Nopony spoke. All eyes were directed out the thin, dirty window. Even Sassaflash had picked her head up from her control panel and interrupted her nap to see the vessel below.

Scootaloo leaned back in her chair, but like the others, she found herself unable to look away. Before them was an unimaginably large ship. Its surface was bizarre and convoluted, as though it were nearly organic, spreading over itself in a system of gnarled metal roots that eventually formed something in roughly the shape of a ship. It bore no running lights, marks, or insignias of any kind. The only source of light that came from its surface were strange, curving lines of orange light that seemed to designated components of whatever alien engine it utilized.

Surrounding it was a formation of numerous smaller vessels that were almost the complete opposite. They were geometric and angular, and from what Scootaloo could tell, they were asymmetric octahedrons. Strangely, they had no distinct color; depending on the angle that they were viewed, they seemed to be either pure black or dull, pale gray. Wintrygust’s readings indicated that each of those smaller ships exceeded one kilometer in length, but they were dwarfed by the mothership that they surrounded.

“Sassaflash,” said Scootaloo, looking at her own readings of the Failure’s engine performance in disbelief. “How fast are we moving?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” She did not say it out of laziness, as per her usual personality; instead, she seemed legitimately concerned by the fact that it was impossible to know.

“It seems to be projecting some kind of field,” said Wintrygust. “I’ve never seen anything like it. But…based on triangulation of nearby galaxies…we’re exceeding any known record speed by several hundred million times. At this rate, we will enter the Crystal Galaxy in less than three days.”

Blossomforth looked away from the screen, swiveling on the auxiliary station chair. “Your math is wrong. That’s impossible.”

“It is not incorrect,” maintained Wintrygust. “You can confirm yourself.”

“You don’t have to,” said Scootaloo. “I trust Wintry on this.”

“But that’s impossible, and you know it. We would be torn apart at those speeds.”

“Not at our current range. We’re at c lose enough proximity that we’re being pulled along too. It’s like being in orbit around a planet.”

“Then why haven’t they seen us?” said Scootaloo.

“I’m not detecting any life-signs. At least not any that the system can interpret as living. It’s possible that it is automated. Or perhaps generating the field impedes their sensors. Or the fact that we teleported directly into it makes us difficult to detect. At this point, I can only hypothesize.”

“Then close your mouth and do your job,” said Blossomforth.

“Why don’t you do yours?”

“Oh wow!” said a surprisingly overjoyed voice as Lemon Heart entered the already crowded bridge. “Isn’t she a big one! A real fatty! And plot-ugly!”

“Heart,” said Scootaloo. “Finally. What’s your take on this?”

“Well, let’s have a look.” Heart’s horn glowed, projecting a lavender interface in front of her head and linking it into Trixie’s subsystems. Scootaloo and her crew waited patiently while Heart reviewed the data. All the while, Scootaloo was running through the designs of various ships in her mind, trying and failing to place this particular vessel’s configuration into any category. Despite her largely disgraced status, Scootaloo had at one time excelled in the Equestrian Space-Naval Academy. In her attempts to impress Rainbow Dash, she had committed a great deal of information to memory, including the schematics of hundreds of makes and models of starships. That included all classes of ships in the Royal Navy, as well as commercial and private types of crafts and enemy vessels. None of them seemed to match. The closest she could think of was some sort of Chaos vessel. The only difference was that starships used by the Chaos Wizards tended to either be constructed to look as imposing as possible or out of mismatched components with an ironic flair. This one, though, did not appear to have been designed with any rational intention. It just seemed to have grown from layers and layers of plating and machinery. It seemed to have no concern for appearance or logical engineering, and it was in this aspect that it was somehow far more terrifying than anything that even the most depraved Chaos Wizards could conceive.

“Well, it’s about as convoluted as you could expect,” said Heart after what seemed like an eternity. “But nothing I can’t handle.” She paused and raised one eyebrow. “Hmm…that’s weird.”

“Weird? What’s weird?” asked Scootaloo. that was not the news she had been hoping for.

“I’m getting a Core signal from it.”

Scootaloo’s froze, and she suddenly felt cold. On some level, she had expected that this thing was alien- -it HAD to be alien, after all. None of the alien vessels she had ever seen matched this description, but as it turned out, the universe was a big place. None of the aliens used Cores, though. This ship was Equestrian.

“So,” she said, projecting an exterior of absolute calm. “That means it’s Chaos, then.”

“No…I don’t think so,” said Heart, sounding oddly intrigued.

The entire crew looked at her. “What?” demanded Scootaloo. “What else could it be?”

“I don’t know. Yet. The signal is buried pretty deep. There’s a lot of interfeirance and…something else.”

“Something else?”

“Minor severe corruption. Nothing to worry about. It happens. But what I can tell you- -” she gestured toward the fleet of objects surrounding the main ship “- -is that those things have FTL capacity.”

“So they have Cores too,” said Blossomforth.

“No. Don’t be a stooge. I said I saw ONE Core. Not several.”

“But you just said- -”

“Cores aren’t necessary for faster-than-light travel,” said Scootaloo. “The Citadel aliens don’t even use them at all.”

“But we were told- -”

“They lied to you, Blossom,” said Scootaloo.

“It’s not a lie, per se,” said Heart. “More of an omission. Of course, though not required, Cores are vastly preferred over primitive technology. The aliens are basically banging rocks together. We are vastly more civilized.”

Scootaloo had no idea if Lemon Heart was being sarcastic. Heart simled, as though she had told a joke. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened. She froze, and Scootaloo knew that something was terribly wrong.

“No,” said Heart. “That’s not…”

With a sudden surge of motion, she stepped to the side and threw Sassaflash off her chair.

“Hey!” whined the Pegasus, flopping off her chair without any resistance whatsoever. “That’s where I sit!”

Heart ignored her. Scootaloo thought for a moment that the doctor was attempting to take control of the helm- -something she just might be insane enough to do- -but instead she accessed the internal functions of the control interface itself and expanded it vastly, generating numerous projected panels of blue and violet light. She immediately diverted powers to the sensors and to core processing.

“Hey,” said Scootaloo. “Be careful! We barely have enough power as it is, and shifting it too quickly is bad for Trixie. You should at least ask first, Heart.”

Heart ignored Scootaloo and entered information madly into the computer.

“Heart?” said Scootaloo, stepping down out of her chair.

“It can’t be,” Heart said. “It just can’t…”

“Heart?” repeated Scootaloo. Then, hesitantly, “Lemon?”

Lemon Heart desperately hated her first name. To her, is was a reminder of the fact that she was the only one of sixteen sisters who had not been born an all-white unicorn. When Blossomforth had once accidentally used the name “Lemon”, Heart had very nearly unwinged her. Now, though, Heart barely seemed to notice, only muttering a barely audible complaint.

Then, suddenly, Heart stood and galloped out of the room. Scootaloo watched her go, and then turned back to the remaining screen that she had left open. From what Scootaloo could tell, Heart had processed the Core signal enough to run it through an ID search- -and actually gotten a result. The resulting file was marked as classified, and when Scootaloo saw the name of the search result, her eyes widened. She suddenly understood why Heart had acted so strangely. The name written across the screen was “Crimson Horizon”.

“Wintrygust,” said Scootaloo. “I’m going after her. Keep an eye on that ship. Sassaflash- -” Scootaloo looked down to see the extremely brightly colored pony snoring on the floor. “Just…keep doing that. Don’t move us, and don’t engage.”

Scootaloo quickly followed Lemon Heart out of the bridge. She was not hard to find; despite its size, the Failure had a relatively simple design. That, and it was possible to follow the mildly depraved mutterings.

“Heart!” called Scootaloo when she finally saw the unicorn pony trying to open a jammed door to the main stairwell. “Heart, get back here!”

“Celestia condemn it to Tartarus!” cried Heart. “She knew- -that alicorn Core-witch knew, she KNEW!”

“LEMON HEART!” shouted Scootaloo. “Calm the buck down!”

“Don’t call me LEMON!” screamed Heart. “I’M NOT A LEMON! I’m a good unicorn!”

“Well you’re not acting like it!” Scootaloo pointed behind her. “I saw those results. Where you just expecting to sweep that under the rug?”

“No, no,” said Heart, catching her breath. “I don’t…I…” Her eyes suddenly flicked toward Scootaloo and narrowed. “Wait a minute…you KNOW.”

“Of course I know. I’m Rainbow Dash’s sister.”

“How much?”

“Excuse me?”

“How much do you know? About the Crimson Horizon?”

“I know that officially it doesn’t exist. Twenty four years ago, there was an explosion in one of the outer systems. Three inhabited planets were destroyed without a trace, completely vaporized. Over six hundred million colonists were lost. Officially, the public was told that it was an attack by the Crystal Empire. In reality, it was the worst naval disaster in recorded history. The prototype starship ‘Crimson Horizon’ had lost Core containment and detonated, taking out an entire system with it.”

“Then you understand my reaction. The Crimson Horizon was destroyed. Completely and totally. Core, crew, everything. I barely managed to survive.”

“You- -you were there?”

“Of course I was there! I helped build it!”

“You…what?”

“I was the head engineer on the Core design team, partnered with Sunset Shimmer, one of Celestia’s own students. I spent decades building that ship, and years reviewing what happened to it.”

“And what, exactly, happened?”

“It’s too complicated for a Pegasus to understand.”

“Try me.”

Heart sighed. “The Crimson Horizon wasn’t built like a normal ship. Everything was novel. The cutting edge of technology, an entirely new class of starship. Even the Core was different- -”

“Different? How so?”

“Well…as you know, most Cores are harvested between the age of one month and six years.”

“You mean foalnapped.”

“Semantics. Sunset Shimmer was different. Sunset Shimmer was already an adult when I conducted the conversion procedure.”

“An adult?” Scootaloo’s stomach turned. “You mean she chose to become a Core?”

“Yes. And can you blame her? The Crimson Horizon was essentially a prototype for the Harmony. And you’ve met Twilight Sparkle.”

“So Sunset Shimmer was an alicorn?”

“No, of course not. She was just an absurdly powerful mage. Which is likely why the system failed.”

“She couldn’t handle the power. I’ve read about Core detonations. A pony with the capacity of Twilight Sparkle…but an entire system?”

“Her mind desynchronized from the external systems. A normal pony just can’t keep up with something that large, they’re not fast enough. The resulting feedback…it killed her. The Crimson Horizon was a failure. A massive one. One we overcame with the Harmony and the Equalizer before the latter was destroyed. It’s a piece of unfortunate, buried history that should have stayed that way.”

“And yet, somehow, it’s floating outside my ship,” said Scootaloo. “On a collision course to the Crystal Galaxy. Care to explain that, Dr. Heart?”

“I don’t- -I don’t know!” Heart looked genuinely panicked. Then an idea seemed to cross her mind.

“What is it?”

“There are some theories. On the fringe of a very rarified field, mind you, but…”

“But what?”

Heart took a breath. “Some have theorized that the implosion was not a Core detonation, but rather the formation of a singularity as a result of a teleportation spell.”

“But you don’t seem to think that’s the case.”

“No. Of course not. The ability to teleport is absurdly rare. The only non-alicorn known that was able to do so was Starswirl the Bearded. I knew Sunset Shimmer, and despite her ability, she could not teleport. Nor was the Crimson Horizon equipped to managed the calculations for such a feat.”

“And what would happen if she had teleported?”

“Don’t be thick. She couldn’t. I mean, not completely. In theory, yes, she could have started a teleport, but there would have been no output coordinates. It would only be half complete.”

Scootaloo shivered. “And if that did happen…can that even happen? Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. If such a thing did occur…then nowhere. She would have teleported away and just never come back.”

“Heart,” said Scootaloo. “I’m sorry for calling you ‘Lemon’. But you need to answer me clearly, and absolutely honestly right now. Do you understand?” Heart nodded. “That ship. Is it really the Crimson Horizon?”

Heart paused for a long moment, and then answered. “Yes, in a sense. It didn’t look like that before, but I built that Core. I recognize it. Better than any pony could. It is her. That is Sunset Shimmer.”

“Good,” said Scootaloo.

“Good? Scootaloo, I just told you something that is completely impossible. How is that good?”

“Because now that we know, we can move on from here.” Scootaloo shivered, and turned toward one of the walls. Something had suddenly felt strange in a way that she could not fully describe. Ignoring it, she turned back to Heart.

“What do we need to do next?”

“You’re not going to like it, but we’re going to need to go down there.”

In the ship below, Xyuka’s optics twisted and focused, amplifying and processing the image before her to accommodate her slight head motions and the hulls of the two ships between her and her target.. She watched as a small, winged Pegasus pony spoke to a unicorn, neither one of them aware that they were being watched.

“Sunset Shimmer,” she said, not taking her eyes off the pair. “There appears to be a spacecraft in our driver envelope. And it’s not one of mine.”

Sunset Shimmer sat behind Xyuka, perched and reclining on a large piece of equipment that was half-embedded into the juncture between the deck and the housing of one of the main plasma centrifuges. She appeared bored, with her left arm splayed open with orange light to reveal the bones, muscles and tendons.

With one swift motion, Sunset pulled the excised bones back into her arm, instantly repairing it. She made a fist and examined it for signs of scarring, and, deeming it adequate, addressed the pony below her. “I am aware of this,” she said. “I detected their teleportation signature before they had even materialized. You need to remember, Xyuka, as powerful as your technology is, my magic is FAR stronger.”

“Of course, Soy-chet.”

Sunset frowned. “I don’t know why you use that name. What does it even mean?”

“That is not relevant,” said Xyuka. “But now that we have reached a consensus concerning the pursuer, what is your recommended course of action? Should I destroy it?”

“If I had wanted it destroyed, I would have obliterated it already,” said Sunset, as though it should have been obvious. “I just see no point in doing so. What could one ship do to impede me?”

“They could warn the Equestrians, for one.”

“Let them. Let Equestria know what is coming to it.” Sunset slid down from where she was sitting, the articulating cables in her back lowering her gently to the uneven ground below. “They are insignificant to me. Don’t bother with them. Instead, focus on the task at hand.”

Sunset began walking away down the long, unlit hall. The cables from her back reacted, sequentially pulling themselves from their ports and moving forward to new locations, walking forward to ensure that she remained connected to the ship at all times. “If anything develops, I will handle it. I bothered to pull you out of the void for a reason, and bothering with pointless spacecraft is not it.”

When Sunset was out of range, Xyuka looked up once more. Her optics focused even more narrowly, reducing the bluish rendering of the distant ship down to a small circle around a single pony. She watched as Scootaloo shivered and turned toward her, as if she knew that she somehow knew that she was being watched.

“Yes, Lady Sunset,” said Xyuka, softly.

Scootaloo adjusted her landing suit, ensuring that all the plates were in the appropriate locations. Unlike her Priestess uniform, this was a piece of equipment that she was all-too familiar with. The armor had a familiar feel to it, one that she recalled fondly from numerous training exercises and a trip to the Omega station years ago. It had, of course, been sized up since she had been a young filly; now she fit into the smallest standard size for mares. The only main problem was that the wing slots had to be tailored to accommodate Scootaloo’s diminutive wings. Essentially, they had given her earth-pony armor with two small holes cut into it. It was actually far heavier than normal Pegasus armor, but Scootaloo did not mind. It was not as though she could fly anyway.

Wintrygust approached from the locker room, carrying a rack of several luminescent storage coils on her back, all of which were glowing brightly with Trixie’s compressed magic. Wintrygust was wearing a similar set of landing armor to Scootaloo. Breeders were not technically allowed to wear naval uniforms or landing armor. The landing suit that Scootaloo had been provided for Wintrygust was white and distinct, but had virtually no armor plating. That was because breeder Pegasi had been selectively bred for centuries for docility, and it was generally assumed that they never served as combat units or would be placed in dangerous situations- -or that if they were, they were cheap enough to replace. As such, Scootaloo had elected to dress Wintrygust in armor that had originally been intended for Blossomforth. The two were almost exactly identical in proportion and size, so the armor fit Wintry nicely.

“Thanks, Wintry,” said Scootaloo as her friend set the rack on the ground. Scootaloo removed one of the narrow coils and inserted it into a slot in her armor. The armor’s internal systems activated, including several projection weapons on the sides that would normally lie beneath her wings.

“Dr. Heart?” said Wintrygust, offering the coils to Heart, who was dressed in her own privately produced exosuit.

“So polite,” said Heart, smiling. “But I already have magic. And this.” She raised a long, heavy object in her magic.

“Um…what is that?” asked Scootaloo.

“This is a hunting rifle,” said Heart, her eyes wide as she admired her weapon. “I haven’t been legally allowed to use it in centuries…” She produced a large magazine from her pocket, and Scootaloo could see the edges of the enormous, square-shaped steel slugs that it contained. “Except for hunting Tartarans. That’s still legal, but they just don’t cry the same way as earth ponies.”

“Blossomforth’s analysis says that there’s nothing living down there,” said Scootaloo. “I don’t think you’ll need that.”

“But what if there are earth ponies? I think Strawberry needs a mate.”

Scootaloo did not want to argue. She picked up her helmet and pushed her hair already short hair back. As she did, the door to the pre-airlock locker room opened and a white pony stepped in.

“Blossomforth,” chastised Scootaloo, “what did I tell you about leaving Sassaflash alone on the bridge?”

“She’s unconscious, as usual,” said Blossomforth. “And I’ve locked the controls on auto.”

“Then why are you down here? I need you on the bridge.”

Blossomforth looked at Wintry and pointed. “Is the breeder wearing my armor?”

“Technically, it is all MY armor,” said Scootaloo. “And I determine who uses what resources.”

“With all due respect, Captain, the number of regulations you’re breaking- -”

“Naval regulations,” said Scootaloo. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been court-martialed. Regulations no longer apply to me.”

“Way to pull the Priestess card,” noted Heart.

“I have no idea what we’ll find down there,” said Scootaloo. “I need Wintry to be protected.”

“That’s what I came to speak to you about, Captain. I don’t think you should take her.”

“Excuse me?”

Blossomforth stiffened, if only to suppress her obvious annoyance. “You said it yourself. You have no idea what you’ll find there. I understand taking Dr. Heart, considering her expertise in this matter- -but the breeder is pointless. She is not able to fight. You should take me instead.”

“Your enthusiasm is noted,” said Scootaloo. “But no. You will stay here.”

“But Captain- -”

“Wintry?”

“Yes, Scootaloo?”

“The square root of seven hundred thousand three hundred and sixty three.”

“That would be eight hundred and sixty three, and twenty two twenty fifths, rounding,” she replied without any pause or hesitation.

Blossomforth’s eyes widened. “How did you- -”

“All breeders can do that,” said Wintry, a mischievous smile crossing her face. “We tend to be good at math.”

“But you’re just a breeder!”

“And I cost more than this ship did. Ponies are not willing to pay for a product with inferior intelligence.”

“Granted, I could probably buy most of this ship with change I find in my couch,” said Heart. “Of course, I am terribly rich. What with the being a unicorn and all. And I haven’t cleaned my couch in seven decades.”

“I don’t intend to be going into a fight,” said Scootaloo, ignoring Heart’s ramblings. “And if we do, I’ll take point. The goal is to find out what that ship is, and why it has the Crimson Horizon’s Core. Wintry is an expert in system’s design and control architecture, and Heart is an expert in Cores. You are not.” Scootaloo paused, and then sighed. “I don’t mean that as an insult, Blossomforth. I know this ship isn’t much, but it still counts as command experience. And you need that if you’re going to get promoted up.”

“Captain, I’m going to say it. You can’t trust a breeder.”

“I trust Wintry with my life.”

“And a lot more, apparently. The walls on this ship are pretty thin.”

“What Wintry and I do off duty is none of your business. Now, are you going to get back to the bridge, or am I going to have to give the captain’s seat to Sassaflash?”

“I think I’d rather have the clingon in charge than the narcoleptic,” muttered Heart.

“Can you do that, Blossomforth?”

Blossomforth hesitated, but then stood at attention. “Yes, Captain.

“Good.” Scootaloo slipped her helmet on and connected it to her suit. Wintrygust did the same, putting her own helmet around her hair, which had been carefully braided for the occasion. Heart’s extended from the neck of her armor, unfolding and assembling itself around her head.

“Right,” said Scootaloo. She stepped into the edge of the Failure’s main airlock. “Let’s get this over with.”

Wintry and Heart followed her in, and the door closed. Through the thick window to the inside, Scootaloo saw Blossomforth salute before existing on the other side of the room on her way to the bridge.

“I can’t believe you coddle her like that,” said Heart. “If a unicorn under my command talked to me like that, I would mutilate her face. And I don’t even have a weird breeder fetish.”

“It’s not a fetish,” said Wintry, defensively. “And I’m used to insults. I can handle myself, and Scootaloo knows that.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. In fact, she had wanted to punch Blossomforth in the face. She probably could have and still gotten away with it, but she needed things to run smoothly. Abusing her subordinates was no way to run a ship, especially when those subordinates were in charge of ensuring that the ship stayed within evacuation range while they were away.

Scootaloo checked the gauge on the outer wall of the airlock, and then opened the external door. There was no need to compress out the atmosphere; the umbilical was already pre-charged with air.

When the door opened, Scootaloo jumped forward, releasing herself from the artificial gravity produced by Trixie’s magic. She floated into the transparent umbilical, and looked out over the gnarled, spiny mass of the Crimson Horizon’s surface. Above, she saw the octahedral objects, seemingly pinned to their locations, reflecting the orange light from some parts of the Crimson Horizon’s surface. Beyond them was a dark and strange sky, the sort that was only visible from the dark, empty space that separated galaxies.

Scootaloo passed through the umbilical connector easily, guiding herself along one of the projected rails. She had been in the top of her class when it came to zero-gravity motion and manipulation. It was largely because it was the only time when she could ever come close to flying.

After several seconds, she felt her hooves land on the metal door below. Despite the ship’s appearance, after several hours of searching Dr. Heart had been able to identify several sections that consisted of badly damaged pieces of the original Crimson Horizon. One of those pieces had contained a universal docking port.

“So much for being vaporized,” said Scootaloo. “Heart, can you open it?”

“It should use a magic-based lock, so yes. I can hack it.” Heart moved into position and leaned over the control pad. The door instantly opened.

“That was fast,” said Wintrygust.

“I…I just used my docking passcode. As a joke. I didn’t think it would actually…” she took a deep breath. “It really is the Crimson Horizon, isn’t it?”

“What was your first clue?” Scootaloo pushed through the circular opening and immediately felt herself connect to the floor under new artificial gravity. Unlike the gravity that Trixie was able to produce, this new gravity was totally consistent. Scootaloo had not stood on a real planet in years, but she instantly remembered what it felt like.

Wintrygust and Heart followed her, with Wintrygust activating a light. The ship did not apparently have working lights, and once it was illuminated, Scootaloo could see why.

“Sweet Satin,” whispered Heart.

The inside of the ship did not seem to consist of any sort of logical structure. They had entered into an enormous hallway or corridor, but it was not engineered or designed as one would be in any sort of ship. Rather, they had entered through a thin spot in the wall into what otherwise looked like a cave. The high walls were curved and complicated, built out of metal and organic-looking residue, and the floor was uneven, responding more to the root-like nature of the walls than to any need for a pony to walk.

Scootaloo noticed that some parts of their organic-looking surroundings seemed to be glowing with reddish-orange energy, and that something in the shadows retracted into the walls when Wintry’s light passed over it.

“There’s definitely an atmosphere,” said Heart. “I was right about that.”

“It feels warm,” said Wintry. “And very damp. Is it breathable?”

“Eh…no. It’s not toxic and the pressure’s mostly reasonable, but there’s very little oxygen. I’ll lick my own horn if there’s a sentient being that can breathe air like this.”

“Good to know,” said Scootaloo. She continued to look around. “I’m guessing it didn’t look like this when you were here, Heart?”

“Even I am not this crazy,” replied Heart. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“It almost looks…organic,” said Wintry, poking one of the walls.

“From what I’m seeing? A lot of it is. It’s just plain freakish.”

“Which way to the Core?” asked Scootaloo.

“That way,” said Heart, pointing. “Energy in any Equestrian ship always flows outward from the Core. We just need to follow it back. Of course, the Core isn’t what we should be looking for. An interface terminal would be better.”

“I don’t know if we’ll find one in this mess,” said Scootaloo, looking up at the dripping ceiling. “But keep your eyes out.”

They walked deeper and deeper into the ship, following the path as best as they could. It was not always easy; the corridors and internal cavities were like some kind of hive, and they appeared to be designed without any intention for ponies to be able to move from place to place easily. In fact, as they walked, Scootaloo became increasingly disturbed by the utter lack of a crew. A ship this large should have required a crew of hundreds or even thousands. Even if there was only a tiny skeleton crew, they should have appeared to confront three obvious interlopers. Instead, it appeared completely empty.

The path was complex and convoluted, and Scootaloo quickly lost track of the way back as they passed through what seemed like miles of space.

“Wintry,” she said. “Are you getting this?”

“Yes,” said Wintrygust. “I have committed the schematic of the ship we have encountered so far to memory. Don’t worry, Captain. I will make sure we can get out safely.”

“Good,” said Scootaloo. She opened a channel to the ship. The signal was badly distorted by the amount of magically-charged substance between her and the Failure, but Blossomforth’s voice still managed to come through.

“Captain?” she said.

“Situation report,” said Scootaloo.

“Aside from Sassa drooling, nothing, Captain. The outer ships are maintaining their distance, and the there is no reaction from below. Captain, I think this might be a ghost ship.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” said Scootaloo. “We’re on our way to the Core. Keep scanning your surroundings. This could go south real fast.”

“Roger,” said Blossomforth as Scootaloo suspended the link. Scootaloo turned to look over her shoulder at Lemon Heart, who had projected a violet interface that she was apparently hard at work on. “I guess I’m going to have to be the one to address the elephant in the room.”

“I do like elephants,” said Heart. “Really all big game.”

“You mean who built this,” said Wintry. “This ship.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. Like she was being watched closely by something she could not see.

“There are hundreds of corporations and factions in Equestria and the Crystal Empire,” said Heart, trying to dismiss the question. “As well as the Council aliens.”

“But you said the Crimson Horizon’s Core was unique. How many of those factions would know how to use her to power a ship?”

Heart looked up from her interface. “None. None would.”

“Then it has to be the Royal Navy,” suggested Wintry. “They’re known for building all manner of dubious contraptions for when the war goes hot again.”

“Without me?” said Heart. “That doesn’t make any sense. Even with the unpopularity of my ideas, there is literally no Core like her. They would have consulted me even if they had found a single fragment of the Crimson Horizon, but they never did. Until now.”

Scootaloo shivered. She understood the implications of that last statement, and knew that she was missing a substantial amount of critical information. Twilight had insisted on taking Lemon Heart- -because, in all likelihood, she had already known the identity of this ship, or at least suspected it. Someone higher in the Equestrian hierarchy knew something that they were not letting on.

Part of Heart’s interface shifted. She looked down at it. “I’m detecting movement.”

“That’s strange,” said Wintry. “My systems are not detecting life-signs.”

“I’m not getting life-signs,” said Heart. “I’m getting movement.” She pointed down a long curving hallway, and Wintrygust followed with her light. Scootaloo looked- -to see a pair of reflective eyes staring back at them.

Both the group and the creature froze at the sight of each other. Scootaloo was not sure how the others felt, but adrenaline rushed through her own tiny body. She wanted to run, and yet, somehow, she found herself virtually attached to the ground, her conscious mind desperately trying to rationalize what she was seeing.

It was a pony. Or at least, it seemed to have been one at some point. Its body had seemingly been twisted and stretched, and its front set of legs had been replaced with what seemed to be a pair of scythe-like appendages. Its coat had largely fallen out, revealing numerous surgical scars where it had been stitched together. Part of it also appeared to be metal, with ragged implants protruding from its spine and running down its sides and penetrating large, bloodless holes through its stretched skin and into its bony, narrow body.

The worst feature by far, though, was its eyes. Not only were they reflective, but somehow, in the dim light, they managed to look both dead and profoundly alive, scanning the intruders as they observed it.

Then, with a sudden surge of motion, it compressed its body against the ground and scuttled away down a narrow intersection between two walls.

“Heart…what was that?” demanded Scootaloo, hearing her voice crack.

“I don’t- -I don’t know,” squeaked Heart. Then, suddenly, she broke out into manic laughter that sounded just as joyous as it sounded terrified. She unclipped her hunting rifle from her side, lifting it in her magic.

“Those implants,” said Wintry. “Scootaloo, did you see them?”

Scootaloo nodded, but she did not want to entertain the thought of what they meant.

“I know exactly which wall I want to hang it on,” said Heart, racing forward.

“Heart! Stop!” cried Scootaloo, chasing after the unicorn. Heart did not slow down until she reached the hallway where she had seen the creature go down. As soon as she reached it, she shined the light at the end of her rifle into the darkness- -and froze.

“Heart! I don’t care if you’re not navy, you need to LISTEN!” hissed Scootaloo. “We don’t know what that thing was, or if…if…if…”

She had looked up to where Heart had been shining her light, and saw countless hundreds of reflective eyes staring back at her from the walls and ceiling of the narrow hall.

“Well buck me in the plot and call me Fluttershy,” said Heart, her voice wavering. She turned to Scootaloo. “Sorry, Priestess. I think I just screwed us.”

There was suddenly a rush of motion and the sound of metal-like limbs clicking across the hull. The eyes raced forward, the mouths of their owners open in silent screams.

“MOVE!” cried Scootaloo. She pushed back against Wintrygust. “MOVE!”

They started to run as the creatures swarmed out from the crevice.

“No you don’t!” screamed Heart, pointing her rifle at the nearest of them as it reached toward her. There was a resounding explosion that echoed throughout the ship, and a surge of magical light. The creature had been rearing at the time, and a square slug tore through its midsection, severing the lower half of its body in a plume of silver fluid. It looked down, confused, and then began to rapidly pull its torso toward Heart in complete ignorance of its injury.

“Oh buck, oh buck!” squealed Heart, running to catch up with Scootaloo and Wintrygust. “NOPE NOPE NOPE!”

There were several more shots as Heart fired wildly into the crowd. From what Scootaloo could tell, Heart was actually profoundly accurate, striking heads and hearts and legs, producing wounds that would have been lethal to any rational being. These creatures, however, were either armored enough to withstand the impacts or simply seemed to ignore what should have been lethal injuries.

“Sweet Celestia, what are these things made of!” she screamed.

A group of them appeared suddenly out of one of the hallways, blocking the path and reaching silently toward Wintrygust. Scootaloo, seeing this, dug her heels into the ground and opened fire. Several blue beams shot through the air, striking the creatures and tearing through their flesh. Their silver blood poured onto the floor, and they were driven back, even if only for a moment.

“Left! Go left!”

Wintry shifted suddenly, galloping in the direction she was ordered. Scootaloo and Heart followed, with Heart slamming several more slugs into the nearest of the creatures.

“We’re off the path!” cried Heart as she reloaded. “Scootaloo, we’re off the path!”

“I know, I know!” said Wintry. Her voice was oddly calm; although Scootaloo could tell she was terrified, she kept a surprisingly level head. “I’m recalculating! I can do this!”

“Heart!” said Scootaloo, struggling to keep up with the two taller ponies. “Start scanning!”

“For what?!”

“The walls! Find something mechanical, anything, and SHOOT IT!”

Heart immediately opened her interface and started scanning, all while seeming to blubber and occasionally breaking into laughter.

“Come on, Lemon, I thought you used to hunt Tartarans!”

“Yes, from a BLIND! At LONG RANGE!” Heart suddenly skidded to a stop. “THERE!” she cried.

Scootaloo did not get a chance to ask her what she had found. Heart raised her rifle and unloaded several shots into a nearby protruding piece of machinery. There was a rushing sound as air sept into it, and then an enormous detonation of orange magic. Heart immediately projected a protective bubble around Scootaloo and Wintrygust, and the three of them were driven backward by the blast until they slammed hard into a wall and the shield spell shattered.

Heart groaned. “I wasn’t expecting that…”

“No time to rest,” said Scootaloo, picking up the unicorn. “Come on! I think you slowed them down, but we have to get out of here. Blossomforth!”

“Yes, Captain?”

“We have a code red! Prep the ship for immediate departure!”

“Captain- -”

One of the creatures leapt through downward from the ceiling. Its body had been badly melted in the blast, and many of its partially metal bones had been exposed. Wintrygust opened fire, unloading magical bolts from the dispersion systems beneath her wings. The creature was torn apart, and collapsed onto the ground.

“We need to move,” she said.

They did, and Scootaloo looked back to see several of the creature’s comrades picking up its remains and fusing its parts back onto their own broken bodies- -all the while, watching with their dead, unblinking eyes.

Scootaloo continued to run, with Wintrygust doing her best to lead them back to their ship. Even though she was in relatively good physical condition, Scootaloo had spent the last several years of her life surveying asteroids and garbage heaps. She was not in as good of shape as she once had been, and she could feel herself beginning to slow.

Then, suddenly, Wintry skidded to a stop. She looked up, to where a wide cylindrical shaft projected upward.

“This is it,” she said. “This leads back almost to the ship!”

“Are you sure?” said Scootaloo.

“Yes! I’m sure! This is the fastest way. It- -” Wintry stopped suddenly, and looked at Scootaloo.

Heart looked up. “For Luna’s sake, of COURSE I would get stuck in the one possible situation where being a Pegasus would actually be a benefit!”

“How much can you carry?” said Scootaloo, looking at Wintrygust.

“Not a lot. I can’t carry both of you.”

“Both of- -what is she talking about?” said Heart. “Scootaloo, why would she have to carry both of us? You’re both Pegasi!”

“I can’t fly,” said Scootaloo.

“You WHAT?”

“Wintry, take Heart. Get her back to the ship.”

“Scootaloo, I can’t! I can’t leave you here!”

“I’ll find another way! Just go!”

“No, I can’t- -”

“That is an ORDER! Take Dr. Heart, and get OUT OF HERE!”

Wintrygust stepped back, surprised by Scootaloo’s suddenly raised voice. Then she nodded. “I’ll come back for you. I won’t leave you here, I promise.”

Wintry spread her long, white wings and lifted herself into the air. She grabbed Heart under her forelegs and, with a great deal of effort, the two of them rose into the air. Scootaloo watched their light rise through the darkness, and then jumped into the air, her tiny wings buzzing as she tried to follow them. It was no use, though. Even at full speed, she could only get a few feet off the ground before plummeting back down.

Then she heard the sound of clicking limbs behind her, and knew that the creatures had found her. She looked up one more time, and saw that she could no longer see Wintry’s light. Scootaloo took a deep breath, and then yelled to the creatures approaching her.

“HEY! You want a pony? How about you come and GET ONE!” She unloaded into them, watching the needle on her helmet display slowly falling as she depleted her coil.

As expected, this only seemed to make the monstrosities in the dark more angry, and they pushed forward, once again forcing Scootaloo to run.

“Captain!” cried a distorted voice through Scootaloo’s comlink. “The ships, they suddenly started- -oh Celestia, how- -where did they come from? Captain! The ships our here, they’re mobilizing!”

“Don’t leave yet!” ordered Scootaloo. “That’s an order!”

“I don’t know how long we can hold on! The shields- -”

“Just a few more seconds! As soon as Wintrygust and Heart are on, GET OUT!”

“Captain, what do you mean? You’re not- -”

“Just do what I TOLD YOU!” screamed Scootaloo, turning around to fire another barrage into the oncoming horde before ducking around a corner. Her ammunition was now at twenty five percent.

“I’ve sent out a distress signal,” said Blossomforth. “I don’t know if- -”

Her signal hissed, crackling out as a new one superseded it.

“This is Cerberus vessel ‘192’,” said a female voice. She sounded profoundly familiar, but because of her thick French accent and Scootaloo’s dire situation, Scootaloo found her impossible to place. “We are inbound on your position, ETA seven minutes. Just hold on, if you can.”

Before Scootaloo could even ask who the owner of the second voice actually was, the signal was cut. Scootaloo looked back through the dark halls, and then started running again. Her only hope now was that there would be somewhere to run too.

The diamond-shaped ships outside swarmed around, their shapes unfolding as their facets separated and bent, separating and reconfiguring into hundreds of smaller fighters. They swarmed around the Failure, and Blossomforth watched them, breathing hard. The situation was bad, but the Captain had given her an order- -one that she intended to keep to the letter.

Sassaflash, meanwhile, was somehow still asleep, hunched over her non-functional interface and smiling as she slept.

“Come on, breeder,” said Blossomforth, opening her own control for the helm. Unlike Scootaloo, she had never attended officer training and had certainly not been trained as a helmsmare, but she knew that somepony would need to control the ship when they bolted.

Her eyes were directed entirely on the indicator for the airlock. She watched, waiting- -until suddenly it changed color.

“Breeder,” she said into the breeder’s channel. “Are you on board?”

“Dr. Heart and I have returned!” replied the breeder, sounding as though she was on the verge of tears. “But I need- -I have to go back!”

“No,” said Blossomforth, sealing the airlock. “We’re out of here.” She pulled the ship away, not even bothering to retract the umbilical, instead just severing it.

Almost as soon as she moved, the swarm of alien ships suddenly converged on her position, as if they had been waiting for ship to reveal that it was, in fact, active. Several of them opened fire, and Failure was rocked by the impact as its shields shattered in a single blow. Warning klaxons began to sound, and Blossomforth cringed in panic as her system flickered before showing the massive damage that had been caused to the ship by the feedback.

“I can’t- -we have to- -”

The ship suddenly fell to the side, and Blossomforth braced for the vacuum of space to consume her, knowing that they had been struck- -but as she opened her eyes, she saw the ship tilting in a complex evasive maneuver and barely dodging the bolts of energy that were now pouring in from multiple enemy ships. She looked down at her controls, and saw that the helm was active.

Across the room, she suddenly realized that Sassaflash was now sitting upright, her eyes wide and fully alert. Not only had she unlocked her helm controls, but her hooves slid across the interface faster than Blossomforth had seen any pony move before. The ship responded to her motion, twisting and shuddering through space, its maneuvers tilting it between the oncoming projectiles and beams and the fighters.

The blast door behind her slid open and the breeder entered, barely stabilizing herself as the ship twisted and rolled. “What are you doing?!” she cried. “We have to go back! The Captain is still on that thing!”

“Not a chance,” said Blossomforth. “She ordered me to take you and get out, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“The entrance corridor is closed anyway,” said Sassaflash, her voice so rapid that her sentence was compressed into almost a single word.

Outside, a second ship suddenly appeared from darkspace, tearing across the battlefield at impossible speed, its bizarre shape plummeting toward the Crimson Horizon as it opened fire on the various ships below.

“Apparently not for them, though,” noted Sassaflash. She ignored the second ship, taking advantage of the distraction it had caused. “I need more power,” she said. She opened a second interface. “I’m shutting down the remaining shield power and life support and putting everything we have into the engines.”

“Wait!” cried Blossomforth. “The dampeners- -!”

The lights suddenly went out, as well as the gravity, and Blossomforth was thrown back into her seat as the inertial dampeners were reduced to their absolute minimum functional capacity. She felt herself screaming as Sassaflash began to take a complex formation of impossible turns that made the entire ship creak and screech as the metal was stressed by immense g-forces. At one point, Blossomforth even felt herself blacking out. Sassaflash, however, continued her maneuvering.

Then, as the black spots in Blossomforth’s vision began to clear, she saw a pair of large ships in front of them, slowly moving to block their path.

“Sassaflash!” she cried as the gap closed in. Predictive warnings were beeping on her interface, letting her know what she already knew. “It’s too narrow! We won’t fit! Turn! TURN!”

“We won’t fit,” admitted Sassflash. A broad smile crossed her face. “Which means…MORE SPEED!”

She pushed her hooves forward and slammed the throttle to maximum. The ship immediately jumped to lights speed, and Blossomforth screamed as the ever-closing gap suddenly seemed to come forward much, much faster. She covered her head with her hooves as the ship slammed into the hole, tearing off its control spires and antennae.

Somehow, though, she did not die. There was a sudden turbulence as they left the Crimson Horizon’s displacement field and suddenly dropped to stationary speed. The Crimson Horizon- -and everything connected to it- -seemed to vanish as it progressed forward, leaving the Failure in its wake. Sassaflash smiled, and then passed out, falling out of her chair.

“We have to go back!” cried the breeder in the darkness. “You idiot, we need to go back! She’s still there!”

The ship shudder, and suddenly lost power.

“We have a problem,” said Dr. Heart, hurriedly speaking through the communication channel. “You overexerted the Core- -she’s flatlining! If we don’t want to be stranded without power in darkspace, I need to get her into surgery RIGHT NOW!”

“Does that answer your question, breeder?” said Blossomforth. “Even if we could catch up with them, even if we could fight them off, we have no Core until Heart is finished. I’m afraid the Captain is on her own.”

Scootaloo ran through the hallways, pausing to catch her breath. Her mouth seemed to be filling with thick mucus, and she felt like she was choking on it. It did not help that her air supply could not compensate with her exertion and had been forced to concentrate the stinking atmospheric air. Not only did it smell bad, but it was thin. In her oxygen-depraved haze, Scootaloo wondered if it had been intended that way for this very reason.

The creatures approached again, and Scootaloo opened fire- -only to hear the mechanism click. She had consumed all of the magic in her coil.

“Then I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” said Scootaloo, spreading her wings and taking a fighting stance.

The creatures approached- -and then stopped. They seemed to shiver, and looked around wildly. Then they parted, their bodies jerking and clicking as they sidestepped. The dim orange lights that lit deep elements of the organic-like walls suddenly glowed much brighter, casting the room in a sickly glow.

From behind the creatures, a pony stepped forward. She was not like the monsters; in fact, she looked almost entirely normal save for the artificial exoskeleton that covered her entire body, linking to it by numerous cables and tubes that were ingrained into her armor. No part of her skin or coat was exposed, not even her face, which was covered with a smooth black mask with a small illuminated circle in the center.

The circle shifted, moving across the black surface like an eye and focusing on the smaller pony standing before her.

“Scootaloo,” she said, her voice distorted heavily by the machines that seemed to make up much of her body. “Every time. Every single time.”

“Do I know you?” said Scootaloo, slowly.

“No. And it is imperative that you never do.”

“We have your position locked,” said a French-accented voice in Scootaloo’s ear. “Our landing team is onboard and inbound.”

“Who are you?” demanded Scootaloo.

“Lady Sunset Shimmer calls me Xyuka. It is a functional name, since I have none of my own. Not anymore. And that is all you need to know.”

“And this ship? These creatuers?”

“Kill her,” said Xyuka.

Scootaloo ducked as the nearest of the creatures leapt forward, only to watch as its front limbs were liquefied as they impacted a hemisphere of violet energy that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Confused, Scootaloo looked up to see a pony standing above her, her long violet wings extended and her horn charged with energy. She was dressed in black and white armor, with a prominent insignia on her side consisting of a thin white hexagon flanked by orange.

Suddenly, Scootaloo remembered where she had heard that voice before. Apart from the French accent, it was identical to that of Twilight Sparkle.

Another two alicorns rushed past she shield bubble. The larger of the two body slammed the nearest creature, sending it reeling, while her thinner counterpart slashed through another and leapt onto the face of a third, gouging out its eyes with her magic.

More of the creatures advanced, only to be knocked back by a barrage of magic bolts that curved through the air, surrounding their targets in corrosive blue light. Scootaloo looked back to see a humanoid woman in black, skin-tight armor rush forward, her fists charged with magical energy. The three of them rushed forward while the alicorn projecting the shield dragged Scootaloo back.

From the darkness, another human emerged. She did not run or rush, but rather walked leisurely forward, taking her time. Unlike the other, she was dressed in heavy black and white armor, save for her face. Scootaloo saw that her skin was unusually gray, and her curly hair was long and greasy. Strangely, she was smiling, and her blue irises narrowed into a pair of slits as she approached the action ahead.

“This place smells like ass,” she said, her own voice heavy with a thick French accent similar to that of the alicorns’. Her smile became increasingly wide and frightening. “And we know what we do to asses around these parts, don’t we?” She yelled to the front. “Oriana! Six, Seven! Prep for evac! I’m taking the rear!” She giggled, and turned to a fourth alicorn who stood at her feet. “Eight? I’m going to need a gun.”

There was a flash of violet light, and a massive weapon dropped into the human woman’s hands. She looked at it, her eyes scanning the rotating assembly of multiple barrels and the mass-effect projectile system linked to it.

“Oh, Eight,” she said. “You sexy little whorse…” She took hold of the weapon and pointed it at the oncoming swarm of monsters, and the barrels slowly started to spin. Then, all at once, the air was cut by the sound of thousands of bullets flying through the air. The two alicorns in her path neatly moved out of the way, using their wings to adjust their trajectory. The other human barely managed to dodge.

It was nearly impossible to hear over the sound of the bullets, but Scootaloo saw that the human was laughing wildly as she reduced the bodies of the ponies in her way into silver and red mist.

“CRY SOME MOAR!” she screamed over the sound of the minigun.

The alicorns and the black-suited human closed in around Scootaloo.

“You’re going to want to brace yourself,” said the one holding onto Scootaloo. Before Scootaloo could ask, the smaller unicorn who had summoned the minigun joined the formation. There was a sudden flash of light, and Scootaloo felt herself being teleported to somewhere else.

Now all alone, the human continued to unload mass-effect driven bullets into the crowd, slaughtering countless creatures as she laughed manically. Xyuka did not even bother to dodge; she simply raised a shield, surrounding herself with a force-field consisting of interlocking orange hexagons. As surprised as she was to see a mass-effect weapon, its projectiles were insignificant to her.

Since the minigun ran using the mass-effect, it was virtually impossible for it to run out of ammunition. After several moments, however, the human stopped firing and lowered the smoking, red-hot barrels.

“Well,” she said. “I came. Was it good for you too?”

“Hardly,” said Xyuka. “I don’t know what you expected to accomplish with this.”

The human only smiled, and then raised one middle finger to the pony before she was surrounded in a sudden surge of violet light and teleported out.

Bob reemerged in the control room of the 192. Seated before her below a mass of monitors and control projections in the otherwise immaculately white room were a pair of individuals: a blonde, blue-eyed synth, his fingers rapidly moving over the controls as he pushed the ship through evasive maneuvers, and a grayish alicorn, the stumps of her severed wings fluttering involuntarily as she operated the violet control interface hovering in front of her.

“Marc, Four, we need to get out of here. NOW,” said Bob.

“I’m working on that,” said Marc Antony, harshly. “This isn’t exactly easy!”

“We’re going to need to fire the cannon!” said Bob.

“Are you insane? At these speeds- -”

“FIRE THE DAMN CANNON, MARC! Unless you want to die with me!”

“I can’t!” shouted the synth, growing increasingly agitated. “I can’t do the necessary calculations and the evasive maneuvers at the same time- -”

“I can do it,” said Four, opening the necessary windows and shifting her chair toward the other half of Marc Antony’s controls.

“Are you sure?” said Marc Antony. “The level of calculus needed just to start- -it isn’t something an organic brain can normally handle.”

“Trust me,” said Four, smiling seductively. “This organic brain can do a lot. You can count on me, and you know it.”

Marc Antony smiled, not taking his eyes of his work. “The only one I really can, you adorable little genius.”

Xyuka looked up through her optics, watching the ship outside swirling and tilting through her fleet, trailing a biphasic graviton field in its wake. Arguably, she could have destroyed it at any moment, but Xyuka was surprisingly less sure of that assertion than she was of almost everything else.

More importantly, though, she was trying to discern how she had failed to detect the second ship. Looking back through the sensor data that she had accumulated, there were signs, but she had somehow failed to compile them into meaningful information. Instead, she had dismissed them as anomalies- -but now she realized that they must have been the after-images of a spacecraft that had somehow compressed its entire signature into a minsicule spatial area. As far as Xyuka knew, no civilizations present in this particular universe had that level of technology.

“Oh well,” she said to herself, shrugging. She dismissed the thought, instead resolving to determine its cause from the wreck of the ship once she neutralized it. Outside, her fleet moved into position to annihilate it.

As she watched, though, something on the rear of the vessel changed. A rear plate slid open, and a device emerged. Xyuka almost laughed at how quaint their technology was- -but then froze as she saw the internal mechanisms of the weapon beginning to shift and charge, producing a surge of energy that rapidly resolved into a singularity.

“What the…” Her eyes suddenly widened beneith her helmet. “SUNSET!” she cried. “Evasive maneuvers! NOW!”

“That will not be necessary,” said Sunset Shimmer, her voice projected directly into Xyuka’s audio system. She sounded annoyed that Xyuka had deigned to give HER an order. “The dimensional shield will be more than adequate to handle anything their puny weapons can produce.”

“You don’t understand! That’s Voqutan technology! You need to move, NOW- -”

Outside, the weapon suddenly ignited, its beam propagating exponentially into a blue cone of light that reduced the nearest of Xyuka’s ships to ash. It condensed, swirling into a singular beam, and proceeded toward the Crimson Horizon.

Sunset Shimmer projected the dimensional field, barrier of orange energy that was intended to protect against any real threat, whether it be energy or matter. The beam completely ignored it, passing through and cutting into the Crimson Horizon’s side, tearing apart miles of metal, ripping a tremendous hole in its side. It continued to propagate, converting forms and spreading, corroding through the Crimson Horizon’s body and corroding away both external and internal structures. Hundreds of drones attempted to flee, only to have their flesh dissolved away by the blue glow.

High above, Sunset Suddenly dropped to her knees, screaming in agony as a gash was torn through her body, feeling her magic bleeding out from the wound.

Xyuka watched, committed to the inevitability of the circumstances at hand. The damage was extensive, she knew. Even devastating. But it would not be lethal. It had only been intended as a distraction.

As she watched, the Voqutan ship opened a portal in space and instantly vanished into it, travelling instantly to some distant part of the universe to wait- -and taking Scootaloo with it. Xyuka only continued to observe, and then turned to attend to Sunset, making a mental note of the events that had just unfolded.