Starlight looked through one of the cracked windows and felt her eyes widen at the sight of so many vessels.

“We now have an adequate number of geth,” said Armchair matter-of-factly.

Jack looked up from helping Fenok lift Si’y onto a hover-stretcher.

“Come on, you idiot,” said Sjdath to the wounded hanar. “If you die, you’re not getting paid! Ever!”

“Armchair,” said Jack, slowly. “Did you just mass-relay us to GETH. SPACE?”

“Yes.”

“Are you INSANE?”

“No. We are geth. They are also geth. Though these geth are no longer compatible with those geth, everybody is geth here. It is unlikely that they know you are even here.”

“Unlikely?!”

“Besides. Geth are generally not hostile toward single vessels. Except quarrian vessels. If the other ship does not attack any geth, it should be able to move freely.”

Starlight looked at all the geth that filled this particular star system. “They would have to be some kind of idiot to- -”

The ground beneath her shook as Armchair was hit with another energy blast. The reaction outside was immediate; the hundreds of geth ships took offense to an attack on their own and began to converge on the pony vessel’s position. Starlight found that she actually felt bad for the other ponies; they did not deserve what was coming to them.

Then, suddenly, something started to tingle in Starlight’s horn. She winced, and then looked up toward a dark, empty part of space above the geth fleet.

“Warning,” said Armchair. “Gravitation and spatial disturbance detected…”

The screen flickered and froze.

“No! Not now!” cried Scootaloo, pounding her hoof against the magic that created the hologram. It passed through far too easily.

“Captain, that’s not what I want to hear,” said Carrot.

“Our beacon is too far! I can’t get a line to Equestria!” Scootaloo looked up and saw the ever-growing swarm forming around her, hundreds of vessels bearing down on her own. She had no shields, barely any weapons, and there was no way the engines would be able to carry them out of range of that many fully equipped starships. “I- -I messed up!” The realization came too late, and when it came, it was crushing. “I’m…” Scootaloo took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it, Scootalooo,” said Roseluck. “These things happen.” She sighed. “Guess I won’t get that florist shop after all.”

They stared up at the oncoming fleet, and together they tried to make peace with their fate. Scootaloo’s only regret was that she was taking so many of her friends with her from her own poor judgement.

Then one of her screens flashed on, displaying a symbol that Scootaloo had only seen in fleet manuals.

“Captain, look!”

Scootaloo looked and, though the cracked and hissing glass, saw the dark of space distort. Then, suddenly, the void erupted with an enormous violet bubble. Then, as if drawing itself out of nothingness, a massive vessel appeared- -a ship that dwarfed Scootaloo’s by hundreds of times.

“It’s the Harmony!” cried Roseluck in awe.

Across space, a lone pony stood on the railingless balcony of an empty bridge, staring through a wide, curving window hundreds of feet wide. The bridge was silent and empty, save for her, watching the confusion of the strange alien vessels with a smile on her face. She pushed back her rainbow mane and addressed the Fleet.

“All ships, scramble immediately!” she said. “Depart on side exits and flank them laterally! Leave no survivors!”

To Rainbow Dash’s left, a sudden surge of violet magic assembled a translucent, semi-abstract model of an alicorn. Her digital wings flexed, as if stretching, and her nearly robotic eyes looked toward Rainbow Dash.

“I have analyzed the composition of the enemy vessels,” said the magical hologram of Twilight Sparkle. She lifted a hoof and a number of violet interface panels appeared, hovering at her will in a redundant show of her own intelligence. A model of one of the ships floated in front of her like a translucent purple toy. “There are no signs of organic life. Either they are automated, or represent some kind of unknown life form. So, technically…”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “I get it. We can’t kill them. They can’t die.”

“I would appreciate a sample for further study, however.”

“Fleet,” said Rainbow Dash, watching her own ships pour out of the Harmony and into space. “Converge around the…” she sighed. “Around the RENS Rainbow Dash, provide it with cover.” She turned toward Twilight. “What were they even doing out here?”

Twilight looked out the front window- -again, a redundant effort; her holographic representation of herself could not see. Rainbow Dash watched as an overlay formed over part of the window, amplifying a frame until a single vessel appeared. It was different from the others, covered in windows and badly damaged.

The image resolved further, amplifying into the ship itself until a single image of a Core dressed in strange alien armor appeared, rendered in purple light. Rainbow Dash watched as she turned toward the Harmony, as if she could feel that she was being watched.

“That is her,” said Twilight, sounding amused and surprised. “The Core Starlight Glimmer. She is here. Moving to pursue.”

The Harmony began to move forward. Rainbow Dash watched them rapidly gaining on the Core- -and then saw that it was headed toward some kind of device, a kind of two-pronged station at least twenty times larger than the Harmony.

“What in Celestia’s name is that?” she asked, turning toward Twilight.

Twilight stared for a moment, and then raised her hoof. The panels she had projected before collapsed and swirled, forming a model of the alien station. They then rapidly flew apart, representing an exact model of its internal structure.

“My analysis indicates that it is a type of inorganic magic harnessing device. Based on its architecture, it appears to be a means of rapid transport operating by means of functional mass reduction. They may be attempting to escape the system.”

“Then there’s only one thing to do,” said Rainbow Dash. “Cut off their escape route. Destroy it.”

Twilight’s holographic eyes narrowed, and Rainbow Dash stepped back. “Rainbow Dash,” she said, coldly. “You command the Fleet, but remember: you do NOT command me. The Harmony is mine, and mine alone.”

“Yeah- -yeah, Twilight, of course,” said Rainbow Dash, nervously. “Sorry. I just got carried away.”

“Nevertheless,” said Twilight, turning back in time to watch the station approaching and then slowing her ship in response. “I think you are correct. I am currently charging the frontal cannon. Purely on my own volition, of course. You might want to move your ships out of the way.”

“All units, Code F. Calculate projection channel and clear the alley. Repeat: the Orbital Friendship Cannon is about to fire!”

Twilight sighed. “You know how much I hate that name. It is actually- -”

“A concentrated spatial distortion feedback spiral. I know, Twilight. You tell me how it works every. Single. Time. It just doesn’t have a ring to it, though.”

“Well, if you want to fly on my ship, it is important that you understand how my cannon works. It is neither ‘orbita’ nor powered by ‘frienship’. Also, firing.”

The frontal projection spike of the Harmony ignited with violet energy. A beam of purple energy cut through the air, incinerating any alien craft unfortunate enough to be caught in its sheer force corona. The vessel with the Core on it reached the alien station just as the beam did- -and with a resounding force, the mass relay shattered, its internal gyroscope tearing itself apart and detonating with a force great enough to destroy a planet. Blue flame and chunks of metal flew apart, bursting into space at nearly the speed of light as the force of the relay tore itself apart, only to be vaporized as Twilight’s beam cut through it.

In the last moments of the relay’s life, its two prongs, now separating and falling away, produced one final pulse of energy into the distant void of space. Then, all at once, the relay was gone.