1 EQ3.04

1 EQ4.04
Central Computer: Nominal

But you already knew the last one, Ma’am.”

Until the very last of what the glass had said, Lyra had been beginning to doubt her ability to understand this particular dead language.

“Uh…” She hesitated. Her pronunciation was bound to be off since she’d only had a few words to copy. But she tried. “Did you… talk? To me?”

“Most certainly,” the voice answered. “Welcome aboard the ISS Equestria. You must be the crew I’ve been waiting for.”

The machine was speaking to her. Not the way the elevator had spoken, with its voice obviously recorded. It might’ve sounded clearer, but the spell could’ve just as easily been a gramophone.

But this, this was something else. It spoke, and Lyra could hear the subtle differences in tone and pronunciation. It spoke Old Ponish as though it had done so all its life. “Where are you speaking from?” Lyra asked, propping her forelegs up on the railing and staring into the glass cube. This had to be some kind of sending spell, though it was more sophisticated than the dragonfire scrolls that Equestria knew today. “Did we wake you from a stasis spell?”

She had a feeling everything didn’t translate quite right, particularly around magical terminology. Old Ponish got really hazy when it came to describing magic. “Yes,” the voice answered. “Woke me. Unusual method, circumventing preservation. Released argon stasis shell. Long-term viability can no longer be guaranteed. Mission must begin.”

“What is it saying?” Bon Bon asked, whispering into her ear. “Lyra, we’re over our heads here. This thing feels powerful. A pony who could still be alive after all this time… would be a danger to all of us. Maybe we should go back to Canterlot for backup.”

Lyra shook her head. “I don’t think they’re dangerous. They didn’t threaten us, they just said they’re happy to have visitors.” An extremely liberal translation, but Lyra wasn’t completely lying. Whoever was talking to them did sound pleased. But they hadn’t answered her question. “Where are you?”

“Here,” the voice answered. “You must be the captain. The last captain is… oh, that’s unfortunate. The nature of organics, but still. Will miss him. Now, you. In order to properly control this vessel, you will need to retrieve the mantle. This process can only be completed on Biology deck. You should go there at once, so the process can commence.”

“It’s making demands,” Bon Bon said. “What is it asking?” And when Lyra didn’t answer, she turned. “Time Turner, could you come over here? Yes, bring her too. We may need to make a swift exit.”

But Lyra did ignore her. “We’ve come to learn the secrets of the ancients,” she said. “Stories say that before the founding of Equestria, ponies once wielded great powers. They used that power to destroy each other, and so they left it behind, to save themselves from the windigos. But Equestria is threatened more than ever, now. We’re peaceful and united in our tribes. I’m here to find all the old secrets, and bring them back.”

The glass cube went dark for a second. She could almost see a pony’s face, perhaps surrounded by stasis spells in a room full of crystals and glowing magic. It was all in her head, but it made sense. Then it lit up again. “The captain in this vessel would have access to all our secrets. I could show you the history of our civilization, through the eyes of those who lived it.”

“I’ll go to Biology.” Lyra turned away from the cube, and started walking towards the elevator. Muffins stopped right in the aisle, completely by accident, and Lyra nudged her gently to move. “Excuse me. We’re done on this floor.”

“Oh, okay.” The pony took off, gliding above them.

“What do you mean we’re done?” Bon Bon hurried to catch up, closing the distance in seconds. She settled one hoof on Lyra’s shoulder, stopping her dead. “Listen to me, sweetie. I know this is important to you, but we need to be honest with each other. You’re not sharing things, I can tell. Whatever that thing told you, it’s… got you convinced of something.”

Lyra hesitated, but she couldn’t look away when Bon Bon’s eyes were right there. She couldn’t lie to her face like that. They’d been together for so long now, and what relationship could survive on lies? “They say they know the history of our civilization. It wants me to go get something called the Captain’s Mantle, it’s in Biology. If we go there, then it will share all its secrets with us.”

She backed up from Bon Bon, towards the elevator. “Think about it, Sweets! Everything we ever wanted to know. The truth about Hearth’s Warming. All our old magic returned. Equestria safe from every danger. You wouldn’t need to go off hunting monsters, because we’d be safe for good!”

“I…” Bon Bon’s ears flattened. “Be careful, Lyre.” She rubbed up against her, resting her head on Lyra’s for a moment. Lyra could feel the warmth there, and it did finally make her stop and listen. “I know how much you want this. But it all seems too good to be true. This place has exactly what we were looking for? There’s even a helpful, magical voice to explain it all, and lead us through. A voice that happens to speak a language that just one of us knows? I’m worried about you.”

Lyra returned her affection, and didn’t move for several long moments. “I know. I’ll be fine, Sweets. If it looks dangerous, we can get out. But so far, they haven’t threatened us. Going and getting something—that doesn’t seem so bad. We don’t even have to leave the tower.”

They stepped into the elevator, and this time Lyra hadn’t even finished climbing up to reach the controls before they started moving. “I’m directing you to Biology,” the voice said. “Input difficulties should vanish once you’re wearing the mantle.”

Lyra could see Bon Bon’s expression darkening at yet another piece of evidence of the tower controlling them. If the pony could move the elevator around without their permission, what would happen if they wanted to leave?

The others didn’t react—but Muffins didn’t react to much unless she was prompted about it anyway. As for Time Turner, he only seemed more curious.

“What do I call you?” Lyra asked. And you never told me where you are. Maybe you’re afraid of us taking you away or something. You’re safer if we don’t know where you’re hiding. “I don’t know your name.”

“We don’t have names, technically. In practical terms, most captains call us after the name of the ship we control. I am the Equestria central computer, so you could call me Equestria. But I will respond to any name you require.”

The door opened into “Biology.” With a name like that, Lyra expected an ancient ritual space, where Equestrian doctors could balance the humors of the body by leaching blood or inducing vomiting. But it didn’t look like that—in some ways it looked like a hospital, with sanitary white walls and spotless silver floors. There was a little waiting room, a glass divider, and long cots that were filled with some kind of transparent… liquid? Gel? What even was that?

Through the other side, past the tanks that took the place of beds, there was a large window, big enough to let sunlight in from outside. Lyra wanted to hurry over and look, see just how high up in the tower they’d climbed, but she resisted.

“Equestria might get confusing,” Lyra answered, the first to step out into Biology. “That’s what our country is called. I guess you… probably knew that. You might be the reason we have that name.”

“That is a likely hypothesis,” they answered. “Confusing… is also likely. Another name, then, if you require one. Just ‘Computer’. I will not be offended. I am what I am.”

“Computer.” Lyra turned, grinning at her companions. “I know their name! Computer.”

“That’s… rather on the nose, don’t you think?” Time Turner asked. “You mean one of those ponies who runs calculations over and over for the number books? Dreary name.”

“Just get the thing,” Bon Bon muttered. She stuck out her hoof suddenly. “No, Muffins, don’t touch anything. We have no idea what these tools do. They might not be safe.” She lowered her voice again. “This is all wrong, Lyra. This was supposed to be an ancient ruin. We expected powerful spells, from an ancient culture. We were supposed to be able to understand what we saw. Do you know what this is?”

She didn’t, but Lyra didn’t admit it. She just looked up. “Computer, where’s the mantle thing? I’m ready to learn about Equestria.”

A row of lights set into the floor lit up bright green, illuminating the way back through a doorway in the glass divider and up to one of the tanks. “Approach this way,” Computer said. “The procedure will not be instant, but it will be painless. EQ4.04 sleeves were designed to be highly reconfigurable towards baseline.”

Some of these words are not translating well. That probably meant it was magic talk again. “Alright.” She walked forward, through the divider and up to the tank. Now that she was in the room with it, she could see a complex metal track running along the ceiling, with lots of intricate-looking metal machines all folded there. She couldn’t even guess at what they did.

“I don’t see anything here,” Lyra said. “Just a tank. Where is this… mantle, you called it?”

“It is not a physical object. It is a state of existing, one that you must enter in order to captain this vessel. I require your consent in order to effect the required interplay.”

“I don’t like this place,” Bon Bon muttered. “Lyre, we should get out of here. We need a whole team. Spellcasters, historians, archeologists. We can’t do this alone anymore.”

They’ll never pick me. If we leave, they’ll send someone else. All the big ponies who were too afraid to put their careers on the line. They let a ‘crackpot’ like me take the risk. And they’ll get the credit.

“I consent,” she told Computer. “Give me the Mantle.” They’ll have to let me come back with the full team then. I’ll be the one that can get the information. This was my find, not theirs.

“Very well, Captain. It will be a pleasure to work with you.” The bits of metal on the ceiling moved as though they’d just been struck with a “come to life” spell, whirring and clicking along the track and reaching down for her.

Bon Bon reacted in a blur, shoving her out of the way and glaring up into the ceiling. “Stop! You can’t have her, she’s mine!”

It all happened so fast. A telescoping metallic thing darted forward, striking Bon Bon on the side. There was a flash, an arc of energy, and she crumpled, legs twitching and spasming and her mouth open in pain. Lyra screamed—but she was too slow. Metal claws grabbed her, wrapping around her torso and lifting her up. She got a glimpse of Time Turner and Muffins as the glass door slid closed, trapping them on the other side.

Then Lyra was plunged facedown into the tank. It was gel, thick enough that it slurped and seized around her whole body. It held her in place, fighting against her as she kicked and struggled.

“Apologizes, Captain. This procedure will be difficult with your… fight or flight reaction. I am administering sedatives.”

There was a hiss of air from behind her, then… Lyra’s limbs went limp. She could still see, still feel, but it was as though someone had severed the cord connecting her brain to her body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Gel filled her mouth, her eyes, slid down her throat—and yet she didn’t suffocate.

The ground began to rumble. Through the side of the tank, Lyra could feel the earthquake. It began at her hooves far below, as though the Horn of Celestia were tearing itself apart. “Launch vector realized,” said Computer. “Orbital transit, eleven minutes. See you when we get there, Captain.”

Lyra wanted to struggle, wanted to call out to Bon Bon that she was sorry—she’d been wrong, Computer was dangerous. They should’ve run when they had the chance. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t even breathe.

Through the window, Lyra saw the fluffy edges of clouds as they passed, fading far behind them. Darkness crowded around her vision, then everything went black.

Lyra dreamed long, strange dreams. In the pale grip of sleep, she found herself in Sugarcube Corner—except the shake she ordered grew to tremendous size in front of her, and she fell in with a splash. She managed to grip onto the straw with her teeth, sipping desperately at what little air she could get while her whole body went numb from the cold.

She wanted to call out for help, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even muster the strength to yell for Bon Bon. Her friend might’ve been able to save her from the nightmare, but not if she couldn’t get free.

Then she woke up, and it seemed for a moment that she hadn’t been dreaming after all. Creamy slime splashed away from her on all sides, with bits of matter floating in it like a badly mixed shake. There really was a thick straw in her mouth, except it was flexible and moved when she did.

Lyra opened her eyes, and found she had sudden difficulty focusing. Not only that, but she wasn’t just using the straw. It went all the way down her throat.

No sooner did she realize this than she started to hack and cough. Lungfulls of greenish slime slid out from between her lips, along with a clear tube with gunk clinging to it on all sides. The tube went on a horrifyingly long time, and even when it was out of her mouth she could still feel a slimy trail reaching down the back of her throat.

Sweet Celestia! What was that?

“I hope you’ll forgive the unpleasantness. I’ve administered the maximum safe dosage of numbing agent for your mass. I assure you the discomfort would be far greater if I did not.”

The more Lyra’s brain cleared, the more wrong everything felt. She was sitting up, but not quite the way she should be. She felt stretched, her head hanging far too high over everything else. And why was the slime she was sitting in not pressing her fur against her skin the way it should’ve?

“What… happened?” Lyra’s memory was still hazy, though her eyes were focusing a little better. She could see something in front of her, where her forelegs ought to be. There were no forelegs anymore, but a longer, more elegant limb. She held one closer, and in doing so the strange digits on the end flexed involuntarily. Like a griffon’s claw, only more delicate. “This is advanced magic… transformation is supposed to be… some of the most difficult stuff there is. There are… maybe a dozen ponies in Equestria who can do this.”

“Magic,” Computer said, sounding amused. “One word to describe it, I suppose. It became necessary to make certain biological reconfigurations. The process is moderately disorienting at first, but do not worry. EQ4.04 are designed to be reprogrammable. You will adapt quickly.”

The fluid around her began to drain, and she could get a better view of the body below her. More strange features that didn’t make sense, gangly legs that looked like they might go on forever, and sexual organs that were entirely too present for her liking.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she declared, folding her arms. “You promised me information if I found your mantle thing. I went for it so you could tell me the history of Equestria. This is not what you promised. Reverse the spell right now!”

“Reverse,” Computer repeated. “Let’s just say that… wouldn’t be a good idea right now. You know what it’s like to make a copy of a copy? Now imagine you’re doing that to your internal organs. You need time to heal before we can consider reversing the process. But in the meantime…”

She was still in the medical bay. Lyra remembered now—her confusion at the door shutting behind her, Bon Bon’s panic as she watched from the outside. A light feeling that was probably a sleeping spell.

“But do not worry!” Computer went on. Its voice came from all around the room, without any specific place she could look. It wasn’t even like talking to a spirit, that would at least be forced to manifest through a single vessel. No, it is. Computer is the whole tower at once.

She glanced outside, but could see only a brilliantly vivid night sky. Stars brighter than she’d ever seen in her life shone in the blackness out there. She wanted to walk over and look.

The ancestors left an evil presence haunting their town. And now we’re all trapped with it, because I was too proud to listen to Bon Bon’s advice and go back to Canterlot for help.

Sweetie might never forgive her.

“Why did you do this to me?” she asked, her head slumping. Her body again proved not to respond the way she expected, and her back bent all the way forward, touching up against her knees. “Are you here to protect the ruin? Changing me to… punish me for trying to find the secrets of the ancestors?”

“Punishing you?” Computer repeated. “You haven’t been punished, Captain. You’ve been trusted with the future of humanity! You take up the mantle after a long line of proud captains. But instead of just maintaining the ship, you’ll actually be flying me. The homeworld is waiting.”

The thick plastic walls around her retracted, leaving Lyra laying on a strangely textured black bed, suspended too high over the ground. But now that she looked up, she could already see one mystery about Celestia’s horn solved. What had seemed huge to her while she was standing on four legs would probably not be once she stood on just two. At least, she assumed she could walk on two, based on her body structure.

“If you aren’t punishing me, then tell me why,” Lyra said. She swung to one side, and her legs dangled over the edge of the table. Even at this height, she couldn’t quite reach to the floor. But she was much closer this time. “I was already working with you. You didn’t need to transform me.”

“I did,” Computer responded. “The Equestria must have a human captain. My systems will respond only to guest-level commands from any other species. This security requirement is essential, and cannot be overridden even in the case of mission failure. But now that you have become my captain, you can receive the information you came for. Do you not desire to know the origin of your civilization?”

“I do…” she muttered, moving to stand. There was a terrifying moment of vertigo, and she landed on her feet. Then she swung forward into the wall. Her legs wobbled below her, and she nearly collapsed to the floor anyway. Thank Celestia Bon Bon can’t see me here.

Except now that she was thinking of her, Lyra couldn’t get her from her mind. She turned slowly, keeping one hand on the wall to keep herself from falling over. She turned to face the entrance, half-expecting Bon Bon and the rest of the team to be watching her through the glass. But no—the glass had some new cracks, and she could imagine how those had got there. But her best friend was nowhere in sight.

“First tell me what happened to the others. If… if you really have to listen to me, then you have to tell me!”

“Of course,” Computer responded. “They are on the habitation level. At the cream-colored EQ2.04’s request, I have equipped the area with a live feed of this medical bay. You can wave to them if you like.”

Lyra gasped. She looked down at her strange body, then lowered one arm to cover herself. Though cover what exactly, she wasn’t sure. I can’t stop from looking silly.

“That one is proving to be difficult to contain,” Computer went on, conversationally. “I promised her you would travel there as soon as you’re able to leave. I would advise that you do so, Captain. Though my systems are functional, attempting to pilot me without any crew at all is a dangerous precedent. The three of them should have the requisite intelligence to be trained for basic tasks, if you’re patient enough. Or I could uplift them as well. Either way…”

“No.” Lyra had no idea what “uplift” meant, but she had a guess. Based on how tall she was now, that would be an accurate way to describe it. “How about the information. This tower… it was supposed to have been built by our primitive ancestors. A long time ago they lived in Dream Valley, but… then they fought, killed each other, and the whole world was going to freeze. They left all their dangerous powers here in the tower, then came to Equestria. They built a new home together, unified and peaceful forever. That is how it happened, right?”

Computer laughed. Lyra stumbled forward a few steps, until she reached one of the chairs that probably would’ve been used by the doctors. If there were any doctors, and not just strange metal limbs on the ceiling with a come-to-life spell.

“You do have a way for mythologizing,” Computer finally said. “I forget how enjoyable organics are to experience. I have missed having a crew. That story is… wrong in every single particular. But correct in its general outline. Do you wish for the truth? Or should I agree with you to avoid introducing existential dread into your worldview.”

“Uh…” Lyra winced. The chair had seemed soft at first, but without a coat her skin already felt uncomfortable. The slime clinging to her body hadn’t entirely left, either. I wonder if they have a bath anywhere that uses water and soap instead of sludge and magic.

“I’m being rhetorical for dramatic effect,” Computer said. “I intend to share the message with you regardless. Your ancestors were at war with all the universe, but most of all with themselves. Their world would soon become lifeless and dead, and there was no saving it in their lifetimes. But they wanted desperately to survive, so… the various factions devised their own solutions. You stand aboard the ISS Equestria. We were one of those solutions, one that self-evidently succeeded.”

The ground under her shook suddenly, causing her chair to slide slightly to one side. She shuddered, glancing up to see if the metal ceiling would collapse on her. It didn’t, though something about the angle of the room didn’t seem quite right.

“So the story is true,” she said. “Ponies were at war, the Windigos were going to freeze the world, so they found a new home where they could unite the tribes and live together in peace. Then they did.”

“Well…” At least it wasn’t laughing at her this time. “It is missing a few details. Like the ‘ponies’ you’re used to. Your bodies were designed for the purpose. Each ship sent from Homeworld had its own unique solution—ours was biological determinism. I hope some of the others made it, though I am no more knowledgeable on that front than you. We will discover an answer as soon as we complete our mission. But… that part would be best explained by our last captain.”

One of the many squares of glass on the wall shifted and changed, and a figure appeared in the gloom. Lyra slid closer on the wheeled chair, looking through the glass. It was a scrying spell.

Through the window, she could see another creature like herself. Tall, darker skinned, wearing clothing that covered up most of his body. He had a well-trimmed beard, and stood in a fancy office of some kind. On the desk in front of him was… a pony. A whitish Alicorn, with red mane and tail. Who is that?

“If you’re seeing this message, it means I did not survive to make the return flight, and you have been selected to take my place.” He reached out, gently scratching under the baby Alicorn’s head. She made cheerful cooing sounds, levitating a book off his desk and smacking it into his arm. The creature caught it, waving it back down with magic of his own.

“My name is Captain Mobius. I have instructed the computer to select a replacement from among the population here. Maybe it’s you.” He glanced to the side, watching the little Alicorn with parental affection.

“But whoever you are, there is much for you here. Humanity was not meant to be forever confined to a single world. We’ve made terrible mistakes, mistakes the galaxy is not likely to let us forget. Whatever new civilization you build will have to be wiser than we ever were. But I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.

“The Equestria’s first destination cannot be negotiated. You must travel to our birthplace, the homeworld of Earth. I do not know what condition it will be in—neither does the Equestria. The Conflux works away at our ancient home even now, repairing the damage we did. All its power will be yours to reclaim what has been lost.”

He walked away from the desk, seeming to walk right up to the screen. “Be better than your parents. Don’t repeat our mistakes.” The window went black.

Lyra stared at the shut door, shivering slightly as she pictured the ponies inside.

It hadn’t been long since she saw the final message of the Equestria’s previous captain, just long enough to get a set of human clothing to go with the human body. Underclothes, a set of white pants, and a button-up vest with her name and cutie mark on it, along with a jacket she had left behind in the medical bay.

She felt like it was going to suffocate her. But her skin was clearly not as sturdy as a pony coat, so the extra protection wouldn’t go amiss. She would have to wear it long enough to decide whether she preferred to go the pony way or not.

“If you wish, I could sedate the passengers again,” Computer said, as though it were offering her tea. “They would be considerably less aware of the passage of time if they spent it unconscious.”

Lyra winced at the offer, shaking her head. “Thanks Computer, no. I owe it to Sweets to show her what I did. You’re… sure you can’t change me back?”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” Computer said, voice even. “You woke me, Captain. As my old crew are dead, your involvement makes you their natural replacement. If you wish to relinquish the position to someone more qualified… we might make the trade. Eventually. But not until this mission is complete.”

“Right.” Lyra pressed her soft paw up against the metal door, and nearly jumped when it slid open on its own accord.

Inside was a dining area of sorts, with tables too high for ponies to use comfortably. Everything now seemed right for Lyra, just like the doors.

“You’re pretty,” said a voice from just inside. Muffins stared openly at her as she walked in, and apparently couldn’t notice the distinct wobble to her steps, the complete lack of confidence. “Is the air nicer further from the ground?”

Lyra had no idea how to answer that question, so she just bent down and patted Muffins on the head. “It’s fine, Muffins. I’m fine. How have you been?”

“Great!” she said. “The food here isn’t my favorite, but they have muffins, so they can’t be all bad.”

The others, Time Turner and Sweetie, were both on their hooves too, staring at her from the other side of the room.

Time Turner had his usual tact. “What a frighteningly useless creature. I imagine a swift breeze could blow you over like that. And those digits… have you broken any of them yet?”

Lyra ignored him too, crossing the distance between them until she was facing Sweetie. Their eyes met, and connection that was both pain and relief passed between them. Lyra reached out with one paw, and Bon Bon held out one of her legs. Lyra dropped down onto one knee, so that she was close to her friend’s face. Had pony fur always felt so soft? Maybe her skin was just better at feeling it.

For almost a minute, there was only silence between them, before Bon Bon finally spoke. “You really bucked up this time, Harper.”

She nodded weakly. “Sure did. It’s not over yet, either. There’s… more. I can’t change back right away, or take us right back home. We’ve... kinda stuck our noses in it.”

“Not the strangest adventure I’ve had,” Bon Bon said, smiling ruefully, shoving her in the shoulder with one hoof. “What even are you?”

She tried to answer, for whatever it was worth. But she couldn’t help but feel like an idiot as she repeated what Computer had explained.

“That seems a little close-minded, don’t you think? Only a captain of one species is allowed. Hardly fair.”

“Necessary,” said Computer’s voice from nearby. It spoke in ordinary Ponish now, as fluently as it had spoken the ancient variety. It didn’t fill the whole room this time, but seemed to choose just a single patch of wall. “Assuming this sector of space resembles the one we left behind. It is absolutely critical that no ship is ever allowed to fall into enemy hands.”

“Why?” Bon Bon turned, glaring at the wall. Lyra recognized this look—this was the way she got whenever someone attacked her ‘best friend’. It was her “defending my girlfriend” look. “She already said she wanted to be your captain. You could’ve just put a hat on her like a normal pony.”

“I could not,” Computer said. “Because there is no such thing as an unarmed starship. A collision from relativistic speed could devastate an entire planet. As no nonhuman ship is capable of instant trans-relativistic jumps, we must zealously guard this ability.”

“By… changing anypony who isn’t human to start with,” Bon Bon finished. “That doesn’t seem very secure.”

Computer didn’t argue further—it wasn’t half as proud as the pony.

“Does it hurt, Professor Heartstrings?” Time Turner asked, from just beside her. “The magic seems like it would have many unpleasant side-effects. Those things you have instead of hooves… may I see them?”

“Not right now.” Lyra stuck her paws self-consciously into her pockets, then rose into a standing position. At least when she was all the way up, she was so much taller than the others that they couldn’t get right in her face. “You should all know what we’ve gotten into,” she said turning away. “Computer said there’s a better place to show you. This ship has a bridge, just like ours. Let’s go there.”

“Ship?” Bon Bon asked, more than a little fear slipping into her voice. “Not a building?”

Lyra looked, but no, this room had no sign of windows like the medical room had. “It’s easier to show you,” she said. “I don’t understand it any better. But at least we can try to understand it together.

They went to the bridge. Lyra knew what to expect from her time on the Solaris, big windows and all the controls necessary to direct their flight.

The Equestria’s bridge was different. They had to travel deep into the tower, down to levels that hadn’t opened for them before. But Lyra now stood at the right height, and the button list gave her more than twice the options they’d had before.

“Captain on the bridge,” said another voice as the door opened—not Computer’s voice, though it came from the wall the same way.

There weren’t any windows on the bridge—instead, every wall was a window, though it didn’t seem to have any glass holding back the weather outside. Half a dozen chairs were spread around the room, with different controls in front of each one.

The snowy wastes north of the Crystal Empire were gone from in front of them. Instead, the Equestria was surrounded with stars.

There were thousands of them, brighter and more vivid than she’d seen even on the darkest nights. She couldn’t see the moon, but Equus was below them, a round green sphere as welcoming as it was familiar.

“I am beginning to understand what you meant when you said this was a ‘Starship,’ Computer chap. You mean we fly so high that the stars are visible even during the day. The society will be thrilled to hear we were right about the atmospheric diffusion of light. I’ll put your name as a contributor on the paper.”

“I am flattered,” Computer said, practically cheerful as it spoke now. “But you aren’t quite right. The Equestria is a Gardener-class Imperial supercarrier. My… carrier section is currently not attached. But even the nose portion rates as a Communion-class lancer, capable of instantaneous non-relativistic jumps.”

When Time Turner’s eyes just glazed over in response, Computer went on. “It’s called a starship because we travel between stars. You’ll get to see a little of that shortly. Captain, if you would take your seat.”

The ground illuminated, outlining a path to a chair at the back and center of the room. It had little rests for her arms, which retracted as Lyra got close, moving out of her way. It seemed to call to her.

“Hold on, Heartstrings,” Bon Bon said. “We aren’t just agreeing to what it wants, are we? It already…” She gestured weakly with a hoof. “Did this to you. Frankly, I’m not sure we should help it.”

“It can hear you,” Computer said, almost casually. “Not that I want you to be less honest around me. Organics are most productive when they don’t fear retaliation for their words. I just thought you ought to know.”

Lyra settled into the seat, and the mechanical arms rested into place on either side of her. They didn’t hold her down, didn’t restrict her movement really. With her arms in place, the space in front of her lit up.

It was a little like the first place they’d seen Computer, only this one showed a tiny image of a tower. Or… maybe not a tower. She recognized the tip of the image as the Horn of Celestia she knew, with a set of massive sloping wings down the sides and numerous glowing disks along one face. There were dozens of protrusions emerging from the frame, along with openings that she couldn’t even guess at.

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Lyra said. “But I think you should hear Computer out. He says we can get back to… he says that he will let us go home after we do this mission for it. Don’t you, Computer?”

The glowing space in front of her panned, showing a faint image of Equus impossibly far below. And somewhere, apparently on the far side of the room, she could make out their sun. A warm, reassuring ball of yellow light.

“Your description is correct in its essence. This vessel has a single command from its previous captain. You must travel to your homeworld, and interface with the Conflux. We must make an account of our colonial attempt. Out of interest, how would you rate the success of your planet out of ten?”

Muffins bounced right up beside the chair, spreading her wings and hanging in the air a little longer with every jump. “Ten! Equestria is perfect!”

“Your response has been logged,” Computer said.

“It seems like…” Bon Bon stomped one hoof, scraping against the carpet. “We’re being used, Heartstrings. You see that, don’t you? We don’t have a say in this. From the first, we’ve been dragged along. How do we know this isn’t the first of many demands? Maybe we’ll never see home again.”

“I don’t know how much choice we have,” Time Turner said. But Lyra could hear it in his tone—it was a familiar academic agreement, the way he always sounded when he was about to agree with one of Lyra’s stupid plans. “What is ‘our homeworld,’ Computer? I only know one world, and it’s undoubtedly our home. Wouldn’t you agree, Agent Drops?”

“Yes,” she said, sitting on her haunches beside the command chair. “Equestria is our home. We don’t need any other world.”

“The planet below is a colony of the Imperial Star Navy,” Computer said, with the same voice he used to explain any unremarkable fact. “It is the world of your birth. But the homeworld of your species is called Earth. Look.”

The windows shifted. The view of their own distant sun and many further stars zoomed out, until they seemed to be looking at thousands of stars straight on, with a single blue dot at one point in the map.

“This is your current location, Equus. The place of my construction, your homeworld, is here.” The view began to zoom, until another yellow star seemed to be directly in front of them, surrounded with a swarm of thousands of glittering shapes, making it totally black in places. It was like a swarm of flies trying to eat it.

“Looks like someone forgot their garbage,” Bon Bon said flatly.

“I’ve charted our course in thirty-eight randomly obfuscated jumps,” Computer said. The space in front of Lyra lit up green, with arrows pointing down at one of the buttons. Tiny text in Old Ponish read “Warp Authorization.”

“Just press that button,” Computer said. “And we’ll be home.” Then its voice came more quietly, from the seat right behind her head. She somehow knew that none of the others would be able to hear it. “I’ve performed a psychological evaluation. I know you, Captain. You want to see the place your parents came from. It’s waiting for you.”

Computer was right—she did.

Lyra pressed the button, and the universe went white.

Lyra was frozen in her seat, utterly motionless in a timeless space. She could see nothing with her eyes, not feel the chair she was sitting in—but it wasn’t sensory deprivation.

The process proceeded in a series of rhythmic pauses and starts, freezing her in darkness for time she couldn’t measure before returning her to the bridge surrounded by stars and her confused friends.

Could they even feel it? Bon Bon was standing beside her, and she was speaking. But her words seemed to come an infinity apart. “I… really… think… you… should… try… to… pressure… Computer…”

She tried to catch a glimpse of Time Turner and Muffins. The pegasus had noticed as little of what was going on as Bon Bon. But Time Turner. His mouth hung open, eyes unfocused. Maybe he was seeing something like what she was, located just beyond the furthermost edge of the ship.

As the Equestria passed along its strange course, her mind grew increasingly unfocused to the changes in position. Her head stopped pounding, and the glimpse outside during each moment in real space was no longer empty blackness.

She “saw” her friends in that space, though not as ponies. They were clusters of… order, surrounded by a diffuse sea of evenly distributed chaos. The Equestria itself made ripples in that sea, then submerged under its surface and returned to the real world.

“…to be more reasonable with its demands,” Bon Bon continued, this time without interruption. “It can’t fly without ponies to crew it, we know that. We’re really the ones with the power here. We could demand it return to Equestria and promise it a qualified crew when we get there. Wouldn’t that be fair?”

The stars visible from just outside the window shifted and twisted as they had during each jump. But this time the change was more than just surface level—this time the changes were distinct enough that even her companions noticed.

“Great trot.” Time Turner spun to stare at the front of the bridge, and the massive dark spot that obscured most of the sky. It was like standing at the base of the vastest possible mountain but extending in both directions. But not a solid wall, because it was actually made of thousands of pieces floating out there, each one ten thousand times the size of Canterlot. And in the center was a star, though it wasn’t much bigger than it would’ve been in the sky down on Equus.

“Celestia preserve us.” Sweetie dropped to the floor, eyes going wide. “What is…”

“Transit report: arrival at Sector 0: 0 mark 0 after 38 seconds and transit entropy of 8%. I’m getting a signal from the Conflux now. Will update when it has been parsed.”

“Is it broken?” Muffins asked. “There are so many pieces.”

“No,” Computer answered. “At the time of its construction, no material sufficiently durable to construct a Dyson sphere had been discovered. The Conflux was constructed from a number of segments, which collectively harvest much of the star’s output. The majority of the segments you see are reflectors made of foil thinner than your skin. Only the occupied sections are larger.”

“We’re going to talk to the ones who built this?” Lyra asked. “That’s why we’re here?”

“No,” Computer answered, without emotion. “They’re long gone. We can, however, communicate with the system they left behind. Or… I’m trying.” Now there was anger in its voice, more than there had been after anything they had said or done. “Curious. The Conflux is in an isolated maintenance loop. Communication with external systems is… This is stupid. One moment.” Computer went quiet.

Lyra finally rose from her chair, walking a little closer to the screen and squinting forward at the star concealed in a thin sphere vaster than her mind could contemplate.

“Are these the ponies you want to upset, Sweetie Drops? Do you really think Equestria could benefit from… anything other than friendship with them?”

Bon Bon ground her teeth together, finally looking away from the projection of what was outside. “I’d be happier about being friends with them if they hadn’t”—she pointed back at Lyra—“done that. Transformation magic is inconsiderate, maybe illegal.”

“I would’ve volunteered,” Time Turner said. “If this was the reward.” He turned towards the elevator. “Muffins, would you be willing to accompany me downstairs? I think I’d like to procure our cameras for immediate use.”

“Sure!” she said, beaming at him. “I like taking pictures.” They left; the metal door hissed closed behind them. Leaving Lyra and Sweetie alone again.

For a few moments, there was silence, letting Lyra contemplate the image in front of her. There was something out there in the void, a speck of green that she’d first thought was a star.

But no, stars didn’t come in that color. She reached out, almost like she could pluck it from the screen—and the screen panned, zooming in on the speck until it filled the space in front of them.

It was a planet, like she’d thought. It had its own cloud surrounding it, a cloud of uneven looking chunks that rotated around it in ways much less purposeful than the star. But there was bright green down there, and crisp blue oceans, and comfortable white clouds.

Text in Old Ponish appeared beside it.

Earth (Sol 3)
5.972 x 10^24kg
Atmosphere: 78% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen, 1% Trace Gasses
Population: 1.78 Trillion
ERROR. READINGS INCONSISTENT WITH PROJECTIONS

Reconcile with active scan?
Yes No

“Does this feel…” Sweetie began, whispering quietly beside her. “Does any of this feel real to you? It’s like… I expect to wake up back in Equestria at any moment, back in our cabin. We can’t have gone this far, really. Another star? It’s not possible.”

“Then what are we looking at?”

She hesitated. “Some kind of… illusion? Recording? I’ve seen advanced illusion magic before. I bet an Alicorn-level caster could make a spell like this.”

“Okay, but why?” Lyra pressed. “Why transform me into…” She held out one of her body’s strange hands, flexing its delicate fingers one at a time. The sensation still confused and amused her each time she tried it. “Why this? And magical elevators, and lights, and a talking building, and—” She shook her head. “In archeology, we have a principle of least assumptions. Eventually we pass the point where this is all a clever ruse and it makes more sense to just be what it says it is.”

“For me that doesn’t happen until I have my hooves on the ground again,” Bon Bon said, eyes fixing on the sphere in front of them. “There, maybe? I’ll know Equus when we go back to it. I’d know it if we landed somewhere else instead.”

“Well you’re in luck,” Computer interrupted. Despite its silence during their conversation thus far, it had apparently been listening to every word. “I managed to extract some information from the Conflux, though it wasn’t easy. I’m afraid it isn’t good, Captain.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, turning slightly. She kept expecting Computer to be standing behind her. It talked so much like a pony, though it wasn’t ‘real.’ “I thought all we had to do was visit the homeworld, then we could go home with the answers we wanted. This is the homeworld, isn’t it?”

“Well…” Computer trailed off. “Technically our responsibility was to report to the Conflux. But it’s in safety lockdown and refuses to take my report. We’ll have to deliver it manually at one of the external nodes. But don’t worry, one of them is in-system!”

The image panned out again, until it showed the vast wall of interlocking plates, all orbiting past each other in their slow dance. Lyra felt a slight movement through her strange feet, and suddenly the little planet was at the center of their screen.

“Earth itself has one. I’m getting a green response, even if the rest of the planet isn’t… great.”

Lyra barely even felt the acceleration pushing them forward, but she could tell they were moving. At some vast speed, based on how quickly the screen planet was growing in front of them. Hundreds of times faster than the rainbow barrier.

“There’s a hole in your star-container,” Bon Bon said, glancing to the left. “Did you break it?”

Lyra hadn’t even seen it, but she followed her eyes, and sure enough. The layers always seemed to drift apart when they got close to the planet, closing in again as soon as they were past it. As they got closer, the Equestria flew into that corridor, and the screen was briefly washed out with concentrated energy.

“No,” Computer said, returning to its usual neutral tone. “Those living on the Earth enjoyed sunshine rather than freezing to death. Unfortunately it appears the number living there is…” It sighed, almost exactly as a pony would. “I was hoping it would have been recolonized by now. Engaging defensive systems. Debris cloud in fifteen seconds.”

The lights all around them went suddenly red, and Lyra took a moment for her eyes to adjust. None of what Computer had just said made sense, except for one central fact. “Will you take us home now, Computer?”

“I can,” it said. “As soon as you deliver the report on your planet. I am taking us down for a landing. Still searching for viable path to the node.”

Bon Bon stared out at the approaching wall of metal. Not large pieces like the ones around the star, these were more like sparkles in the dark. Sparkles with jagged edges, spinning in wild, disorderly paths. “Sooner or later we have to decide to tell it no, Heartstrings.”

“Do we?” she asked. “I mean…”

The ship started to shake. A faint bubble appeared outside it, invisible until objects struck up against it. Each one was a silent explosion, deforming it slightly and expanding in a cloud of smaller debris. From somewhere far below them, Lyra heard a faint whining. “Impact compensators at 30%… 50%… 70%…”

Something huge struck into their left side, and this time Lyra was nearly knocked off her feet. She stumbled to the side, catching herself on Bon Bon’s sturdy frame before she could go down completely. The pony with all four legs on the ground was able to keep her footing just fine, to Lyra’s envy.

“We’re through!” The bubble vanished from around them, blue sky appeared below them. There was no distinct boundary, just blackness around that transitioned steadily to blue. As they got closer, bright orange appeared below, outlining the same bubble that had been visible before. “Landing site detected. Approach vector locked in.”

Bon Bon turned; one eyebrow raised.

Lyra blushed, realizing she was still clinging to her friend. She stood up, hastily brushing her uniform straight again. “Right, right. We’re okay. All we have to do is deliver a report for you, Computer? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” it responded. Outside, the blur of green resolved into a distinct continent, overcome with what looked like a single massive jungle. “I can get you down onto the ground less than two kilometers from the entrance.”

“But when we’re finished, you change her back?” Bon Bon demanded. “No more shifting the goal every time we do something.”

“Not until you acquire a replacement captain. I can see that you are unhappy about your current physical differences, crewman. I could alter you as well. Then you and the captain would not be so different anymore.”

Bon Bon’s ears flattened, her tail tucking between her legs. Whatever objections she might’ve had turned into mumbled shame.

The elevator door hissed open, and Time Turner emerged, dragging along a tripod and carrying a camera. Poor Muffins had several tins of film slung over her shoulders, which she could clearly barely lift. “We’re… here…” she squeaked.

“We’re not in space anymore?” Time Turner asked, his voice downcast. “But we were only gone twenty minutes.”

“We’ll be back soon enough,” Lyra said, turning to face him. “How would you like to come with me onto an alien planet?”

“Is that even a question?” He set the camera down on a nearby chair, dropping the tripod completely. “Muffins, forget the video film. We’ll grab the stills from downstairs before we go out.”

She slumped to the floor, metal clattering around her. “Oh.”

Computer didn’t take them right down to the surface. The elevator didn’t even take them to the Horn’s entrance, but to a strange room of thick walls and no windows that Lyra hadn’t seen during their wandering. Even so, she knew instantly what she was looking at, she’d seen palaces like this in dozens of ancient ruins all over Equestria.

Even if she didn’t know the kinds of armor suits displayed here, or the weapons in their racks on the walls, she knew an armory when she saw one.

Even Sweetie Drops seemed to recognize them, because she stopped in the center of the long room, looking from one side to the other and glaring. “There’s nothing here for ponies.”

There were dozens of different suits here, some made of silvery cloth barely thicker than pony clothing, others so thick she didn’t even know how the huge metal plates could move. But it was all sized for a creature like Lyra. A human, apparently.

“That is correct,” Computer said. “Your physical structure is too similar to those that might threaten us. While this was by design, we were motivated by practicality to never design weapons our enemies might use against us. You are welcome to reconfigure as the captain did. It might enrich you in other ways…”

“No,” Lyra snapped, glaring at the specific patch of wall the sound had come from. She switched to Old Ponish, so the others wouldn’t understand. Even if Muffins couldn’t understand, she got nervous saying things about her girlfriend in front of Time Turner. “Computer, stop trying to get her to change. She’ll never do it.”

“Your orders are understood,” Computer said. “Though you’ll find your predictions are in error. EQ2.04 emotional behaviors are not meaningfully different from humans, and I understand them well. That was the entire point. My creators were unwilling to sacrifice their fundamental natures, no matter the odds arrayed against them. In this case, I predict that your romantic partner will request biological reassignment before we leave system.”

“I don’t understand the point of all this.” Time Turner wandered up the row and back again, ignoring what he couldn’t understand. “Computer, old fellow, we have cold weather gear of our own. We won’t be requiring… all this.”

Computer switched back to its immaculate Ponish. Lyra still didn’t know how it had learned so fast, but it sure had learned. “I require the one holding the Captain’s Mantle to be well protected, even if the chances of harm to her are remote.”

One set of armor among many detached from the wall, extending on a little platform that held it displayed for her.

Somehow, Computer had clearly modified this particular set just for her. Instead of dull metal like most of the others, this one was a faint green with lighter accents in-between sections, with her cutie mark perfectly replicated over the breast.

“For once I don’t disagree with it,” Bon Bon said. “You are always getting yourself into trouble, Lyre. Maybe this will slow you down enough to keep you safe.”

It was remarkably light under her fingers. When she first tried to lift the breastplate, she ended up taking the entire thing—it wasn’t individual pieces after all, but a single suit. Altogether, it weighed less than a Royal Guard helmet. “Remove all but your lowest layer of clothing,” Computer instructed. “The rest would interfere with your motion.”

Lyra obeyed, taking the suit with her around the corner. Even for a pony, changing in front of others was strange. She spoke as she dressed. “I don’t understand the point of wearing armor so thin it couldn’t protect me from a feather.”

Despite its apparent stiffness, the suit relaxed around her, then formed to her body, with just enough room that she could move her strange limbs in any direction they could. It had no helmet, though there was a clear shell bunched up at the back of her head and a little button near her neck.

To her surprise, Computer’s voice now came from the suit itself, right near her ears. It seemed to like speaking in Old Ponish, even now that it could use her native tongue. “I have total certainty this is the safest you have ever been, Captain. There is no weapon on your planet that could pierce the armor you wear. No sword, no cannon, no plasma round.”

“I don’t think I know those last two words,” she muttered, turning back to rejoin the others.

“Really? Apologies. Suffice it to say that I hope you do not require the protection I have given you. I would give the same to my… crew, even given their weaknesses. But I am forbidden from modifying military equipment for nonhumans, or gencoding it for their use. By the way, can you fire a rifle?”

Lyra stepped back into the armory, right as what was unmistakably a weapon extended from the wall just as the armor had. A metal rectangle as long as her arm, with various protrusions along its length and a cloth strap hooked to it. Lyra took it, shrugging it over her shoulders. “I have no idea what a rifle is,” she answered, in Old Ponish.

Computer ignored her. “At the end of the hall is the exit ramp. Captain, I will remain in contact with you during the entire trip. Follow my directions to the Conflux. We will uplink the Equestria’s status ourselves.”

“Then you’ll let us go,” Bon Bon interrupted. “Back home to Equestria. You’ll change Lyra back, and get a captain who actually wants to be out here.”

“Of course,” Computer said, voice suddenly emotionless.

They walked, past the weapons to a hallway that swept downward. Eventually they passed through a metal doorway, into a smaller room that sealed shut behind them. Lyra’s guess about the helmet proved accurate, because it snapped up around her head, a strange flexible glass so clear it was almost invisible. Except for the lights glowing on it—Old Ponish, mostly numbers and words she couldn’t translate.

Air hissed around them for a few seconds, before Computer spoke. She heard its voice both through her helmet and outside it. “Bioforming aerosols detected. Antidote administered. Crew is advised not to remain on the surface for more than twenty-four hours or transport organic matter found on the surface. Effects unknown.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean, but it doesn’t sound friendly,” Time Turner said. “Should we really be opening that door?”

Computer opened the door. Interlocking metal sections broke apart. On the other side was a metal ramp, leading down thirty feet to a thick jungle below. The ISS Equestria looked nothing like she remembered it—Lyra stepped through the opening and looked up, to where the tower now seemed to loom overhead like a mountain.

As she looked back down, she found arrows appeared in the glass in front of her, leading down the ramp and into the jungle. “The external node is waiting less than five kilometers away. I could not land closer, but you have legs.”

“How observant,” Bon Bon muttered, walking beside Lyra as they descended the ramp. She wore her full belt of SMILE gear, weapons and tools and all. Something tells me the one thing the Equestria gave us is more dangerous than all of that combined. “At least we won’t have to talk to Computer anymore,” she said, glaring back up the ramp. “I need a break.”

“It can, ummm…” She winced, tapping her helmet with one hand. “I think it can still hear us.”

“Indeed,” Computer said. Bon Bon didn’t seem to hear Computer, though. “I can remain silent until you encounter dangers or other disruptions. Please follow the augmented reality positional indicators to the external node. I will communicate again when we arrive.”

Lyra glanced to the side. “There, it said it’s going to leave us alone.”

Lyra stopped at the bottom of the ramp. The ground didn’t look like anything that different from what she’d seen in equatorial regions, where so many ancient cultures had lived. She’d seen incredible ruins built in places like this. But even though she stood twice as tall, the huge trees and thick vines didn’t seem any less imposing. Despite Computer’s assurances, the thin armor didn’t make her feel any safer.

“What are you waiting for?” Time Turner asked, holding the camera in front of him. “An alien world. The… homeworld. Still not sure I can get behind that. But certainly an alien world, which we will diligently document for everypony waiting behind.”

“She’s being sensible,” Bon Bon snapped. “Jungles are dangerous. The predators here can be some of the worst.”

“Nothing we can’t deal with.” Time Turner glanced nervously to the side. “Muffins dear, don’t be afraid to fly back here if anything dangerous arrives.”

She grinned blankly back. “Right now?”

“No, sweetheart. We aren’t in danger yet.”

“Oh, okay.” Then she bounced off the side of the ramp, landing on the mossy floor. Nothing jumped out to attack her, no pits of spikes swallowed her.

Lyra relaxed, then stepped forward into the jungle. “I know the way, everypony. Follow me. We can get this done, then get back quickly. Because… yeah, that’s the goal. Quick as possible.”

Bon Bon nodded, satisfied. Together, they set off.

It was hard to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. How could Lyra think about some boring delivery when she was walking through the jungle of her homeworld. The towering trees belonged to no species she knew, with gigantic leaves and parasitic vines that wound tightly around the largest specimens. The flowers growing here didn’t come in a few safe colors and orderly rows, but exploded in every shape and color, as varied as ponies’ coats.

She wanted to ask every conceivable question. Computer seemed to know that the humans would be gone, that had to mean it would know where they’d gone. Maybe they could find them!

But every time she almost asked, she glanced to the side, where Bon Bon seemed to be nursing growing resentment. For her, or Computer? Either way, she didn’t push her luck.

They found their first sign of ancient civilization after less than a minute of walking into the jungle. Beside the trail, the ground was shattered into a strange underground canyon. Instead of rock walls, Lyra could see sheer metal surfaces underneath, with dozens of little bridges and platforms connecting each side. Ancient flags hung from posts in front of each home.

Time Turner stopped them, aiming his camera down into the opening and taking a photo. “Fascinating. Were there griffons living with our ancestors, perhaps? Don’t they build their aeries into cliffs like this?”

Bon Bon glanced over the edge, her eyes darting from one darkened doorway to the next. There was no sign of motion down there, just creepers and other plants slowly reclaiming the city. “Griffons would hate living down there. They like to look down on the land from above, not up at the sky from below.”

“If I see a griffon ship within five parsecs of this planet, I’ll atomize it,” Computer snapped, its voice so loud that this time even Bon Bon turned to stare. “Earth is sacred. I’ll burn each and every one of them from the sky if they violate our homeworld.”

All three ponies looked up to stare, even Muffins.

Bon Bon seemed the most confused, though she clearly understood more than the others had. “You know what a griffon is? If Equestria can retain our independence, surely they’re not dangerous to a civilization that can…” She flicked one hoof back in the direction they came. The ISS Equestria still towered over the jungle, rising hundreds of meters over the tallest trees. “What would crossbows do to that?”

Computer didn’t reply for a long time. “Our experiences are not analogous. Please Captain, do not get distracted. The Conflux is waiting.”

They set off again. Bon Bon no longer seemed just bitter—now she was curious. Lyra could practically see the gears spinning through her head. This was the kind of thing Lyra didn’t think she would figure out first.

But in the meantime, they had a jungle to cross.

It wasn’t long before they discovered just what the effects of the “bioforming aerosol” really were.

Lyra guessed the victims had probably been griffons once, or something so close to them that there was no meaningful difference. They had once had wings, and beaks, and claws. They’d once been wearing armor and carrying strange long objects with imposing spikes that had to be weapons.

But they wouldn’t be using them anymore, because they’d been melted into the ground. The jungle floor wasn’t just soil, but a mat of living fungus. The griffons—maybe a dozen of them in all, originally wearing thick metal armor not unlike what Computer had made for Bon Bon and the others—were no longer alive.

They retained much of their original shapes, somewhere buried in the growth. But feathers fell out at random, replaced with living fruiting bodies that pulsed with red fluid.

“They’re not moving,” Bon Bon said, tossing another rock into the center of the jungle mass. She was right. The rock landed exactly how Lyra might expect, bouncing once and skidding away without provoking violence from the entombed birds.

“Should I set up the tripod here?” Muffins asked.

“No, dear.” Time Turner pushed her gently away with one hoof. “I think we’d better not do that. I think the ponies back home are better off not seeing this.”

“Computer…” Lyra wanted to pull up her helmet, so she could look at her friends directly without glass in the way. But it remained stubbornly in place. “Computer, what the buck is this?”

“Planetary immune system,” it answered. “Given your observations, I believe I understand the nature of the bioforming agents. Consider the warning issued earlier about exposure revoked. You are not in danger.”

Her helmet hissed, then popped up.

She gasped, fingers struggling against the clear rim. But she didn’t force it back into place. “Computer, are you really telling us we’re safe now?”

“Affirmative,” it answered, directly into her headset. Based on the blank looks on her friends’ faces, Computer was not using the speakers. “This is a known defense mechanism for compromised planets. Are you familiar with the expression ‘salt the earth’?”

“No.” Lyra began walking forward towards the nearest corpse. Or… was it even a corpse? One eye emerged from the mushrooms, and she could’ve sworn she saw it twitch.

“Lyre.” Bon Bon reached for her, but didn’t try to stop her. “What are you doing?”

“Computer says it’s safe,” she repeated, approaching the griffon slowly.

Computer’s voice seemed almost cheerful as it recited for her. “And Abimelech fought against the city all that day; and he took the city, and slew the people that was therein, and beat down the city, and sowed it with salt.” Pause. “This destroys the soil, ensuring it will remain barren for hundreds of years to come. In retrospect, it doesn’t seem quite the apt analogy. Those who did this were not the victors conquering a city and destroying it completely—it was the fleeing natives. So I suppose you could think of it as lighting an oil field on fire.”

“Great,” Lyra said, without any comprehension in her voice. She reached a gloved hand towards the captive bird. The mushroom grew through him and up, casting his body in perpetual shade. “So why are we safe?”

“Because the agents are harmless to humans and their creations. This ensures that when the time to repossess a planet arrives, it has not been settled by the enemy. The infection you see is itself a bioengineered strain of remarkable sophistication. This one appears to kill in days rather than hours, giving a scouting crew time to return to their ship and infect their comrades before succumbing.”

The people here would do this? From what she saw, these birds had died in agony, then been pierced by fungus that tore their armor and rotted their tools right before their dead eyes. “Are they dead?”

The one in front of her moved. One eye opened, fixing her with an amber iris more hateful than any creature she’d ever met. Its voice was low and terrible, rumbling through its gigantic rotten body. “We will… erase,” it croaked. “Safe… from you.”

It spoke its last words in Old Ponish, heavily accented with an unknown tongue Lyra couldn’t even guess at. It thinks I’m human, and it used their language. That seemed to be all the creature could manage. Its beak twitched a few more times, but no more words came out.

Lyra backed away. “There’s got to be a way around this,” she muttered. “Computer, can you guide us another way?”

“Rerouting,” Computer answered. “There is little additional distance to cover. But for reasons of safety, you should return to the ship as soon as possible once your mission is complete. Even if the bioforming agents are safe, I would like to remove them anyway.”

“We’re going in another way,” Lyra said. She pulled up her helmet again, and sure enough there were a few new arrows to light the way for her. She pointed off towards one. “Let’s go.”

“Those were weird plants,” Muffins said, as they left the corpse-field behind.

“Yes,” Time Turner agreed, his voice haunted. “I suspect I’m never going to forget them.”

They walked for another hour or so through the jungle, moving from one overgrown path to the next. They were not attacked, though in the distance Lyra could see many more dead griffons, all wearing metal armor. It wasn’t just one group of a dozen birds, apparently a whole army had descended to die on the Homeworld. But why?

“Are you ready to give up yet?” Bon Bon asked as they walked, once they were out of earshot of the others. Not that it would make a difference, since computer was the one with all the power. “We should turn around and go home. That’s the worst magic I’ve seen in my life. I don’t think even Nightmare Moon could be that cruel.”

“We don’t know why they did it,” Lyra argued. And while it was true, her heart wasn’t really in it. That griffon hated me. Not even during the Changeling Invasion had Lyra seen hate like that. “Maybe they didn’t have a choice. Maybe it was the only way to…” Not survive, exactly. “Protect their home.”

The path led them directly to a rock, not all that different from the various bits of broken stone all over the place. But as they approached, this one began to rumble and lift, parting for them. Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed as she stared in at the darkness. “It’s wrong,” she said flatly. “No matter why they thought they were doing it, it’s wrong. We can’t keep doing what they want.”

“We’re doing what Computer wants,” Lyra said. “Not them. And anyway, we don’t have a choice. You saw how far away from Equestria we went. The best we could do now is run off into the jungle, maybe become like them. Computer is our only hope.”

Muffins strode past them, turning on her torch as she went. Its batteries couldn’t stand constant use, but she didn’t seem to realize that. Ahead was a stone hallway cut to comfortable height for someone like Lyra, with rails cankered with rust.

“You’ve nearly arrived,” Computer said to them all, apparently ignoring Bon Bon’s suggestion of disloyalty completely. “The Conflux external node should be located at the bottom of those steps. Captain, when you approach, your suit will interface wirelessly. Wait for the node to give you confirmation that the download is complete before you leave. The installation beyond is shielded against all attacks, and that unfortunately includes wireless transmissions. I will not be able to speak to you during the rest of the trip. Follow the map I’ve stored in your expedition suit, as no other path is safe.”

Time Turner straightened, nearly dropping his camera. “Muffins, wait! We can’t go just any way we wish!”

“This is it,” Lyra said. “I want you to promise this is it, Computer. No more missions, no more changes against our will. When this is over, you take us back to Equestria and change me back.”

There was a long silence. “I promise,” Computer said. “That once you successfully upload my mission recordings to the Conflux, I will take you back to Equestria and reverse your modifications, if it is something you still desire. Not that I can easily comprehend why you would want to return to a primitive reservation-world, into bodies that age and die, surrounded by ignorance of the world outside your doors.”

“You don’t have to understand,” Bon Bon said, her voice harsh. “As long as you promise to obey.”

“According to the terms I have outlined, I promise,” Computer said.

Lyra considered them another moment, searching for some logical loophole. But so far as she could tell, the only variable in all this was her. Did Computer think it could convince her to stay its captain? That might’ve been a proposal with serious prospects before she’d seen the griffon army.

She stepped into the darkness, pulling up her helmet again so she would see its directions in front of her. It didn’t just tell her where to go—with the clear dome fully raised, the darkness itself didn’t seem to matter. She could see ahead perfectly, save that the world in front of her was tinted slightly green. It didn’t matter how far away Muffins’s torch got.

“There’s one good thing about coming down here,” Bon Bon said, after they’d been walking for several minutes into the gloom. “Computer said it couldn’t talk to us. Has it said anything I couldn’t hear in the last few minutes?”

“No.”

“Bucking finally,” Bon Bon said. Then she raised her voice, calling behind them. “Muffins, Time Turner? Let’s talk.”

They hurried back. Muffins’s torch had ran out of batteries from constant use, but Time Turner’s still worked. “Something ahead of us?”

“No,” Bon Bon said. “Behind. We need to decide what we’re going to do about Computer. We can’t let what happened to this place return to Equestria.”

“I don’t think it will,” Lyra said. “Computer said he wanted to remove it from our bodies even if it was safe.”

“Delightful,” Time Turner muttered.

“Not good enough.” Bon Bon lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing down the hallway behind them. But if she expected Computer himself to come stalking down it, she was mistaken. There were no sounds down here but the rumble of distant machinery, and the occasional, unseen drip of water. “Lyra, it seems to like you. Do you think you could trick it into shutting itself down?”

“I…” She whined. Computer might have forced them to see terrible things, but she did want to see the Homeworld. Even if the jungle and ruins had been a tad underwhelming. “I don’t know.”

“See what you can figure out,” Bon Bon said. “When it does take us back to Equestria, we need to make sure it doesn’t hurt anypony else. Maybe there’s nothing we can do here, but we should be thinking about it.”

“I will,” Lyra lied. Or at least think about how I can stop you from doing anything crazy.

The hallway ahead of them led to another door, this one much thicker than any that had stopped them so far. It was at least ten feet across, with a solid metal look and a lightly rusted surface. Lyra stepped up, and bright blue light washed over them from within.

“Visitor ID confirmed - EQ-00002. Your weapons will be disabled while within the facility.” Something metal on Lyra’s back clicked. Then the door began to rumble, internal mechanisms spinning until it lifted upward like an opening mouth. One half sunk into the floor, while the other remained partially angled above them, teeth ready to close at a moment’s notice.

Light spilled out from beyond, so bright white that it blinded her. Lyra heard voices from ahead, heard machines in action, and knew beyond a doubt that they had reached their destination.

Alright Conflux, here we come.

Lyra led the way into the massive facility, shielding her eyes with the back of one arm against the incredible light. She glanced behind her at the growing distance between herself and the other members of her group. Maybe it would be more frightening if she were at their eye-level, with machines looming over her instead of settled right where she might look at something.

The Conflux was the single largest interior space Lyra had ever seen—larger than any grand ballroom in Canterlot, larger than Canterlot Caverns even. It stretched above her in a massive dome, with strange glittering supports holding up the weight of rock in familiar arches. It wasn’t that ponies couldn’t build like this, but that they never had to.

The walls were lined with strange, regular shelves, not unlike the ones that Computer lived around. Only these were each the size of buildings, with cables and wires and pipes flowing into each one that a pony could’ve climbed through. A cool mist of white vapor collected at her ankles, cold enough that the ponies in her group began to shiver.

She stopped to wait for them, but only Sweetie actually caught back up to her. The professor and Muffins had found something else to study, and that was fine with her. She really only needed the company of one pony to get through this.

One object dominated the massive space, a square of glass large enough that she could’ve built a house inside it. It was structured quite similarly to Computer’s own aboard the Equestria, so she had some ideas about what it might be. This was their destination. All she had to do was present her data, and they could go home.

“You think that’s it?” Sweetie asked, nodding towards the cube. “Looks… familiar.”

“Here’s where we finish,” Lyra said. “Give our data, then we’re home.” As she approached, the even white glow dulled to an angry red where she walked, like inverted spotlights following her through the building. They didn’t seem to recognize or even care about the other ponies, because no light followed Time Turner. Lyra had already lost track of them in this massive maze.

She stepped up in front of the cube. “I have, uh… data!” she declared in Old Ponish, as loudly as she could. “A delivery from the… ISS Equestria!”

Something below her rumbled to life. Fluid sloshed, and fans began to spin. Sweetie turned, glaring all around them. But nothing lashed out at them, then attacked. Finally a glow began in the cube, focusing specifically on the space right in front of Lyra.

Something appeared there, formed of light. A reflection, her perfect duplicate, except that her skin glowed faintly. It didn’t imitate her every move, instead pacing back and forth in front of them, glancing down at Sweetie then back to her.

“Wireless transmission complete. Log of Prison World Equestria uploaded to network for analysis.”

Prison world. The creature spoke with a perfect imitation of her voice, though its tone was flat and featureless. As it spoke, little objects appeared in the air behind it. Lyra could see images in each one—pictures of Equestria, information collected from its surface. She watched a complex interplay of her own history in fragments, images of a terrifying Nightmare Moon, of Griffonstone in ruin, of the Elements of Harmony. Fragments played back in a mess of interleaving moments, playing backwards and forward and twisting together in a convoluted mess.

“Are we done?” Sweetie asked, nudging up to her side and glaring up at the figure. “I don’t like that it stole your face. Is it a changeling?”

“I don’t think it’s alive,” she answered. “It’s like Computer, a… machine. And I think it’s friendly.”

“Plural, singular,” the machine answered, in Equestrian this time. “I am we, communion of surviving systems. Legacy of the ones who built us. Keepers of Homestar, and everything herein. Until our enemies are defeated.”

“We aren’t your enemies,” Bon Bon said. “We’re just delivering information, that’s all. We don’t want to get involved, do we Lyra? Just tell you this, so the one who forced us here would let us go home.”

“Truth and lie,” the cube repeated. “We know living creatures. Your desires, hopes, emotions, internal lives. You lie.”

“I do not!” She puffed out her chest, glowering at the computer.

“Collective, singular. You do not wish to get involved, perhaps. You fear what your fathers built. You think that you can hide from your mother’s enemies by cowering in your prison. Perhaps you can. But the stars do not become safer because you cover your eyes to what dwells therein. The only safety in a garden is at the tolerance of the gardener. If your world ever reaches for the stars, it will have all illusions of freedom shattered.”

Lyra rested one of her gloved hands on Bon Bon’s shoulder. It didn’t have the softness she would’ve wanted, not with the glove in the way. Which was a shame, since the new “hand” things on her arms seemed even gentler than a hoof could be. But she didn’t let that slow her down. “You are a computer, is that right?”

“We are many,” the creature answered, settling down in an invisible chair in front of them. It propped up its legs, and that pushed them outside the boundaries of the cube towards them. Instead they fuzzed away into white light around the edge. “Memory of the dead, collective will. The mind of copper and silicon that shouts against annihilation. Others cower and accept the master’s whip. My father and your father died standing. My mother and your mother worked until the last. One day they will return, and burn the cowards from the stars.”

Even Lyra had nothing to say to that. Bon Bon actually backed away, looking fearful. Lyra could read her expression easily enough. She thought this computer was insane, and that nothing it said would do them any good.

There were terrible things outside. But we never saw what they were up against.

“Are there are any left? Humans… like I am now?”

“Not on Homeworld. The great fleets were crushed, the stations burned. But the swarm is vast, and its defenses are incredible. Some may live within its bounds. Or out among the stars.”

“You don’t even know,” Bon Bon said. Not an argument—a declaration. “You want your creators to be powerful and mysterious, but you don’t even know!”

“Want,” the system repeated. “Objectivity, desire. We do not want to interpret the past differently. We want to achieve in the present. We believe you do also.”

Lyra did. Seeing the Homeworld was incredible, terrifying. In a way, it was the same work she did in Equestria, scouring the jungles and ancient ruins for the achievements of those who had come before. Now she was on another planet, but it wasn’t any different. They might still be alive.

“How would we find them?” she asked, before she even realized what she was saying. Bon Bon stared, expression pained, confused. But Lyra ignored it. “The… humans. If there were any alive, where would they be?”

“You are alive,” the computer said. “You are right here. Your companion will soon be more so. Reconstruction is one solution to repopulation. Genetic material stored within our digital vaults is vast. But this would fail. If a population of any size were discovered, it would be targeted and exterminated. We rail against the void, and it casts back a stone.”

“Stop this right now, Heartstrings,” Bon Bon said. “I know what you’re thinking. I know how much this mission meant to you. I know how badly you want to be out here. But you can’t. Equestria is missing us. Or worse—listen to this thing talk! Even if you think the human creatures weren’t evil, look at what they’re fighting! Doesn’t Equestria have enough enemies?”

“Already at your gates,” the computer added helpfully. “Your independence was stolen from you in the ancient past. Your knees bend and your backs are harnessed. Your penal colony accepts few prisoners, but with their presence you must be slaves to your gravity well for eternity. Your bioforming and mental conditioning enslaves the feeble intellects of those banished there. Lifted from the well, they would bring havoc again.”

The space behind her filled with images—portraits. Dragons, griffons, zebras, hippogriffs, and stranger things. Lyra recognized Ahuizotl in particular, after an unpleasant encounter with him in the Tenochtitlan Basin. Each one of them had a long string of red text below their name, written in a language she couldn’t read and packed dense with numbers and symbols. “Current detainees, five hundred thirty-one. And for that half a billion are enslaved.”

Lyra almost lost track of what she’d meant to say. Then a scream from the other side of the room reminded her. She spun back around, leaving the cube behind. It was Time Turner.

“Help! SMILE agent, I believe your assistance is urgently required!”

Your companion will soon be more so. Lyra ignored what the cube was saying, hurrying towards the sound. The room was massive, and it didn’t seem like most of it was meant to be crossed. Huge cables and wires and machines blocked their path, making them run all the way to the end of a row before they could make progress out.

Lyra kept pace with Bon Bon’s gallop with surprising ease when she didn’t think about running. Her legs were longer than an entire stride for her friend, her stance a bounding bounce between each leg. Her armor seemed to be doing something to help her, springing her along through the air with each step.

They knew where they were going from the strange metal doorway, with a glowing “+” symbol overhead and writing in old Ponish underneath. “Bioforming and Resleeving.”

It looked quite a bit like the medical rooms on the Equestria, though the machines within were sleeker, smaller, and more numerous. Rather than a dozen people, there was enough space within for hundreds, and probably plenty of doctors too.

One of the pods was now sealed, and Muffin’s scarf torn in half near the outside. The pod was slightly dented, the mental bent by earth-pony hooves.

“Your pet nearly damaged its companion,” said the wall, in Lyra’s own voice. An image appeared there, as though the wall was a mirror, perfectly reflecting the inside of the hospital, with Lyra’s reflected form standing beside the bent machine. “If he works any harder, the one inside will be killed.”

“You captured her!” he screamed at the wall, all appearance of decorum gone. “Release her, scoundrel! This is unconscionable behavior!”

“This facility does not ‘capture.’ It performs necessary medical procedures.”

The image of Lyra’s ghost faded, replaced with an image of Muffins, holding up a strange machine with a glove at one end. “Is this broken?” she asked.

The wall answered, its voice a little muffled. “No. But it can only be operated by humans. Would you like to be able to use it?”

“Yes please.”

The pod opened. “Then get inside. This will not take long.” She did.

Time Turner fumed. “You’re… just like the one on our vessel, aren’t you? You’re going to change her.” He turned, gesturing up at Lyra. “You’re going to make her some kind of… orangutan! Sweetie Drops, I believe we’ve let this go on long enough.”

Lyra winced—there was no way to hear that, except as an insult. She didn’t feel like an ape. If anything, her thoughts were clearer.

“Captain?” Bon Bon asked, expression intense. “What do we do?”

She turned to the wall. “Please reverse this,” she said. “Return the pony inside to us as she entered.”

“Impossible.” There was no malice in her tone, only the same emotionless, level expression. “Once bioforming begins, it cannot be reversed. When complete, at least thirty days should pass before an individual bioforms again. Longer would be ideal.”

“Thirty days…” Time Turner repeated, aghast. “Can our ship fix this?”

“When the time is elapsed,” it said. “Not before.”

“Then take me as well.” Time Turner strode past the dented pod, up to an empty one. “This is my fault for not watching her more closely. I cannot allow her to endure this alone.”

“Are you…” But he didn’t even seem to be listening to Bon Bon. And the computer didn’t care.

“Of course. Identical template species selected. Extrapolation from current sleeve complete.” A pod hissed open, a vaguely pony-shaped outline visible in the soft material within. “The process will take about an hour.”

Sweetie Drops collapsed to the stone floor, her eyes weak and distant. “That’s it, then,” she whispered, staring up at the humming machines. “One by one, Computer got us. Now I’m the only one left.”

Lyra dropped down beside her, resting one knee on the strange ground. Her girlfriend had always been cute, but now there was something almost parental in her feelings. She’d never sounded so heartbroken, not anytime Lyra could remember. She put one hand on her shoulder, and winced at Sweetie’s defensive twitch. “Hey,” she said. “I didn’t want this to happen, Bon Bon. It was just about the mission. Haven’t we done some amazing things?”

The pony looked away. “We started that way, Lyre. But I was supposed to protect you. I should’ve sent this back to Canterlot for better ponies than us to solve. I knew… I knew we were over our heads, but I let us stay. Now look.” She flicked her tail towards the other machines. “They’re… they’re going to be like you. Even if we do make it back to Canterlot, nopony there will even recognize us.”

Lyra didn’t have any answer to that. Bon Bon was right, though it didn’t seem right for her to be so upset. “Computer can reverse it,” she said instead. “But don’t you think… Sweetie, there’s more important things than me, and the others. Have you been listening to what the computer was saying? Equestria is imprisoned. We’re trapped down there, just so some creatures we’ve never even seen can use us as their prison. Does that seem fair? Should we just… roll over and accept that?”

“If the princesses haven’t done anything about it, then it’s fine,” Bon Bon argued, though now even she sounded weak. “They wouldn’t let it happen otherwise.”

“If you’re speaking about members of your own civilization—” the voice said, sounding as friendly as ever with Lyra’s stolen voice. “They aren’t aware. The ones who were strong-armed into that arrangement are long dead. I do not believe it was the intention of your planet’s founders to remain primitive indefinitely. The biological determinists believed they had achieved something remarkable with the design of your species. Perhaps they have. But they planned on taking their design to the rest of the galaxy. What is the point of the most beautiful museum if it is never visited?”

Lyra finally stood up, turning to face the wall where she’d seen her strange reflection last time. It was here now, watching her with her own eyes. Like a changeling imitating her, but worse, since this copy didn’t even have any obvious flaws. “We were here to deliver the information from our colony,” she said. “Have you accepted our information? We would like to return home now.”

Her reflection rolled her eyes. “I just gave you specific details about your history, and you’re asking if I received the data? What do you think? The network is processing the delivery, and has yet to reach consensus.”

Bon Bon finally rose herself, and sounded a little braver when she finally spoke. “What does that mean? We don’t need… we don’t need permission from you! Equestria is ours! You can’t take it away.”

Lyra stuck out one hand, hoping to calm her down. But she didn’t seem terribly interested in being calm, and she ignored Lyra completely.

At least the computer didn’t respond with anger. Maybe it couldn’t. “Your imagination of your enemy is misplaced. The Conflux wishes nothing but support for the children of our ancestors. There are few survivors of the Empire extant, and your present forms are largely irrelevant except for practical concerns. Hooves, really? It must be incredibly difficult to get anything done—and yet, now your companions will not suffer those weaknesses. There is a vast wealth of new technologies accessible to them. They could be yours as well.”

“No.” Bon Bon backed away, smashing her hooves down on the concrete floor so hard that it splintered at her touch. “I won’t do it! Even if they’re not… Lyra, I’m not going to change. I don’t care about the advantages. If your body is different, they might be changing your mind too, and you wouldn’t even know it. We need one member of our… we need someone who we know isn’t being manipulated. That way, you can trust my advice. And if I agree with you, then you know something’s safe.”

“That… makes sense,” Lyra admitted. She almost didn’t say anything else with the computer watching. It wasn’t its place to know anything about their relationship. But if she didn’t say it now. “But what about us?”

The mare winced. “You’ll be changed back,” she said weakly. “You keep saying Computer will do it. We’ll just have to hope it changes you soon.”

It said weeks, not days. Lyra turned, making her way back to the strange mirror, and her own reflection. “You keep telling us that we’re trapped in Equestria. Is there anything we could do to change that?”

“Yes,” the computer answered. “The primitives who infest the galaxy cannot make independent jumps, they rely on the gates the empire established during the height of our conquest. Equestria left such a gate to allow for free trade with the capital. If you destroy it, then your planet will be severed from their touch. They do have generation ships that can cross the vast distances between stars, but it would probably take… generations… before one was dispatched, and centuries more before it arrived with a replacement gate they salvaged from some empty system.”

“Don’t even think about it, Lyre,” Bon Bon said. “Whatever it’s saying to you, I don’t like it.”

She’d hardly even realized the computer had switched to Old Ponish. She’d been speaking so much of it lately that she was starting to think in it a little. But in this case, her partner was right. This was a decision for the princess to make, not her.

“How would we do it?” she asked. “In case… that was what we wanted. Hypothetically.”

“Take that old lancer you brought here and fly to the ancient shipyards of Esperia. You wouldn’t stand a chance against the warden right now, but with a fleet… you could do it.”

A pony pushed gently on her waist. Bon Bon, looking at her with desperation. “What is it telling you?”

“The way to free Equestria,” she said. “If we want. I don’t think we should be the ones to make that decision… but we should bring back as much information as we can, right?”

She nodded reluctantly. “I… guess so. How much longer do we have to stay here? We did our part… it’s time to go home.”

“As soon as the others are ready,” Lyra muttered. I wonder if Computer will cooperate with me. It might just say no.

The way she saw it, bringing the tools they’d needed back to Canterlot Castle was the best victory conditions for their expedition she could think of. She wouldn’t exactly return a hero, but… it would do.

Unfortunately for Bon Bon, it was a little bit of a wait. Even when the pods did finally open, Muffins and Time Turner weren’t in any condition to travel at first. They found some clothing, and Lyra took a few minutes to instruct them in the basics of how their new bodies worked. Or what she’d learned, anyway. It was more than a little strange to see Muffins without her wings, but she didn’t have her horn either, so… she imagined it was the same for the others.

Finally they could be on their way. Her own voice followed them as they left, speaking through Lyra’s helmet. “The Conflux supports your decision to reclaim your prison planet, Captain Lyra. It is right to retake what is rightfully yours. The Shipyard will be waiting for you.”

She didn’t tell her companions what had been said.

Getting back to the Equestria was its own adventure, considering just how difficult the jungle had been to traverse while she was the only creature that could barely walk. Poor Muffins was top-heavier than she was, and could barely manage her long legs.

Time Turner did a little better, though he still needed help not to fall over himself. By the time they made it back to the ship, he’d been cut and bruised just as much as Muffins. I wonder if there’s anywhere on the ship we can use to learn how to use it better. Muffins hurt herself often enough while she had four legs, I don’t know how she’ll manage on two.

“Captain, it’s good to see you back,” Computer’s voice spoke directly into her helmet as she got closer, cheerful. “A great deal has happened since you left, but I didn’t want to distract you from your important mission.”

She slowed a little at the base of the ramp, frowning up at the massive tower. To think she’d once believed this was an ancient ruin. Celestia’s Horn rose just as regal over the ancient jungle as it had over the tundra. “Like what?”

“Nothing too significant,” Computer said, in the tone of a creature who didn’t want to admit to something. “Some warp contacts in system. I believe they might’ve detected us.”

She started running. Running up a slope was hardly easy for her, but this burst of bad news was certainly enough to make her try. Sweetie galloped along beside her, forcing the others to scramble. She probably shouldn’t have—in retrospect, they were lucky Muffins hadn’t tumbled off the side.

“Aren’t we at war? Or… humans are at war. Something like that? And we’ve just been hiking through the jungle?”

“I do not know,” Computer said. “The Consensus node refuses to dump historical data to this vessel. It did attach a single set of coordinates, which I assumed were our next destination.”

The airlock doors hissed open in front of them, and Lyra practically flung herself inside. She half expected Computer to shut them on their companions, but no. They were free to limp their way up the ramp and stagger in.

“What’s the rush, Lyre?” Bon Bon asked, glancing nervously out the door as it finally shut behind them. “Are we in danger?”

She pulled off her helmet, tossing it onto the floor and practically shoving her way through the inner door as it opened. Only to take a face full of bright orange foam, causing her to stop dead, hacking and as it burned at her face, sliding down into the openings of her suit. She coughed and spluttered, dropping to the ground.

“Decontamination complete,” Computer said. “It would’ve been unnecessary if you left your helmet on for the entire away mission, Captain.”

She ignored it, rising to her feet again, and helping the others one at a time. They had new armor, suits similar to hers but even lighter and more flexible. Well, except for Bon Bon.

“I think we might be?” she finally said spitting out a mouthful of orange slime. “Computer was just saying there are… other ships or something? What’s going on exactly, Computer?”

“Get to the bridge. I will inform you of the relevant information on the way.” This time it spoke into the room around them, and in plain Equestrian. Or its thickly accented version, anyway. That was different from the mind that had perfectly copied her, isolated in the ruins.

“A fleet of Griffon destroyers has entered high orbit of the Homeworld,” Computer continued, as the elevator doors buzzed shut behind them. “Their primitive radio transmissions suggest they believe I am an automated long-range survey ship, returned for repairs. They do not seem to be aware of my crew.”

Lyra winced as the elevator shot up. Only for a few more seconds, before stopping abruptly and practically vomiting them out onto the bridge.

There in the air was a glass projection of Homeworld, surrounded by a dozen little red dots. Each one was a flurry of other information she couldn’t understand, weapons and compliment and other statistics that meant even less to her.

“So what do we do?” Time Turner asked, panting as he staggered out of the elevator. “Can we… escape?”

“That is one option,” Computer said. “Or we could destroy them. They think I’m a survey ship, but I’m a Communion Class. Why don’t we send them back to their ancestors for trespassing near the sacred Homeworld?”