Space shifted and distorted as the Royal Equestrian Navy Ship “Rainbow-Dash” emerged from faster than light travel. Onboard, Scootaloo held her chair tightly as the metal shifted and shuddered from the strain of dropping out of hyperspace. The ship shook violently, and then finally settled. Scootaloo sat in silence for a moment, waiting for the sound of some kind of explosion or the hissing of gas loss. When none came, she breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Now entering sub-light cruising speed, Captain,” said the helmsmare in her thick Bittish accent, swiveling in her chair to address Scootaloo directly.

“Thanks, Roseluck,” said Scootaloo. She looked out the window on the edge of what might very well have been the smallest amphitheater cockpit she had ever been in- -designed for a maximum of three ponies, or as high as five if they did not mind rubbing shoulders- -and summoned the starchart, which appeared as a blue projection at the very base of the amphitheater.

“I think we can let her out now,” said Scootaloo.

“Captain?”

“The auxiliary system is fully charged…well, as charged as it’s going to get.” Scootaloo shifted the projection, narrowing it to the unfamiliar star system that they currently found themselves in. “Drop us in far orbit around that star,” she said, “and prepare for long-range scanning.”

“I can put us into orbit,” said Roseluck, hesitantly. “But we can’t scan without the Core in…well…the core.”

“She got us all the way out here,” said Scootaloo, trying to sound firm. “She needs a break.”

“Of course, Captain.”

As Roseluck tapped on her control system, a distant ring began to rise from the depths of the ship as the magical coils began to discharge. The ship lurched forward slightly on impulse power, and the space outside seemed to move until a distant red-giant came into view. Roseluck immediately dampened the radiation shield on the front viewport, causing the amphitheater to be filled with a dim red-amber light.

Scootaloo paused, and looked out at the star and at the slowly turning starchart. She shivered slightly when it occurred to her just how far they had come from Equestria, how they were now floating in the dark skies of an entirely separate and unknown galaxy. It was a feeling of profound loneliness, and of profound smallness- -but a feeling of overwhelming wonder. Scootaloo knew that some mares lived for this feeling- -and she knew that she was not one of them.

“You’ve got things handled up here, Rose?”

“Sure,” said Roseluck. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “If I crash into the star, the cider’ll be on me. When you’re actually old enough, of course.”

Scootaloo laughed. “I should jettison you for insubordination,” she joked.

“Only if you think Muffins can fly the Dash better than I can.”

Scootaloo shuddered at the thought. “Nope. An entire BUCKET of nope. Maybe even two.” She slid off her captain’s chair- -which was set as low is it could go but still designed for a much larger pony- -and felt the inconsistent hum of the magical gravity against her hooves. “Trust me, Rose, you’re the best helmsmare we’ve got.”

“I’m the only helmsmare you’ve got.”

“Exactly. You have the bridge.”

“Where are you going, Captain?”

“I have to go talk to the Professor.”

“You still haven’t told her?”

“Yes, clearly. I am just going all the way down there to tell her a second time.”

“Oi, no need to get snippy. I’d ask if you were having that time of the month, but at your age, I already know the answer to that. But you’re the Captain here. I trust your judgement. Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

“Thank’s Rose. Now keep your eyes on the space! Rainbow Dash would kill me if I got burnt up in a star!”

“Yes, Captain.”

Roseluck went back to what she was doing, and Scootaloo left the bridge into the belly of her ship. The internal design was dated and unpleasant, with heavy emphasis on designing creative ways to bend the hallways in “efficient” ways that instead left a number of sharp angles, small, weirdly-shaped closets, and bulkhead panels too small to get much work done without the ship’s engineer swearing non-stop for several hours.

In addition, much of the design had been retrofitted with new equipment over the years, leaving exposed pipes and conduits moving through the corners of the hallways. Some even dripped various fluids, the remedy for which was often to put buckets beneath the damage until Bengie got a chance to fix them. The buckets, of course, did precious little save to repeatedly trip Muffins whenever she tried to walk through the corridors. Not just once or twice, either. Every time. Sometimes multiple times on the same bucket.

“Captain,” called a voice from one of the hallways. Scootaloo turned to see a golden bodied earth pony approaching her. Her uniform was distinctly different from Scootaloo’s, indicating that she was not actually a member of the Royal Navy but instead an independent contractor from the Agricultural Ministry.

“Carrot,” sighed Scootaloo. “What is it now?”

“The lights in bay four are beginning to fluctuate again.” Carrot Top produced a clipboard and flipped over one of the pages. “Production in the recirculate is down almost ten percent.”

“We can’t exactly stop for repairs this far out,” said Scootaloo. She sighed, her headache for the day already starting. “I guess we can redistribute more power from the Core to the hydroponics system. But of course you have a better idea, don’t you?”

“Of course,” said Carrot, smiling. She reached into one of her supply bags and produced a highly gnarled, reddish root vegetable that reeked heavily of moldering cheese.

“Oh Celestia what is that?” cried Scootaloo, jumping back and tripping over a bucket.

“I have no idea!” exclaimed Carrot, approaching Scootaloo with the abominable root, apparently oblivious to its smell. “I found it growing on that one planet with the green sky. You know, the one where the clouds kept catching on fire?”

“You mean the one where Muffins cracked her helmet and swelled up so bad we had to spend half our grease supply just to get her out?”

“Yeah!” Carrot smelled the vegetable as though it were a fine cigar and forced a smile as her eyes watered. “Ex…gah….quisite! I’m pretty sure it’s a carrot. Weirdly, though, you can’t eat the root. I tried that. Woke up four hours later spooning Roseluck and talking to Bovis Presley. But I’m pretty sure the leaves are good. They even turn a nice mucoid texture after you pick them, and this stuff grows like crazy under our lights.”

“Have I eaten any of that?” said Scootaloo, suppressing her urge to vomit.

“I think you would know. It has a delightful taste.”

“Like what kind of taste?”

Carrot paused, considering. “Kind of like what you would get if you wore dirty socks in a bathtub of vodka and really old gravy for, like, two days and then scraped what collected in your hoof out with a badly washed spoon.”

“Gross,” said Scootaloo, turning slightly green. “I hate marmite.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, righting the bucket she had fallen over and holding her breath. “I need to…um…go. Like, right now. Important captain stuff.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll start preparations for converting the bay,” said Carrot, smiling and waving as Scootaloo raced away from the fetid smell of the space carrot. “Have a captain-tastic day, Captain!”

Then, once Scootaloo was out of sight, Carrot looked around. Then, when she was absolutely sure nopony was watching, she took a large bite from the root of the space carrot. Her pupils immediately dilated immensely and she gasped at the beauty of the colors.

“Here we go again…” she squeaked before beginning to giggle and weep simultaneously and uncontrollably.

This vessel had originally been intended as a kind of freighter before the navy had reconfigured for deep-space exploration. The cargo space had been refitted into hangers and hydroponic bays, but much of it had been left relatively open. One such open space in the bottom of the ship had been converted to a laboratory for this particular mission.

Unlike most places on the ship, it had a door. Scootaloo put her hoof against the control, and the door hissed as it slid back into its opening. Warm, moist air escaped from inside and Scootaloo nearly fell over from the strong smell of animals inside.

“Hello?” choked Scootaloo. “Are you in there?”

In the dim light, numerous sets of reflective eyes suddenly turned toward Scootaloo. Panicked, the filly reached for the light controls. Upon activation, the room was flooded with a dim bluish light from the overhead system.

One set of the reflective eyes resolved into a pair of large blue orbs attached to a pale looking yellow Pegasus. In her mouth, she was holding a small brush and apparently had been gently stroking the fur of a small animal that looked roughly like a spherical ball of hair.

“Eep!” she cried, jumping back as though Scootaloo had frightened her.

“Why were the lights off?” asked Scootaloo, entering the room.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Fluttershy. “I just heard that we were going into emergency power, and I didn’t want to use more than my fair share.”

“We have enough power to keep the lights on,” said Scootaloo. Fluttershy knew that.

“Well, I’m just…not used to your procedures,” she said. Then, correcting herself. “Not- -not that I’m complaining! I think it’s a lovely thing to do, and I’m really grateful for your hospitality!”

“It’s not like we have a choice.”

“Oh, I know. But I’m still thankful anyway.”

“Professor, do you have time to talk?”

“Oh, Captain. You don’t need to call me that. I’m not actually a professor. I tried to profess once…but all those eyes, staring at me…” She shivered. “I just couldn’t bear to do it anymore. But yes, I can talk. I’m almost finished with little Timmy #17 here.” She pulled back some of the fur on the spherical fur-thing’s body and with her teeth dexterously attached a tiny bow-clip. “There! Aren’t you just the most adorable thing!”

The creature cooed, and Fluttershy picked it up and brought it over to a set of several glass tanks that were overflowing with similar recently brushed creatures.

“Did you really need to take so many of those?” asked Scootaloo.

“Oh, I only had one at first,” said Fluttershy, opening the lid and setting the creature gently down. “And I don’t ‘take’ any of my samples. Everypony here came voluntarily.”

“Really?” Scootaloo looked down at another glass enclosure. This one contained a tiny quadrupedal creature that looked almost pony-like. Upon seeing Scootaloo, its eyes widened and it stood, pressing its front hooves against the front of the terrarium.

“Pwease wet fwuffy out!” it said. “No wike gwass sowwy boxie!”

Fluttershy slammed her hoof into the front glass. “I SAID YOU CAME VOLUNTARILY, LUNA-DARNIT!”

The tiny creature squeaked and retreated to its hiding enclosure. Fluttershy giggled. “Sorry about that,” she said, partly to Scootaloo and partly to the alien fuzzball.

“Fluttershy…are you feeling okay?”

“Tired,” she sighed.

“You look anemic.”

Fluttershy shrugged and pointed to a large tank of green fluid and rapidly swimming worms. “Space leaches need food too.” She sighed, and then pulled up a pair of chairs from her research bench. She gestured for Scootaloo to sit on one. Scootaloo did, and Fluttershy took the other one. “So, what is the problem, Captain?”

“Well,” said Scootaloo. “As you know, this mission is a long-term ecological and mapping study of the Milk-Spiral galaxy.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry to be such a bother. I would have come myself, but…I don’t know how to fly a ship.”

“No, no. This is an important mission, definitely.” Scootaloo cleared her throat at the slight lie.

“It certainly is.” Fluttershy pointed to the various enclosures that sat in her large laboratory. “All these animals are going to be ambassadors to Equestria. Just think of the things they can teach us!”

“I know, I know. But…I think I’m going to have to change the mission.”

“Change it?”

Scootaloo nodded. “Last night, we received an automated distress signal.”

“A distress signal? Oh my! Is somepony in distress?”

“That’s usually what a ‘distress signal’ means.”

“But…” Fluttershy considered for a moment. “What is anypony doing out here? We’re farther out than anypony has ever gone, by far! Why would another ship be out here?”

“I don’t know,” said Scootaloo. “The signal was…incomplete. There was no identification information. Definitly pony, but…”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened, and she eyed her desk, which she appeared to be about to jump under. “You don’t think it could be…a Crystal?”

“The Crystal ships don’t use distress signals. They don’t need to. And their galaxy is light-centuries away from this Celestia-forsaken pit. But the signal is weak. It will take days, even weeks before it gets to the communication amplifier we set down at the galactic edge.”

“But they need help!” cried Fluttershy.

“I know. I want to postpone our survey and immediately switch to a search-and-rescue mission.”

“Yes, of course! Do it!” Fluttershy grabbed Scootaloo by her tiny filly shoulders and shook her. “What are you waiting for? Save the ponies!”

“Stop- -shaking- -the- -captain!”

“Oops,” said Fluttershy. “Sorry. But of course you can divert the mission.”

“Thank you,” said Scootaloo, climbing off the chair.

“Besides. It’s a two-year mission. We’ve got time.”
` “I know,” muttered Scootaloo as she left the animal bay.

Scootaloo considered checking on the engine room before heading back up to the bridge, but decided against it. Most likely, Muffins had gotten herself stuck in some part of the central power system again and Bengie was doing her best to free her. Bengie was an effective engineer for being a diamond dog, but she had anger issues, and Scootaloo already had a Fluttershy headache.

Lost in thought planning a search pattern, Scootaloo very nearly ran into a pony that stepped out into her path as she made her way to the bridge.

“Hey!” cried Scootaloo. She looked up to see a blue unicorn towering over her. “Oh, Trixie. What are you doing up here?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie requires a sandwich!” said Trixie with excessive flair. She even fluffed her starry cape as though it were blowing in the wind. Trixie was property of the Royal Navy, but they had never bothered to make her an actual uniform. She spent most of her time walking around naked, but usually preferred to wear a hat and a cape to cover her extensive spinal implants and the ports in her head.

“I think Muffins left some stuff in the galley,” said Scootaloo.

Trixie stuck out her tongue. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is not partial to muffin sandwiches. They’re good, of course…but muffins for every meal?”

“It’s all she can make,” sighed Scootaloo.

“How is the Greatest and most Powerful Core in all of the Royal Navy supposed to keep this ship running on a diet of muffin sandwiches?”

“You’ve been doing pretty good so far.” Scootaloo leaned in closer. “Just don’t eat anything that Carrot Top gives you.”

“Ah,” said Trixie. “That explains why she was talking to the fire suppression system main tank.”

“Was it talking back?”

Trixie looked confused. “No?”

“Then we don’t have a REAL problem.”

Trixie looked confused, but then smiled slightly. “Because the only part of the ship that’s supposed to talk is me?”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean- -”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Captain.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, still slightly embarrassed. She tapped Trixie on the shoulder. “You get yourself a snack, and then see if Rose needs any help. I need you back in the tank in an hour to start scanning.”

“Right,” said Trixie, swooshing her tail as she passed Scootaloo. “You have nothing to worry about! No Core is better at scanning than Trrrrixie!”

Trixie trotted off toward the kitchen. Scootaloo watched her go, trying to imagine an entirely different tail and mane on her blue body.

“You know it’s against regulations, right?”

“GAH!” cried Scootaloo, her tiny wings fluttering rapidly as she shot upward with enough force to impact the ceiling and bump several times before falling on her back and spinning around like a wounded housefly. She righted herself as quickly as possible, blushing heavily.

“Lyra!” she cried, turning toward a shadowy corner of one of the hallways where Lyra was standing on her hind legs with her forlegs crossed in what would normally be a horribly uncomfortable way for a pony to stand. “Why do you ALWAYS do that!”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t pay attention.” Lyra dropped onto her legs and stepped out into the light. Like Carrot Top, Lyra was an independent contractor, but whereas Carrot Top was from the Ministry of Agriculture, Scootaloo actually had no idea where the Navy had dug up Lyra. She did know that, for some reason, Lyra never took off her armor.

Lyra turned her one functional eye down the hallway. “You know,” she said, “there is a reason why we keep those things in reactor. The emergency release is only supposed to be used when your Core dies. Having it walk around like that…”

“She’s not a ‘thing’,” snapped Scootaloo. “She’s a member of my crew, just like you are. Without her, this ship would just be a hunk of metal. Do you have a problem with my decision?”

“No, I have a problem with YOU. A young, idealistic little filly like yourself should barely not be out of the academy, not flying her own ship. But then again, I don’t actually care.” She shrugged. “As long as I get paid.”

“Nice to know I have your loyalty.”

“It’s not mine you need to worry about. That reason, the one why we keep the Cores in the core? You have no idea how much you’re hurting her, forcing her to see the life she can never have. If anypony here stabs you in the back, it will be her.”

“I trust her more than I trust you.”

“And I don’t trust anypony. Not even you. Especially after what you just told Fluttershy.”

“What do you- -you were listening?!”

“I’m always listening.”

“I didn’t tell her anything that wasn’t true.”

“No, but you let her believe what wasn’t. I received that signal too. It was an automated beacon, and you know it.”

“So?”

“So? Ships don’t release automated signals if any of the crew is still alive. There were no survivors. You’re chasing a dead ship.”

Scootaloo looked around, and then pulled Lyra back into the shadows that she seemed to prefer lurking within.

“I don’t go for fillies,” said Lyra emotionlessly. “Try to kiss me and I WILL hit you.”

“Eew,” said Scootaloo, barely above a whisper. “Look, there’s more to this than just salvaging a broken ship.”

“Like what?”

“When we got the signal, I looked up the flight itineraries in this area. According to them, there’s nopony out here except us.”

“Comforting.”

“But that got me thinking, so I checked the classified orders manifest in the command matrix- -”

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “How did you get access to classified files?”

Scootaloo looked around, hesitating. “I…may have used my sister’s access codes to get in.”

“You used the Fleet Commander’s personal codes to access classified documents? Either you’re as stupid as you look or as reckless as your ‘sister’. Do you have any idea what they would do to you if- -”

“Yes, yes I do.” Scootaloo felt ashamed at the thought, actually. The normal punishment would be court-martialing, and possible imprisonment on Tartarus. For her, though, it would likely be a demotion to first lieutenant. “But I found something important. There WAS a ship dispatched here.”

Lyra paused. “Why?” she asked slowly.

“I don’t know. A lot of stuff was behind Rainbow Dash’s rotating passwords, and she only uses ‘Wonderbolt12345’ so often. But a ship was sent out here.”

“A scout?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “There was no record of the ship itself. It doesn’t even have a name apart from the codename ‘EQX’. I don’t know what it’s carrying, or what it’s for, but that ship is incredibly important. And if we could find it, and bring it back…”

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” said Lyra. “Whatever’s on that ship, they clearly didn’t want it anywhere near Equestrian space. You should just boost the signal and call for backup. If it really is that important, we can get support teleported in by the end of the day.”

“Are you going to go over my head on this?”

Lyra sighed. “Come on…no. No I’m not. I’ve learned to pick my battles.” She gestured to the scar cutting through her one blind eye. “I leave this at your discretion.”

Scootaloo paused for a moment, not expecting Lyra’s ambivalent response. It was true that the correct thing to do was to call in the navy and let them recover the ship.

“No,” said Scootaloo, making her decision. “No. If we can get that ship ourselves and bring it back, we’ll be heroes. We can finish this stupid mission and get real work.”

“And you can be a real captain, instead of a nepotistic child, and your sister will finally love you the way you want to love her?”

Scootaloo blushed and stepped back. “N- -no!” she cried, trying to regain her composure. “I’m just trying to do my duty for Princesses and Empire!”

“Right,” said Lyra, sounding more bored than anything else. “But we’re going to have to be careful about this. I have a bad feeling.”

“Why?”

“Why? We’re chasing a ship whose entire crew died before they could get out a proper distress signal, one on an unknown mission with unknown cargo. Who knows what they were carrying, and how dangerous it could be?”