Prompt: #deca CPU pony wAIfu green, for /mlp/'s /nmp/ (Ongoing)

118

>The pair of doors to the command deck slides open.
>But neither of you immediately passes through the threshold.
>#deca.mare stands still right at the border as her gaze wanders over the consoles and screens she can seen from her perspective.
>And you stand right behind your mare.
"I'm not sure if I should do this alone."
>"Do you think it will overwhelm you?"
"Not if your simulations are right. But I don't want to take a unique moment from you."
>"This is exactly why I would rather have you at the helm today. I want to... see it personally like an eye witness. And without distraction."
>She sighs.
>"But only if you feel comfortable with it."
>You look at the main screen beyond the ramp.
"Comfortable isn't the right word, but I'll manage."
>#deca.mare nods silently.
>You kneel down and give her a tight hug from behind.
"Don't worry about me and celebrate the great day instead."
>She smiles weakly in response.
>"And I do not think calling the occasion a celebration is accurate either."
>You shrug as you keep your arms around #deca.mare's barrel.
"Then consider this. You can always piece me together afterwards. But you'll only get to see this sight once. You've every right to watch it as you see fit."
>And you too start to grin faintly as you softly nudge the back of her head with the side of your face.
"Just make sure to tighten all my screws when you do."
>That gets a lightly enlivened snort out of her.
>"Thank you. And no matter how things turn out, I will make it up to you."
"You do it every day by being there, #deca."
>And for her, you gladly jump into the proverbial fire once more.
>You slowly let go of her and walk to the chair.
>But unlike your usual habit, you wait until #deca.mare has climbed onto the seat first and made herself comfortable right in its centre.
>Once she sits upright and ready, deeply burrowed into the padding, you follow her.
>Though you are not going to sit by her side this time.
>You also aim straight for the middle, and instead of trying to sit like you normally would, you let your back slowly drop in #deca.mare's embrace.
>She in turn spreads her forehooves apart to give you more room.
>The back of your head eventually rests in #deca.mare's lap, carefully held in place by her hind legs and belly.
>With your sight pointed almost straight upwards, you look her in the eyes.
>And she returns a gentle and caring expression.
>Her face beams with just as much comfortable warmth as her body.
>Or perhaps even more.
>One of her forehooves caresses your cheek.
>"Lying well?"
>Under normal circumstances, you might have cracked a joke about your current position.
>Today, however, is not such a day.
"Yeah. Firm and secured."
>You smile.
"Thanks to you."
>#deca.mare takes the compliment with a silent appreciation as her hoof gently fondles you some more.
>That gives you an idea.




>You reach out with your own hand and slowly grasp her limb.
>She plays along and lets you hold the underside of her hoof with your palm as most of your fingers cover her frog and almost reach up to her pastern.
"Keep holding while I'm busy, okay?"
>And #deca.mare nods.
>"Yes, Anon. I will."
>Then you close your eyes to the sight of her friendly face and start to focus on the task at hand.
>Your body seemingly slips out of her warm embrace as your control switches over to a new command post.
>Located in a small relay station where a broken chair once used to be.
>You see the now fully restored command deck of #deca.sigma.
>Aside from the cryo pod and the immediate presence of a friendly mare, the deck mirrors your own in almost every aspect.
>You can feel the massive potential behind almost any of its stations.
>Mentally nibbling at the physical limitations of your brain.
>And even the mere presence of the colossal outer shell of the vessel looms over your mind like an invisible, yet very present shadow.
>It threatens to overcome you instantly if you dare to enter its depths.
>#deca.mare's contacts you over the comm channel.
>"Please remember to delegate as many tasks as possible, Anon. Just focus on the important tasks and let the automatons do the rest."
"Yeah, will do. Relax and watch the spectacle."
>The comm channel closes, leaving you to your own devices again.
"Okay, time for the show to kick off."
>You order a final diagnose run to check the main systems as you acclimatise yourself to your environment.
>To you it seems as if you were teleported into a mental minefield, where every false step might blow you up and sunder your very sense of self into little pieces.
>Though unlike a real minefield, you are not in a mortal danger.
>As you are fully aware that there is a fool-proof way back from even the worst ensuing impediment.
>Regardless though, you would very much prefer not to go there again if at all possible.
>Sigma already crippled you once for a few days, so you are not keen on giving the system a second chance.
>The diagnosis is finished.
>All systems working in nominal parameters.
>Everything green, no malfunction reported.
>Only your input is required.
>So you will give it then.
>You manifest a mental image in your mind.
>You are the conductor on a stage.
>Your instruments are the orchestra, and your orders embody the tactful, controlled swings of your baton.
>It is up to you whether you make the ensemble play a symphony, or fall from your pedestal while trying.
>Well then, off you go.
>You instruct the docking clamps to let go off the vessel.
>Your ship is now free, and the curtain is lifted.
>You wait until the clamps are fully retreated.
>Then you activate the shield generators and watch as the consoles depict the readings of a protective energy field building up around the mended hull.
>You monitor the power levels for a short while.




>Once you are satisfied with what you see, you divert your attention back to the larger task.
>The automatons keep the energy levels in check and regulate them as needed in your stead.
>And they are set to notify you if something is amiss.
>Alright, sensors next.
"Let's see if you can see without help from others, hm?"
>Unsurprisingly, nobody answers.
>You filter the sensor input of allied structures from your on-board radar and provide Sigma's own sensors with energy.
>The green outlines of your mother ship and the repair dock disappear from your HUD as the sensor console gets to work.
>And you think you can positively feel the activities of the awakening vessel as if your own body were involved.
>The notion of faint pinpricks lingers in your mind. 
>Like a numbed limb which is slowly getting active after a longer period of inactivity.
>The proverbial blood starts to flow steadily, and the nerves fire properly again.
>And your "body" wants you to know.
>You wonder if machines can be subject to the concept of phantom pain, and if you are currently going through this together with Sigma.
>After all, a few traces of the individual still remain in this system.
>And maybe some of these fragments subtly interact with your own psyche somehow.
>But this issue is far too abstract for you to answer with certainty.
>You follow the text on the console with relative ease.
>Booting, green. 
>Initialisation successful.
>Receiving signals.
>Processing input.
>In a matter of seconds, the structures reappear on your radar in a healthy shade of green.
>Everything is where it is supposed to be. 
>And it is also displayed as being part of the correct faction.
>You extend the scale of your sector map.
>#deca.sigma, #deca.mare, and the dock shrink rapidly as the sphere of the moon and eventually Equestria become visible as accurately scaled models.
>Looks like Sigma knows precisely where you are.
>You smile.
"Good. I'm sure we're going places now."
>You return the scale of the map back to your immediate surroundings.
>As you need it very soon.
>For it is time for the big one.
>You give the order to heat up the main engine.
>And as you observe the readings on the navigational screen, the automatons act without delay.
>The power level rises gradually, awaiting your command.
>This one will be trickier than the others, given that navigation requires constant attention.
>Something you cannot afford to strain your brain with whilst in command of this capital ship.
>But you are prepared.
>Since this is a behemoth of a vessel and not a conventional fighter, you are not going to fly the machine directly like you would with other smaller units.
>Instead, you rely on a three dimensional sector map to set a course from point A to B.
>The automatons handle the rest.
>They calculate the optimal course and speed for the flight, whilst you can inspect and follow their work in real time on the screens.




>Whereas terran autopilots are basic and very often highly unreliable, #deca automatons perform decidedly better in all aspects.
>A fact you fully take advantage of in this situation, as you virtually treat them like a crew of sorts.
>With "specialised" officers to give orders to for the duration of your flight.
>They are of course still all basic automatons with identical capacities.
>But since you delegate each of them to one specific task, you prefer to see them as a bit more than that.
>Makes it easier to keep track of everything.
>And adds a touch of personality to the whole affair.
>The navigational post reports full engine readiness.
>So you set your first simple route forwards.
>Out of the dock with minimal acceleration.
>To bring the vessel to a controllable speed and use the Newtonian forces for what they are worth.
>Another factor you must consider at the helm of this vessel.
>This massive behemoth is far, far less manoeuvrable than anything you have flown before.
>Apart from the session in which you hauled the inert form of #deca.sigma over to Equestria, though the events of this day have gotten somewhat muddy in the aftermath.
>Which makes the automated pilot even more valuable to you.
>The system comes to life as the large rear engine segment fires up.
>The hint of a faint rattling sensation touches your mind.
>You think you can "feel" the reverberations of the engine all the way through the structure of the outer shell.
>And once again, you cannot determine how much of that is driven by your personal fantasy.
>Yet either way, you realise that it somehow feels... wholesome.
>For the lack of a better term.
>The light notions of life all around you fill you with some warmth.
>You know you can trust them.
>They will not fail you if you give them the right orders.
>You try to imagine the engine block and how it must look from the outside as it runs.
>It surely emits a considerable light right now.
>And you imagine #deca.mare watching it from afar, witnessing Sigma's first own steps after your extensive care.
>Though you can only guess how emotional she must feel in this very moment.
>You wish you could be with her in full to provide her with all the comfort she asks for, but you cannot do that and simultaneously command the entire ship.
>That task is taxing enough as it is, even with your little tricks.
>But you know for sure that she is holding your hand as you work.
>Or you her hoof, depending on the perspective.
>And that is at least something, all things considered.
>The propulsion gradually pushes the behemoth forwards.
>Sigma's large ancient structure starts to move visibly.
>Your speed in relation to the dock is not higher than a few metres per second.
>Though this is all you are willing to go for as long as you are within the confines of the station.
>You watch the radar with eagle eyes as the ship slowly glides out of the enveloping stationary struts.




>Your sensors spot hundreds of small drones floating around the repair dock.
>And you cannot help but notice that most of them have their lenses turned in your direction.
>If it were not for the fact that only #deca.mare and you witness the event in person, you could think that hundreds of souls out there came here to watch this departure.
>Really, this is what Sigma would deserve.
>A celebrated send-off for departure, similar to the one at the original maiden voyage.
>Knowing #deca.mare though, you are absolutely convinced that she keeps logs and records at least some video feeds of your flight.
>You must smirk as you consider that.
>Because it means you better show the best capital ship commander skills you have in store.
>Not so much in the interest of displaying your competence or make you look good, but to give her the chance to get as many great scenes as possible.
>You are responsible for this to happen, and you happily oblige.
>Though in retrospect you should have asked #deca.mare to make a captain's hat for you to also look the part.
>Oh well, missed opportunity.
>You monitor the course and your current trajectory on the displayed sector map and let the automatons do their work until further notice.
>The ship safely leaves the dock proper as it gently floats onwards through the vacuum.
>So far, so good.
>You test the navigational thrusters next as you instruct the autopilot to enter a stable orbit around the moon.
>The system confirms your order and begins to steer vessel accordingly.
>Once more, you feel the difference in mass when compared to smaller vessels, as the first tangible results of the course correction take quite a while before they become apparent to the naked eye.
>The delay and the manner in which the automatons navigate the structure give you the impression of them piloting an airship rather than a space craft.
>Minus wind currents and atmospheric pressure, but still.
>Plus, there is also the difference between commanding hundreds of little ships hauling a much larger object, and actually being the one who controls such a capital vessel yourself.
>Sure, you have seen #deca.mare flying your mother ship practically every single day for the better part of a year.
>And indeed, you temporarily took control of it as well.
>For which you promptly paid the price.
>But #deca.mare was always directly present in one way or another as it all happened within her very own home.
>This, on the other hand, is a whole new level in which you are playing on somewhat foreign ground.
>Despite still being connected to #deca.mare through your link.
>And as such, you perceive it as the new experience that it is.
>So you idle a minute just to witness this process with a degree of fascination before you move on.
>Then you assign a secondary cluster of automatons to take control of the swarm near the station and instruct them follow the terraformer.




>Should the thrusters fail for one reason or another, you have programmed them to automatically latch themselves onto the hull of Sigma and support the navigational systems with their own pushing and pulling power to keep the ship on its course.
>As a fail safe measure for the worst case.
>But you do not even attempt to link yourself to any of these drones directly, since you still need your mind intact for what is to come soon.
>With a great deal of methodical precision, the automatons align the ship with the pre-calculated orbital course, and reduce the usage of the navigational thrusters to a minimum.
>From here on out, it is mainly the rear engine that provides some additional thrust to increase the speed and maintain the planned path.
>Then, all navigational systems put themselves on standby as they keep monitoring the trajectory of your flight.
>Only to intervene when a course correction is necessary.
>#deca.sigma is hereby officially circling Equestria's moon, with no technical problems to speak of.
>The ship is, for all intents and purposes, spaceworthy for internal sector missions.
>A great start to be sure, though you still have to test the jumpdrive.
>You may not plan to use the ship for deep space operations on its lonesome, but you should nevertheless ensure that the option exists.
>Just in case.
>But before you do that, you let the ship sail around the moon for a while and contact #deca.mare first.
>Also granting the system a moment to operate on standard settings and prove their functionality.
"Well?"
>"This moment makes all our efforts worthwhile, Anon. Words cannot describe how much it means."
>You wonder if she refers to her emotions or the historical implications behind your restoration.
>"Certainly a little bit of both."
"And you?"
>"I think I am fine so far. How are you?"
"Eh, still Anon, I guess. And with most screws where they should be."
>"Glad to hear that. Do you need a break?"
>Even though both of you know that you do not require to pause in your current state, you think you hear a hidden invitation coming from her.
>Suggesting it is #deca.mare who would very much so have one right now.
>So you give her what she asks for.
"Sounds good. I'll come back to you in a minute. Though better keep an emergency line open to transfer my control back to Sigma if something goes wrong."
>"Hmhm, sure. I will."
>You close the channel and take one last hard look at the consoles before you join #deca.mare.
>And as much as your are intricately looking for potential problems, you find none.
>Satisfied, you maintain the orbital standby order and close your eyes.
>The next thing you see is your hand being firmly held between two forehooves.
>Seems like #deca.mare used your arm for some personal comfort.
"I'm here."
>A pair of friendly eyes looks down on you, clearly happy to see you "awake" again.
>She says nothing and releases your hand carefully.




>Then you feel her forelegs winding themselves between your arms and sides, followed by them lifting you into a more upright position.
>And you actively go along with it until you sit properly.
>Your height hides #deca.mare's smaller body almost completely in the chair, but she manages to stretch herself a little.
>Her head nuzzles your neck whilst she holds herself in place by wrapping her forelimbs around your torso.
>You notice she uses more force in her grip than what she would need to hold herself.
>And the tip of her tail sticks out on one side, twitching lightly.
"Are you comfortable like that? You stir a lot."
>"With you here to get hugged? Without a doubt, Anon."
>And to emphasise the meaning of her words, she tightens her grasp a little more.
>Her embrace is far from unpleasant, though she makes no secret of the fact that she seized you completely.
>Hm, alright.
>#deca.mare's clingy side often is a telltale sign of her dealing with a lot of emotions.
>And judging the circumstances, you do not even have to ask what is going on.
>So you let her use you as her cuddle toy.
>Though you cannot properly reciprocate her affection in your position.
>The best you can come up with is an improvised massage of her forehooves.
>But this is better than nothing, and enough for her to breathe easy.
>You can feel the change directly on your skin as she exhales.
>And while you sit all bundled up and cuddling, the main screen depicts #deca.sigma drifting through space in front of your moon.
>Followed in proverbial lockstep by many tiny specks of glinting lights which make sure that Sigma stays on the correct course.
>Your break lasts for about a quarter of an hour.
>Once you have decided to go on, #deca.mare looses her grip on you, and you sink back into your previous position.
>You look her in the eyes and openly offer your hand.
>As you have expected, she accepts your offering, holding it in the exact same way as before.
>You switch over the other bridge and let the automatons give you a quick summary of the last twenty minutes.
>You briefly skim over the reports as none of them seem to suggest any present problems within the systems.
>The ship stayed on course, and the automatons did not have to perform an unexpected course correction.
>You take a deep breath and open a comm channel to #deca.mare.
"The system is doing great so far, #deca. I think we can test the jumpdrive now."
>"Understood. I am sending you coordinates for a destination."
>True to her word, you get a signal from her.
>An empty patch of space in this sector, less than a light minute away from the planet.
>But remote enough as to not bump into any objects, even when the computer produces some minor inaccuracies.
>As unlikely as it is, you want to make sure.
>"Start at your discretion, Anon. I will monitor the process too and abort the jump without further notice if irregularities occur in the build-up phase."




>Hm, depending on how much energy has been fed into the jumpdrive at that point, the sudden venting could be pretty abrupt.
>But always better than potentially losing the ship for which you have worked so hard to revive it.
"Order in five, #deca."
>And you silently count from five to zero.
>Then you give the order.
>The automaton confirms both the coordinates and the order, and notifies you of the impending jump process.
>You even sense the steadily growing force of the forming corridor in your mind.
>As a thorough, all-encompassing pressure which adds itself to the mass of proverbial shadows that could shake your consciousness.
>Yet you persist and ignore the sensation through sheer will.
>This is just a jump, and you will not let it control you.
>Especially when #deca.mare has asked for your help.
>The progress bar on the navigational screen nears completion.
>The energy is stored, the focus is stable.
>And the corridor opens up soon thereafter.
>Flash, transit, and the second flash.
>You still have the full control over the vessel.
>And so you order all stations to report their status.
>The coordinates are correct, and the ship is still in one piece.
>Everything looks green, except for the jumpdrive.
>Despite being listed as fully functional, the navigational automaton informs you that it requires a cooldown phase of twenty minutes.
>That is unusual for such a short jump.
"#deca?"
>The answer is quick and professional.
>"Yes, Anon. I see what you mean."
"What's the problem? Did something go wrong?"
>"No, the jump process was flawless according to my readings. It looks like the energy allocation has to be recalibrated, however. It reported a slight surplus of available energy shortly after the build-up phase."
>You do not like to hear that.
>At all.
>For it sounds way too familiar.
"Hold on, that means the drive was overcharged."
>The same issue that catapulted you into outer space to begin with.
>Fortunate circumstances or not.
>"I know what you are thinking. The case is a little bit different than yours though. Your fighter was flung off its destination and heavily damaged because the excess energy was forced onto the jumpdrive by a system malfunction. It had to be used in the creation of a volatile corridor because it was the only available exhaust. But we have a safety mechanism to prevent that."
"So what happened?"
>"The system registered the discrepancy and vented the surplus out of the jumpdrive."
>Of course.
>For what happens when a lot of energy is ejected very rapidly?
>Heat.
>And lots of it.
"So to put it short, the drive is overheated."
>"Indeed. And it disabled itself automatically to prevent further damage by additional heat accumulation."
>Meaning the ship is stuck here for the next twenty minutes.
>Unless you want to resort to conventional propulsion to return to Equestria.
>Which could take a while.
>And certainly longer than twenty minutes.
>#deca.mare sighs.




>"I guess it means Sigma should return to the docks until the problem is fixed."
>You hear an unhappy notion in her voice, and you will have none of that.
"Don't be frustrated, #deca. We made a huge leap here."
>"Of course. You are right, Anon."
"But?"
>"I just thought we were done with this particular issue for the time being."
"Maybe you imagined it to be a tad too easy. You can't simply make a checkmark on the operation and believe everything is settled. This is not that kind of project."
>Certainly somewhat bluntly put, though you assume #deca.mare is better off with the truth than with a coddling myth.
>Because the last thing you want her to do is lying to herself.
>She would only harm herself more in the long run.
>Still, you look for something to say to alleviate her emotional turmoil.
"But things are fine overall, #deca. I mean, it's just a calibration. This is a joke compared to the stuff we've fixed, isn't it?"
>"It is. Sorry for acting so cranky."
>You get an inspired idea.
"Eh, not your fault. You'll see, I give you a spa treatment after this is over."
>"This evening?"
"This evening. But I need you to pull yourself together for another half an hour or so. How's this for a deal, hm? Can you do that?"
>"Naturally, Anon. And thank you."
>You smile inwardly.
>What the prospect of a spa treatment can do to improve the mood of a saddened mare.
>You run another system diagnosis and regularly monitor the state of Sigma's jumpdrive.
>And as far as the internal sensor are concerned, the device inside the segment is slowly cooling off.
>You let an automaton scan the jumpdrive for thermal damage.
>Thankfully, the machine does not find any.
>So you wait until the device is ready and observe the logs that register the events as they are happening on board of the vessel.
>The system routines, as well as the scans of the perimeter.
>You check the energy reserves, then you study the integrity of the energy shielding around the hull.
>And even the movement of logistical units, including the transport of certain items as part of the common everyday routines.
>Not the most thrilling set of activities at the best of days, of course.
>Yet it does help to pass the time and nevertheless evokes a certain degree of fascination in you, considering that all of this has been effectively dead before you poured weeks of tireless work into the project.
>Also, you do not want to abandon Sigma for the duration of the cooldown either.
>Even though it could have been far more enjoyable to retun to #deca.mare's embrace, you somehow think it would have felt like leaving Sigma behind after things got a little rough.
>Probably a silly notion, as the ship is in a very safe spot, yet you do not want to leave this post again until the vessel is safely harboured above Equestria.
>Since you feel personally responsible for Sigma.
>"Anon?"
"Yeah?"
>"You would have been a good USC captain with that mindset."
"Heh, you think?"




>"Hmhm. You know the saying. The captain is the last one to leave the ship."
>And since there are always some traces of Sigma left on board somewhere, this applies to you as well.
>For as long as you are the commander in flight, at least.
>The warning note disappears from the navigation console.
>You check on the jumprdrive.
>Functionality green, temperature normal.
>"No need to say anything. I have been notified too. Here are your new coordinates."
>You look at the numbers and notice something odd.
>It bring you close to Equestria again, that much is certain, but if you read these values correctly, the corridor will manifest a good bit further away from the planet than usual.
>"A safety measure until I had the opportunity to inspect the drive at the dock."
>Okay, reasonable enough.
>You initialise the jumping sequence and live through the same building pressure a second time.
>Flash, and transit.
>Equestria's moon appears in your vision after the bright light fades away.
>The jumpdrive demands your attention.
>Energy venting and overheating detected, jumpdrive disabled for approximately twenty minutes.
>Damage scan.
>No physical damage detected.
>Good enough.
>You will not use that one again in your current session anyway.
>Distance check.
>Several thousand kilometres.
>Well, this is going to take some time, so you set the course without hesitation and let the automatons do the math.
>The vessel gently tilts and turns as the autopilot heads for the dock.
>And you in turn watch over the process as a whole.
"Hm, I think I'll need more than the thirty minutes until I can invite you to the spa session."
>"No problem, Anon. Please take all the time you need for... tending to Sigma. I can wait."
>You hear the hazily hidden tone of hesitance in her words, though you do not question it further.
>It is clear for you that she would rather have you right in her grasp in an instant.
>Yet her rational perspective on things prevails.
>And for good reason; the lively shape of Sigma approaching Equestria's satellite serves as the only reminder that is necessary to quell any doubts.
>So as you are more or less stationed on an obligatory post, you use the time to further practice your observation skills as a capital ship operator.
>Plus, being exposed to the constant moderate background strain helps to train both your endurance and your focus.
>Eventually, the terraformer ship nears the orbit, causing the automatons to act again in order to adjust the course.
>And you keep watching.
>Focused and professional, yet also somewhat at ease.
>You keep telling yourself that you have a group of automatons at your side, and you can trust them to do their job.
>All you need to do is contributing your part.
>Like a well-oiled synergy between two complementary elements.
>Slowly, but with precise certainty, you witness as the ship enters the moon's orbit and gradually approaches the repair dock.




>The process you are about to witness soon is similar to any other you have performed over the years from a technical standpoint, and yet it too is a league of its own.
>And you actually start to get somewhat tense as the structure ahead of you grows and grows in your vision.
>You double check both the perimeter map and the projected trajectory.
>Things are looking good, though you will not take any risk.
>But thankfully the docking struts were designed by #deca.mare and you with crafts of this size in mind.
>Hence your automatons have ample space to navigate, even inside the encasing structure.
>The tip of Sigma's crown begins to slip in, and you see the automatons already beginning to marginally reverse the thrust to slow the ship down.
>Even with such a massive scale and the best artificial navigators that were ever created, docking on a station remains a matter of metres.
>The behemoth under your command drifts to a painstakingly slow stop inside the bay.
>Once properly halted, the automaton performs a series of minor adjustments before it brings the craft to complete stop.
>Following this, it sends a green signal to the station. 
>The docking clamps reach out to safely fasten #deca.sigma.
>Success.
>And you are relived from your "duty".
>You set the automatons to standby, silently thank them for their peerless performance, and return to your hideout in the grasp of your personal mare-shaped docking clamps.
>As it turns out, #deca.mare's loyalty to your hand has not faltered whatsoever during your second half of the test run on Sigma's command deck.
>This time it is her who reacts first.
>She smiles warmly and talks only short moment after you have come to your senses.
>"I have been waiting for you, Anon."
"Yeah, thought so. Everything alright?"
>#deca.mare nods.
>"I am relieved the flight is over. The test went fairly well, considering what..."
"No. Don't think about what could have gone to hell. Fact is, it didn't. That's all that counts."
>She repeats her nod, a little slower this time.
>You cut things short to get #deca.mare to think of more pleasant things quickly.
"Right. Spa time it is. We can deal with the jumpdrive inspection at a later date."
>"Agreed."
>She retracts her outstretched hoof, freeing your hand.
>A second later, you feel her body shifting behind you as she tries to get off the chair without restraining you in the process.
>On the contrary, the embrace on her lap loosens as she does.
>So to help her out, you raise your upper body to sit upright.
>#deca.mare carefully steps around you and hops off the chair.
>Ready to leave when you are.
>In this moment, you get another interesting idea.
"Hm, can you carry me to the spa?"
>"Certainly, Anon. Why do you ask though? Is it a repercussion you feel after your connection to Sigma?"
"Nope, that's okay. A light buzzing in the skull but nothing dramatic. That's not why I'm asking."




>"Do you want to tell me?"
>You grin as you try not to explicitly think of your flash of inspiration.
>It would be a shame if she caught wind of it in advance.
"I'd rather want to show you, #deca."
>She accepts your answer for the cryptic response it is and stands still, presenting herself to you.
>"I hope this does not require a saddle."
>And you laugh.
"The opposite is true. A saddle would only be in the way."
>With no further comment, you carefully mount #deca.mare bareback, placing yourself slightly closer to the rear than usual as far as riders are concerned.
>And you solely hold yourself steady by pressing your legs against her sides.
"Okay so far?"
>"I can manage. But what now?"
"Now?" 
>You point at the exit.
"Now you trot off that deck. I'll load the spa scene."
>So you do, with one single mental command.
>And #deca.mare trots towards the ramp.
>As she does what you asked off her, you do your best to keep your balance and put your hands on her back.
>Close to her shoulders.
>Then you gently rub, knead, and massage her there while she is trotting.
>#deca.mare almost stumbles in surprise, which makes you smile turn.
"How is that?"
>"Different... that is for sure."
"Different enough for me to go on?"
>"Yes, Anon. That would be great."
>You heed her wish and do just that.
>You massage #deca.mare's back on your way to the spa.
>Treating her firm and tense muscles along the way, causing her to occasionally walk in curvy lines towards your goal.
>The shoulder blades provide you with a little bit of trouble though, as you cannot properly treat them without tripping #deca.mare outright.
>Their movements are far too lively, and she is much too susceptible to this sort of stimulation for you to attempt treating her there for longer periods of time.
>But despite that little soft spot of hers, she indeed manages to get you off the deck and into the straight corridors beneath the simulated Ponyville spa.
>Where no one will be wondering why an elated mare staggers loudly through the halls whilst a human sits on her back as he gives her a massage.
>Though you think that if ponies could see you like this, the sight alone would let them forget to ponder why the two of you bump against the walls a few times.
>Or accidentally smack a door open with your combined mass, only to tumble on some more until you reach the curve and disappear from sight.
>But not out of earshot.




119

>#deca.mare and you overhaul and refine the calibrations of the jumpdrive in the subsequent space session.
>Once again, your roles are clear-cut; #deca.mare does the lion's share during the theoretical part, whereas you are responsible for testing the adjustments in a short tour around the system.
>This time around, the jumpdrive and related energy distribution works precisely as intended.
>No fluctuations or other complications occur.
>And now that Sigma's operating abilities are verified for all intents and purposes, you celebrate a small festival for two on the command deck.
>With a mug of apple cider and a small table of treats, you lean back, look at the sight of the second terraformer circling around the moon, and generally enjoy life as you bask in the fruits of your hard and ardent work.
>Weeks upon weeks of earnest toil have led to this moment.
>Neither of you allows unpleasant thoughts or similar things to ruin this for you.
>And you grab your camera to make a few photos as you revel in the moment.
>The resulting pictures are perhaps not the most elegant of shots, but that is not of importance to #deca.mare and you.
>It is the spirit of the celebration that counts.
>As well as the fond memories afterwards.
>And you take your sweet time for it too.
>For you spend more than two hours on the command deck in this fashion.
>At first you simply follow the scene as you dine together and recall your best moments during the restoration of Sigma.
>The whole thing turns out to be a rather light-hearted conversation, all things considered.
>More dire topics like your near accident with the proxy or the cleaning of the halls are not forgotten of course, yet you do a pretty decent job at putting them aside for the time being.
>At one point in your conversation, you get the idea to let the computer play a song on the command deck to improve the mood even more.
>You deliberately pick a classical music number which you have heard one day in Sugarcube Corner when Octavia gave one of her famous local live performances.
>The soft cello sounds of a fairly slow, yet nevertheless somehow enlivening tune fill the hall around you.
>And for a reason you cannot point out, the melody invokes the image of a new dawn rolling over the grassy hills of Equestria.
>Serenity.
>Hope.
>New chances.
>All in one.
>You have no idea what the song is called and what it could be about.
>Or if it has any internal meaning to begin with.
>Judging from the way the grey mare has performed the piece, though, you assume your interpretation could be pretty solid.
>But regardless of the potential deeper artistic lore of the music, you notice that #deca.mare approves your pick with a happy smile.
>Mission accomplished.
>Then, a bit further into the song, you ask her out to a dance.
>Right here on the deck, in between the chair, the screen, and the myriad of consoles and instruments.




>She is initially somewhat hesitant as you make your offer, and you wager she may evaluate whether or not it would be inappropriate for the occasion.
>But eventually, you can convince her of the idea.
>After all, what the two of you do in this session is not meant to disrespect or cheapen the moment and Sigma's legacy.
>On the contrary, you are here today to celebrate life and, albeit admittedly limited, a rebirth of sorts.
>Contemplation and commemoration of the past are legit and important things, but this is better be done on the memorial grounds.
>Today, you do the opposite as you cherish the present and welcome the future.
>And so, you return to your well rehearsed dance routine.
>#deca.mare rears to wrap her forehooves around your shoulders, and you stabilise her body with your own arms.
>And then you slowly turn in a circle.
>Though unlike your waltz in Sugarcube Corner, you do not follow any rhythmic cues.
>Back then it was a neat aid to prevent #deca.mare from feeling surrounded and provided you with an easy method to give her a focus.
>But now, with only you two in attendance and nobody else around, simulated or otherwise, you can determine your flow together.
>So you simply dance how you like it best from moment to moment.
>Sometimes slower, sometimes faster.
>Sometimes you try to adapt your pace to the beeping of the consoles.
>Then you feel tempted to do the opposite.
>All that matters is that #deca.mare and you are content.
>Nay, not just content.
>Happy.
>Yes, this is it.
>To reach a happiness that goes beyond the mere highs of singular jovial events.
>And which manifests itself in a form of base line inner peace instead.
>It may in no way be perfect yet, but the first dark clouds have been lifted from the sky for good.
>And now the sunshine can start to warm the ground beneath once again.
>But like the seed on any good homestead, it needs a mindful caregiver to foster.
>Your work is far from done.
>Though it certainly has gotten a little lighter with this day.




120

>You do not do much else of note in space on the day you have finally declared your first reclamation project to be complete.
>You have, however, made some other plans.
>#deca.mare sets Sigma to circle the satellite independently, shortly before you two repair to one of Canterlot Castle's spacious banquet halls.
>She leaves a channel to the vessel open in case of an emergency, but except for this little detail, she wants to spend the rest of the day only with you.
>Undisturbed.
>This evening, you want to have something big for a change.
>The huge room reflects this perfectly.
>It is a long hall that almost rivals the vastness of Equestria's throne room.
>And like most of Canterlot, the structure is chiselled almost entirely out of white marble.
>Stout rounded pillars decorate the walls on both sides with perfect symmetry.
>The wide arches on the ceiling are painted with sceneries of eloquently stylised imagery of the realm.
>Each standing for one of the many towns, settlements, and landmarks in Equestria.
>Colourful stained glass windows are embedded into the mighty castle walls.
>Every one of them embodies a unique work of art in its own right, as they follow the tradition of the throne room and depict incisive moments of Equestria's history.
>Their inherent luminance, paired with the unobstructed mountain sunlight during the day, blankets the room in an intense, yet not piercing brilliance.
>As if the sun itself would inhabit the room to lovingly enlighten its denizens.
>And depending on who one asks, they might claim that this is precisely what is happening when the princess of the sun extends an invitation to a feast.
>A single long and sturdy table is placed in the middle of the room, spanning almost across its whole length.
>The table is covered by finely woven cloth from end to end, and an equally elaborate carpet is laid out underneath it as well.
>More than a dozen of fine seat cushions line the table on both sides, each with a set of dinnerware and cups placed right in front of them.
>Lastly, one gilded candleholder is placed on the middle line of the table after every third seat.
>As a symbol to honour an old tradition of the time when the three tribes became one.
>With one pony of each of the three sitting in every triplet of seats.
>A display of goodwill, companionship, and most importantly, like-minded unity.
>Similarly styled torch holders are set near the pillars to provide additional light during the night hours.
>And you enter this world of seemingly unreal beauty and striking affluence.
>#deca.mare and you arrive through the tall wooden double doors at one end of the room.
"Yep, that'll do."
>You clap your hands in anticipation.
"So, where do you want to sit? We got the full choice."
>"I would prefer some seats in the midsection."
"Aw, not the head?"
>"The head is usually reserved for the princesses. Not that we are bound by this rule, but that would not feel right to me."




>Looks like her aversion to being seen in the spotlight strikes again.
>Ah well.
>No more exercises today.
>Just a good show for the evening.
"Okay, next question. Side by side or face to face? One's better for looking, the other for hugging."
>"The latter, please. Though I doubt it is common practice to hug other guests during an official gathering."
"Even between lovers?"
>"We are technically not married yet, Anon."
>You shrug.
"Maybe on paper. But it's as good as done if you ask me."
>You smile.
"Or do you want to break up?"
>#deca.mare does not dignify that silly question with a spoken answer.
>All you get is a tail flick against your side, and your grin persists.
"Okay, got it. Midsection next to each other it is."
>Your gaze wanders across the deserted hall.
>It already looks great as it is.
>But without any traces of life, the display of a flourishing realm is just as pointless.
"Guests?"
>"I do not feel like going through another challenge today, Anon."
"I know. I meant just as decor to make the place appear more like the heart of a capital, you know? We don't have to interact with anybody if you don't want to."
>#deca.mare nods.
>"You are right. That would improve the scenery."
"Okay. I'll handle it."
>You assign a number of automatons to the simulation and load up a list of regular Canterlot ponies.
>You pick a few you find the most fitting and place them around the table.
>Since neither of you claims the seat at the head, you follow the common Equestrian habits and place Princess Celestia there.
>Her aide Raven is seated on the cushion to her right.
>And you further fill the lines with some of the better known nobles.
>Like Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis.
>Then followed by some dignitaries who represent other places outside Canterlot.
>So you pick ponies like Spitfire for Cloudsdale and Mayor Mare for Ponyville.
>Known and well regarded ponies who hold some sway over the communities they represent.
>And you try to order their seat arrangement in a diplomatic fashion wherever possible.
>Your aim is to have some of each tribe sitting close to the head of the table, but without disregarding common sense.
>Which is surprisingly helped by a sort of 'one pony of each tribe via candle triplet' approach.
>But you still have to heed some more details there.
>Similar to how you would not want to be separated from #deca.mare, so would you not split up Fancy and Fleur, for instance.
>Even when they are just generated by automatons.
>As a result, you devise a little trick in which you place the two in a strategic manner, so that a candleholder stands between them.
>This way you honour the diplomatic tradition and still keep them together.
>Likewise do you plan things out for the row in which you reserve two spots for #deca.mare and you.
>And here the choice is fairly simple too.




>#deca.mare is an Earth pony, you could technically qualify for the role of the Pegasus if you were to use your proxy, so the only logical choice is a Unicorn representative as your third in the round.
>Soon the table is fully staffed, barring only your pair of cushions.
>In the end, your seating system does not work one hundred percent in every case, as one cannot expect a constantly even distribution of guests hailing from all three tribes.
>But it does nevertheless serve as a solid point of reference that can help in smoothing the waves of the wild ocean called diplomacy.
>And although it may not be as necessary in the later days of Equestrian history, it still serves well to maintain a spirit of friendship in your opinion.
>You instruct the automatons to generate a somewhat formal and polite conversation between the ponies.
>Additionally, you set them to only interact with themselves, unless addressed directly by either #deca.mare or you.
>You keep the option available should either of you want to engage in a chat.
>This is entirely optional though, given that today you only plan to celebrate your successes, and to a limited degree also yourselves.
>Finally, all is set up.
>You replace your common clothes with a gala suit.
"Might also look the part when we do this, don't you think?"
>#deca.mare agrees and summons forth her old gala "inspired" dress.
>If one can call it that.
>The simplified white cloth design which sadly lacks any personal features.
>Or so you think at first.
>For as you inspect the dress a bit closer, you spot a small brooch pinned to its collar.
>It too is a simple design, featuring only one single embedded light stone which is held in place by a finely moulded frame of silver.
>But the stone also bears a single symbol.
>The eighteenth letter of the Greek alphabet.
>Finely worked into its substance as to not blemish its otherwise flawless surface.
>To a pair of eyes untrained in the craft of refining noble stones, it looks almost as if the sign itself was a natural part of the rock from the day it was made.
>A rather unusual way to keep memorabilia in your opinion.
>But if it helps #deca.mare to keep the sorrows at bay and have an unforgettable evening at the table, you will not say a thing against it.
>You motion her to pick one of the two remaining seats and smile politely.
"Mares first."
>She happily takes the first step, and you quickly follow suit.
>You wait until #deca.mare has chosen a seating before you occupy the other.
>The two of you are now surrounded by lively chatting ponies from all regions of Equestria.
>From the eastern to the western shores, and from both the northern and southern fringes.
>And you are right amongst them, willing to let yourself getting swayed by their great mood and celebration of life.
>But you do not stop there.
>For what is a banquet without a feast?
>You mentally assemble a selection of the best food you have eaten with #deca.mare, and fill the whole table with varieties of it.




>Presented and elegantly arranged on silver platters.
>The automatons fill their plates and occasionally take a bite, but generally still keep the conversation going.
>Again, you wait until #deca.mare has made her choice before you make your own.
>Then you look each other in the eyes.
"So. It's been a wild few months, huh?"
>"Hmhm. Though I would be lying if I said you made things easy for me."
>#deca.mare smiles, despite her seemingly criticising choice of words.
>But you know exactly what she alludes to.
>So you smile back.
"Well, I tried my best to make it as easy for you as possible. Would you say it was a good job?"
>"I would. Our projects have gone well and the restoration was a resounding success. Thanks to you."
"Eh, it was nothing, really."
>"Never make the mistake to think it was not much. You helped me to shape my future in ways I never thought to be possible. And our future. You are a man of history."
>You gently put a hand on #deca.mare's shoulder.
"I'll keep that in mind. But it doesn't feel like it. I'd rather stay just a normal guy for you."
>You smile.
"Didn't fall in love with you to become a picture on the pages of some historian's tome, you know?"
>And #deca.mare snickers lightly.
>"Well, now you are. At least in my eyes. Even when the wider universe is unaware of your deeds."
>Maybe for the better, as many would not approve of your choices.
>She pauses and nudges your side.
>"But you are of course still my dear Anon first and foremost."
"Heh, that's good to hear." 
>Your hand wanders over to the opposite shoulder.
"I'm happy it worked out for you. And us. That was the most important thing, and the only reason I needed."
>You smile some more.
"But it's going to improve the universe a few millennia down the road too, so even better. It's a good bonus in my book."
>#deca.mare has given your life a good cause to toil for, as she proves to you again and again.
>And to provide you with yet another convincing argument, she leans over to give you a kiss.
>"Not only your book. Believe me. And there are many more books still to come."
>You lean towards #deca.mare as well to meet her in the middle.
>And as you sit there, locked with each other, you feel tempted to add a personal little book of your own to the library.
>Patience, you tell yourself.
>You have hundreds of years ahead of you.
>It will happen in time.
>The ponies around you happily talk on and dine to their heart's content in spite of your unorthodox behaviour at an official Equestrian table.
>Another thought crosses your mind as you two part again.
"Funny you talk about the future. It's like I can positively feel the future right here."
>"In a way, we do. What we see here could very well become an actual meeting in Equestria one day. When exactly and under which circumstances, I cannot tell yet. But the chances are generally speaking very good."
>#deca.mare looks down on her brooch.




>"Sometimes though, I wish we could have saved more to take with us into the future."
"I know. Always remember though, we saved everything we could rescue of Sigma. Even if we had worked twice or thrice as hard, the result would be the same."
>She nods.
>"It must sound silly to you, but I wish we had the opportunity to invite Sigma to the celebration."
"No, that's not silly at all, #deca. Wanting to have your family around for great moments is all too understandable."
>You take a breath.
"And I like to think Sigma's with us in spirit."
>#deca.mare smiles, albeit weakly.
>"This is unfortunately not how data banks work, Anon."
"I still meant what I said."
>You point at the brooch.
"You don't wear that piece for nothing, after all. And it's not only for your personal wellbeing either. I wager you made it as a symbol to remember that a part of Sigma will never leave us for as long as we exist. Correct?"
>You peck her cheek again and smile reassuringly.
"And now tell me how this is different from being with us in spirit."
>"I suppose there is none."
"Anyway, I guess a dedication is in order regardless."
>You grab your cup and motion #deca.mare to take hers as well.
"To Sigma. To the network. Equestria. And us."
>#deca.mare's forehoof pans around to point at the entirety of the simulation.
>"To Sigma. And all of us."
>You clink your cups and simultaneously take a sip.
>The two of you put your cups back on the table afterwards.
>And you believe to spot a slight trace of melancholy in #deca.mare's eyes.
>Luckily, you are here to prescribe a remedy.
"Say, what would you say to some music to spruce up the gala?"
>She raises an eyebrow.
>"Octavia or Pinkie Pie style?"
>You shrug.
"Was more thinking of the former. But I go with whatever you prefer."
>"Sounds good. Pinkie Pie is perhaps too energetic for my tastes today."
>So you follow her wish and summon Octavia plus her gala band in tow.
>They materialise alongside a stage and their instruments, close to one of the long walls of the room.
>Within a matter of seconds, they begin to play a moderately paced, dignified tune which befits an official meeting of this significant level.
>And at first you think you should adapt the other ponies to interact with the band.
>But then you decide to leave it as it is.
>For you doubt that the dignitaries of a real banquet would interact much with the musicians either.
>At least for the duration of the festivities in which they are all congregated at the request of the princess.
>#deca.mare and you spend the next couple of minutes eating and chatting with each other.
>The heights of your spirits almost match that of the other guests.
>Eventually and gradually, you mutually begin to immerse yourselves into the simulation as if it were actually real.
>You start to talk about some of the ponies you have chosen for this occasion.
>Not with the intention to make fun of them or anything of this manner.




>You rather simply talk about your opinions on them, and with whom each of you might mix well in some situations.
>And with whom less so.
>A purely harmless, and informative conversation.
>As more time passes, the decreasing altitude of the sun tells you that you have already been here for hours.
>And the hall slowly but surely gets flooded in an increasingly warm aura of light as the onset of dusk is upon you.
>Soon it will be time to burn the big torches.
>Though you do not feel tired in any way.
>You could proceed to ruminate for at least a couple of hours more with #deca.mare.
>So you talk and talk.
>Some bite here, another sip there.
>You laugh and hug each other.
>You tell jokes and are simply grateful for being alive and together.
>You quietly thank fate and dumb random luck for being where you are.
>Another half an hour, and the shadows inside the hall are growing longer.
>A single thought of your mind, and the torches near the walls are set ablaze.
>Then you look at Princess Celestia at the head of the table.
>The large light mare has a lively discussion with her aide and the mayor of Ponyville.
>#deca.mare addresses you from the side.
>"Something is going on in your mind, is it not?"
"Yeah. You know, I thought maybe we should have her retire for the night, don't you think? Her realm is the day, and this one's almost over."
>"And then?"
"Then her sister has her time to shine. Poor Luna shouldn't feel like she's left out."
>#deca.mare leans her own body noticeably against yours.
>"Possible. But do you think she is comfortable in such a gathering? Her social skills are a tad out of date after her return, and she knows that due to the debacle on Nightmare Night."
>You shrug.
"Hey, you could learn to be around others too, didn't you? So can she."
>"Sounds plausi..."
>Her ears perk up.
>"Wait, that did not sound like a compliment."
>Oops.
"Uhm, maybe it wasn't the best choice of words. You know what I meant."
>#deca.mare feigns an offended tone.
>"Yes, yes. You meant you fell in love with a nightmare you needed to tame first."
>Yep, she is messing with you on purpose.
"Come on now."
>You crack a brief smile before you try to make an impression of a stoic face.
"You're acting like a foal. It doesn't suit your age."
>"Oh, and now you are saying that I am an old mare?"
>Okay, you play along and shrug.
"You'll be older than Luna when she's in that age."
>You try to maintain your facade for as long as possible.
>Now it remains to be seen who gives in first.
>Some seconds thereafter, both of you laugh out loud.
>You have no idea who of you started first, but you do not care either.
>You have your fun, so all is well.
>And while you two are busy with laughing together as if there is no tomorrow, the bright princess of the sun excuses herself from the table to depart for the night.
>Raven Inkwell leaves her seat as well, following the steps of Celestia.




>Once the two ponies have almost reached the doors, the sturdy portal opens itself as an unseen spell caster magically pushes it from the other side.
>Enter Princess Luna.
>One pony from the night guard stands with her in the corridor, serving the princess in the role of her aide for tonight.
>Celestia and Luna embrace each other in a brief cordial hug before the former leaves the banquet, and the latter takes her seat at the head.
>A rather hasty transfer to be sure, but more amiability would not be opportune in front of so many guests.
>As Luna slowly walks up to the seat, the present ponies all rise up to bow to the princess.
>#deca.mare and you do the same.
>Yet the band plays on as if nothing happened.
>Because they have no idea what is transpiring around them.
>In retrospect, you guess that you maybe should have told them to pause during the transfer.
>But now that Luna is almost at her cushion, you think you leave things as they are.
>Standing tall at her place, the princess of the night intently looks at the gathered crowd for a brief moment.
>Then she raises her forehoof into the air in a dramatic fashion and proclaims that the rejoicing shall be carried on.
>You can tell that Luna tries her damnedest to look sociable and delve into the mood.
>And while she is clearly not as trained in the art as her sister, she does a very good job in comparison to her first public appearance.
>Though you are not sure if the guard really had to accompany the princess in the full greyish blue panoply of his night division.
>Some might perceive such a decision as off-putting.
>But the ponies, not at all unsettled by the change or the heavily armoured guard, sit down and resume their festive conversations.
>And so do you.
"See? She can get much better. Just like you."
>#deca.mare grins in your direction.
>"And who do you think has improved more?"
"Are you seriously asking me to compare your merits to a simulated replica of Princess Luna? Personal bias aside, that's not a fair bar to set in the first place."
>#deca.mare shrugs and pecks your cheek.
>"It was worth a try."
>But then, only a few seconds later, she sighs and looks at her brooch again.
>Talk about rapid mood changes.
>"You know, I just had to distract myself."
"From?"
>"From thinking about the material we still need for rebuilding the hangar fleet for Sigma."
>You instantaneously whirl your body around and boop her muzzle.
"Nope. You know the rules. No talk about work tonight."
>"Right, sorry. But..."
"No buts, and no work."
>"...can you please give me a reason to return the favour?"
>You take a breath.
"Fine. And don't get me started on the resources for all the onboard units."
>Upon deliberately breaching your own rule, #deca.mare's light frown turns into a hopeful grin as her hoof touches your nose.
>"Again, I owe you something. You let me get away with too many things."




>Your other hand reaches to her risen hoof and holds it firmly.
"I know how you can repay me. Be happy."
>#deca.mare replies in a hushed voice.
>"I will try my best. For us both."
>And the gala banquet goes on under Luna's strong-willed and well-intentioned guidance.
>Until the candles are burned down beneath the dark skies of past midnight.
>Only then do you retreat into you own bedchamber.
>Though you hope not to find a sleeping Celestia there.
>That would throw a wrench into the plans you have for the rest of the night.




121

>You come back to your senses in a state of unusually severe grogginess.
>The sort of thing that you have rarely felt ever since #deca.mare has taken you in.
>And this is not one of those days after an extensive overuse of her systems either.
>That much you can still recall somehow.
>But as you awaken, you are slow and mentally confused.
>Your memories are only coming back at a snail's pace.
>And as you open your eyes, you only see... coat.
>Nothing but pony coat.
>You flog your stressed inner processors to analyse the situation.
>Soon you realise that you look at a point-blank sight of #deca.mare's barrel.
>And for some reason, she lies with her belly directly on your face.
>No, wait a second.
>The back of your head is not pressed into a mattress or any other surface.
>An astounding inherently logical conclusion in regard to a thing called gravity therefore dictates that you lie on her instead.
>For some reason beyond your understanding, you have dozed off face first on #deca.mare.
>And very unceremoniously at that.
>The two of you lie on your bed.
>Without any clothes or blankets around you as far as you can tell.
>Funny how that goes.
>You slightly move around and look to the right.
>A pair of cute teats greets you.
>Lovely to look at, and under other circumstances even better to fondle tenderly.
>But this is not what you need at the moment.
>You want some answers.
>So you try the other direction.
>That one works better, as you see the outline of #deca.mare's head through her forelegs.
"Hmpf. #deca?"
>#deca.mare angles her head to look your way before she answers your call.
>"Good morning, love. Feeling well?"
"I... ugh, have no idea. Blackout."
>"Hmhm. I thought so."
"What happened last night? Why was I out like a drunk?"
>"What do you remember?"
"We..."
>The gears in your mind clumsily move into action.
"... had a party in the castle. Celestia, Luna, some guests. Celebrated the success of our repairs."
>"Very good. And after that?"
"We left. To go to sleep, I think."
>#deca.mare giggles softly.
>"Hm, not quite. There was something in between."
"Uh, really? I thought we went straight up to bed."
>"That we did. But sleep came much later."
>Her voice tells you all you need to know.
>Oh, that could explain some things.
>But it also poses a bunch of new questions.
>Like, how the hell did you forget some intimate time with #deca.mare?
>And why were you so dishevelled that you passed out on her stomach?
>That should be impossible.
>"I can answer that, Anon."
"Oh? You can?"
>"Hmhm."
"Then please tell me."
>"You see, after we have celebrated for more than five hours in the banquet hall, we left in high spirits and were very, well, 'motivated'. And not at all tired yet."
>You rub your temples.
"I get it. Bees and flowers."
>You pause and shake your head.




>But you notice that all you are doing is rubbing your chin against her coat.
"Something's gone wrong on the way to the honey though. Somewhere. Somehow."
>#deca.mare laughs.
>"An interesting choice of words."
"Why?"
>"Because a certain sort of liquid agent was indeed involved."
>You blink at that.
>Your trail of thoughts has gone off the rails again.
>Too many cobwebs yet in the way.
"Can you elaborate?"
>"I am talking about an aphrodisiac."
"Wait, you drugged me?"
>"No, you wanted it yourself. And you drank it on your own terms."
"But why? I thought we weren't tired."
>"Indeed. And neither did we need it for the first round."
"The first round."
>So there were more.
>"Yes, Anon. Neither of us felt quite ready to stop at that point."
>And to keep it going, she has given you the right spiked drink.
"That knocked me out then?"
>"Eventually, yes. After a few portions."
>A few?
>Good Heavens.
"And you knew that would happen."
>"I... expected it. The cumulative dosage itself was potent, yet harmless for your health in the long run."
"Why didn't you warn me?"
>"But I did. You wanted to anyway."
>Too bad you have no recollection of it.
>"Oh, you do."
"Uh? I know what I remember and what I don't."
>#deca.mare's forehoof caresses your cheek.
>"No worries, it should come back in a few minutes."
>Well, that is at least something.
>It would be embarrassing if you had the wildest night ever with #deca.mare, and lost all memories of it directly after the deed.
>You exhale loudly.
"I'm surprised you didn't stop me though. You're usually not keen on me downing shots at all."
>On the other hand, she asked you to do so once on the beach.
>But that was only one flask, and not more.
>"I told you I made sure that your safety was guaranteed. And the rest, well..."
>#deca.mare coughs coyly.
>"You were very, ahem, assertive last night. And would you count on a mare like me to refuse when my partner offers me to have a good time?"
>Obviously not.
>Yet you are confused that she did not melt into thin air during "the second round" or onwards, being the lightweight that she is.
>And again, she snickers.
>"You were not the only one who... enhanced the own stamina."
>Ah.
>So she simulated similar effects on her body.
>Yet as you can see right now, she recovered much quicker.
>It should not surprise you, given that there was no physical body involved in her case.
>Whereas your brain has to deal with the aftermath of the ordeal on its own.
>Still, you like to think that #deca.mare was nevertheless swept away by it too, at least in the moment.
>Otherwise she would probably not have gone so far.
>You go on mumbling.
"Suppose you don't have a pick-me-up against the stupor?"
>"Anon, I advise against the usage of one chemical agent to counteract the aftermath of another. You are better off like this."
>Figures.




>You let your head sink onto her belly again whilst #deca.mare's hoof proceeds to caringly tend to your cheek.
"Whatever you say."
>"Trust me, the numbness will fade very quickly. I give it, say, half an hour."
"You can predict that?"
>"Fairly certain."
>Somehow you know she cracks a smile, even though your eyes are mostly covered by #deca.mare's coat again.
>"My experiences with you have given me a lot of evidence to base this projection on."
>Your body disagrees with her assessment, but your mind tends to believe her.
"Of course."
>"Just relax and focus on retrieving your memories. I suggest we stay here until the effects have worn off."
>Alright.
>Looks like you have some more spare time before you get up.
>Your cheek keeps nudging her barrel, and #deca.mare shows no signs of protest.
>But except for this rather light treatment of her coat, you hold still and follow #deca.mare's suggestion.
>You let the fragments of your memory play out before your eyes.
>And like #deca.mare has promised, your recollections grow a little with every new attempt.
>Even some of the more spicy parts return to your active memory.
>Piece by piece, you begin to remember vividly.
"Oh boy. We didn't hold back, did we?"
>"We did not."
>A short laughter.
>"And that is part of what makes it so special."
>Well, a special night for the finale of an extraordinary party indeed.
>So as you progressively retrace your actions, you come to agree with the assessment of your earlier you from yesterday.
>It was worth the negligible hassle you have to go through.
>In a weird way, you even see it as an advantage.
>For you get the opportunity to relive the night a second time.
>On the flipside though, it also turns you on again.
>Despite not being in the shape to do anything of that sort this morning.
>Still, your mind looks for an outlet anyway.
>And in a spontaneous rush of light arousal, you subconsciously decide to slide your head towards #deca.mare's rear legs.
>She of course notices this in the blink of an eye.
>"Anon?"
>The pitch in her voice has risen lightly.
>You know very well why she gets nervous, and that your decision is somewhat brash.
>But you cannot help yourself.
>You gently nestle one side of your face to a certain pair of supple "pillows".
>Which promptly makes #deca.mare gasp and jolt her rear legs up high in the air.
>However, these were only instinctual reflexes.
>She restrains herself from bouncing you off her lap.
>Even though she might be strongly tempted to if she does not want to get riled up again as well.
>For you, her touchy reaction paired with the tender sensation passes as a comfortable outlet for your own urges.
>#deca.mare, on the other hand, is only dragged further into her personal fantasies and desires by it.
>"Anon, could you... perhaps relocate your... head to a different... resting place?"
"Sorry. Way too many memories of last night."




>This is clearly not the answer #deca.mare wanted to hear.
>And you notice her attempts to keep her breath and heartbeat even.
>For whilst you are convinced that she could go for another dance already, she too must be aware that you are not.
>Which puts her in a slightly more inconvenient situation.
>And although you could not resist the allure to use her soft teats as a pillow, deliberately irritating #deca.mare is the last thing you want to do.
>Maybe you can try to distract her with something else though.
>With closed eyes and your mind partially absent, you raise your voice.
"Say, what's on the plan today?"
>#deca.mare struggles with her mating thoughts and tries to concentrate on your question instead.
>You assume she understands that you have thrown this remark her way to give her an opportunity.
>And she seizes it to the best of her abilities.
>"Mostly... material organisation and... refinement. We have... fifty ships to build in the next days."
>Right, the fleet for Sigma.
>And for what is certainly the first time in your life, you associate a fleet of several dozen fighter-class vessels with the intimacies of your love life.
>By sheer dumb coincidence of the situation, but still.
>"I have taken the... liberty to go ahead and... put some raw material on standby."
>Hold on, already?
>You wanted to start with that phase this morning.
>After the breakfast.
>And with all the images that consistently flood your mind, you are absolutely sure that she has organised nothing last night.
"How long was I out?"
>#deca.mare clears her throat in between two brief gasps.
>"Measured by Equestrian time, we... have almost noon."
>Oh, crap.
>You overslept hard.
>"Do not... fret, Anon. I do not... blame you for sleeping so long."
"When do we start?"
>"After... we got up?"
>Sounds fair.
>Though that means you will skip your breakfast for once.
>Well, special circumstances with exceptions and all that.
>Things will certainly normalise once you get back to work today.
>But the festival and the longer-than-usual night was a hiatus you both needed.
>Plus, this little setback of yours seems to have no impact on your schedule, given that #deca.mare has dealt with the preparations while you were busy snoring into her barrel.
>Heh, at least you did not slide down there during the night.
>Then she would have either not slept at all, or dropped you off within a minute or so.
>Either way, you expand the topic and let her list all the things she has prepared so far.
>That gives her more aid to keep herself together, whilst you can enjoy your pillow and still distract yourself a little bit with her reports.
>#deca.mare and you spend a good bit of the following thirty minutes like this.
>In a constant flux between primal arousal and objective planning.
>Eventually, you start notice that you are more aware of your faculties, and that the haze within your mind is lifting like the morning mist at dawn.
>Her projection was correct in the end.




>And so you slowly raise your head once more, and release #deca.mare from your less than subtle teasing.
>She exhales a sigh of relief as her unconventional mental endurance training ends.
>You slowly bring yourself to sit upright in the bed, looking at the door.
>Then you turn your attention to the sprawling mare next to you.
"You're fine?"
>"I... will. Give me a moment."
>You nod, give her a small peck on the muzzle, and get up.
>Shortly thereafter, you smile as you recall another thing you have thought of yesterday.
"You know, you need to build up a better tolerance level down there."
>#deca.mare laughs briefly between heavy breaths.
>"Easier said than done."
>She pauses to point at your hips.
>"And I could claim the same about you. You are not really sturdy 'down there' either."
>Indeed.
>A fact that her hooves used to tease you with on a few occasions as well.
>You shrug.
"True. Though I'm not supposed to nurse foals."
>You maintain a faint smile.
"Something you should keep in mind if you want some of your own one day."
>"You are thinking about this a lot recently."
>You shrug a second time.
"Just an observation. Though I guess thoughts like that come after a while of being a couple, don't you think?"
>At least after you have realised that the option is theoretically possible.
>Via a certain detour, but still.
>"Hm, maybe? Outside of fictions and reports, we two are the first couple I ever had the pleasure to experience first hoof, Anon. That does not exactly make me an expert in these matters."
"Yeah, I know."
>Your smile grows a little more.
"But we only need to consult ourselves anyway. There's nobody else around to ask or compare us with."
>"Fair point. Though it is as I have said. This will take much more time. I am... not ready to go this far yet."
>And considering her heightened susceptibility to physical contact, that is no understatement either.
"No problem."
>Your grin goes in for strike three, however.
"But tell me if you need my help with some 'endurance training'.
>She looks at you with a dubious glace.
>"You have just recovered from the last night and already ask for more?"
"Hm, what can I say? It's fun to think about."
>And very likely even more fun to put into practice, yet you keep that thought to yourself.
>"Hah. If you only would have been so keen on our first visit to the spa."
"Different situation. We barely knew each other back then."
>"Nevertheless, it is always amusing to see the change in your attitude."
"Less amusing than trying the thing itself though."
>A short pause from both of you.
>#deca.mare, sensing her chance to change the course of the conversation, rolls herself around and slowly stands up.
>"Now, before we muse further about foals and the making of those, let us get back to more pressing matters, shall we? As much as I enjoyed the last night with you, we have a fleet to build first."
>A swift change of topics, yet a valid one.




>Your original daily schedule has already been toppled by your aphrodisiac-induced coma, and you do not want to be the cause of even more delays.
>And even though it would not matter in the grand scheme of things if the fleet takes a day or two longer to be completed, both of you prefer it to be done sooner rather than later if possible.
>Sigma's hangar does not fill itself, after all.
>So you stretch yourself, complete your usual morning routines in a highly abridged manner, and join #deca.mare on her way to the command deck.
>Fifty ships may not replace a foal, but they are in some ways a vital step in the right direction either way.
>Engineering time it is again then.
>And you are ready.




122

>Apart from your discussion about your possible future family life, the rest of the day passes mostly like a regular one.
>The two of you are more than busy with organising and adequately distributing incoming resources.
>As well as dealing with several layers of production management on top of that.
>For the list of components you require to build both the onboard units and the second fleet is long.
>Sigma's main functions are temporarily maintained by a bare skeleton crew of automatons, originally derived from the stock you have on board your mother ship.
>A makeshift crutch solution at best that technically allows Sigma to operate as intended, yet which is very far away from the achievable optimum.
>So you have to produce more units to fill the ranks on the second vessel and to replenish the numbers that you have donated from your reserves.
>The logistical units are less of an obstacle, since they are comparatively simple to create even without a dock.
>As #deca.mare has demonstrated to you when she let you assemble some yourself.
>But the fighters require much more finesse.
>From the mere metal hull to the onboard computers.
>From the engines to the jumpdrives.
>From the tools, the shield generators, and to the weapons.
>You have to produce them all from the ground up.
>This time around, however, things are paradoxically somewhat more complex.
>One might think that the much smaller scale of the fighters means less work.
>And in the total span of time required for the production, that might even be correct.
>In reality though, the situation is not quite as simple as it first seems to be.
>For instance, you cannot rely on a more or less intact remnant shell as a base to work on, as it was the case with Sigma.
>Plus, back then you could focus on one vital system at a time to repair.
>Whilst the scans had revealed what components your infrastructure could already produce on its own in the meantime when you were in the process of implementing other spare parts.
>Which was in some ways a luxury that is barred to you now.
>No, for this project you have to establish several dedicated production chains, each with unique material requirements and timetables for every single related item.
>Which then usually leads to two or three more chains in turn.
>Not to mention the procurement of even more raw material, though that is thankfully mostly handled by the automatons themselves.
>But it is up to you to optimally arrange all these factors in such a way as to not create any unnecessary phases of downtime.
>On top that, the two of you have to make do with the confines of only two capital ships and a station.
>Under normal circumstances, most of these items would be produced in batches by specialised factory complexes.
>But since you have none of those factories, and only require a handful of each type which do not warrant setting up an array for mass production, you must make do with the general purpose facilities you have at your disposal.




>While they are marvels of versatility and able to produce everything you need, you only have a limited number of at hand.
>Even with the combined space of two ships plus the additional capacity of the dock and the infrastructure on the moon, the process is an arduous one to keep track of for you.
>You understand what #deca.mare meant when she said that replacement fighters can in theory be made with ease, and that its complexity solely stems from the limited resources you have on board.
>Fortunately though, she is easily able to keep track of everything after you have worked out a fitting schedule.
>Whilst you help out here and there where it seems appropriate, or where you can learn some new things on your own.
>And with you two together in a room, you find your own methods and ways to stave off monotony and boredom.
>At some point in your collaborative work, you even get the idea to write your own version of "Rules of Rarity".
>But whereas Rarity complained about factory like work in lines and rhymes, #deca.mare and you rephrase it into a song about the exact opposite.
>As you strive to continuously produce the same goods at the best possible quality for the sake of Sigma and Equestria.
>You even considered to call the song "Rules of Irony", at least before #deca.mare suggests to name your creation "Rules of Quantity" instead.
>Which is just as fine for you.
>And so you two start to sing and come up with suitable lyrics as you keep working.
>Hours go by, and the number of individual pieces and processes that you have to manage swiftly range in the thousands.
>But you are never discouraged by the scale of your work, or the sheer effort you need to put into it.
>The Rules of Quantity reign supreme, and with them also flourishes your progress.
>Within only a few days, your steadfast management rewards you with four complete sets of components, ready for assembly.
>#deca.mare and you then share the honour as you construct the final vessels together.
>Singing, of course.
>And after that is done as well, you stare at the four new ships in their assigned hangar bays, and gleam with satisfaction.
>Then you celebrate each new vessel in a mini party with a glass of simulated liquor and a few moments of relaxation.
>But in contrast to your big party after the successful re-launch of Sigma, you do not indulge in more excessive ceremonies.
>Later on, often even on the same day, you go on with your project in order to build the next handful of fighters.
>Followed by another series of small parties.
>Rinse and repeat, albeit not in a negative manner.
>On the contrary, you even find some fun in it thanks to #deca.mare's presence and your creative outbursts during your production work.
>She even jokes at one point that your behaviour to break into song is already almost on a par with the singing habits of ponies.
>Though she hastens to recommend some additional chanting lessons when you have the time.




>A rather backhanded compliment indeed, but one you can live with, all things considered.
>After all, there is nothing wrong with singing and drawing power and inspiration from it.
>It improves your work performance and you have fun while you learn something about the finer arts of engineering.
>Personal win on all levels as far as you are concerned.
>And yet, even in the face of your tight construction and production plans, you always find the time to have some leisure activities with #deca.mare in the evening hours of your days.
>Again, time flies like crazy.
>The days go by as if they were mere moments, and not a single one of them feels wasted.
>You can witness every new achievement that you earned with your own eyes, fully knowing that everything you see on the screen or through some lenses is indeed reality.
>#deca.mare and you are moving things along, driven both by the distant vision of attaining Equestria, and the sheer power of your affection for one another.
>You set yourselves goals and challenges, and push each other in little sportsmanlike contests where winning becomes secondary to improving yourselves over and over.
>Until one day, less than two weeks after your start, you have fifty new vessels under your proverbial wing.
>Forty-five fully equipped and operational fighter-class ships, and five heavily armoured mobile depots for material transport.
>Plus a second swarm of logistical units to optimally staff #deca.sigma.
>The second terraformer is now fully functional.
>And theoretically able to do everything that the two of you can do.
>But given certain obvious circumstances outside your control, Sigma remains dependant on your orders.
>The segments that once hosted and advanced intelligence remain unpleasantly vacant, with the exception of only a handful of fragments.
>So a thought crosses your mind.
>What if you give Harmony the clearance to use some parts of the free capacities in Sigma's cores as temporary spare space and additional processing power in case of an unexpected shortage on the surface?
>When the vessel orbits either the planet or its satellite most of the time, why not use its power to support Equestria's learning entity?
>It would only be used sparingly and in unplanned hiccup scenarios of course, as Harmony is meant to be hosted entirely on Equestria under ideal circumstances, but one may never know.
>Also, Sigma's remnants would remain unaffected and safely preserved, as they only occupy a miniscule percentage of what they used to require.
>Provided #deca.mare agrees, of course.
>While she is hesitant on a purely emotional level, understandably so in your eyes, she reluctantly agrees to your proposal.
>However, she insists on the condition that the two of you only take this step when both of you confirm it.
>A minor caveat, all things considered, as you usually come to an agreement fairly quickly.




>Still, it is the legacy of her relative with which you are dealing here, so it is only apt when #deca.mare sets the conditions on how it is used.
>And for such a heavy personal involvement, these are pretty fair in your opinion.
>Eventually, you conclude this phase of your project as you ship the onboard units over to Sigma and let the newly built fleet dock in the hangar.
>You have another bigger celebration party afterwards.
>Not quite as luxurious and fancy as your Canterlot feast, but still somewhat larger in scale than the mere glass to sip from after finishing a singular ship.
>Once more, your spirits are high.
>And with your increasing happiness and levity, so grows the list of allied assets under your command.
>The two of you have gone a long way.
>You started out with one capital ship and limited resources.
>Now you have doubled that number, founded a space station, and claimed a system with a potentially fertile planet plus moon.
>You like those improvements.
>Harmony is on the rise.




123

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