“Clearing the super jovian now,” Aileron announced for the benefit of the ponies on the bridge, most of whom were peering out the forward-facing viewport at the massive beige-hued gas giant that seemed to take up a full half of the visible area around the ship. Slipshod surmised that, had the planet been just a bit bigger, it might very well have collapsed into a second star and rendered this into a binary system. As it was, the gaseous world merely presented itself as an ideal spot to hide a ship from view from the inner system.

To say nothing of providing for some very generous-sized gravitationally null locations that a Jump Ship could use without the need to loiter for all to see at a system’s typically utilized distant zenith and nadir points of entry, which allowed for substantial margins of error, and were much easier to plot. ‘Pirate’ jump points, like the one that was likely used by the Disciple ship, were quite dangerous. Not only were they much smaller, and thus much harder to ‘hit’, they were also much more mobile, making them exceedingly difficult to plot.

This was especially true for systems like PEA-02-UX, which saw effectively zero regular traffic, and thus no routinely updated stellar navigation data was available for an astrogator to use to plot the jump. Granted, even in those systems which saw a lot of thru traffic, these sorts of inner system jump points were almost never used. The risk simply wasn’t worth the measly few days that one saved in sunlight transit time.

Honestly, the only time using risky points of entry and exit like this made any sense was for cases exactly like this one: where a Jump Ship being operated by an outlaw outfit wanted to get in and out without reputable forces knowing anything about it.

Not that it made it any less risky. These Disciples were either needlessly reckless, exceptionally skilled, or very desperate.

Slipshod suspected that it was the latter.

“Getting a contact on sensors,” Doppler said, leaning over her station’s displays as she endeavored to make a determination of what she was seeing, “it’s big,” there had been little doubt that it would be, “getting lidar returns on a cross-section...computer’s made an ID. It’s a―” the mare broke off unexpectedly, looking back at the other ponies on the bridge, her jaw agape, “...it’s coming back as a WarShip! Manticore-class!”

More than a few sets of eyes went towards the viewport, despite the millions kilometers still between them and the Disciple craft meaning that physically seeing the WarShip wasn’t actually possible. Slipshod quickly crossed the bridge to join Doppler at her station and look at the display screen himself. It wasn’t that he actually doubted the mare’s ability to relay the ship’s determination accurately, it was simply that he hadn’t quite been prepared to learn what had been waiting for them here.

He’d assumed it would simply be a Jump Ship. Never would he have believed that the Disciples would tip their hand quite this early on.

“What the fuck are the Disciples doing with a WarShip?!” Aileron sputtered in disbelief. His consternation was hardly a unique reaction. Even the guardsmare assigned to escort Twilight was gaping out the window in response. Slipshod could understand why it was a sentiment mirrored by the other ponies on the bridge. Save for Twilight, of course.

The Disciples of Discord were a galactic ‘joke’, after all. A ragtag band of crazy fanatical cultists who appeared seemingly at random to terrorize underdeveloped systems and wreak a little havoc. It usually didn’t take a lot to drive them off, as they never appeared with so much as a Breezy in attendance. Just some lighter combat vehicles. The perfectly rational conclusion to draw was that the group had very limited funding, and paltry few sources from which to draw their equipment. Which made sense, seeing as how nopony of any repute in the Harmony Sphere would knowingly deal with them to sell ‘Steeds or heavier vehicles to them.

That was the ‘official’ rationale, of course.

The reality was that the Disciples never bothered to bring any of their substantial firepower with them. After all, if they appeared to be a genuine threat, then Chrysalis would pay them actual attention and dedicate the resources necessary to finding their bases and rooting them out. The Disciples were doubtlessly better equiped than anypony could conceive of, but Slipshod doubted that they were genuinely capable of staving off the dedicated might of Chrysalis’ Equus-based forces if she was inclined to bring them to bear.

However, so long as they continued to operate like they were little pissant raiders, she’d keep those forces at home, where they could keep her safe. Any given planet’s local militia or―at most―a light mercenary lance were usually more than enough to drive the Disciples out of wherever they popped up.

It wasn’t like it took a lot of firepower to blow up lightly defended secret hyperpulse generators anyway. Why bring a lance of Big Macs, when a half dozen harriers could do the job?

They had Big Macs though―or at least ‘Steeds just as powerful. Slipshod had always suspected as much, given the nature of their origin as refugees from the defunct Celestia League. Twilight’s revelation that the Disciples’ emblem was that of an old Celestia League military regiment cemented those suspicions. Even on Equus, the records were spotty as to how much equipment had been smuggled out of the system by the defecting CLDF commanders. Likely by design, the earth pony assumed. They’d certainly taken plenty of jump-capable ships. Of that much there’d been no doubt. It only made sense that those Jump Ships would have been loaded down with all the ‘Steeds they could get their hooves on.

It seemed that they’d made off with quite a few WarShips too.

“Well, we were sent to find proof that they were getting Commonwealth support,” Slipshod offered in response, turning his head to smirk at the pilot. He ignored the confused look on Twilight’s face. He’d not yet had a chance to fill her in on the cover story that he’d come up with for the bridge crew. Hopefully she was perceptive enough to play along.

“‘Support’?! A Manticore-class WarShip isn’t ‘support’!” the other stallion retorted, gesturing wildly at the viewport with his wing in exasperation, “where did the Disciples even get one?!”

That was a fair question, Slipshod supposed, as even the major powers in the Harmony Sphere didn’t possess such vessels. At least, not anymore. Those which weren’t currently being hoarded in the Faust System, or hadn’t fled with the defectors, had been whittled away during the centuries of fighting that followed the League’s dissolution. Losses had tended to go unreplaced, not that the initially catastrophic levels of infrastructure destruction commonly seen prior to the adoptions of the Aris Conventions had left many intact shipyards capable of building such ships. By the end of the first decade of fighting, it was functionally impossible to build anything much bigger than a Princess-class DropShip.

Not that the extinction of WarShips was something which the major governments of the galaxy lamented. Not really. WarShips were expensive to build and, frankly, not cost effective for perpetuating the ongoing ‘proxy wars’ between the major powers and their in-house mercenary companies that were the current norm where modern conflict was concerned.

WarShips were designed to wreak vast devastation upon an enemy force, and that was no longer the goal of most battles these days. The Harmony Sphere was plagued by scarcities of every kind, to include the very warfighting materials and weapons needed to continue waging their ongoing conflicts. Thus, the goal of most fights was to defeat an enemy while placing the victor in a position to recover as much salvageable material as possible, so that it could be refurbished and pressed back into service against the enemy from which it had been plundered. The devastating weapons of a craft like a Manticore-class battleship were ill-suited for such operations; and so, there had been little purpose behind maintaining them any longer.

There might be some smaller non-DropShip capital vessels among the navies of the Great Houses or their vassals―the odd frigate or destroyer-sized ship mostly. Craft which were treated more like well-armed pleasure yachts than true combat vessels. They honestly rarely left the capital system of their owners, lest they be destroyed in a fight and the prestige associated with possessing one lost forever. In any case, no creature―save for Queen Chrysalis herself―laid claim to any vessel nearly as large as the two million ton bona fide ship-of-war that was pinging their scopes at this very moment.

At least, no creature in the Sphere.

“Our mission is to find out,” the earth pony reminded the ship’s pilot pointedly, sounding as though he wasn’t nearly as phased as the other ponies on the bridge. Again, aside from the alicorn. Which only served to reinforce the notion that the two of them were ‘in’ on more details of the alleged ComSpark plan than the rest of the crew. In that regard, it was perhaps doubly best that Squelch wasn’t present for this. She could remain cool under pressure most times, but if their last meeting was any indication, the mare did seem to have her limits; and these last few months had pushed hers right up to the breaking point.

There might even be some minor cracking, if he was being honest.

Slipshod looked back at High Gain, “have we received any additional signals from the Disciple vessel?”

The earth pony mare hesitated for a second or two, clearly still trying to process the enormity of the revelation that the presence of a WarShip precipitated. However, in short order she was looking back at her own console, “um, no, nothing from them ye―” her terminal beeped, “oh. Message coming in. Text only again,” she said, looking up at Slipshod with a bemused expression, “...addressed to ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle’.”

Aileron scowled, “‘Princess’? Is that supposed to be some weird sort of slight? Why even bother with a royal title at all?” then the stallion’s expression contorted even further as he processed the rest of what the mare had said, “why would they even be asking for the Queen anyway? They don’t honestly think she’s on the ship, do they―?”

Slipshod cut off the pilot, looking pointedly at the comms tech, “pass it through to Purple Rose,” he instructed, and then motioned for Twilight to seat herself at a nearby auxiliary bridge terminal. The alicorn nodded and made herself as comfortable at the station as her size would allow. The designers of the DropShip had obviously not taken alicorns into consideration when deciding on the ergonomics of the bridge’s various stations.

High Gain blinked in surprise, looking between him and the purple mare before merely shrugging and complying with the instructions that she had been given, “...transferring to Aux One.”

The earth pony stallion left the sensor station to make his way over to where Twilight had seated herself, peering around her to get a look at the message:

Slipshod frowned at the screen. His frown deepened when he noticed that Twilight seemed to be just as confused by the message as he was, “what does what say?” he decided to prompt anyway.

The alicorn merely shrugged, “I have absolutely no idea,” she admitted, “‘it’ could refer to so many things, that it’s impossible to know what ‘it’ they’re talking about. The Journal of the Two Sisters, The Elements of Harmony, The Tree of Harmony; I don’t have any context for this question,” the mare sounded clearly frustrated by the presentation of what seemed to be an unfairly vague riddle.

“Well, you may want to figure out some context,” Doppler called out nervously, her eyes glued to her display, “because I’m picking up some movement on that WarShip’s weapons mounts! I think they’re targeting us―” the bridge’s speaker system issues out a loud, and rather shrill, warning trill, indicating that the ship’s systems had registered a radar suite singling them out, “yep! They’re targeting us!”

Aileron bolted upright in his piloting couch like he’s just been struck by lightning. His hooves and wings instantly reached for the controls at his station, “starting evasive maneuvers!”

“Belay that!” Slipshod ordered, earning stunned expression from every other member of the bridge crew, “hold steady! They didn’t call us out here just to kill us,” maybe. He hoped, “they’re vetting us,” he nodded his head towards the alicorn currently pondering the nebulous question that they’d been sent by the Disciples.

“And we’re not going to pass,” the pegasus stallion pointed out, clearly more than a little on edge. Understandable, as they’re just been targeted by weapons that were capable of launching projectiles approximately the size of a ‘Steed at them. Even a glancing blow from one of those would effectively destroy the Galloway. The earth pony recalled the extent of the damage he’d seen while investigating the wreckage of the Strongheart-class DropShip that they’d found Twilight in. That hadn’t even been a ‘direct hit’ either, “we need to get out of here while we still can!”

“We’re not escaping a WarShip,” Slipshod stated bluntly. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling more than a little anxious himself, but the cold fact of the matter was that they were at the mercy of the Disciples. He’d assumed that they’d been given these coordinates because Twilight managed to pass their initial test. But, if that had been the case, then why ask another question now?

Then something occurred to the stallion. He looked over at High Gain, “you said this message was addressed to Twilight, right?” the mare nodded, “the one from before though, that one was addressed to Squelch?” another nod.

Slipshod massaged his chin in thought. They’d known that the Galloway was going to be here, and wanted to get its captain’s attention. So they’d addressed their first message to the unicorn owner. It had still been a question meant for Twilight though. Presumably, the alicorn had given them the correct answer to their question. Otherwise, why even send the coordinates to rendezvous with the WarShip?

So they now knew that Twilight was onboard. Which was why this message had been addressed to her specifically. That still didn’t explain why they were asking a question that she clearly didn’t know how to answer. Honestly, it puzzled the stallion as to why they were still sending messages in text form. Why not use audio, or even visual comms if they wanted to make sure she was really here? They had line-of-sight. Establishing a secure tight-beam video exchange that couldn’t be intercepted or overheard by the Highlanders would be foal’s play.

The answer came to him almost as soon as he’d finished forming the question: changelings.

The Disciples knew about changelings. Using sound or images risked passing on voices or likenesses that Chrysalis’ agents could then mimic, if they ever got hold of them. Text was just text. As long as they vetted the creature on the other end with targeted questions, they didn’t have to worry as much about being compromised by changeling spies.

Of course, that only worked as long as the recipient of the question understood the questions meant to vet them!

A flash of green light out of the corner of his eye drew Slipshod’s attention. For a brief moment, he felt himself panic, as the hue had been a nearly dead ringer for a changeling’s transformation. His brain whirled for a fraction of a second as he battled with the possibility that Twilight had been the changeling spy all along and that this had all been some sort of elaborate setup.

Fortunately, though the realization came too late to spare his now tachycardic heart, the light had not been produced by Twilight revealing her ‘true form’, but had instead been generated by a quaint―and very anachronistic―looking roll of parchment. It was even enclosed by an embossed red wax seal.

“Huh,” he said, blinking at the sight, and willing his pulse to slow so that it was no longer throbbing in his ears.

The alicorn’s horn glowed as she lifted the scroll off of the console in front of her and very deftly popped the wax seal. The ancient-looking vellum noisily unfurled. Upon it was written four words: Welcome back, Your Majesty.

Twilight glanced briefly over her shoulder at Slipshod, who was still utterly baffled at where the scroll had come from and how it was supposed to have gotten there in the first place. It had obviously been through magical means, yes, but the color and method were confounding him. It had been green fire. He’d seen it. But that was changeling magic...wasn’t it? The purple mare didn’t seem to be at all put off by that fact, however; and she should have been just as aware as he was...right?

...Was this all some weirdly convoluted plot to entrap him? Did that make any sort of rational sense?

Was there an irrational angle that he was discounting?

Heedless of the earth pony’s own internal turmoil, Twilight typed the words from the scroll into her terminal and glanced over at High Gain, “would you please relay this message?”

The comm tech bit her lip, looking apologetic, “um...I can’t,” she admitted, gesturing at her terminal, “I’m still locked out of the transmit functions. Per Squelch’s command override,” she swallowed now, recognizing the danger that they were in. The WarShip was awaiting their response to the question they’d posed―which they’d apparently sent to Twilight magically―and deadly consequences would befall the Galloway should they give the wrong response. Or likely no response as well. At least, after whatever the Disciple commander over on that ship decided was a suitable amount of time to wait for one.

Unfortunately for the Steel Coursers, they didn’t have much in the way of an articulable quantity of minutes that would constitute a ‘timely manner’. Which meant that they could have anywhere from ten seconds to an hour to transmit the answer to the question they’d been asked before they were blown out of space. However much time it turned out that they had to give their response, Slipshod surmised that it was best described as: ‘the rest of their lives’.

The earth pony looked back to the alicorn, “can you send it back the same way they sent it to you?”

Twilight frowned, “I could if I knew who I was supposed to be sending it to. This isn’t Spike’s clawwriting, so I don’t think teleporting the scroll to him will let the response get to that ship out there any time soon,” she admitted.

“Oh, we’re fucked,” Aileron snarled, once more reaching for the controls so that he could try and get them away from there.

However long they had to respond, Slipshod was quite confident that making any alterations to their course would constitute the ‘wrong’ answer, and only serve to get them all killed, “belay that!” he yelled, charging across the bridge and outright tackling the pegasus out of his seat before he could touch the controls. The pair tousled briefly before the earth pony jumped back up off of a shocked Aileron.

“Are you crazy?! We can’t respond; we’re locked out!” the feathered stallion was yelling at him in consternation.

Slipshod ignored the ship’s pilot and instead rushed over to High Gain’s terminal. He firmly―though not quite violently―bumped the startled mare out of the way, prompting a surprised yelp as she stumbled to the deck, “―the fuck!”

The golden earth pony paid her just as little mind as he quickly brought up the terminal’s override commands. He deftly tapped away at the console for several seconds, all the while aware of the stern glares that he was getting from the other members of the crew. However, he didn’t address any of them immediately. He had to save their lives first.

The comm station let out a pleasant little chime as it acknowledged the passcode that he’d entered, having received it from a drunken Squelch just a few hours ago. He then proceeded to forward Twilight’s message to the Disciple WarShip. The stallion earnestly looked over at a stunned Doppler, who was paying far more attention to the goings-on happening in the back of the bridge than she was her own station, “status of the Disciple ship?” he demanded sternly.

The blue unicorn blinked in surprise before spinning back around and looking at the reading on her computer, “...they’re lifting their lock,” she announced, deflating in her seat as the tension of imminent death left her body. Slipshod experienced a similar feeling of relief wash over him, helped greatly by everypony else’s agitation levels ratcheting back down.

High Gain was looking up at him with a confounded expression, “...you know Squelch’s codes?”

“She gave them to me so that we could respond,” he lied. Then he looked over to Aileron, who was still glaring at the earth pony even as he got back onto his own hooves, “sorry about that. We just have to play this cool, alright?” he looked around at the rest of the bridge crew, “look, I get that none of you exactly trained for this kind of mission, and so you’re all a little...twitchy. But you can’t just jump to conclusions and react, alright? Just stay calm, and wait for my orders, got it?

“I’ll get you guys through this.”

“You mean Squelch’s orders, right?”

High Gain’s question drew the earth pony’s attention, and he blinked at her a couple of times before recovering from the unexpected prompt. Slipshod briefly considered his options, but then decided that it was worth taking a risk, “no. I mean my orders,” he then went on to clarify when he saw the rebellious looks in the eyes of the comm tech. Understandable. She’d signed a contract to serve on Squelch’s ship, not his. She was also a new hire since he and Squelch had separated, and wasn’t aware of a time that they’d run the company jointly.

“Squelch owns and runs the outfit,” he explained, “but I’m the one with the experience needed to run this op. Like you just saw: sometimes the situation can evolve quickly, and we’re not going to have time to wait for Squelch to evaluate and vet every call I make on this thing,” he waved a hoof in the vague direction of the distant WarShip, “you just watched me handle making contact with the Disciples.

“I’ve got this; alright?”

The earth pony stallion looked around the bridge, holding the gaze of each of the other ponies present until he saw them nod in acknowledgement. He’d worry about selling Squelch on the mission hierarchy that he’d just imposed later, after she’d sobered up. Slipshod also noted that the glare Twilight was giving him suggested that he’d need to have a private conversation with her as well.

The comm console beeped, drawing his attention to it. He saw that the terminal was alerting him to an incoming series of text instructions from the WarShip. He stepped away from the station and offered a helping hoof to High Gain, “the Disciples are contacting us again. It looks like docking instructions,” he gestured towards a still fuming pegasus, “coordinate with Aileron and dock the ship. Follow any instructions you receive to the letter.

“We’re almost done with the hard part,” he assured them, flashing each a confident smirk, “let’s not go and get ourselves killed by doing something stupid.”

“You mean other than trying to bluff our way into the Disciples?” the comms tech countered. She jabbed a hoof at the purple alicorn as she continued to glare at Slipshod, “what exactly do you think they’re going to do to us when they find out she isn’t the real Queen?”

“Yeah,” Aileron piped up, “and why are they calling her a ‘princess’ anyway? What the fuck’s going on?”

Their questions were understandable and perhaps even warranted under the circumstances, but they were also damned inconvenient. Slipshod had been essentially pulling cover stories out of his flank all day, and was on the brink of backing himself into a corner. Assuming that he hadn’t already. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to concoct this elaborate of a cover story.

Though, in fairness, he’d never tried to obfuscate a defection either.

In some respects, it would simplify things greatly if the crew were brought in on the scheme. However, he’d be doing so in the face of a lifetime spent ‘knowing’ that the Disciples of Discord were crazy equicidal terrorists. Undoing all of that conditioned learning would have taken a lot longer than the few hours of intrasystem travel that they’d just undertaken. It could very well take more than the few weeks of jump travel that lay ahead of them as the WarShip ferried them to...wherever it was they were headed to next.

The stallion inwardly grimaced at the realization that it would even be hard for him to rally the crew using Twilight as a figurehead. Squelch’s reaction to the purple mare’s true identity would more than likely be shared by the average pony on the ship: so what? In her assumed identity as ‘Queen Twilight’, Chrysalis had counter-intuitively receded from the image of the alicorn ‘ruler’ being a pseudo-deity. Her involvement in galactic affairs was negligible. To the point where most denizens of the harmony Sphere regarded her as a name, and little more.

Queen Twilight owned ComSpark and...that was essentially it. At least, as far as most were concerned. She certainly wasn’t the focus of abject devotion by the public.

Which meant that there was little reason that most of the ponies on the ship should care that Purple Rose was the real Twilight Sparkle. Certainly they wouldn’t care enough to effectively abandon the lives they’d once known.

And if she and Slipshod were to reveal the true nature of ‘Queen Twilight’, and the existence of a vast network of shapeshifting changelings that were controlling the Harmony Sphere…

Beyond the initial panic that would doubtlessly run through the ship, the stallion worried that even then there would be a lingering sense of apathy. After all, the galaxy had existed in this state for the better part of half a millenia, and everypony on the ship was living a decent life.

So where was the motivation to overturn the status quo?

Unlike Twilight, they knew nothing of the golden age of the Celestia League. They didn’t know a galaxy of creatures united in genuine peace and harmony was even remotely possible. How would a pony who’d known only an endless state of scarcity and conflict even be able to comprehend such a thing intellectually? Even Slipshod, who, while knowing that an era of peace had existed, found it extremely difficult to actually imagine what it would have been like to live in it. Squelch’s skepticism was hardly going to be a unique reaction as a result.

So how exactly was Slipshod supposed to inspire the crew of the ship to follow along with his plan using the truth? He couldn’t. Nothing about the reality of the situation would ensure the continued cooperation of the ponies onboard. They cared about their jobs, their livelihoods, and their families back home. Those were the pressure points that he had to use for as long as he could.

If his deception unraveled before he and Twilight were safely in the heart of Disciple territory, then he’d likely be in a lot of trouble. However, if he could just keep stringing everypony along until then...it’d be okay. Whatever the crew found out, and whatever they did after he and Twilight were with the Disciples didn’t really matter. They’d have outlived their usefulness by that point anyway. One more DropShip was hardly going to matter much during the eventual invasion of Equus.

The crew could do whatever they wanted at that point, as far as the earth pony was concerned. However, until then...

“Just dock the Galloway,” he repeated, throwing some authority behind his tone, much like his instructors had back at the academy, “Squelch and I will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. Don’t worry: everything’s well in hoof, alright? I’m going to get you all through this.

“I promise.”

The three ponies on the bridge crew exchanged skeptical looks, but eventually offered up reluctant nods. At the end of the day, they were paid to do a job; and that job was to follow Squelch’s orders. Even those being ostensibly relayed by her ‘designated representative’. Fortunately, the earth pony stallion’s well-understood personal and professional relationship with the sage unicorn mare saw him filling that role with relative consistency. It was genuinely believable that Squelch had placed him in operational control of this mission.

After all, he routinely held operational control during their mercenary contracts planetside.

He looked to Twilight’s escort, “take Purple Rose back to her quarters. I’m going to update the commander,” and get her lucid again, he didn’t add out loud. The security mare nodded and stepped up beside the purple alicorn, silently prompting her charge to leave the bridge.

Twilight regarded the earth pony with a dour expression, but remained thankfully silent as she allowed herself to be led to her quarters. Slipshod decided that he likely wasn’t going to enjoy their next conversation.

Par for the course, he thought to himself. After all, he wasn’t going to enjoy his upcoming conversation with Squelch either. As he stepped off the command deck as well, he idly regarded his rota, hoping that whoever it was that he was supposed to meet with this evening would be in a better mood than either of those mares were going to be.

Much to the stallion’s surprise, he found that Squelch was already out of bed, and combatting her hangover by doing what she did best: paperwork. The sage unicorn mare was sat at her desk, pad and terminal in hoof, her horn aglow as it floated a carafe of coffee to her lips. A tray that had likely been delivered by Cookie was nearby, and contained a mug that the company’s owner had apparently opted to bypass in the interests of efficiency.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as the door to her cabin slid open. The earth pony cringed slightly as he realized that he hadn’t used the chime to request permission to enter her locked quarters, and had instead used her personal code again. In his defense, he’d been operating under the assumption that the unicorn was still asleep, and hadn’t wanted to wake her with something as abrasive as the door’s call function. The mare seemed to rethink commenting on his lack of manners, and instead returned her full focus back to her work.

“You’re up,” he said before once more cringing at his statement of the obvious. He was only slightly more annoyed by his own nervousness. Slipshod was well aware that Squelch was more than a little irked by the events of today. And while she was very much inclined to place the manticore’s share of the blame on his shoulders, he figured that he was, at worst, only tangentially responsible for their current predicament.

He’d convinced her to keep Twilight onboard, yes; but that had only manifested itself as a problem once Chrysalis became aware of it. That information getting back to the Queen was not something that he’d wanted at all, and both he and Squelch had done just about everything that they reasonably could to keep Twilight’s existence a secret. However the changelings had learned about Twilight, that wasn’t his fault.

It also wasn’t his fault that they’d been ambushed on the planet. Even if he had known that Twilight’s existence had been discovered, the speed with which Chrysalis’ agents had been able to move in response was phenomenal. He’d only done some of the rudimentary math in his head, given the distances involved but, basically, this all had to have been set in motion within just a week or two of the Galloway coming across that crashed DropShip in Canis.

Even then, that team that had ambushed them would have had to have been enroute to the planet long before the Steel Coursers had ever been made aware of the mission. Honestly, given the extent of the construction that had happened at that Commonwealth base...Slipshod was half convinced that even it had been part of the plan to capture the princess. After all, what better place to allow the ComSpark retrieval team to get on and off planet undetected than on a planet which lacked the typical orbital infrastructure of even the most sparsely populated worlds?

Not that Slipshod thought for a moment it would help his situation in any way to point out to his employer that the mission that she’d accepted had been an elaborate trap in and of itself.

The stallion idly wondered what Chrysalis would have done if Squelch had turned down the operation? Had other missions been set up in the region that were also traps? Possible. In fact, quite probable; and it would have hardly taken any effort at all to do, given that a significant proportion of every operation that happened anywhere in the galaxy was initiated on one side or the other by Chrysalis’ agents.

That too was probably not information that Squelch would find reassuring.

“So what are you doing?” Slipshod asked, stepping a little closer so that he could see the screen of her workstation. He tried to make the question sound as innocuous as possible, but the totality of the existing circumstances likely ensured that whatever question he could have asked would have sounded like the not-so-subtle probe that it was.

Fortunately―or perhaps not so fortunately―Squelch seemed of a mind to allow him the facade. Partially, “finalizing the op’s after action reports,” she replied tersely. Then adding, “after this, I’m going to process the authorization for the release of the death benefits to the next of kin for the five members of my crew that died today.”

That last sentence possessed an edge to it that Squelch had very plainly made no effort to hide. Slipshod didn’t have to spend long reasoning why: that release would require transmission to the Mercenary Review Board, so that the funds could be dispersed from the company’s escrow account. Of course, there were no ComSpark relays in this system that could be used to transmit that information. Those communication packets would have to be carried by the Aris Highlander-owned Jump Ship.

The Jump Ship controlled by the same Highlanders who’d likely by now disavowed the Steel Coursers, and were certainly not about to deliver any of their mail.

Squelch’s message wasn’t going to be acknowledged. The company’s accounts weren’t going to be debted. Those families weren’t going to see a deci-C-bill of the compensation promised in the crew’s contracts. More than that, they were unlikely to even receive news that their loved-one had died. It wasn’t uncommon for letters to take months to reach destinations when the nature of a pony’s work entailed them traveling from one side of the Sphere to the other. It could likely be quite a long while before those families even began to get worried.

Well, perhaps not that long. That worry could very well kick in quite early, even for the families of the members of the crew who were still alive.

The Highlanders would be back in civilized space in another couple of weeks, after they were done mopping up the Commonwealth base. Once back, they’d report that the Steel Coursers had gone off the reservation to the MRB. At which point, all the assets of the Steel Coursers would be frozen. To include the salaries of the crew. Most of which were funneled back to their families on whatever worlds the crew called ‘home’. Next month’s deposits would be a no-show, and those families would almost certainly wonder ‘why?’.

A lot of families were going to be in a bad way in a few weeks.

None of that was directly his fault, of course. Squelch likely didn’t see it like that though. Not that he fancied arguing the particulars on that point. Instead, he took the coward’s way out and bypassed the remark entirely, “we’ve made contact with the Disciples,” he informed the unicorn, “they’re going to allow us to dock,” he paused for a moment, briefly weighing the benefits of elaborating on any of the details, then, “it’s a WarShip. Manticore-class.”

The mare stopped typing. She turned her head to look at the earth pony. As impassive as she’d been trying to be, even that information was impossible not to react to with the appropriate amount of shock that it deserved, “what.”

He nodded, “yup. They brought a battleship to meet us. Whether that was because they figured only one of the biggest WarShips ever built was the only vessel suitable to ferry the princess, or because they wanted to be ready for anything ComSpark might have tried to pull, I can’t say.

“Word’s going to get around about that, and soon,” Slipshod pointed out, “even if the bridge crew doesn’t say anything―and I told them not to―this ship has windows. As soon as we’re within visual range, somepony’s going to look outside and see a damned WarShip.”

Squelch turned back to her desk and put her head in her hooves, “fuck me,” she groaned, “a fucking WarShip…”

“For now I’m trying to play it off as us being part of a deep cover mission directed by ComSpark,” the earth pony explained, “the bridge crew is mostly buying it for now. The best part is that we don’t need to be able to explain how or why the Disciples have WarShips, because that’s the whole point of the alleged ‘mission’: to find out.

“They are starting to ask questions about ‘Purple Rose’ though,” he added with a frown, “the Disciples continually referring to her as ‘Princess Twilight’ isn’t going unnoticed. I’m not sure how to play that off yet, so if you have some ideas―”

The unicorn sat back up and flashed a sharp look at the stallion, “deep cover? ‘Play it off’? You mean you haven’t told the crew yet?”

“Tell them what? That ComSpark is controlled by changelings and that they’ve infiltrated the highest levels of Sphere government? Tell them Purple Rose is the real alicorn princess and that the Disciples are the true defenders of galactic harmony or whatever?

“Exactly how much of that do you believe? Even now?”

The mare frowned but didn’t say anything in response. Not to say that she was completely accepting of his actions, “...I’ve never lied to this crew before. I don’t want to start now. Especially not when this isn’t just going to affect them,” her gaze darted briefly back to her terminal and the work that she’d been doing when Slipshod came in, “their families―”

“Are going to be screwed no matter what,” the earth pony finished, “if you tell them the truth, there’s going to be a mutiny.”

“It’s not a ‘mutiny’ if the captain’s leading it,” Squelch quipped through gritted teeth as she glared at the stallion.

Yup, she thought of this as being―at least partially―his fault. Unfortunately for her ire, there existed a few uncomfortable realities, “even if you turned this ship around and threw yourself at the mercy of ComSpark and the Highlanders, you’re not nearly naïve enough to believe that anypony on this ship will live to make it back to civilized space.

“Shit, Chrysalis might even arrange for all of the Highlanders to die too, just to make sure that there’s nopony in the galaxy alive who’s actually seen Twilight,” Squelch looked away now, her expression suggesting that she did, in fact, recognize the existence of that probability. He could empathize though, with how little that knowledge did to ease her frustrations. She felt like she was being herded into an uncomfortable situation―which she was―and she was not a mare who liked being puppeted. After all, she was supposed to be the master of manipulating data to put herself in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to benefit her.

Now she was the one being moved about like a game piece at somepony else’s whim, and she didn’t care for the sensation at all.

“We can’t just keep lying to them,” she insisted, though she did not opt to voice a counterproposal either, Slipshod noticed. She wanted an alternative, she just couldn’t think of one yet.

Or at least, she couldn’t think of one that wasn’t as bad or worse than the earth pony’s current plan. He just needed to make certain that she understood that, “telling them the truth doesn’t help anypony,” he countered, “and it could end up hurting us.

“Aileron’s nerves are on a knife’s edge up there,” he gestured in the direction of the bridge, “he’s ready to bolt. The problem with that,” among other things, he thought sardonically to himself, “is the Disciples know that we have Twilight now. They’re not going to let us go anywhere, and the only pony on this ship they give a damn about is the alicorn.

“If this DropShip so much as twitches the wrong way, they will run us down, they will board us, and more members of this crew will die as the Disciples use any and all force they believe they need to to ‘rescue’ their princess.”

Slipshod truthfully had no way of knowing how ruthless any boarding party sent by the Disciples would actually be. They knew about changelings, and would almost certainly be operating under the assumption that any and every pony they met―to include Twilight Sparkle―was a changeling agent in disguise until they could find a way to prove otherwise. That was likely the bulk of the reason why they were still refraining from making audio or visual communications.

So it was certainly possible that they’d be less than accommodating towards any perceived resistance by the crew. A crew who would also be operating under the assumption that the invaders were crazed mass-murdering terrorists. To say that the situation would be ‘tense’ was undoubtedly an understatement. One wrong word, one wrong twitch, and it could all erupt in violence.

However, none of that happened as long as the Galloway’s crew believed that it was their job to ‘play nice’ with the Disciples in the first place. Everypony would be on their best behavior, on both sides. Nopony would get twitchy. Nopony would start shooting. Everypony―including him―would live to see tomorrow.

Which meant that Slipshod could spend the rest of this trip dedicating his time to contemplating much more important matters: such as finding the probable changeling agent on board, and figuring out what methods the Disciples would use to screen the crew for changelings, and how to avoid getting caught in them. He hoped that Twilight could provide some insight into that.

He briefly considered doing nothing about the agent and leaving them to be caught by the Disciples, but then thought better of it. If they found one changeling agent, that was far more likely to make them look extra closely at the rest of the crew, as they’d have their suspicions confirmed that changelings had been implanted even on a ship this insignificant. The longer their screening process went on without giving them any positive results, the more complacent they would hopefully get, as they started to view the vetting process as more of a procedural activity than a critical one.

That might have been wishful thinking on Slipshod’s part, given that the Disciples had to be more aware of the stakes than anypony else in the galaxy, but the stallion had enough stressors at the moment without thinking about worst-case scenarios. He needed to believe that he’d be able to fool them. Otherwise, what point was there in any of this?

The sage unicorn was still defiant, though he could sense that her resolve was wavering slightly in the face of his arguments, “and what about their families? They deserve to know that their families aren’t going to be receiving their deposits any longer―”

The stallion waived away the mare’s concern, “we just brought the Disciples their long-lost princess. Do you really think we won’t be able to negotiate some sort of reward for that? They have a WarShip. I think they can find a few million C-bits for the crew. They clearly have ears in the Sphere too, if they knew we were going to be in this system,” he pointed out, prompting an annoyed look from the mare as she was reminded of how poorly kept this ‘secret mission’ had apparently been.

“I bet they can get some money into the accounts of the crew’s families.”

Squelch was silent for several long seconds as she considered what the ‘Steed pilot had said. She wasn’t happy. Not that many ponies were at the moment. For the umpteenth time that day, Slipshod found that his empathic senses were completely redundant in the face of plainly obvious expressions. Finally the mare sighed and gave a slight nod of her head, “...fine.

“Write up a mission profile. If we’re going to pretend this is an op, then we should treat it like one. Send me an outline, I’ll proof it, and then we’ll at least be able to keep our stories straight,” she then threw a hard gaze at the earth pony, “and tell ‘her highness’ to meet me in the conference room in an hour.

“I want assurances from her about compensation for the crew. As well as a promise that nopony on this ship will be harmed.”

“I’m sure she’ll agree to that,” Slipshod said, nodding his understanding, finally allowing himself to breathe just a small internal sigh of relief that the cover story he’d so hastily crafted on the bridge was going to receive corroboration from the ship’s captain. Between the two of them, they should be able to plug any of the holes that he’d missed too. He hoped. Ponies were gullible, but they weren’t morons. If any blatant cracks in the story were left unpatched for too long, they’d start to pick at them.

Such as finding a way to explain how their ‘fake’ Twilight was apparently able to pass all of the Disciple’s tests, and why the Disciples seemed to be so welcoming of their ‘avowed enemy’ in the first place.

That was going to be a really tough sell…

Slipshod took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it. That was a problem for Future Slipshod. Present Slipshod needed to go and have a talk with the princess, “I’ll see you in an hour,” he assured his employer, “and I’ll have a draft for the mission profile by then too,” the stallion promised. He then left Squelch’s quarters and made his way to Twilight’s.

He found the purple alicorn lounging on her bed, holding the vellum scroll in her magic. She only seemed to be half-regarding it though. Her expression was glassy, as though her focus was a thousand lightyears away. The earth pony felt a miasma of melancholy permeating the room, emanating from the princess. Even though she’d verbally acknowledged his use of the chime for her quarters, Twilight didn’t seem to quite register that anypony else was in her quarters until the door slid shut behind him.

Then her gaze broke off from the parchment floating before her, and found its way to her newly arrived guest. Instantly, her mood soured, evoking a mental wince from the stallion. He was getting a little irritated at everypony disliking him today. Especially when he’d worked so hard, for so long, to be a pony that just about every other member of this crew looked forward to seeing.

“Good work up there,” Slipshod said, nodding his head towards the door. It certainly hadn’t felt like Twilight was going to initiate anything approaching a civilized conversation, given the feelings of animosity he was picking up from her, and the earth pony very much did not want this encounter to devolve into any sort of screaming match. She didn’t like him because he was a changeling, her mortal foe. He could accept that.

He was also the only ally she truly had on this ship at the moment.

She had to accept that.

Of course, once she was delivered into Disciple custody, that dynamic would change. He’d cease to be of immediate value to her as a sole ally. Which meant that it was also in his own best interests to both keep from antagonizing her unnecessarily, and to demonstrate that he’d still have value to her after they docked with the WarShip. Slipshod wasn’t entirely positive how he’d do that yet, but he was working on some possible angles to play.

“All I did was answer a question,” Twilight replied tersely. Her telekinesis carefully furled the scroll back up and gently set it down upon her desk. The purple mare then cast a withering look at the earth pony as she added, “...honestly.”

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake…” Slipshod said under his breath, prompting an intrigued eyebrow raise from the alicorn, “I just got done having this talk with Squelch,” he informed her flatly, “so can we just skip to the part where you acknowledge that it’s what’s best for everypony for the moment? The truth can come later. Right now our primary concern is getting you to your subjects or whatever.”

“The ends justify the means; is that it?” she posed cautiously.

“Yeah, they do,” was Slipshod’s unabashed retort, “especially when the ‘means’ are a few harmless―and temporary―lies, and the ‘ends’ are keeping you away from Chrysalis,” the earth pony sneered at the mare, “unless you want to be captured? Because there’s not a pony on this ship that would have taken you to the Disciples―in direct violation of ComSpark directives―if they’d known that’s what we were doing.

“Without me and what I said on that bridge, you’d be cocooned and on your way to Equus right now,” he informed the princess bluntly, “so you’re fucking welcome.”

Twilight paused for a moment and then nodded her head, “I acknowledge that what you have done has ultimately helped me―and will help the whole of the Harmony Sphere in the future. But it’s a fallacy to presume that it was the only way you could have helped.

“You don’t know for a fact that these ponies wouldn’t have responded to the truth,” she tried to point out.

“Don’t I?” the stallion snorted, “I’ve known these ponies for years. I’ve worked with them. Gotten to know them. I can literally feel what they think,” he tapped the side of his head smugly, “I like to think that gives me just a little bit of insight into how they’d handle the truth about you and ComSpark.

“As opposed to how you think they’d react, having known them for all of...what? A month? Two? And we’d kind of be stretching the definition of ‘knowing’, seeing as how you haven’t even had a real conversation with anypony outside of me, Squelch, and Val,” Slipshod was mildly gratified to get the satisfaction of seeing the alicorn frown in acknowledgement of the truth of what he’d just said.

Suddenly she didn’t seem to be a big fan of ‘honesty’, the stallion thought with a smirk.

“These aren’t you subjects, ‘your highness’,” the earth pony continued on, “they didn’t swear fealty to you. They don’t know you. They have no reason to trust you or anything you say.

“You heard Squelch,” he reminded her, “I’ll tell you right now that her opinion isn’t an anomaly. The average pony probably genuinely doesn’t care that Chrysalis is just posing as you. Oh, sure, they certainly might get a bit pissy if they learned what really happened to the academy applicants who went to Equus,” he nodded his head in agreement, “but, then again, look at the number of creatures that changelings are devouring directly when compared to the number of casualties on any given day throughout the Sphere; what we’re doing barely registers as a statistically significant ‘cause of death’,” he scoffed.

“More ponies die in this galaxy every year from bona fide DropShip accidents than from husking.”

That earned a baleful stare. Twilight wasn’t happy to hear that, and it was clear that it did little to shift her opinion on the matter either, “I think it’s perfectly fair to count the constant war and bloodshed going on in the Harmony Sphere as being ‘caused’ by Chrysalis and her changelings,” she countered primly, “seeing as how you informed me that the machinations of her agents are what perpetuate it.”

Slipshod shrugged, unabashed, “eh. Even if you convinced the crew that changelings existed, asking them to believe that we’re all part of an intergalactic cabal of shapeshifters who’ve infiltrated every planetary government in order to carry out a centuries-long conspiracy would be a tad more difficult.

“And then, you’d still have to get them to care.” he added, “and even Squelch very much doesn’t. Not really,” the stallion snorted, “most creatures already possess a resigned acceptance of the idea that political institutions are controlled by an entrenched ruling class that’s indifferent to the plight of the ‘common creature’. All you’d be doing is replacing ‘the bourgeois’ with ‘changelings’. Nothing of their worldview would really change.

“All Squelch wants is a cushy retirement. Most of the ponies on the ship want that, and could care less who they’re paying taxes to at the end of the day.”

“I don’t believe that,” Twilight insisted, shaking her head, “when they find out that they could have a better life―a life free of constant wars and hate and violence―they’ll help me stop Chrysalis.”

Slipshod audibly laughed at the notion. It was hard not to, “if you find a pony that believes that kind of existence is actually possible, please send them my way. I’ve got some beachfront property on that ice ball of a planet we were just on that I’d like to sell them,” he flashed a smug smile at the alicorn.

“Face it, princess, that’s an uphill battle.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded with a somber nod, “but it’s a battle that needs to be fought, for the good of everypony.”

“I think you’ll find that those high-minded ideals died with the Celestia League...” the earth pony scoffed.

“Maybe not,” it was Twilight who was smirking now, “these ‘Disciples of Discord’ may still hold true to those values as well,” again her gaze narrowed at the stallion, “...values which include honesty.”

“Fuck me,” he groaned, “will you let that drop already? I did what I had to do.”

“Lies like that are going to get you into trouble eventually,” the sanctimonious tone of the alicorn’s voice was particularly grating on the earth pony.

“‘Lies like that’ are what have kept me alive these last two years!” Slipshod snapped at the mare, causing her to recoil slightly at the sudden forcefulness of his demeanor, “and don’t you talk down to me, you hypocritical bitch!”

So much for not getting into an antagonistic screaming match.

Twilight narrowed her gaze at the earth pony, “how dare―”

“Oh, I’ll fucking ‘dare’!” he snarled, cutting her off. He adopted a mocking tone, glaring at the alicorn, reveling inwardly at the satisfaction he felt at her loathing as his voice perfectly matched hers, “‘your whole species is based on lies and deception’,” his lips curled back into a sneer, as he then dropped the unflattering affectation of the mare’s voice, “remember that? Well guess what? You weren’t wrong.

“My whole existence is founded on lies,” he conceded, not sounding the least bit ashamed of the admission, “my name, my appearance, my history, my family, everything; it’s all lies. I have nothing of my own!” He leered at the alicorn, noting that she looked less self-assured now, having had her own words thrown back in her face―in her own voice no less, “except for my vengeance. That’s mine.

“The truth is a death sentence for me,” he said coolly, “so of course I’m going to lie. I spent eight months lying to my wife; you think I’m going to hesitate for a moment about lying to anypony else on this ship if that’s what it takes to keep me alive, and get me what I need?

“And don’t pretend for a moment that my lying isn’t about to get you everything you want too,” he pointed out, “I didn’t see you chomping at the bit to correct anything I said on that bridge. You could have turned me over to Squelch and told her what I really am from day one.

“But you didn’t,” the earth pony reminded the alicorn, a wicked smile crossing his lips, “you kept my secret. Lied by omission to everycreature on this ship. Are you about to sit there and try and argue that it’s not the same? That lying by keeping your mouth shut when you know the truth is really so much better than lying outright?

“It served you then, so you let it happen. It’s going to serve you now,” he stressed, holding the alicorn’s gaze, “...so you’re going to let it happen. It’ll serve you in the future...so I suggest you let it happen when it does.”

Slipshod held the purple mare’s gaze for several long seconds, daring her to argue with any of the statements that he’d just made. She declined, so he nodded and recomposed himself before he spoke again, “Squelch wants to talk with you in the conference room in forty-five minutes. She wants your word that her crew will be treated well, and that their families will be financially taken care of. I told her that wouldn’t be a problem.”

He smirked at the alicorn, “...you’re not going to make a liar out of me, are you?”

For a brief moment, Twilight’s amethyst eyes glared at the earth pony, but her ire subsided quickly and she sighed, nodding her head, “that...is the least I can do for the ponies on this ship. I will talk with whoever is currently in control of the Disciples and see to it that arrangements are made to properly compensate them. You may assure your commander of that.”

The earth pony nodded, “good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my nature is compelling me to go and organize some lies,” he said, not hiding the note of contempt that colored his words as he turned to leave.

“...I’m sorry.”

The stallion stopped just before reaching the door, his ear cocking in Twilight’s direction.

“About what I said to you that day. It was unkind,” the purple mare admitted soberly, “I was...upset. I lashed out. I shouldn’t have, and I was wrong to do so. You have helped me, and placed yourself at great risk doing so.

“Thank you.”

Slipshod closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I’m not doing this for you, princess.”

“I know; but you are doing it nonetheless. For now, that’s enough.”

“The ends justify the means, is that it?” he wasn’t able to resist throwing the comment back in the alicorn’s face. To her credit, her expression seemed to acknowledge the hypocrisy.

The stallion moved for the door, but was once more given to pause as the alicorn asked a rather unexpected question, “what’s your name? Your real one.”

He turned his whole head to regard the mare this time, studying her. She was more subdued now than she had been earlier, and he did get a sense of genuine shame seeping off of her. Some of what he’d said had apparently bitten a little deeper than he’d expected. She genuinely did want to know his name.

Unfortunately for her, the earth pony wasn’t in the mood for olive branches at the moment, “it doesn’t matter. I’m no more that ‘ling than I am Slipshod,” and with that, he left.

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