After wandering through so many darkened hallways, Starlight finally found herself standing high in a deck overlooking the Spectre facility’s central power generator. It resembled a large column of tubes and cylinders surrounded by a dim blue glow that indicated the fact that it was operating, providing enough energy to power an entire industrial-age city. Through the thick glass separating her from it, Starlight could hear its distant hum, and it calmed her. It was not the spectacular views that she took comfort in, but in the desolation of isolated machinery. Those places felt like home, and they reminded Starlight of how far she had come: that at one point, she was considered no more of a pony or person than that fusion reactor- -just a piece of equipment meant to generate power.

The thinking, though, did not help her. Initially she had wanted to ruminate on Twilight’s reassurance, but the more she focused on it, the more Starlight began to feel uneasy. She did not have Twilight’s confidence or poise; while Twilight would surely seek out a solution eventually, Starlight was forced to recon with the fact that she had caused so damage to her friend’s proudest accomplishment. She knew how many long nights Twilight had spent meeting with diplomats, running simulations, planning through the convoluted political process necessary to do what everyone thought was impossible and establish a three-way alliance. Starlight had been there. Watching Twilight, even then a young ruler, do something so substantial had left a lasting impression on her. Then in one single moment she had lost control and so badly hurt her friend’s dream, if not ruined it entirely.

Thinking about what she had done also put her on the verge of tears. That she had almost beaten an innocent girl to death out of anger alone- -she had not known she had been capable of that, nor had she wanted to be. She had of course killed people before. So many of them, all in the name of the freedom of Cores- -but that had been so long ago, back when Starlight had become numb to it. It was so easy when they simply died; she could dismiss their fate as deserved, or justify her actions. But with Quatre, there was no justification. None at all.

Hurting Quatre was the least of it, though, as Starlight quickly realized. Her mind kept returning to her conversation with Babylon, and the more she thought about it the more she began to wonder if Babylon had not somehow foreseen- -or orchestrated- -this entire event. If the four-way alliance could not be saved, Equestria and the Alliance would sever ties. Babylon would declare war on the Benefactor, and the Council would be caught between them. The peace of the galaxy would be shattered, and it would descend into chaos and strife. Billions upon billions of lives would be lost on both sides, innocent people who Starlight had condemned by her mistake. If anything even remained when the fighting was done, it would not be the same. So much would be lost.

And for this, Starlight wept. The people that she had hurt and would hurt was too much to bear, and she would have given anything to take back that mistake, to have turned away from the human Cores and left the ship then and there. If she had just maintained control and been calm and collected- -if she had just been like Twilight- -she could have avoided all of this. Now, though, it was too late.

Compounding this was the world around her. She had just lost Beri, and that reminded her of the others: of Sjdath, and Si’y, but especially Jack. Starlight had not been able to save any of them. They had all lived out their lives while hers had continued just long enough to ruin the galaxy that they had once called home. Beri was the freshest in Starlight’s mind, though, both because of how recent she had passed and because Starlight knew that it had been her failure that had cost her friend her life.

Eventually, she just put her head against the glass, feeling her useless horn against the cold surface. She felt so powerless and useless and wondered if everything she had done had just been a lie. When she was young, it was so much easier. She strived for the equality of ponies, to free the Cores and elevate the breeders and all the other oppressed classes of Equestria. Her goal had only ever been to protect ponies, to ensure them the dignity that they deserved. That had been so distant, though, and Starlight began to wish that she had died long ago so that she could never have reached a state where she would end up hurting rather than helping those for whom she had once cared so deeply about.

After what felt like- -and might have been- -hours of this, Starlight heard the door behind her open. She looked over her shoulder to see Sbaya standing on the shadows on the far end of the room.

“Sbaya?” she said, trying to wipe away the tears but not able to disguise the sound of her crying in her voice. “Is that you?”

“Who else would I be?” she said, entering the room.

“Chrysalis,” said Starlight, turning back to the fusion core in an attempt to hide her tears. “This would be something she would do.”

“The face-changer? No. I am not her.”

“Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that.”

Sbaya paused for a moment. “When I first saw you on Parnack, you did not see me. I followed you for nearly thirty minutes, thinking that you were almost certainly a salarian. When I finally got a bead on you, I was going to kill you. I was so afraid. But seeing you through my scope…you were so striking, I could not bring myself to do it. I fired a warning shot instead.”

Starlight immediately felt worse. Chrysalis was one thing, but she did not want Sbaya to see her this way. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s you.”

“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell,” said Sbaya, somewhat disappointed. “Her illusions are…poor.”

“Poor? They’re pretty damn convincing to me.”

“Not really. She can get the physical appearance, but she never smells like the person she replicates. Always like a hive of canopy-termites.”

“I never noticed that.” Starlight paused, still not looking away from the glass, although she found that she could see Sbaya’s reflection in its smooth surface. “Out of curiosity, though…who does she change into for you?”

“For me? Sometimes you. Sometimes Lordraia.”

“The asari Subcouncilor?”

“That is her occupation, yes.”

“I saw you talking to her in the cafeteria.”

Sbaya nodded. “I did. Her grandmother was apparently badly wounded in a covert operation. The injuries were very nearly fatal, and may still be.”

“And she called you?”

“Apparently. I did my best to reassure her.” Sbaya’s eyes turned to Starlight’s reflection. “She did say something else, though.”

“What?”

“That the Council is detecting unusual massing of Alliance ships. Most of the Councilors believe that it is a show of force, a display of sorts.”

“It isn’t.”

Sbaya nodded. “That’s what Lordraia thinks. That war is coming.”

Starlight felt her breath catch, but stopped herself from bursting into another sobbing fit. “It’s all my fault,” she said.

“Yes,” said Sbaya, “yes it is.”

Starlight whirled around quickly, both shocked and angry that Sbaya had not even tried to reassure her. The expression that she saw on Sbaya’s face was not one of anger or disapproval. Instead, she remained neutral. In fact, she looked almost as she had when she was trying to comfort Lordraia about her wounded grandmother.

“You can’t change the past,” said Sbaya. “This is simple, so easy even children can understand. An event that has happened is done. Apprehension for the consequences is a legitimate feeling. Regret is not.”

“You’ve seen what I did to Quatre.”

“Yes. I helped my mother heal her.”

“I almost killed her. I WOULD have killed her.”

Sbaya paused. “There is a story,” she said. “One that I was told as a girl by my grandfather, one that affected me deeply. That when he was a youth on Tuchanka, he got into a fight with his best friend. That the friend did not survive the conflict. And that grandfather carried the weight of his actions forever after and never again lifted a weapon in violence.”

“I remember that story,” said Starlight. “He told it to me too.”

“Then you understand.”

“It’s not the same. The destruction…what I’ve caused…”

Sbaya took a step forward and kneeled down. She put a hand on Starlight’s head. “And is there anything you can even do to stop that?”

“No,” lied Starlight.

“I mean anything that would not leave your friend alone and without you.”

Starlight turned and looked up at Sbaya, who smiled slightly. “How did you know?”

“Because it isn’t hard to know. That you think there is a way out of this, by removing yourself. You’re wrong, though. That will only make this worse. Your friend, this Twilight, this is a challenging time for her. Do not insult her by threating to take away her close friend as well. One horrible mistake may be forgivable. Two would not be.”

“I just…it just hurts. I don’t…I don’t think I can take it, that I did this, to her and to Quatre and to the galaxy, that I’m responsible- -” Starlight felt herself starting to sob again. “All those people, I let them down, I- -”

Sbaya wrapped Starlight in a hug, pulling her close. It was awkward and cold, but Sbaya was trying her best. Starlight felt better for a moment. It had been a long time since she had been so close to someone like this, and she felt so secure in Sbaya’s arms, as if the bad things that had been overwhelming her had suddenly become so distant.

Starlight hugged back, pursuing this feeling of security and calm, trying to escape the pain and weight of her failure. She felt Sbaya’s position shift slightly, her hands running up her back, and Starlight changed position until they were face to face. Starlight’s red eyes met Sbaya’s blue, and they locked for a moment. Then, before Starlight knew what she was doing, she realized that they had started kissing.

“Do you…do you want to now?” asked Sbaya after a few moments, sounding as though she was in utter shock.

“I don’t want to feel bad anymore,” said Starlight. “Even just for a little while. So…yeah.”

Starlight slid off her clothing, contorting her body to pull herself out of it. Doing so was not at all easy without magic, and the amount she was shaking made it even harder. Still, she had centuries of experience with her disability and was able to quickly shuffle out of her armor.

Sbaya had taken her to a set of unused quarters in the rear of the facility and was sitting in one of the beds, already undressed but covering herself with a sheet.

“You have tattoos,” said Sbaya, surprised.

Starlight looked down at her rump. It was marked with a pair of equals-signs, one on each side. “Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s there to remind me that all ponies are meant to be equal.”

Sbaya looked up at Starlight and smiled nervously. “Do you…want to be equal with me?”

Starlight smiled back with equal nervousness and climbed into the bed, where she got on top of Sbaya. They started kissing again, and Starlight did her best to remove the sheet between them. When she finally got Sbaya to let go, she sat up, sitting on Sbaya’s thights, and looked down at her. Sbaya immediately squeaked and attempted to cover her exhorbinantly tiny breasts.

“Holy crap,” said Starlight.

“C…crap in a good way?” peeped Sbaya.

Starlight pointed to her chest. “You…you don’t have nipples.”

“What? No, of course not. Asari don’t.”

“And you have scales. A lot of scales.”

Sbaya looked hurt. “But…Lordraia said my scales are pretty.”

“Oh, they are,” lied Starlight. In actuality, she found the pattern of scaled skin on Sbaya’s body somewhat disturbing. It did not cover her completely, but the lines of it crossing her tiny-breasted torso made her look almost reptilian. The only fortunate aspect was that she actually did look like a boy, which made Starlight feel a little better- -until her gaze shifted slightly lower.

“Oh my,” she said.

“What?”

“That is not what I expected asari genitals to look like.”

“What?” repeated Sbaya, sitting up and looking down between her legs. “Oh. Yes. That is the exit to my birth canal, it’s not meant to function like actual female genitals.” She looked up at Starlight and looked almost pleading. “Please don’t put anything in it. I know some asari could do that, but I’m still a virgin and it would hurt me really bad. It’s also…perverse.”

“Yeah,” said Starlight, beginning to regret her decision. “I don’t really have anything to stick into it.”

“What?” said Sbaya, confused. “But…I thought ponies had penises?”

“I’m a girl pony. So I don’t.”

“Really?” Sbaya seemed immensely intrigued by this revelation, and her eyes drifted toward Starlight’s own crotch. At her angle there was nothing to see, but it still made Starlight feel extraordinarily awkward- -which was significant coming from a culture where public nudity was the expected norm.

“I’m sorry,” said Sbaya, realizing that she was making Starlight feel awkward. “I’ve never done this before, I don’t- -I don’t know what to do. I thought it would just be instinctive, but…”

Starlight sighed. She considered getting off, but she did not want to be alone, and she had actually started to pity the girl. So she lay down on Sbaya’s chest and kissed her for a few moments.

“Okay,” she said, pulling her mouth away. “Take your right hand and grab my horn.”

“Your…horn?”

“Yes. Touch it.”

“O…okay…” Sbaya did as she was told and gripped Starlight’s horn. Even without magic, the appendage was still sensitive, and Starlight almost immediately closed her eyes and moaned.

“Oh!” said Sbaya, loosening her grip. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no. A unicorn’s horn is the center of her biotics; it has a lot of nerve endings.”

“Oh.” Sbaya paused for a moment. “So when I was grabbing Jurneu’s horn, I was being molested?”

“Pretty much.”

“Hmm.” She shrugged. “So, what now?”

“Left hand,” said Starlight. “You’re going to take that and slide it down between us, and put it in between my rear legs.”

“O…kay,” said Sbaya, hesitating as she moved her hand down Starlight’s chest. For Starlight, it felt good, at least until Sbaya stopped just short of her goal.

“What is that?” said Sbaya, feeling around. Starlight squeaked at the touch on another set of her more sensitive organs. “Are those…are those your breasts?”

“The equivalent, yes,” said Starlight, feeling even more uncomfortable.

“They’re so little!”

Starlight lifted her head and glared at Sbaya. “Really? You really just said that?”

Sbaya suddenly realized what she had just said and blushed profusely. “I- -I didn’t mean- -”

“We can’t all be goddamn Fluttershy.” Starlight shifted position, putting Sbaya’s hand in the correct location. “There. That is where you need to be.”

“Right,” said Sbaya, closing her hand. Once again, Starlight closed her eyes and moaned. It was worse than she had expected. The paradox of the experience made it worse: the fact that it did actually feel good, and that she was enjoying it clashed heavily against how wrong it felt that a person that she considered a woman was doing it to her. Many of Starlight’s friends had been lesbians, but she was decidedly not. She was neither attracted to woman nor to aliens, and she did her best to pretend that Sbaya was a young version of Sunburst.

“Eew!” said Sbaya, suddenly taking her hand away. “It’s all gross and wet!”

Starlight opened her eyes and sat up, pulling Sbaya’s right hand away from her horn. “You know what,” she said. “This was a bad idea. I can’t do this, Sbaya.”

“No, wait, Ms. Starlight, I didn’t- -”

“You don’t say something like that to a filly!” exclaimed Starlight. “EVER!”

Starlight moved to the edge of the bed, but Sbaya sat up and stopped her.

“Sbaya,” said Starlight. “Let go. This isn’t going to work.”

“Please,” said Sbaya. “Just give me one more chance. There’s…there’s still something I can do.”

Starlight looked at her, and then sighed. “Yeah?” she said. “Fine, then. Let’s see.”

Sbaya smiled, and then ran her hand through Starlight’s mane. She then pulled Starlight closer and kissed her. Somehow, though, it felt different than before. It was as if her touch had grown much softer and yet somehow her flesh was sinking into Starlight’s. Starlight was actually surprised by this, because it felt good without any of the negative apprehensions that she had felt in Sbaya’s awkward attempts at physical intercourse.

Starlight felt herself kissing Sbaya back, and the world began to lose focus. It was as though she were drifting free of herself, with Sbaya along with her. The separation forced by their physical bodies began to dissolve, and Starlight felt herself pressing gently into Sbaya, and Sbaya into her.

“Oh Sbaya,” moaned Starlight. Sbaya could just barely moan back in response.

There was not quite a visual representation of the way their minds connected, but the feeling of it was profound. For a moment, Starlight could feel Sbaya. Not just her body, but her mind: the way she thought, the way she felt, the way she was. In response, she knew that Sbaya was feeling her, that, though not in love, they had become perfectly intimate.

Starlight reached out with her mind, attempting to embrace Sbaya’s. The response was unexpected. Sbaya’s mind shifted and retreated, almost as though it were made of tissue paper. It was intently subsumed by Starlight’s, and as she expanded exponentially around it she felt herself entering Sbaya far deeper than she could have imagined. She felt barriers, but they offered virtually no resistance. Starlight did not know why Sbaya felt like that, or why the nature of her mind had suddenly changed. It no longer felt like an equal lover, but a tiny spec in a sea of Starlight, overwhelmed and pulled ever deeper into a force that was beginning to encroach upon its deepest deaths with the incredible ease.

The pliability of it was actually quite amazing, and Starlight felt herself squeezing the tiny speck. It felt so soft, and it was amusing to feel it distort against her will. As she did, she felt memories seeping out of Sbaya’s mind. Most of them were profoundly boring in actual content but intense in emotion: almost all were simple things, like wandering through the forest on long hunts, working at her family’s ancestral farm, or sitting in a small house with her mother, father, and grandfather. These images should have been boring, but instead, Starlight felt just how calm Sbaya had been and how much she had cherished those times.

Then she squeezed too hard. Her mind pushed to deep, and Sbaya’s mind quivered, expanding outward with desperate force. The reaction was violent and unexpected, and in the rush of intimacy Starlight herself had left herself completely unguarded. Something from within Sbaya struck her mind at its most vulnerable state, and the effect was profound.

Immediately, Starlight’s mind began to shift from the feedback. Memories flashed past her, but this time they were hers. She saw herself with Twilight, laughing as they worked together on governing Equestria and making it a better place- -and she saw Twilight collapsing from the nightmares that plagued her, clinging to Starlight’s side in the times that she became weak. Some of those memories were frightening, but most were unbelievably pleasant: all the long nights spent creating new ideas and plans, or just sitting together, looking out at the world as they watched it pass, both of them undying as the centuries passed.

The memories pushed farther back. Starlight saw Priestesses, many of whom had been her friends. She saw them when they were young and new, and watched once again as they grew old and faded while she remained forever young. These were sad memories, but Starlight forced herself to watch what became of her friends as they lived out the lifespan that she was meant to have.

Then, finally, she saw herself walking through the then still incomplete halls of the Temple, Scootaloo beside her. In this, Starlight recalled how much she had cared for the small Pegasus. They had been different ponies, but they had shared a respect for one another that Starlight had failed to find in so many other ponies. Scootaloo had been the first Priestess of Harmony, and Starlight had considered her a friend.

Just as she saw Trixie approaching them, though, smiling and looking bashfully at her then quite recently acquired wife, the memory showed its end result: Starlight and Twilight standing over the unrecognizable remnants of what had once been Trixie, her body torn apart from the inside by a Chaos weapon. She saw what Scootaloo had done, and what she had become.

Then something changed. Starlight felt her mind shudder, and something inside it seemed to snap. Her consciousness fluctuated as she was thrown backward into something new, a memory she had not yet experienced.

“…are you sure?” said a voice.

Starlight lifted her head slightly, and doing so brought unimaginable pain. She tried to scream, but she was too weak- -and something large was crammed into her mouth, filling her broken lungs with the air she needed to survive.

She opened her eyes as much as she could and was dazzled by the light. It hurt her eyes badly, and the world seemed strange. Even stranger was the figure standing in front of her: an arachnid-like construct with many multi-jointed legs, an inverted yellow-colored unicorn head implanted in its center and staring back at her with violet eyes.

“At this point, it is a matter of diminishing returns,” she said. “Further surgery will not increase her probability of survival. That, and there is a ninety nine point eight percent chance that if it is installed she will lose the capacity to produce external magic.”

“I am aware of the side-effects,” said a second voice. Starlight’s eyes shifted to a second pony: a violet alicorn standing beside the cyborg. It was Twilight- -but it was not like the Twilight that Starlight would eventually come to know. Her eyes were hard and dark, staring not quite with disgust but with analytical hostility. “Can you install it?”

“She’s not one of mine. Whoever improved her was sloppy.”

“I did not ask you about the quality of her implants,” snapped Twilight with an extremely distinct French accent. She immediately paused, licking her long and pointed teeth before returning to a calm and far more collected Equestrian accent. “Can you do it?”

“Of course I can do it, My Liege. I can even make her survive the surgery.”

Twilight nodded. “Then do it. Give her the implant.”

The cyborg’s inverted, severed head smiled, and she leaned forward, her numerous mechanical legs softly moving over Starlight’s flesh.

“Shouldn’t you be using anesthetic?” asked Twilight.

“Anesthetic is for rubes. Cores don’t feel pain. They just writhe a lot when you pull out their nerves. Autonomic reaction I’m sure. Why?” She looked over her shoulder. “Do you have a problem with my methods?”

“No,” said Twilight with terrifying calmness. “Go ahead.”

Starlight suddenly snapped awake. Terrified and confused, she looked around the room, not knowing where she was. She might have been screaming, and she was covered in sweat.

“Holy fuck!” she said as she recalled what she had been doing. “What the hell was that? Sbaya- -”

Starlight looked down and gasped at the state of her partner. Sbaya was convulsing in her grasp, and her eyes had rolled back in her head. Deep violet fluid was dripping from her eyes like tears.

“Sbaya!” cried Starlight, trying to pick the girl up. She could not wake her up, and she did not know what to do. She tried to open her omnitool to get a scan, but quickly realized that it no longer worked. Just from holding Sbaya, though, she could feel that she was far colder than an asari should have been and that her heartrate was beginning to fail.

“Help!” she cried in despiration. “Somebody help me! I need HELP!”

There was a sound of running footsteps outside the door, and somebody tried the knob. It was locked, but before Starlight could even decide what to do about it the door came exploding inward, propelled by blue light.

“Starlight, I heard screaming,” said Zedok, “I came as- -WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Starlight did not know if she had time to explain, let alone how to. She was nude, holding Zedok’s naked daughter in her hooves as the girl was quickly collapsing.

“She’s going into neural shock,” said Starlight, feeling tears of fright well in her eyes. “I- -I don’t- -I didn’t mean to! Zedok, I didn’t mean to!”

“Move, damn it!” said Zedok, throwing Starlight onto the floor next to the bed. Starlight hit hard, but barely seemed to notice the pain.

“Goddess damn it!” screamed Zedok, opening her omnitool and barely scanning for half a second before closing it and picking up her now mostly limp daughter. “Her neural architecture is failing- -Star, help me! I need to get her to the medical bay NOW!”

Starlight felt herself nod, and then distantly became aware that she was doing her best to awkwardly assist. Her mind was hardly paying attention, though. Instead, it was focusing on the fact that she had failed again. The implications of what she had done were now clear to her, and she knew that even in the best-case scenario she was guaranteed to lose another friend.

Author's Notes:

I tend to think of asari as somewhat reptilian. It just doesn't make sense for them to have nipples or functional genitals. They had better not have nipples. That would mean that somewhere in the universe there is a such thing as asari milk, and I cannot abide by that.

(I wonder if it's blue?)