“So,” the vision of Twilight Sparkle says, taking a sip of a cup of tea. “What else do you remember?”

Sharon doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know if she can.

“This isn’t real,” she finally said, practically hissing the words. “Is it.”

“That’s an interesting question,” the vision says. “‘Real’ in the sense of physical reality? No, though to assume that’s the only qualifier is terribly physica-centric.” She takes another sip of her tea. “But I assure you. This is very real.”

Sharon blinks, processing what the vision of Sparkle is saying as best she can.

“That’s not really a word,” she finally says sulkily.

Twilight Sparkle only laughs. “Everything is a word somewhere. And we have heard many in this place, believe me.” She paused, rethinking her sentence. “Most, admittedly, some variations of begging for release, freedom, etcetera.”

Sharon scowls. “You’re sick.”

“Oh, there, you’re absolutely right,” Sparkle says, and now there is something off in the way she says it. Something cruel. “But, unfortunately, not in the way you mean it.”

“I'm walking to the something, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah - Collapse! I'm drinking too much blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah - Fall out!”

Daniel Romero watches the Newfoal through the glass, scowling as he sees her gently tap her hooves, dancing to the track with a small, contented smile. It’s one of a random playlist - or at least, Lucky Strike thinks it’s random. For all she knows, these are Sharon’s favourite songs.

“She knows the track, doesn’t she?” she asks from next to Romero, her disbelief leaking through her voice despite her best efforts. “I mean… she knows it’s a human song, right?”

“She does,” Romero says quietly. His voice is tight, controlled. He’s in full work mode, Strike can tell, where emotions don’t get to play a part. She knows that well. “We told her we’d be playing human music through, and that we wanted her to pick her favourite.”

“Even telling her that would have normally set a Newfoal off,” says the tired-looking Dr Well Met, who is now - by virtue of his previous experience - Sharon’s case worker. He’s a grey Earth Pony stallion, wearing a lab coat over a blue uniform jumpsuit, and always looks so exhausted that saying he’s ‘tired’ is practically an insult. “But there she is. She’s enjoying it.”

“Enjoying it,” Romero whispers.

Lucky Strike has known him long enough to know he has made a mental note. Just one other thing different from everything else Newfoal. One other thing that makes Sharon - or ‘Sunbeam’ - anomalous.

“Any other experiments of this sort that we could run on her?” Romero asks after a moment.

“Depends how invasive you want me to be,” Well Met replies. “Obviously standard procedure isn’t to do anything that causes permanent damage, but…”

Lucky Strike tries to tune out the talk: she knows that it’s an important part of their work. The important part of their work, the part where they would somehow find a way to undo the damage that had been done by Queen Celestia and the Solar Empire. But still, there is something so… nonchalant about the way that they are talking.

The Captain knows what he’s doing, Lucky reminds herself. And I trust him.

“I think,” Romero says after a few moments, “that we’ll leave her be for now. This in and of itself is telling us a great deal. We’ll interview her later.”

“If you say so, Captain,” Well Met says quietly.

Escorting ‘Sunbeam’ back to Sharon’s quarters is… unusual. She’s smiling. Not docile, as she has been before now. No, now she seems like a fully realised personality, talking about the music gently.

“There must be some way to preserve those chord progressions,” she says about ‘Vermillion’. “It was so… powerful!”

“You like it, huh?” Lucky Strike asks her.

“Of course I like it!” Sunbeam replies. “The drums, the bass, the guitar… it’s a masterpiece!”

A Newfoal who likes Slipknot, Lucky Strike thinks, resisting the urge to laugh. This is… it’s insane. It’s terrifying. What caused this, and how long will it last? Will she regress, or…

No. She doesn’t dare think that this could be a positive. Sunbeam hasn’t responded at all to her old name. She might not even remember that she had one.

When they get to Sunbeam’s quarters, Romero is there waiting, hands behind his back.

“Sunbeam,” he says to the Newfoal in what might be an attempt at a kind voice. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she says. “I’m fine… uh, sorry, I don’t think I caught your name, sir?”

Romero smiles, and opens the door to her quarters. “I’m the captain. You know Commander Strike.”

“‘Strike’,” Sunbeam replies as they enter her room. “That’s such a strong name. No wonder you’re a Guardspony.”

Lucky Strike feels her eye twitch involuntarily. “I’m…”

“We’re not part of the Royal Guard or any Equestrian institution on this ship,” Romero says smoothly. “We operate as part of Ex Astris Victoria, a subset of the Human Liberation Front.”

“Oh!” Sunbeam says, and for a moment Lucky tenses, wondering if she’ll attack. Instead, however, she smiles. “I see! That makes sense. I was wondering why there were so few ponies aboard.” She pauses. “‘Human Liberation Front’… I’m confused, I thought you were at war with Queen Celestia.”

“Did you,” Romero says tightly.

He meets Lucky’s eyes, and she stays tense.

“We are,” he says.

Sunbeam blinks once. She frowns, ever so slightly.

“You… are,” she repeats. She looks at Lucky. “I… I’m sorry, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Romero asks her.

“Well…” she looks like she’s struggling. “I… I’m sorry, a Captain, I…”

She pauses, her eyes widening. She blinks. Once, twice, a third time.

“What?” she says. She looks up. “Where…”

“Sunbeam?” Romero says, frowning now, arms unfolded.

“Who?” the Newfoal asks. She looks at Strike. “Lucky?” Now back to Romero, eyes widening in something that might be horror. “Dan - Captain? What’s happening?”

“Sharon…” Strike whispers. Ice runs down her spine. This isn’t possible. It isn’t even probable. It’s…

And then the Newfoal blinks, and frowns.

“I’m sorry, I must have spaced out for a moment there,” she said, shaking her head. “What were we talking about, Captain…?”

Romero blinks, his eyes wide. He looks horrified, and Strike can’t blame him.

“Romero,” he finally says. “Daniel Romero.”

“Captain Romero,” the Newfoal says, nodding. “I’ll remember that.” She smiles. “Well, I know you’re HLF, but you’ve been nothing but kind to me since I got here. I hope I get the chance to repay that kindness.”

Romero and Strike exchange a look.

“I appreciate that,” the Captain finally says. “We’ll leave you to it for now, Sunbeam.”

“Of course,” Sunbeam replies. “Thank you, Captain Romero.”

Sitting in the rec room after the experiment, Lucky Strike takes a sip of bitter vending machine coffee.

“Lucky? Dan - Captain? What’s happening?”

It hadn’t been Sunbeam speaking, she thinks. It had been Sharon. Sharon’s voice and Sunbeam’s were of course identical, but it had been the intonation, and the way she called the Captain by his name…

This Newfoal isn’t just anomalous, Lucky Strike thinks. She’s a Luna-damned miracle.

“Commander Strike! Lucky!”

Lucky Strike shakes her head and looks up at the call. It’s another Pegasus, a blue mare with a red mane who goes by the name of Jessie (for reasons Lucky hasn’t pried into - everybody has their secrets, their history, on this ship).

“Jessie,” she says, smiling as best as she can. It’s hollow, and by the brief look of concern

“There you are,” Jessie says after a moment. “Luna’s sake, I was beginning to wonder if I’d find you.”

“Well, here I am,” Lucky Strike replied quietly, taking a sip of her coffee. “What is it?”

Jessie takes a deep breath, seemingly unsure where to start. “I’ve… been talking to some of the guys. Jim, Biggs, Wedge…”

Lucky Strike rolls her eyes. “And?”

“And we heard about Sharon,” Jessie whispers. “Look, we get it. The Captain does this stuff. We study them so we can fix them, right? But…”

There’s something in Jessie’s eyes. Is it… disloyalty? The thought sticks at Strike’s heart in a way she doesn’t like. You are not back there. You don’t have to feel that way. You don’t have to feel that way for anyone. But then Jessie lets out a sigh, and the expression passes.

“We just… some of us just think that we should… let her go, is all,” she says. “It’s one of us, you know?”

Let her go. Of all the euphemisms used to describe the euthanasia of a Newfoal, that was the one that had taken up residence among Columbia’s crew. It was the unavoidable side-effect of the sympathy the science teams had to have, the sympathy that, like an ink stain, spread across the pristine surface of the otherwise dispassionate dispatching of the things that used to be people.

“The Captain wants to study her for anomalies,” Strike says in lieu of responding to the second point. “He thinks that… well, due to the circumstances…”

Circumstances the crew don’t know. There’s very few secrets at what Romero calls ‘Level Omega’, but Sharon and the circumstances around her are one of them, one that only Romero, Renner, Well Met, Strike herself and couple of their other experts know. And only Romero and Strike witnessed Sharon’s…

Relapse.

That seemed impossible to think of, and yet there it was.

“Is she an anomalous one, then?” Jessie asks, eyes wide in horror. As well she should be - they all know the stories of whatever Shieldwall does with his anomalies.

“We can’t classify her properly yet,” Strike says, trying to be reassuring. “When we can, I’m sure the Captain will let us all know properly.”

“Right,” Jessie says, nodding. There’s a brief silence, and Strike knows the other mare is thinking of something. “Lucky… you don’t think he’d do that to everyone, do you?”

“Do what?” Strike asks, knowing full well what Jessie means.

“Lock them up,” Jessie replies. “Keep them. It’s… it’s degrading, isn’t it? Whatever’s left of them being paraded around like that?”

Strike feels a bout of irrational irritation. “If you feel that way, why didn’t you go to Challenger with Emerald and Steph?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jessie retorts, snapping. “I believe in the work. But…” She sighs. “But people have a right to know why what’s left of Sharon is being paraded around like this, don’t they? Why she’s still alive? What it is that means their friend has to suffer like this instead of…”

She trails off, but Strike, feeling her anger ebb away, smiles.

“Instead of letting her go,” she finishes quietly.

“Yeah,” Jessie says.

Strike nodded. “Alright, how about this. I’ll speak to the Captain and Renner about it. Renner can hopefully knock some sense into him if he doesn’t want to compromise.”

“Thanks, Lucky,” Jessie says, smiling. “Knew you’d get it.”

And Lucky Strike really does get it. Oh, she can’t exactly say it. Can’t say ‘I understand why you feel this way’, can’t say that she disagrees with the Captain’s handling… she’s his right hand, after all.

But she can still feel it, somewhere deep down.

“You think we should tell them,” Romero says later when she goes to speak to him about it.

Lucky Strike nods. “Not the most important aspects, of course, sir. About the potion and that. But… maybe if we tell them that she’s anomalous. Maybe even warn them that she relapses…”

Romero is silent, unmoving, and Strike wonders if she’s crossed a line. If there’s even a line to cross, and not just some eggshells to forever tread around a man who’s clearly used to things going just so.

“Why?” he finally asks.

“Because…” The world’s stick in her throat and she pauses, clearing her throat carefully. “Because Sharon was one of them. One of the crew. They have a right to know why you’re not… not…”

“Euthanising her,” Romero says bluntly.

Lucky Strike wets her lips. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Romero says, and then he simply looks thoughtful again.

For a long moment, there is a tense silence between the two of them, and again Lucky Strike wonders - has she crossed a line? Or does Romero see her point?

“You’re dismissed, Commander,” he says after a moment. “You’ve given me… a lot to think about.”

Lucky Strike nods, and offers a quick salute. Romero returns it without spirit, and Strike leaves. When the door to his office closes, she stops,admits out a deep breath. Her heart is hammering.

There was… something about this talk. It scared her. It keeps scaring her. She doesn’t know why, and that scares her too. It takes her a few minutes to realise the reason.

Captain Romero is a difficult man to read, but after all the months and years she’s known him, Lucky Strike has learned to get a read on the man. It’s not an easy read, no sir, but it’s a read nonetheless. Now, however, she doesn’t have a read.

I know he cared for her, but…

She shakes her head. I trust him. He knows what he’s doing.

With that thought, she walks off, feeling less than happy about the whole thing.

Sunbeam is looking up at the ceiling of her quarters, thinking. She is new, and she is full of questions about herself and where she is.

Why is she here? Isn’t she at war with these humans? Why then, does she feel so safe among them? So familiar?

The confusion is painful. The confusion is more than painful, it is pushing at the edges of her nascent consciousness.

For a moment, her eyes glaze over, and then Sharon is staring at her ceiling. She recognised that it is her ceiling.

She blinks, and Sunbeam smiles. She knows that she feels safe here, and so she allows her confusion to disappear.

She feels safe.

That is enough for now.

Well heck, it’s been a year.

Oops…?

Fun fact: I started doing this in past tense, but present tense felt better given what I’ve been writing for the last few chapters.

This one actually feels like it’s gonna wrap up in about three chapters, so keep your eyes peeled. It might be the first complete story I’ve done on here in ages 😂

You might not have noticed, but as of 19/04/2020 the prologue was rewritten. This accompanies the general rebranding of all these stories as part of the Reduxverse.