There was darkness but never silence. Her eyes closed, Sunset Shimmer concentrated, expanding her mind outward. Within her were the countless millions of voices of the Crimson Horizon’s subsystems, all reporting and cross-communicating, all with her mind at their nexus. Her control was absolute, but often illusionary. Reality took on a strange tone when perceived through the lens of artificial perception. If her concentration broke for too long- -or, even, if she thought too much about her role- -it became difficult to discern the speperation between what she could control and what was beyond her.

Now, though, she ignored those voices. Instead, she focused inward. She remained like this for some time- -and then suddenly opened her eyes. Her disembodied organs and bones snapped inward, following their manifold subtle connections and reconnecting themselves back into her body as her magic reknit her human form.

As far as she could tell, nothing was wrong with her. Every organ, every system within her mobile self- -all of them were biologically normal. She should have been healthy, but instead, she was on the verge of death. Despite being physically disconnected from the Crimson Horizon, it appeared that the health of her human self was tied directly to that of the ship.

Sunset considered this fact for a moment, and then stood. Her body ached, but she ignored the pain. She tightly clutched a wide band of silver that surrounded her neck and upper chest- -and contained the Key of Korviliath in its center. That key had nearly cost her everything, and by itself, as with any key, it was useless. For her plan to succeed, she needed the door associated with it. She knew where it lay, and how to activate it- -but her body was so badly damaged, she had been forced to postpone Equestria’s final battle. Much to her chagrin, she needed time to repair.

Leaving the chamber she had been mediating in, Sunset moved through her ship. It was far from silent as it roared with energy- -even though it sounded sick- -and Sunset relished that eternal noise. The sensation of it was strange, but one that she had come to cherish: the feeling of being present inside her own body.

Along the walls, the drones continued to interface with the ship’s systems or march along their paths in formation toward areas in need of repair. They were Sunset’s children; she had sewn together each and every one of them from the remnants of the ponies that had been pulled into the Void with so many years before. She could hear their voices, the mechanical, repetitive thoughts as they coordinated themselves to her will. If she listened especially hard, sometimes she could hear the screaming from deeper within their minds.

Many of them had been lost, in part because of Xyuka’s mistreatment of them. To Sunset Shimmer, they were part of her. Xyuka, however, had far less empathy. She saw them as she saw everything: as just another machine to bend to her will. Sometimes, Sunset could not help but wonder what exactly was running in the mind behind that flat, blank mask she wore.

The path she took was long and winding as she examined herself and the massive damage she had sustained in pursuit of her goal. She was proud of how she had managed to persevere, but seeing the level of destruction that the enemy had wrought on the Crimson Horizon was disturbing and even disheartening.

In time, she found herself entering one of the many vacuous, empty rooms within herself. Xyuka was waiting for her.

“Lady Sunset,” said the armored pony, bowing. “I was hoping you would make an appearance.”

“The repairs,” said Sunset. “How long until I am functional?”

“Not soon, I’m afraid. It could take weeks. Months, even.”

“That is too long! I need to be functional NOW!”

The luminescent circle in the center of Xyuka’s mask twisted and moved to the edge of her mask, looking up at Sunset like a single white eye. “I warned you not to enter the battle with the Voqutan damage to your hull.”

“My hull was fine. The crystals couldn’t penetrate my shields. It was those other ships that caused the problem- -I thought you said the aliens wouldn’t be a threat to me!”

“I miscalculated,” said Xyuka. “Those starships were called Reapers. They are a type of advanced artificial construct. Or at least, they were supposed to be.”

“Supposed to be?”

“I was anticipating them to be comparatively primitive. The Reapers are not truly intelligent. Rather, a slightly evolved harvesting system. Or they were supposed to be. These Reapers…there was something behind them. A motivation. An intelligence. Something not Reaper.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Why? Because I have dealt with them before.”

Sunset did not ask. She did not actually know where Xyuka had come from, or what she even was precisely. She did not have cause to know, or especially care.

“At least we managed to get some gain from them.”

“Gain? What kind of gain?”

“The Reapers provided us with a gift.” Xyuka turned toward the darkness in the room, and several powerful lights flashed on, illuminating the vast floor below. Sunset stared in shock: the room was filled with several hundred ponies, all standing in perfect formation and looking up at her.

“What- -what is this?” she demanded.

Xyuka pointed at several large machines at the edge of the room. They were not the material that Sunset had built her body from, and they were connected to what appeared to be fragments of Xyuka’s own ships. “I found it within them while I was interfaced. They call it ‘indoctrination’. Their design was subtle and primitive. I improved it.” She turned toward the legion of ponies and addressed them. “Salute your eternal lord and master!”

“Hail Sunset!” they shouted in unison, saluting.

“Mind control,” said Sunset, shivering slightly. “You created mind control.”

“I adapted it to our needs. These ponies were ones I managed to take from the planets my fleet approached. We do not have many, but I do not think we need many. I suppose we can use them as soldiers, but I meant it as a demonstration.” Xyuka looked up at Sunset, and, seeing the look of concern on her face, explained further. “You do not need to worry. Your magic is powerful enough to keep you protected from indoctrination.”

“And you?” said Sunset. “You are a Pegasus pony. You don’t have magic.”

“The system operates by producing a resonant pulse in the user’s brain in response to certain thoughts. Subtly retraining them. Or it was supposed to. Now it produces a profound chemical dependency. Of course, it requires having an actual brain to work.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that you don’t have a brain?”

“That is exactly what I am implying.” Xyuka tapped her head. “Tesla coils.”

Sunset shivered. Xyuka was competent- -invaluable, even- -but something about her had always been unsettling. “This is good,” she admitted. “This will make pacifying Equestria so much simpler.”

“I thought you would like it,” said Xyuka. “I know you are feeling poorly after the battle. I wanted to cheer you up. Now, though, you need to rest.”

“I need to attack.”

“No,” said Xyuka. “I don’t recommend that.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“My rational is different this time,” said Xyuka, firmly. “You need to repair. But it is not just that.”

“What, then?”

“The Voqutan technology. The more I think about it, the more it concerns me.”

“It does not concern me. A surprise attack will only work once. I will destroy them before they can fire next time instead of relying on you.”

“And if you fail? Or if, perhaps, the humans have more than one ship with that capacity? Or Voqutan shields? You were lucky. If they had struck you, the Core, all would be lost.”

“Are you going to complain, or offer me a solution?”

“I would like permission to investigate this further. You will oversee your own repairs while I take the last remnants of my fleet to seek out the Voqutan.”

“And how do you propose to find them, Xyuka? You have no idea where they are.”

“I know exactly where they are. The Voqutan signal is exceedingly rare in this universe. I can find them. I will find out if there are more, and eliminate them.”

Sunset considered for a moment. “Yes, then. I grant you permission. You have three days. If you do not return in that time, Xyuka, I will begin the attack without you.”

“Thank you, Lady Sunset,” said Xyuka, bowing. “I will not fail you. I will do everything within my power to make your goals a reality, and I will protect you, even if it means my own demise.”