The intercom buzzed, drawing the attention of both passengers in the rear of the limousine whose sides were emblazoned with the silver pony head silhouette that was the emblem of the Steel Coursers, “five minutes out, ma’am,” Axel Rod said from the driver’s seat, “BattleSteeds visible on the horizon.”

Squelch craned her head around to try and get a look forward. Sure enough, she was able to easily spot the hulking mass of a Big Mac looming in the distance, parked in front of the spheroid Friendship-class Disciple DropShip. It looked powered down at the moment. That fact didn’t make it look any less threatening though. The same went for all of the other massive heavy and assault tonnage BattleSteeds arrayed around the ship, like hulking steel sentinels.

The sage green unicorn took in a deep, reassuring breath, and did her best to relax herself. To help distract from her nervousness, she once again looked over her suit, smoothing out wrinkles that really weren’t all that visible, just so that she’d have something to do. Celestia knew that she wasn’t going to be contributing much to whatever ‘discussions’ Purple Ro―Twilight Sparkle, she corrected ruefully―intended to have with the Disciples.

That was still a hard pill to swallow, the unicorn thought to herself wryly. The alicorn sitting on the throne on Equus had been an imposter for centuries, and the Disciples of Discord were the good guys, fighting to free the galaxy from her clutches. So much as things like ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ mattered these days. Squelch was still nowhere near convinced of the purple mare’s assertions that life could be anything other than strife. Fighting and killing were just too...commonplace.

Besides, something about the whole situation was still bothering the mare.

If Twilight’s accounts were to be believed, she’d presided over a galaxy that had already been united. Some cracks had started to form in the wake of Tirek’s return―spurred on by a mare named ‘Cozy Glow’, whoever that was―and Twilight was in the process of mending those budding fractures in the Celestia League when she was ambushed and replaced by Chrysalis.

Which meant that Chrysalis had also effectively already gained control of a single, peaceful, monolithic, galactic star nation. According to every book and vid plot that the unicorn had ever read or seen, that was traditionally the aspiration of would-be despots: having complete, undisputed, control over everything. This changeling queen had had that gifted to her from the outset!

So why go through the trouble of breaking the League up and plunging the galaxy into turmoil? Had she just turned out to be nowhere near the diplomat that the genuine article had been? Perhaps, but...she controlled ComSpark, and through it the Mercenary Review Board. She was actively profiting off the fighting; while simultaneously creating the primary currency―the C-bit―used to wage it. And Squelch could think of nothing that ComSpark had ever said or done that could have been perceived as an attempt to curb the bloodshed. The Aris Conventions, the most that had ever been done to address the rampant destruction of civil infrastructure caused by the fighting, had predated ComSpark. So it was unlikely Chrysalis had had a hoof in them. Directly at least.

If anything, ComSpark and the MRB were perpetuating the conflicts raging across the Harmony Sphere.

What kind of aspiring ‘supreme ruler’ encouraged instability? And why?

Maybe she could get some answers from the Disciples.

Though, even there, she was finding herself with a lot of questions.

They were supposed to be ‘small time’ terrorists with little to no resources. So how had they gotten their hooves on a WarShip?! More than that: if they had WarShips, why hadn’t they already moved in and toppled Chrysalis and restored the Celestia League, or whatever it was they were hoping to accomplish? Even just on its own, the Rockhoof would be able to devastate most of the Harmony Sphere! They could just fly around wrecking shit. They could jump to the Faust System, aim one of their oversized naval autocannons at Canterlot Castle, and end the problem once and for all.

Boom; done. Hold for applause.

But they hadn’t done that. Instead, they’d played grab-flank with the Harmony Sphere for the better part of five centuries, all the while hiding their real capabilities and assets. Only even risking their revelation to ComSpark in order to rescue one mare. True, she was an alicorn, but so what? What was she supposed to be able to do to help that a WarShip couldn’t?

Yeah, the sage mare was bubbling with questions, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be given the opportunity to ask any of them. After all, this was a meeting between the Disciples and Twilight. She was just there to…

...why was she there? Probably because she was the one who owned the limo.

The unicorn smirked to herself, looking out the window. Then she frowned, her eyes narrowing. They were much closer to the DropShip now, and she could see that not only did the Disciples have BattleSteeds outside their ship, they had ground vehicles staged as well. APCs specifically. A lot of them.

They were currently in the process of being readied to go...somewhere. Large armored equines―as well as creatures who were not equines, she noted―were rallying in preparation to board the transports. As were a much smaller group of non-armored zebras dressed in what Squelch had to assume was ‘odd attire’ by the standards of just about anypony these days. It certainly didn’t look anything like what the Disciples around them were wearing!

Then Squelch’s gaze was drawn to what had to have been a rather hastily set up ‘royal reception’, given that the unicorn mare was well aware of exactly how much time had passed between the acceptance of Twilight’s request―though Squelch was of the impression that it had ultimately been more of a ‘demand’―for a meeting, and their arrival here now. The Disciples had had less than thirty minutes to get these preparations in order, but she had to admit that they’d done very well for themselves given that sort of timetable.

Banners bearing the six-pointed star of the Celestia League had been hung, framing one of the DropShip’s massive ‘Steed Bay entry ramps. A deep purple carpet ran down the length of the ramp, extending all of the way out to a congregation of uniformed equines who were standing in formation, clearly waiting to receive their regal guest. It all looked very professional and well coordinated.

Again, not what Squelch had come to expect from a group which held the reputation of being ‘crazed terrorist cultists’.

Axel Rod pulled the limousine up to the waiting formation and expertly parked it so that the rear door of the luxury car was perfectly framed by the waiting retinue of Disciples. On instinct, Squelch moved to exit the vehicle, but the gentle pressure of a purple wing kept her in her seat.

“Protocol is for the Princess to exit first, and then her staff,” Twilight murmured softly. The sage green mare bristled briefly, fighting back a harsh retort. Then she reminded herself that, despite the employer-employee relationship that they’d broadly been observing over the past few months, that wasn't actually the dynamic anymore. Squelch wasn’t about to bend her knee to the alicorn anytime soon, but there was no denying that Twilight was still much higher on the social pecking order than she was. Especially here, surrounded by their present company.

She’d do well not to offend the sensibilities of the ponies with Big Macs parked in their front yard.

“By all means...Your Majesty,” the mare said, gesturing for the alicorn to precede her out of the vehicle.

Twilight hesitated for a brief moment, having noted that the use of the title hadn’t actually sounded very deferential at all, but she ultimately chose not to remark on it. Her attention was better spent focusing on other, more important, matters: such as the Disciples. She stepped out of the vehicle, mentally smirking at how ‘underdressed’ she was for this sort of reception. She’d left her royal regalia aboard her personal transport...five hundred years in the past. Not even Celestia knew where it was now.

Not that anypony here was likely to, in any way, make a note of her ‘lackluster’ appearance. Though, the alicorn supposed that there was at least something that she could do to help her ‘look the part’ of a princess. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and focused her magic. A second later, she heard a muted gasp from behind. Twilight ever so slightly tilted her head to catch sight of Squelch, and her dinner plate sized eyes, as the smaller green unicorn watched the alicorn’s magenta-streaked mane grow from its close-cropped ‘Steed pilot trim out to a body-length mane which looked as though it were billowing in an ethereal wind which no other pony could feel.

The uniformed guards to either side snapped to attention. Twilight regarded them, noting their neat appearance, and meticulously polished barding. Professionals through and through, who would not have been the least bit out of place among her own bygone Royal Guard. If these Disciples weren't the descendents of her stalwart supporters, they certainly played the part well.

She paused for a brief moment, glancing subtly between the Disciple guards and the pair of mercenary ponies. The Disciple ponies certainly looked a fair bit...broader. Taller too, by a significant margin. It was like she was looking at a lineup of Big Macs and Rockhoofs. The alicorn pushed the curious thought aside with a mental shrug. It made sense that an honor guard would consist of the most impressive specimens from among their forces, she decided.

The alicorn looked towards the ramp, noting a trio of figures standing at its base, awaiting her with rapt attention. Two of them were ponies, a pegasus and an earth pony. The other figure, standing in the center, was bipedal. With scaled wings.

“Is that...a dragon?”

Twilight almost missed Squelch’s whispered statement. The cobalt blue dragoness standing at the head of the waiting delegation was attired in what was quite obviously military liverly far more resplendent than anything that the others were wearing; leaving no doubt as to who was in charge. She too looked every inch the consummate professional, her scaled features looking impassively forward.

“It is,” the purple alicorn noted with mild approval, “and an admiral too,” she added as she started walking forward.

“The fuck is a dragon doing with the Disciples?” was Squelch’s incredulous demand under her breath. Then she noticed the other armored figures near the APCs that were almost certainly also dragons, “multiple dragons!”

“By the time of Tirek’s defeat, the Celestia League Defense Force was comprised of a significant percentage of dragons,” Twilight answered simply, a wry smile creasing her face, “even after a millennia of exposure to the Magic of Friendship, their race was possessed of a temperament that made them...shall we say: ‘ideally suited’ for the role?”

It took hardly any time at all for the pair to cross the short distance to the base of the DropShip’s ramp. Once there, the dragoness finally moved, falling reverently to her knee and bowing her head. The uniformed ponies to either side of her likewise knelt in supplication to their long lost princess.

“Your Majesty,” the dragoness said, “we are honored to be the first to welcome you back from your absence.”

“Arise, admiral,” the purple mare instructed, smiling warmly at the group, “and thank you for all that you’ve done. May I know your names?”

All three members of the Disciple delegation rose to the feet once more, the cobalt dragon nodding, “Star Admiral Cinder, Your Majesty. This is the captain of the Rockhoof, Star Commodore Mizzen, and this is the commander of the Fourth Special Recon Binary, Star Captain Honeycrisp,” there were nods from the almond brown pegasus stallion and cherry red earth pony mare respectively.

Twilight looked to the ‘Steed commander and cokced her head slightly, “am I to understand then that it’s you I have to thank for that timely intervention yesterday?”

The earth pony beamed brightly, her freckled cheeks dimpling with her wide grin, “shucks, Yer Majesty; weren’t nothin’. ‘S’far as I’m concerned, it was y’all that did the heavy liftin’! All my pilots an’ I did was bat a lil’ cleanup.”

“Nevertheless, you have my thanks,” the alicorn then paused, considering the mare a moment longer, before her own smile broadened slightly, “and I can think of nopony I’d rather have looking out for me than an Apple,” her amethyst eyes darted briefly to the nearby BattleSteed, “and I know the real Big Macintosh would be very proud of how his...however-many-times-great granddaughter is doing.”

The mare managed to blush through her already thoroughly red coat as her hoof scuffed at the ground, “...thanks, Yer Majesty. That means a lot.”

The alicorn then looked to the pegasus, “and thank you too, commodore―sorry, star commodore,” she corrected herself, cracking a slight smile at the unusual rank, “for all that your ship and crew risked coming to retrieve me from the Harmony Sphere. I am exceedingly grateful.”

“Service above self, Your Majesty,” the stallion responded with a bow of his head.

“And, star admiral,” Twilight Sparkle continued, turning back to the dragoness once more, “I thank you for your willingness to see me. I understand that you have security protocols in place, and nopony knows better than I why they are so important,” she acknowledged, which did a little to soothe the ranking officer, who was clearly still not entirely thrilled about this meeting, “however, I have never been one for impersonal exchanges. There are important matters that the two of us need to discuss.”

“Several, in fact, Your Majesty,” Cinder agreed with a curt nod, “one of which was very nearly undone by the Reiver raid yesterday.”

The alicorn quirk a curious brow, “explain, star admiral.”

“Capinses was a planned layover location for a very specific reason, princess,” she explained, “it is the traditional home for a collective of zebra alchemists. A number of them were supposed to shuttle over to the Rockhoof while we were recharging the jump drive in order to help screen the crew of the Galloway for changelings.

“The raid threatened that, and so we had to intervene to ensure that no harm came to the alchemist enclave here. It was a grievous violation of procedure, but we were left with few alternatives,” the dragoness frowned, “it’s possible that irreversible damage has already been done.”

“What damage?” Twilight asked, a little taken aback.

“We have reason to believe that there is―or at least was―a changeling infiltrator aboard the Galloway. We’d intended to keep the crew isolated on board so that we could keep the spy from escaping. But now…” she shrugged helplessly, “they could have easily fled and hidden themselves among the populace of this planet, and we don’t have the resources to screen a few million zebras. Not in the timetable we’re working with, anyway.

“We’ll still check out everypony currently aboard the Galloway, but I’m not confident about finding the spy,” the admiral shook her head in resignation, “losing an intel source like that is a shame. But, like I said, our hand was forced as a result of the attack.”

The dragoness then fidgeted ever so slightly, her mouth quirking, “...to that end, Your Majesty, if you will forgive any perceived insult: I would very much like to, erm…” her gaze shifted uneasily, “that is to say, while I would never presume to order Your Majesty to submit to, uh―and I assure you that it isn’t that I don’t trust Your Majesty―”

Twilight chuckled warmly, “I understand completely, Star Admiral Cinder,” she assured the cobalt dragon, “and I will graciously submit to whatever test is required to prove my lack of ‘changelingness’,” she nodded her head in Squelch and Axle Rod’s direction, “all of us will.”

Cinder’s posture relaxed considerably and she issued a slight bow of her head, “thank you, princess,” she then cast her gaze to her right and nodded her head. At her signal, an elderly zebra mare wearing brass circlets on her neck and cannons approached, a small clay jar balanced neatly on her back, “may I present: Madame Zora, High Matriarch of The Conclave.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame Zora,” Twilight said warmly, nodding down at the mare. The wrinkled zebra nodded in turn, but said nothing. The alicorn raised a brow, glancing at the star admiral.

The dragoness cleared her throat, “the members of the Conclave have taken a vow of silence, until such time as the changeling threat is resolved.”

“I see,” the purple princess said, looking back to the striped mare, “in that case, I hope to have a conversation with you soon,” she flashed a broad smile at the zebra, “now, what does this ‘screening process’ entail exact―” the alicorn went abruptly silent as a swath of thick green slurry was smeared across her eyes by the zebra. The princess blinked in silence for several seconds before nodding, a wry smirk touching her lips, “...right, I remember now,” she glanced down at her hooves and then her wings, “and not even glowing this time.”

The zebra mare had already moved on to the unicorn behind the princess, who instinctively recoiled away from the outstretched hoof covered in green slime, “woah; hold on! Careful, this jacket is―” the older striped mare was surprisingly quick for her advanced age, managing to smear the poultice across the unicorn’s eyes despite her recoiling, “...mohair,” Squelch finished flatly, watching with resignation as a few idle droplets dripped from her cheeks onto the lapel of her suit jacket.

Squelch glared first at the zebra, who didn’t give any outward appearance that she’d noticed the look, and then the dragoness, “you couldn’t have let me at least take it off first?” the mare sniffed, then quickly scrunched up her muzzle and stuck out her tongue, “ugh! This stuff smells like compost!” She wiped at her face and proceeded to fling as much of the substance away as she could, “you guys ever hear of blood tests?!”

“Changeling magic is difficult to disperse,” Star Admiral Cinder responded simply, offering a mild shrug, “and their disguises hold up perfectly under nearly all mundane medical procedures. Otherwise they’d be undone by a simple x-ray,” the dragoness looked back at the alicorn and bowed her head, “I thank you for your cooperation, Your Majesty. Allow me to show you to a washroom so that you may clean up―”

“I’ll survive,” Twilight assured the scally officer, “instead, I would like to speak with you about these Reivers, and what can be done about them.”

The admiral hesitated, briefly exchanging glances with the other two ponies with her, before nodded, “as you wish, princess. If you would accompany us to the officer’s mess? That should be a suitable setting for our conversation.”

“Well I’d like a shower,” Squelch muttered bitterly, still shaking green slime from her hoof.

“Ah’ll show ya to one,” Star Captain Honeycrisp grinned motioning for the unicorn to follow her.

“Once you’ve done so, star captain,” the dragoness said, “take the convoy out to the Galloway and screen its crew. It might already be too late, but we still need to be sure anyway.”

“Righty-oh, ma’am!”

Whether because the personnel situation became desperate enough, or Doc Dee had determined that the educational barrier to entry was no longer warranted anymore for most of the patients, Slipshod eventually found himself inducted into the growing ranks of the ship’s newly-minted ‘medical corps’. This cadre of ponies essentially consisted of every member of the crew that wasn’t either tending to the three damaged BattleSteeds, or otherwise performing a duty vital to the DropShip’s operation.

This still left a pretty abysmal ratio of attendees to patients though, in Slipshod’s opinion. Not that he knew much about how a hospital functioned or what the staff ratio was in one of them. On the ship it was just Doc Dee. He didn’t even have any sort of assistant. He also rarely had to deal with more than a couple patients at a time.

The unicorn physician was certainly justifying his pay today though. Slipshod barely saw the fluttering white lab coat for more than a second or two at a time as the doctor darted from one ward to another doing his rounds. In theory, there were supposed to be more genuine medical personnel on their way here from the city to help out, but Celestia knew when they were actually going to show up. The golden earth pony was sure that the local population’s medics were already plenty swamped as it was. Likewise, the medical personnel from the Disciples had been dispatched to the city and its surrounding suburbs as well.

No, there wouldn’t be any help coming for quite some time.

Which was why Slipshod was currently carefully making his way across the packed floor of the garage, balancing a half dozen trays of food on his head and back. The vehicle bay was just one of the many areas of the ship that had been cleared out in order to create a patient ward. The ground carts that would normally have been parked in it were currently scattered outside. Well, most of them anyway.

A couple were missing at the moment. The limousine and one armed truck to escort it.

Squelch, Twilight Sparkle, Axel Rod, and a number of Flechette’s security team, were currently elsewhere, meeting face-to-face with the Disciples.

At first, the request had been flatly refused. In fact, it had been repeatedly refused a half dozen times. The Disciples were adamant that they would not physically meet, and that all discussion was to continue to take place through text message exchanges.

Then Twilight Sparkle had taken the first scroll which she’d received from them, written something upon it, and used her magic to teleport it away. Ten minutes later, Squelch had received very specific instructions on where and when she could send a delegation to meet with the Disciples.

Slipshod had not been invited. Strictly speaking, nopony other than Twilight and Squelch had been named in the instructions that had been given. However, the sage green unicorn was not about to go riding off into the middle of nowhere on some backwater Periphery planet without at least a token protection detail. The earth pony wasn’t sure how the Disciples were going to react to having their terms spurned like that, but he did wish that he could have been there to see it.

Ah well, he’d just have to settle for hearing about it when they got back. In the meantime, he―apparently―had duties to perform. He glanced down at his datapad for several seconds and then cast his gaze around the garage. Credit where it was due: Doc Dee was a phenomenal organizer. In spite of the initial chaos―or perhaps even in anticipation of it―he’d been absolutely draconian in his enforcement of documentation procedures. Every zebra that had been brought to the ship had been issued a patient identification number before any form of treatment was performed.

That patient was then triaged, treated, and sequestered somewhere in the ship where they could be checked upon periodically so their condition could be monitored. Throughout that whole process, there was a member of the crew standing by the doors leading to and from these new ‘wards’ that logged the patient’s identification number in the ship’s system.

The result was that the Galloway’s logs contained a continually updated roster of what patient was in what part of the ship, along with what was wrong with them and what had been done for them. Lucky for Doc Dee, while most of the crew didn’t know all that much about medicine, they were all long-time veterans of corporate accountability practices! If there was one thing that every department on the Galloway participated in doing, it was tracking inventory and personnel.

For all intents and purposes, the patients had become cargo, and were tracked as such.

This made it exceptionally easy for Slipshod to find the patients he was here to deliver meals to.

If there was one equine on this ship that was more overworked than Doc Dee, it was probably Cookie. The crotchety donkey had very suddenly found himself going from feeding less than a hundred ponies to putting together meals for the better part of five hundred. As if to complicate matters even further, the ship’s physician had even placed very specific parameters on those additional meals, tailoring them to the requirements of the patients based on their condition and disposition. This meant that the donkey couldn’t just throw together a massive cauldron of soup and call it “good”. He’d had to actually prepare specific meals for hundreds of new mouths.

Slipshod suspected that a raise was going to be asked for when his contract came up for renewal…

Just as the earth pony was delivering the last of the trays he’d been carrying to a very thankful zebra mare, his comlink chirped, alerting him to an incoming message. He frowned and tapped the acceptance key, “what is it?”

“Sir,” Flechette’s voice was tense, “I believe we may have a problem.”

The stallion sighed and rubbed the bridge of his muzzle with his hoof, “oh, you are going to need to be a lot more specific. The ship’s crammed with wounded zebras, Cookie’s liable to quit if somepony so much as asks him for a little extra salt on something, Mig and Tig are using the next best thing to hooftools on spark reactors just outside the ship…

“But go on, what’s your ‘problem’?”

Honestly, that little tirade probably hadn’t been warranted. He was just stressed. A consequence of being an empath surrounded by hundreds of anxious minds. It would have been unusual for him to not suffer more than a little ‘bleedthrough’ under the circumstances.

“There’s a convoy of APCs approaching,” the ship’s head of security informed him, thankfully choosing not to remark on the ‘Steed pilot’s outburst. Bless his professionalism, “I think they’re Disciple.”

Slipshod frowned in thought, “that might be the medical support they promised,” he pointed out, “or they’re coming to transport some of the wounded to the city.”

“I feel like we’d have been notified about that by the commander,” he pointed out.

Now the earth pony was concerned. The guard pony had a good point, “has High Gain heard from Squelch?”

“I commed her before reaching out to you. Nothing’s come through her station. As the ranking officer on site, I figured I’d come to you for guidance.”

The earth pony snorted. ‘Guidance’? Their ship was grounded, their BattleSteeds were in pieces, and their security detail consisted of fewer than twenty ponies. A full quarter of which were already out with Squelch and Twilight. Exactly what ‘guidance’ was Slipshod supposed to give in this situation? The Steel Coursers weren’t even remotely in a position to rebuke the approaching Disciple convoy. Whatever those ponies wanted to do, they were going to do it.

“If they’re gracious enough to stop and tell you what’s going on, comm me,” the golden stallion responded, not bothering to hide his resignation on the matter, “otherwise, try not to get yourself run over when they blow past you.”

“Understood, sir. Out,” at least the chief of security sounded like he hadn’t anticipated that there was much else that they could have done.

Still, the news did raise some questions that the ‘Steed pilot would have preferred to have answers to, “High Gain? Can you raise the commander?” he called up to the bridge as he left the garage and headed deeper into the ship.

“I just tried,” the communications tech admitted, sounding a little anxious, “no response. A message did just come through for Doc Dee though,” she informed him, “it was a request from the Disciples for a complete personnel roster, to include a count of all the wounded on site.”

Slipshod’s brows furrowed, “they wanted a list of all the wounded and the ship’s crew?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t they already have a roster? I thought we’d been sending them PERSTATS every day?”

“Those were just raw numbers,” the mare explained, “they’re asking for complete files now. Names, descriptions, departments, everything.”

Slipshod’s blood froze in his veins. He could think of only a few reasons why the Disciples would want something like that. Combining those possible reasons with the news that a convoy of who knew how many Disciple troops were on the way here suggested really only the one possibility: they were about to screen the crew for changelings.

“Fuck!”

“Sir?”

The stallion blanched as he realized his mic had still been hot. He quickly attempted to cover his flub, “sorry, nearly tripped over a patient. They’re fine. Uh, you said that Doc received the request for the records? Do you know where he’s at right now?” if he had any hope of finding a way out of this, it was through the physician and the records he was about to submit. Maybe he could find a way to scrub himself from them and then...figure out something from there?

“I’d assume he has to be in his office getting the records togeth―oop! Yeah, I just got the packet to forward to the Disciples. If you hurry, you can probably catch him before he leaves.”

“Awesome, thanks!” Slipshod cut the comm line and picked up the pace as he tried to reach medical. Doc Dee might have already sent the records, but maybe he could get into the physician’s system using the access codes that he still remembered and alter them anyway. Then he’d forward the alterations to the Disciples as a ‘corrected record’ or something.

It was a longshot, sure; but it could also be his only shot!

Twilight sat across the table from Star Admiral Cinder and Star Commodore Mizzen in the small dining area which was reserved for the DropShip’s officer complement. The Galloway had no such exclusive eating area, as its crew complement wasn’t large enough to justify it. A Friendship-class DropShip, on the other hoof, was considerably larger, with an appropriately proportioned crew complement. As such, the design did include a separate, more intimate, dining area reserved for the ship’s senior officers.

It was well after breakfast, but not quite close enough to midday to justify lunch. However, the admiral had obviously felt that not offering their recently returned monarch something in the way of refreshment would have reflected poorly on her and her crew. A carafe of tea and a platter of pastries had been waiting for them when the trio walked into the room. Twilight had politely accepted a cup of the hot beverage and a scone, though she doubted that she’d actually touch the latter.

Despite her insistence that no washing was necessary, a pony entered not long afterwards carrying a small wash basin and a collection of warm, damp, cloths. The purple alicorn took them and dabbed at her face, clearing away nearly all of the substance which had been smeared there by the old zebra mare.

“How may we be of service to Your Majesty?” Cinder inquired as her pegasus subordinate poured out servings of tea for all three of them, “you mentioned the Red Reivers?”

“I did,” Twilight acknowledged, her tone growing terse at the memories of the death and destruction that had been wrought on Capinses by the raiders yesterday. Thousands―tens of thousands―of lives had been lost in the attack. Much more infrastructure had been destroyed, rendering many of the survivors homeless, or without access to food, water, and medical attention. The alicorn fully expected the death toll in connection with the attack to rise as a result of those secondary effects.

“I had a lengthy discussion last night with a survivor of the attack,” the purple princess explained, “a ‘Steed pilot. He indicated that the Red Reivers have been operating in this region of space for a long while―decades, in fact,” she leveled her gaze at the dragon, “what I would like to know is: why nothing has been done about them?”

The pair of Disciple officers exchanged a brief glance before the dragoness cleared her throat, “I can understand why Your Majesty is upset by the state of the Periphery,” she acknowledged in a diplomatic tone. The alicorn was already frowning, having heard such tones often enough during her millenia holding Court to know that a foundation was being laid for a response that all of them knew she wasn’t going to like, “but you must understand, princess, that we have been otherwise occupied dealing with the changeling threat in the Harmony Sphere.

“And while I truly empathize with the plight of the zebras on Capinses, as well as the rest of the Farsian Empire, my duty is to return with Your Majesty to Somni Patrium as quickly as possible.”

Twilight’s frown deepened, nearly to a full on scowl, “I will admit that my access to intelligence reports has not been what it used to be; however, I was under the impression that only limited operations are being conducted against the changelings in the Sphere. No WarShips, no BattleSteeds, not even particularly heavy ground combat vehicles.”

She gestured above her with her hoof, “may I ask what the Rockhoof is up to when not ferrying long-lost princesses?”

Star Admiral Cinder sighed, apparently already resigning herself to what she recognized was not going to be a well-received answer, “...moored at New Cloudsdale Orbital Station, Your Majesty,” then, as if sensing the probable follow-up question, she added, “along with an additional battleship, four heavy cruisers, seven light cruisers, and fifteen destroyers.”

“A healthy little fleet,” the alicorn noted, “more than enough to deal with some nuisance raiders, I should think.”

“With due respect, princess, the Red Reivers are a significant power in the region.”

“Significant enough to fend off the Rockhoof?” Twilight countered. The dragoness’ mouth opened briefly, and then closed as she silently conceded the point, “very well. Then we shall deal with these Reivers before moving any deeper into the Periphery.”

“Your Majesty, my orders―”

“Are rescinded, star admiral,” came the purple mare’s terse rebuttal, as she leveled a cool stare at both officers, “and I am issuing you new ones. We will travel to where the Red Reivers have their strongholds, raze them to the ground, and rid this sector of their threat once and for all.”

The almond pegasus stallion leaned towards his superior and quietly asked, “can...can she do that?”

Star Admiral Cinder squirmed uneasily in her own seat, “technically,” the cobalt dragoness admitted, though she didn’t sound all too happy about it, “...Your Majesty, if I may...counsel your decision?” the alicorn’s lips curled in a dubious frown, but she nodded nonetheless, “while it is true that no star nation, even in the Periphery, can repel the Rockhoof―or any WarShip, honestly―space superiority alone does not make a victory. Ultimately, putting hooves on the ground will be required.

“While I and the Star Commodore both have the utmost faith and confidence in the abilities of Star Captain Honeycrisp and her company, to put them up against the full might of the Red Reivers―alone―is not...an ideal disposition of forces.”

Twilight wanted to argue the point. She’d seen the BattleSteeds that the Fourth Special Recon fielded. The better part of a thousand tons of war machine was carried by this DropShip. They could tear through any raider company with impunity, surely. However, the alicron had to admit that she didn’t know how significant the forces were that the Red Reivers had at their disposal. They’d deployed a dozen ‘Steeds to this world just for the purpose of sending a message, after all. There could be whole divisions on whatever worlds those raiders made their dens in.

Sometimes quantity possessed a quality all its own, she knew. As skilled as she and her own personal guards had been, the sheer number of changeling ‘Steeds which had ambushed her five hundred years ago had simply been too much to fight off.

She wouldn’t put others in that position.

Twilight let out a resigned sigh of her own, “I take your meaning, star admiral. You are right. A single BattleSteed company cannot subdue an entire world,” she was still frowning though, “but I would assume that the Disciples have more than the star captain’s single company at their disposal. Why have the Reivers not already been dealt with?”

“It is our policy to not get involved with the politics of other star nations,” Cinder replied, “lest we draw attention to our true strength, and the existence of the Clans. Our best advantage against Queen Chrysalis is her overconfidence, borne of the ignorance of the actual threat we pose to her control.”

“The ‘Clans’?” Twilight posed, rolling the unfamiliar designation over in her mouth.

“The Dragon Clans, Your Majesty,” there was a rueful glint in the dragoness’ eye, “while dragons may have made up a ‘significant’ portion of the CLDF military five hundred years ago, they constitute the bulk of our forces today. By contrast, the units that the Sphere knows as the ‘Disciples of Discord’ are something of an exception, fielding almost exclusively pony forces during their operations.

“Presently, the changelings believe the dragons to have no interest in the Harmony Sphere. We are endeavoring to keep them believing so.”

“Honestly,” Mizzen said, sporting a wry frown of his own, “I could do with some of the Clans being a little less ‘interested’ in the Harmony Sphere.”

“Beg pardon?” Twilight said, looking between the two officers.

Cinder glared briefly at the stallion before turning back to the alicorn, “the political situation back home is...tense, Your Majesty. Rest assured, Dragon Lord Ember has matters well in claw.”

The purple mare held the dragoness’ gaze for several long seconds, evaluating how much faith she wanted to put in that statement, especially given how the pegasus had made it sound. Still, she knew Ember well―or at least, she had known the Dragon Lord―so she was inclined to accept the star admiral’s assurances. If nothing else, it was something of a relief to know that at least a few things hadn’t changed in the last few hundred years.

“Ember is still the Dragon Lord? Good. Good,” Twilight nodded, “I assume that I’ll be meeting with her soon after my arrival on―what did you say the planet was called?―Somni Patrium?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Cinder assured the princess, “that is where she and her consort hold court.”

“Her consort?” the alicorn’s lips turned up in an amused smile, “you mean Spike?” the star admiral nodded, “took them long enough to make it ‘official’,” the mare snorted, “figures. I wait a thousand years to officiate their wedding, and they somehow manage to get it done while I’m indisposed,” she narrowed her eyes playfully at the dragoness admiral and jabbed a pinion at her, “you dragons live too long. It gives you a warped sense of time. Who let’s an engagement last for eight hundred years?!

“Didn’t your kind ever hear of ‘eloping’?”

The senior officer squirmed uncomfortably again, though this time seemingly from embarrassment, “I’m...led to believe it’s evolutionary,” she muttered, “dragons are long-lived and tough to kill. If we reproduced as frequently as ponies, we’d have very quickly overwhelmed our homeworld, and exhausted our food supply.

“Thus, upon reaching adulthood, we don’t have much of a sense of...urgency, when it comes to...procreation.”

Twilight raised a brow, “you know, I don’t know that I’ve met a dragon who was this reserved when discussing their culture. In fact, dragons tended to be second only to yaks when it came to bragging about it.”

Again the dragoness seemed uncomfortable, “it’s different when the discussion is so...personal, Your Majesty,” Cinder admitted, “I don’t particularly enjoy discussing my parents’ relationship history.”

Twilight’s eyes grew wide, and her jaw fell slack as she gawped at the cobalt dragon. Then, in an act that was profoundly unfitting a pony of her majestic station and fell far outside the bounds of what anypony would consider proper decorum―even in non-royal settings―she snatched the dragoness out of her seat with her magic and threw her hooves around the decidedly shocked reptile, embracing the flustered star admiral in a spine-crunching embrace.

“Ohmygosh! I have a new niece!” the princess of the Celestia League squeed in a very foal-like manner.

That his mind was so focused on avoiding detection helped to explain why Slipshod didn’t notice the rose red unicorn mare making her way through a corridor intersection at the same moment that he tried to. The pair of ponies fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, “ow!” “Celestia, fuck!”

The earth pony clambered stiffly back onto his hooves, looking down at the mare he’d unwittingly accosted, “Channel Lock! Are you okay?” He reached out to help her up.

“Yeah,” she winced as she allowed the stallion to ease her up onto her hooves, “sorry about that. I was a little distracted,” she admitted, “have been for a while, honestly,” the mare bit her lip pensively, “the memorial service helped, but I’m still...bothered, I guess?

“I mean, I could swear that I just saw Spanner right down the hall―”

Slipshod wasn’t even paying attention to what the technician was saying, honestly. He had far too much else on his mind at the moment, “yeah, no, that’s great,” he muttered, dusting himself off and reorienting himself in the corridor, “listen, can we talk later? I need to get to medical right now.”

“Oh...um, sure, I guess―”

He was already out of earshot of the unicorn, trotting through the winding passages of the DropShip on his way to the clinic. Though he was being far more mindful of other ponies as he went this time. He couldn’t afford too many more delays like that.

“Hey, Slip! C’mere a minute!”

Oh, sweet, merciful Celestia; what now?! The beleaguered earth pony turned to see Blood Chit waving him over, “can it wait? I’m busy with something,” he tried his best not to snap at the recovery team leader, he really did. Yet the other stallion still recoiled slightly, looking hurt.

“Uh...yeah. I was just going to ask if―”

His comlink beeped. Because of course it was going to. Slipshod wasn’t able to contain the exasperated growl that escaped his lips as he slammed his hoof on the key to accept the call, “what?!”

Flechette’s professionalism was uncanny, as the stallion didn’t sound the least bit fazed by the outburst, “update on the Disciples, sir: they’ve formed a perimeter around the ship. They’re asking for you.”

So that was what heart palpitations felt like, the earth pony thought to himself as his mind processed the security pony’s words, “...they asked for me...specifically?” he hoped that he hadn’t sounded as nervous as he felt. His throat had gone surprisingly dry though.

“They asked who was in charge here with the commander away. I informed them it was you, sir. They want you to meet them out here.”

Celestia bless his little heart. Flechette was just. So. Helpful.

Slipshod had to force his teeth to stop grinding, “thank you. I’ll be right there.”

He felt numb. His mind raced, desperately seeking out alternatives. He could try to make a run for it. Not that he’d get very far. It wasn’t like the Disciples would be able to miss him once he tried to cross their perimeter. He couldn’t even try to pass himself off as one of them, because he had no clue what their uniform even looked like! Damn them and their precautions…

Could he send somepony else out to meet them? Flechette had told them he was the pony in charge, sure, but that could also be his ‘out’. There were hundreds of injured zebras lying everywhere, after all. He was far too busy coordinating their treatment to spare even a moment for a ‘chat’ with the Disciples. That was plausible, right?

But who exactly was he supposed to send in his place? Doc Dee? That pony genuinely was too busy treating patients to spare time for a meeting. Mig or Tig? He’d have to go outside to get to their makeshift ‘BattleSteed Bay’. He’d almost certainly be spotted on his way there anyway; and if he had time to go and talk about BattleSteed maintenance at a time like this, then he obviously had plenty of time to talk to the Disciples about matters that they doubtlessly considered of far more importance than ‘Steed statuses. Flechette was already out there…

Fuck.

He enabled his comlink again, “High Gain, I need you to get me through to the commander or Twi―er, Purple Rose,” he was honestly having trouble remembering who knew that mare by what name these days, “just keep trying,” he ordered, “patch them through to me the moment you establish contact. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He didn’t like how helpless she’d sounded in that moment. The communications technician didn’t believe that she was going to be able to establish a successful connection to their employer any time soon. Honestly? Neither did he. Reaching them truly was looking like his only hope though. Twilight knew what he was. She’d be able to intercede. Wasn’t she their ruler or something? She could exempt him from whatever test they were going to administer.

If they asked why he was being exempted...well, wasn’t that the point of being a despot? You didn’t need to explain yourself to your underlings? You just sort of told them what to do and they did it, no questions asked? That was how the Queen did things. Twilight was a princess, so there shouldn’t be all that different of a dynamic.

...Unless she had already told them what he was.

Would she have? She’d told him that she didn’t like lying to ponies, but she’d also kept his secret thus far. Granted, the Disciples enjoyed a very different relationship to the alicorn than the Steel Coursers did. They knew who she really was. Twilight might be more inclined to be upfront with them than Squelch, who she clearly experienced some friction with.

It didn’t matter. Whether they knew now or not, they’d be subjecting him to whatever ‘screening process’ they had; a process which had certainly proven adept at detecting changelings thus far, he knew. Chrysalis had tried numerous times over the centuries to get an agent into the ranks of the Disciples. Many agents had gone in...none had ever sent back any information, and all were presumed dead.

How was he supposed to succeed where countless others had failed? Especially when he had no idea what they had failed at? That spell of Twilight’s had certainly had little issue dispelling his disguise in the conference room. However, he was given to understand that changeling magic was supposed to have been resistant to simple unicorn ‘dispelling’ cantrips. Enchantments of all types were routinely dispelled for various reasons as just a normal part of any given day. Agents would be getting unmasked every time they attended a sporting event if that was all it took!

So either it had been an effect specific to that particular spell, or the increased potency as a result of it being cast by an alicorn; or a combination of the two. The Disciples could have access to a changeling unmasking spell specifically, but surely that kind of magic in their possession would have made them far more adept at not just rooting out infiltrators in their own ranks, but at systematically revealing agents in the Harmony Sphere.

They certainly didn’t have broad access to alicorns!

It was unlikely to be a spell then. But what else could it be? Changeling disguises were complete enough to fool any known medical screening, so that couldn’t be it either…

These musings were doing nothing to reduce his stress level, Slipshod noted as he trod out of the ship. He also noted that he felt remarkably like a pony walking towards his own execution. What was he supposed to do?!

He easily spotted what must have been the principle Disciple delegation speaking with Flechette and another of the Galloway’s security team. Where the armored barding of the Steel Coursers security ponies was steel gray with maroon highlights, the Disciples of Discord were wearing suits which were primarily cerulean in color, with deep purple accents. A six-pointed purple star was emblazoned upon their chests. The ancient symbol of the defunct Celestia League, though the color was slightly different from what he recalled in the history texts. Even the real ones.

Odd. He had expected to see the crossed horn and antlers, but that symbol was nowhere to be seen...

He noted too that there were more than the large armored figures filing out of the APCs. Over a dozen zebras were with the Disciples, though certainly not dressed anything like them. The earth pony was hard pressed to identify their affiliation, because he wasn’t quite convinced that these particular zebras were affiliated with the local government either. He’d met Xanadu, and seen hundreds of examples of the local populace laid up in the Galloway. Other than being zebras, they honestly hadn’t seemed all that different from any other Harmony Sphere denizen, dressing with an eye towards contemporary fashion trends and sensibilities.

These zebras, on the other hoof, looked positively anachronistic! Hoof-fashioned brass bands were looped around their legs and necks. Beaded leather straps criss-crossed their barrels and chests. Their rustic saddlebags also had curious little clay pots topped with wax stoppers strapped to them with...was that twine? Even for a backwater Periphery world, that was a bit much…

The line of dozen or so oddly-dressed zebras was soon joined by twice as many Disciple troopers as the whole congregation marched towards the Galloway. As much as Slipshod wanted to see what it was they thought they were going to get up to on the DropShip, the earth pony knew that his business was elsewhere.

He approached the group, noting that there was one Disciple which all of the others seemed to be acting in clear deference to. A bright red earth pony mare with a sunflower mane and freckles on her cheek. Sturdily built, but certainly quite attractive nonetheless. Slipshod idly wondered if he’d be able to get out of this by reading and manipulating her...

Slipshod cleared his throat and nodded his head, “I’m Slipshod. Lead BattleSteed pilot for the Steel Coursers and current ranking pony onsite. I was informed that you wanted to speak with me?”

The earth pony looked him up and down, appraising him. He could sense their suspicion and distrust. Though whether that was just how Disciples felt about non-Disciples, or because they were on the hunt for changelings, Slipshod wasn’t able to tell for sure. He had a sinking feeling that it was the latter though…

The mare regarded him for several long moments before letting out a grunt, “Star Captain Honeycrisp o’ the Fourth Special Recon,” was her terse introduction, “tell yer fellas t’not give those zebras any hassle. Let’em do what they gotta do,” it was phrased as an order, and her tone left no doubt that there was no negotiating this point.

“Right,” the earth pony reached down and contacted High Gain once again, “High Gain, put out a shipwide alert; highest priority: if a Disciple asks anypony to do something; do it. Got that?”

“...Yes, sir,” it was somewhat reassuring to hear that the mare on the other end of the line wasn’t any more happy about it than he was. Though he suspected their mutual unease sprouted from vastly different sources. For High Gain―and likely most of the rest of the crew, Slipshod suspected―this would represent something of a sacrilege. The Galloway was the refuge of the Steel Coursers. Their home away from home. A place where they alone were presumed to hold sway, and all others that came aboard were merely guests passing through. The idea that outsiders could just board the ship and impose their authority felt...anathema. Even to him.

Of course, for the earth pony, it was more than just an invasion of privacy: it was a hunt. For him specifically.

Would they find the other changeling too, he wondered? How could they not? Slipshod had at least had the benefit of forewarning, and he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Whatever agent was onboard right this moment about to be surprised by the sudden arrival of Disciple troopers surely stood no chance at all. After all, Slipshod was certainly fucked…

“Is there anything else you need?” the golden stallion inquired, doing his level best to sound cordial in spite of the circumstances.

The mare took out a datapad similar to the ones that were used throughout the Harmony Sphere, “Ah’d like to verify some numbers with you real quick,” she began, “how many patients did you pick up?”

The question surprised Slipshod initially, but he soon recovered and brought up his own fetlock-mounted computer, “give me a sec, I don’t know the patient count off the top of my head,” which was true, as he hadn’t seen a need to bother himself with what was quite clearly Doc Dee’s business, “it looks like...three hundred and seventy-two?”

The Disciple nodded in agreement, “and eighty-five members are assigned to your company, correct?”

Slipshod was about to disagree, but then quickly ran through the count in his head, murmuring out loud, “there’re usually eighty-nine, but we gained―” he broke off for just a moment, briefly unsure of how he was supposed to refer to the alicorn. Though, given who he was speaking to he saw little need to obfuscate, “―Twilight,” the crimson earth pony snorted at his use of her shortened name and omission of any titles. The stallion winced, “which put us to ninety. We lost five in the ambush, so...yeah. Eighty-five sounds right.”

He’d passed on the request to Squelch regarding Xanadu wanting to sign on with the company, but that had only been last night. It was pretty unlikely that he’d been formerly added to the crew roster already. Doc Dee would have had the additional personnel file if that had been the case―if not the time to do a proper onboarding physical. So that would have brought the count to eight-six.

The earth pony frowned now, wondering how the former ‘private security contractor’ would be counted for the purposes of the Disciples’ investigation, given that he wasn’t a ‘patient’, and apparently hadn’t been added to the crew roster yet. Unless...was he being counted as a patient? He’d certainly been treated after the fight…

Whatever; Doc Dee knew what he was about.

Though, now that he thought about it, Slipshod supposed that he should start acting like he didn’t know what any of this was about. After all, as a simple Harmony Sphere mercenary, he wasn’t supposed to know anything about the Disciples or changelings, “why the sudden interest in our personnel?” he asked, trying to sound properly annoyed at the idea of having his company’s files being audited by ‘outsiders’ who clearly had no connection to the Mercenary Review Board.

“We’re searching fer changelin’s,” Star Captain Honeycrisp stated bluntly.

It honestly caught Slipshod a little off his guard. He hadn’t quite expected for her to just come right out and say it. He opened up his mouth to inquire further, still intent on playing the role of the ignorant merc, but then paused.

Squelch and Twilight had gone to speak with the Disciples. The Disciples knew Twilight was their true and rightful princess. So, surely they’d have met her arrival with their highest ranking officers. This mare was a ‘star captain’―whatever that was―and with her accent, there was no doubt in his mind that she was also the mare in charge of the Disciple BattleSteed company that had intervened at the last moment against the raiders yesterday. Slipshod may not be an expert on Disciple rank structures, but he had to think that the senior ‘Steed pilot was pretty high up there, even for the Disciples.

How many star captains could they have on a single ‘Steed company?

This mare had very likely already met with Twilight; or at the very least been present when she’d arrived at their own DropShip for her meeting. Twilight certainly knew about the changeling invasion of the Harmony Sphere. She’d been there for it! The two of them had spoken about it on multiple occasions. Twilight knew; and the Disciples knew.

The question was: had Twilight informed the Disciples that he knew about the changelings too?

If he acted like he didn’t know, and Twilight had told her that he did, that would appear suspicious. If he acted like he did know, and Twilight hadn’t mentioned anything about him also knowing, then that would appear suspicious. The stallion’s head began to hurt at the mere prospect of trying to resolve a ‘do they know that I know they know’ scenario to anything approaching a positive outcome for himself.

Saying just about anything risked him sounding suspicious. Would saying nothing also make the mare wonder if he was out of place?

The golden stallion felt as though he was usually so much better at getting a read on any given situation. But he was just so damn nervous right now. The worst part was that those feelings weren’t even all his own! He was experiencing the emotional feedback of the hundreds of nearby creatures who were also currently riding various states of alarm for one reason or the other. There was little chance that he could block it all out and manage to focus, not that that would help resolve his dilemma of finding out how much about what the Disciples were doing he was supposed to already ‘know’ about.

Did Squelch know that he knew about changelings beyond what Twilight had explicitly told them? He was having trouble remembering through all of the psychic turbulence in the air. Would she have corroborated that he knew? Would she even have been included in any conversation between the ranking Disciples and the princess?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything about how he was supposed to behave right now. Flechette was clearly baffled at what was going on, but he was understandably ignorant because he’d been kept in the dark at Slipshod’s own request to Squelch. He’d told the truth to some, lied to most, and now one from each camp had engaged in a discussion with the Disciples and the golden stallion had no clue what version of himself he was supposed to put on display for the star captain.

And making the wrong choice could get him killed.

What was he supposed to do?! What was he supposed to say?! Would saying nothing or anything be worse?

He didn’t know!

“Hmmmm.”

It was the most strained-sounding non-word that the stallion could ever remember uttering in his entire life. He hadn’t even been aware of consciously making it. It had just sort of...come out. At least it was broadly noncommittal, he felt.

He needed out of this conversation somehow. Now. He needed to come up with some plausible reason to excuse himself and then find some way to escape, or hide, or―

His comlink buzzed. Oh, thank Celestia it buzzed! What better excuse to say nothing more in a conversation than an incoming call? “If you’ll pardon me, star captain; I have to take this,” he gestured at his flashing datapad. For her part, the Disciple officer merely nodded and turned to talk to a zebra who was approaching their group, “this is Slipshod...”

Squelch stepped out of the shower with a resigned sigh. She’d scrubbed her face so hard that she’d genuinely feared she’d be scouring the fur from her muzzle, and she still felt greasy. The sage green unicorn had finally conceded that it must have been all in her head, despite the fact that her nose still crinkled at the faintest hint of the reek of the substance. She wondered if the zebras would be willing to give her a list of ingredients so that she could check to see if she might be allergic to something in it.

In any case, she’d used enough of the DropShip’s hot water, and the remaining half of a bottle of shampoo which she had been loaned. She made a note to have a replacement bottle shipped over from the Galloway’s stores as an apology. Her telekinesis enveloped a nearby towel and began to furiously rub it over her body as she walked back towards her discarded clothing.

The sight of the flashing datapad made the mare cringe. She’d been away from the ship for an hour, and somepony already needed her for something. The faint crease of her lips quickly morphed into an outright scowl when she noted that it was not merely one or two contact attempts which she had missed, but seventeen. All of them from Slipshod.

Squelch absolutely dreaded learning what news the stallion had that could have been urgent to warrant that level of harassment. The unicorn wrapped her mane up in the towel, and floated over a second for her tail as she took a seat on a nearby bench and mentally braced herself for whatever catastrophe presumably awaited her when she returned this call. She commed the stallion, who picked up almost immediately.

“This is Slipshod.”

“Fucking tartarus, Slip,” Squelch snapped at him bitterly, wiping away at a tendril of wet hairs that had inexplicably managed to slip from beneath the towel, “can’t a mare take a shower anymore without coming back to a hundred missed calls?! If the Galloway’s not on fucking fire, I’m going to have your flank in a sling!”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Hopefully, the unicorn thought, it was because the earth pony was contemplating whether whatever bullshit he was calling about would be worth the aggravation she’d be calling him if she deemed it to be trivial, “shower? I thought you were in a meeting with the Disciples?”

“Twilight is in a meeting,” the unicorn corrected him tersely, “I had to go wash up after this zebra gave me a mud mask. Twenty minutes and half a bottle of shampoo later, and I still smell like a damn compost heap. Fair warning for you guys, by the way,” maybe it would be best if she and Twilight spent the night on the Disciple DropShip, she thought to herself. Even though she had her own washroom, there was bound to be absolutely no hot water available in the morning with over eighty ponies furiously scrubbing away like she had been.

Then the unicorn had an additionally unpleasant thought as she considered whether the Disciples were going to be mud masking the zebra patients too.

“Mud mask?” the earth pony blurted, sounding utterly baffled by what she was saying, “what kind of meeting did you go to?”

“Fuck if I know; now what do you want?”

“The Disciples are here and they asked for personnel files for the whole crew,” Squelch frowned at the information, but didn’t remark on it. She still detested that they weren’t in a position to assert any sort of sovereignty, but the fact was that they were pseudo-captives of the Disciples. She’d seen the resources that they had at their disposal. Any refusal on her part to comply would only be notional, since there would be nothing that the Steel Coursers could actually do to stop them.

Better to simply cooperate. It was the least painful option. She could lodge a formal complaint with Twilight or whoever later, if she really felt like making a stink about it, “I assume you gave them over?”

“Doc forwarded them, yeah,” Slipshod confirmed.

“Perfect. He has the latest ‘unofficial’ version anyway. Once he’s done with Xanadu’s physical―assuming he can ever find the time―he said he’d post it to the ship’s network.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line long enough that Squelch actually felt compelled to check to ensure that she was still connected to the stallion’s comlink. Then she finally heard him say, “...Xanadu was added to the roster?”

“Should have been,” the sage mare said simply, “I got a read receipt from Dee, so he definitely saw the new file. I know he’s been pretty swamped, but it literally just takes seconds to add it to his database,” the unicorn floated over a third towel and began rubbing it over her damp fur to try and speed along the drying process, “but, like I said: it’s just in the file he has for right now. The ship’s network wouldn’t show it yet.”

“So, wait...then shouldn’t it have been eighty-si―huh?” Squelch frowned and was about to ask what the stallion had been about to say, but she it sounded now like he was speaking with somepony else, “Oh, hello there. Sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of a call...what do you mean she doesn’t speak? Vow of silence? What is that stuff? Woah, hey, watch the eyes―!”

The mare rolled her eyes, turning her attention to drying herself as she waited for the stallion to get back to the call with her. She felt herself smirk slightly at the thought of the golden earth pony now having to deal with the same stink that she had.

What she hadn’t been anticipating was the scream.

“AHG! Fuck; it burns! What the―agh!”

Squelch shot up to her hooves, towels slipping from her magic and tail, “Slip? Slip, what’s going on? Are you alright?” she didn’t hear the stallion, but his mic was picking up a great deal of additional yelling. Most of it was impossible to make out. A lot of ponies were very clearly upset about something though, “Slipshod!”

“Back away; all y’all!” that was not Slipshod, but a mare’s voice that she only faintly recognized.

“What’re you doing to him?!” that was Flechette, the mare knew. Had they done something to Slipshod?

“Don't move!” that stallion’s voice she didn’t recognize; nor the multitude of other ponies barking jumbled orders that were in its vein, “Halt!” “Drop your weapon!” “Freeze!” “Stay back!” all being screamed at the top of their lungs it sounded like, but too far from the mic to be clearly distinguished. Squelch wasn’t even certain that she’d have been able to comprehend all of the overlapping commands had she been there in the flesh.

The gunfire though...that she heard clearly.

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