Author's Note

Well, this took four years, but I've finally done it. Editing, re-reads, more editing, and a couple of more re-reads, but I was able to something out of this. Apologies for the long wait, ladies and gentlemen.

I hope this'll satisfy your sci-fi and fictional cravings for a day or so until the next chapter is out. Progress on it is on and off, given other projects on Fanficiton.net. Until then, have a glorious day in the service of our species.

Hail Science!

First Contact

A mountain is composed of tiny grains of earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water. Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches, and thoughts. And the consequences whether good or bad of even the least of them are far-reaching.

-Swami Sivananda

January 19, 2583

TAN Corvette Dupleix.

Alliance Military Standard Time: 0700

3 hours until arrival.

Space is an eternal realm of beauty and wonderment.

That was the many thoughts coursing through the minds of millions of sapient beings that looked up from their home world's skies, looking at the complex beauty of art that surrounded their planet. As their societies slowly advance, evolving themselves to fully understand how their universe works, they couldn't stop gazing up. The void outside the heavens tempted them to explore the outside of their cradle as their knowledge expanded all corners of their race.

The same thing happened to mine and yours alone. Humanity, an age-old species that have experienced many challenges in its history, a history marred with conflict. Ever since that man had learned to pick up a rock or made a spear for hunting, they fought against each other. The bloodshed poured over the lands of the Earth as they fought against each other for thousands of years.

Yet, when they stop and look up to the stars, staring up to the heavens themselves. Prayed to their ancient gods to safeguard them to the afterlife when they passed on from the plane of the living, to live among the stars themselves.

As humanly progressed throughout its history, it ravenous hunger to go forward towards the darkness, drove mankind ever closer to its ultimate destiny to achieve what they had always desired: to fully conquer the final frontier.

Many cultures formed, sprinting the development of civilizations that would nurture and grow humanity to its rightful destiny.

As Humanity's population exploded across the vast cradle of their home as civilizations rise and fall from war, so does their understanding. As they advanced themselves to help quell their nature from destroying themselves, but as always, the wars brew in man's hearts, craving for bloodshed on a never-ending scale.

Gone were the swords and lances as humanity use firearms and cannons. Gone were the horses came the tanks and planes on the battlefield, changing the entire concept of what is war itself. But always with humanity in warfare, they also crafted and forged beautiful creations that could make even the gods themselves to breathe in awe. The many monuments they had built to represent many of their beloved past glories and achievements. They are many that wanted to stop the bloodshed from continuing, even if they've to spill more blood to stop it.

As the world rage in war once again, Mankind split the atom, creating the weapon to use against their enemies. But as the bombs dropped from its carrier, destroying the cities to end the Second World War, humanity cried out in horror, knowing of the device capabilities that would destroy the world.

But instead of the victorious nation that had molded the weapon to conquer others, instead, they help rebuild with its allies, help to shape the world they knew, but economic ideologies exacerbate relations between two great nations, forcing them to enter a state of cold war between each other. Aiming their weapons of mass destruction at each other, they competed against each other to outdo the other, eventually bringing about the era known as the ‘Space Race’, after one of them launch a satellite into the heavens, effectively establishing Humanity status to bring their kind to the stars.

This curiously drove them to new heights. By the year of nineteen sixty-nine, they finally did it. One of them finally put a man on the moon. As the three men looked out in their spacecraft, gasping at the beauty of the stars that will forever be imprinted in their minds for their entire lives until their deaths. The wild beauty of stars glistened above them as they place their first tentative steps on their greatest achievement.

Mankind has done the impossible in their long blooded history of war and discovery: Landing on the Moon. The billions on the cradle were glued to their television screens as they watched their fellow humans, regardless of their nationality or loyalty to any nation, placed the flag of the stars and stripes that marks humanity's dominance on another celestial body.

As the years go by, Humanity progresses; nations fall, some rising from the ashes of the old, seeking to strive themselves to greatness. As Humanity resources began to stretch to the blinking point as numerous bushfire wars erupted; countries fought over the lands that hold the resources for them to survive.

The United Nations, the only uniting force to stop the bloodshed, attempted to enact its powers by its members to contain the violence that is slowly spreading across the world they called home. In twenty sixty-five, the world holds its breath as the most powerful nations were about to clash for the last ounces of the ‘Black Gold' beneath them.

But they did not. Instead of searing themselves in nuclear fire, they decided for peace with the announcement of the creation of an Antimatter reactor. The Holy Grail of limitless energy that’ll soon help humanity survived the darkness of space above them.

The people of every nation rejoiced at the grant discovery as their fears of an all-out nuclear war was soon put to rest, reaping the rewards of limitless energy.

Yet, it was far from a peaceful progress. The numerous nations on the planet that did not receive the benefits of antimatter tech rebelled against the UN as the remaining fossil fuels run out, but were quickly conquered by the technological and economic powerhouses of Europe, Asia, North and South America. As the world quickly reformed in the four collective groups that would soon help progress humanity to the stars, expanding out in the dark abyss to stake their claim.

After two decades of staking out their claim in their home system, Humanity soon colonized the newly-terraformed worlds of Mars and Venus, the worlds of red desert and an ocean of volcanoes soon give away to forests and oceans, spurting with life.

Millions of people from all nationals of their cradle, their home, migrate to make a fresh start on the colonies, bringing in a new age of peace and prosperity to Humanity. Yet, as the new decade began, problems soon arose over the availability of living space in the Sol System. With the increasing life span of the average person, and with the ever-increasing human population reaching near-critical, resulting in the world governments to impede population control laws to keep the populace in check, and pour billions into research of Faster-than-light travel.

But by the accidental discovery from the research of anti-matter had finally led the astonishing discovery of the FTL Drive; humanity was finally able to secure its place in the universe itself. So, humanity set forth, constructing the first colony ships in the industrial shipyards above Earth, Mars, and Venus, sending forth legions of ships, colonizing many planets and stars. They were united, for the first time in their bloodied history, by a government that represented all of humanity in its finest hour of need.

Humanity has always been a paranoid species, whether for better or worse, that mindset still follows them through the colonization era. With increased fears of the unknown, the Alliance had conceived several contingency plans, defining them…

“Ma’am.” A voice, almost grating, like the crunch of gravel, called out, interrupting her reading. A shadowy form cast down over her datapad, once reflected by its silver surface from the liquescent light above it. She shut it off by her index finger, placing it down as she glanced up. The man above her took up a seat on the other side of the table, placing his arms on the table, with one of his hands carrying a mug, possibly carrying some caffeine drink by the sizzle of gas from it.

Annoy at the adjourning of her reading, she set down her datapad onto the silver table and locked her eyes with the unknown male's own, his blistering in the light. Noticing the patch on the sides of his uniform, highlighting his rank, she replied.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Her voice, though quieter than his, answered through the hollow, stale filtered air of the commons room. The contralto of her voice peered through the old soldier, crisp, cultured, yet strictly professional.

The room they are currently settled in was the local cafeteria of the Hahash-class corvette, a decommission class of ships that were once used during the early days of humanity carving their place in the galaxy. Though known as one of fastest ships ever created and well-maneuver to outperform any ship in the Alliance Navy, but due to its small size, it cannot take on a lightly-armed frigate or a heavily-armed Cruiser, quickly losing their purpose as a rapid-reaction force, but serve well as a defense force for minor colonies that could barely protect themselves from pirates after the closing days of the Insurrection War.

Alliance Intelligence, while serving more advanced ships for operations and such, found the decommission class to be the perfect ship for their operatives, giving the ship’s reputation of being another exemplary way of smuggling goods and other illegal vices any sapient creature could get, and its small size-about four hundred twenty meters-could slip away into and out to of any detection grids if equip with a stealth drive.

Yet, the Corvette gilded through the blackness of space, its engines bare amongst the tiny sparks of light among the darkness showed how far Humankind had come in the galaxy, but itcame with the shocking discovery of other lifeforms, a life that held an eerie familiarly.

The discovery of other humans not affiliated with the Alliance has shaken the upper echelons of the government to its core, including the president and most of the chiefs of staff. Dozens of theories from many top researchers, scientists, and biologists across the Alliance sprang up overnight as they tried to solve how there are different humans on another world instead of Earth.

Theories were argued; fromextraterrestrial uplifting when humanity was still fighting with sticks and stones, but it was contested amongst many academics who were called upon, given the state of the alien's technology pace. Some had brought the mere thought of experimentation to the debate; aliens who came and extracted DNA from earlier man, not wanting to submit itself to a wasteful invasion of a primitive world, to create a cloned workforce of the targeted species, but as with the problems of the first theory, it was contested by many.

One scientist conjectured it was simply parallel evolution, that humanity itself had evolved entirely on another planet along with another sapient species to coexist with, given the similar conditions between both worlds. The reaction to it resulted in raucous laughter and stringing insults that merely prompted the spieler to disconnect in shame.

Despite the traumatic horrors of the Insurrection he had experienced, the President has ordered the modernization of five of the Alliance fleets, numbered in the hundreds, to bolster the frontier colonies nearest to the recently-discovered system that contained the Equine homeworld. While the public response to the fleets that have long anchored to the core worlds would see the action yet another system purge of criminals hidden in some star system, regardless of the numbers used. But for those living on the frontier, it was seen as a change of pace in their repetitive cycle of incising a life on rustic worlds and the man and women in the uniform stationed on outposts see as an opportunity to honor their commitment.

As the result of the general modernization of most of the fleets and the impending media circus that would likely raise many questions as to why, the President has ordered a diplomatic corps to travel to the Equine homeworld, and speak to their leaders of convincing them of emancipating their slaves without firing a single shot.

The President, while angered at the atrocities of the Equines committed to the ‘lost humans', knew that, despite the predicted support of the public once the government decided to reveal the recordings, his administration would surely draw fire from many of his opponents in the Senate, hoping to use the situation as an opportunity to draw support for their own interests, causing acute political upheaval that would probably cause political infighting, stalling the Alliance to react

The Ambassador he had chosen for this mission was Sarah Williams, daughter of General Bastion Williams of the Alliance Fifth Army charged with subduing the Insurrection on New Tehran during the Twin Pocket offensive. Given her twenty-two years of experience in the corps and her pragmatic, but pacifist views had landed her this assignment, along with a skilled detachment of marines, to travel to the recently, discovered black water system and have an audience with the talking, colorful ponies.

At first, she thought it was some kind of an early April fool's joke sent by her good old friend, David. But after seeing the haptic photos on her holo-tool, she knew this ‘normal' assignment wasn't some trip to mediated with pirate warlords who had carved their little empires out in the farthest reaches of space, or stopping some holdouts of the insurrection from blowing up colony worlds to support their fanatical pablum, this was going either going to Humanity's greatest event in history, or Humanity first interstellar war with an alien species.

The Second Lieutenant, while his nuance was relaxed on the surface, slurping away at his coffee, was frustrated beyond belief in the past couple of days. First, dealing with the recent fight between Jenkins and Liz over something about some sports they were obsessed with, sending one down to the infirmary and one to the brig for insubordination. Second were the orders he had received from command to guard the woman across the table from him to traverse unknown space to some system that had drawn the attention of the Alliance.

‘Fucking colorful, talking ponies from some kid's show. I can't fucking believe this.’He had, along with the rest of his unit, been debrief about the source of the stirring in the upper echelons of the Alliance that had been swimming around back at his old post, but seeing the haptic photographs of those creatures running around on an undeveloped world was something he had never expected in his thirty-five years in the Marine Corps.

“Yes, ma’am, I was sent here by the AI, Jenny. She had asked me to come to find you and inform that we’ll be in the Equis system in three hours.” The Ambassador furrowed her eyebrows, mentality inquiring.

“And why is that, Lieutenant?” She tapped her holo-tool, its golden hue reflecting off her velvet uniform. Her hands manipulating the controls, tapping away as she brought up the comms to the AI.

"Jenny, this is Ambassador Williams. Would you like to explain why you've interrupted my leisure time by sending----"

“Nathan Striker, Ma’am.” The soldier on the opposite side of the table answered, indulging more of his coffee.

"…Mister Nathan Striker instead of just calling me." A scowl appeared on her face as the haptic interface gleamed absently, no reply coming from the AI on the other line, her right hand rubbing the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

Then, a slight, suited buzz chimed from her holo-tool, a cheerful voice buzzing through the inpatient air.

“So sorry for the delay, Miss Williams, I was tediously rebooting several of the systems that needed to be updated, and run some calculations on the translator programs for the cute, fuzzy inhabitants of the planet we’re heading.”

"But that doesn't explain why you sent a marine instead of calling me." The Ambassador retorted. The AI on the other end was silenced before the young voice chirped again.

“Miss Williams, please. My information and cognitive matrix can only take so much. That, and dealing with Engineer Adams with the engine calibrations when we made drydock with the closest outpost that had a port.”

Sarah nearly rubbed her nose yet again in agitation, her patience over the flippant AI stretching to the near breaking point.

“And besides, Skyrim remix version 5.5 is so awesome. No wonder my creators think this is kick-” The high chirped voice of the AI was suddenly cut off as the ambassador shut off the comm unit, had enough of the frivolous AI.

‘Why do I always have to pull up with this bullshit?’ She rubbed her hands as she shut off her holo-tool, wanting to forget what transpired a few seconds ago. She looked up from her hands and stare at the grinning lieutenant, being ostracized from the topic at hand. The woman observes the man in front of her, not taking account of what he looks like the first time.

A long, harsh scar bisected across his craggy face. His sapphire eyes scintillate amid the stale lights above them, speaking volumes of experience and history to her. His voice was melodious, yet gutturally crisp in his vocals. The old soldier's neck was marred and dotted with scars from the last war. His muscles on his exposed arms were taut, consequence from the rigors of marine training during his early days. The man exuded athletic grace, the epitome of the perfect human physique.

“I’m so sorry for this whole mess and wasting your time, Lieutenant. If I have known if this ship had installed one of those AIs, I’d had ordered the captain to restrict her programming.” She licked her lips, hoping she chose the right words as she awaited the marine’s answer.

The marine waved it off. “Nothing to worry, ma’am. The AI may be an Insolent SOB, but she has a kind h... err...matrix for us, marines. You will get used to it." He leaned against the table, setting his two taut muscles on the cold silver table. Cerulean eyes glanced down, staring at the datapad near the hand of Miss Williams.

"What is it you are reading there, Ambassador?" The woman's eyes looked down the same as the old soldier did earlier. The data pad's screen blacked by minutes of unused. Its silver coating still gleaming from earlier.

Williams picks the datapad up with her manicured hands, twirling it slowly to its front, displaying it to show the old marine. The black screen flickered, reflecting the orange hue on his craggy face. Lifting his hand to take the datapad, His eyes skimmed down, cognizing the words as he read, his fingers dancing across the lone scroll as his eyes peered at the words giving to him.

“The brief history of Humanity and the Alliance by Dustin Williams,” Nathan reiterated, scrolling up towards the top to read the title, his left eye quirked upwards as he stared back at the ambassador.

Williams' lips shape into a wry smile. "That's my son school report for his history class from last week. Thought I'd like to bring something to remind me of home." Her smile wavers as the lieutenant give the datapad back, rotated it around to her front.

Her delicate fingers traced on the pad as she scrolled down, her meticulous eyes reading the last few paragraphs of her son's school work, her mind being quickly assaulted by memories of his young life before her very eyes.

How his impeccable eyes pierced through her harden shell. His ear to ear smiles every time he gets a treat for his good grades, his sobering cries when his perfect world shattered beyond repair. The chirping laughter booming across the halls in their home as he played.

Her mouth breathed out a sigh, eyes blinked and swirled upwards, her eyes peering at the old Marine.

They talked for a few minutes. The interests of both began to spill from the words; philosophy, Nathan being more engross in Confucianism while she herself was in Late Antiquity; the current state of affairs of their fair nation, debating the finer points of how should the colonies should govern themselves under the auspices of the Alliance, economic reform on worlds they currently knew of; the events they've experienced, the worlds they visited, meeting others with different viewports they accepted and rejected. The Conversion soon became more intricate, more complex as they drive deeper into what makes them human, regardless of their rank and origin.

But the topics they have been discussing soon brought up feelings she had encased for years, the brittle cage of emotions she kept down in her subconscious. Each break in her shell crumbled as she spent time with the old soldier, listening to his stories of how he became a marine, how he bested against some exotic breast while on tour, and how he nearly died during the siege of Scarlet Five when an Oni almost wipe out his entire platoon.

She let out a laugh as he explained one of his many hijinks with his men, describing the planks he and his friends’ proclivity of annoying their superiors and enjoying the full vigor of youthful life. Yet, the stories left a string of sadness in her soul. Something that throughout her years as a stoic representative of her government she had kept from unleashing upon her.

She sighed as he began one another of his stories. Sarah raised her well-manicured hand to stop him from continuing, the happiness in his voice dying down, confusion reigning over his eyes.

“You can leave, Lieutenant. Apologies for the rudeness, I'd like to be alone right now." Nathan, despite the raised eyebrows and about to question why he needlessly compile when her eyes implored him. After watching the old war dog finally leave, seeing the metallic doors separated, parting him to the hallway, she relaxed her stance, letting out yet another breath.

Slouching in her seat, her hands danced on the datapad, replacing the scholarly report from her son on the screen with an oil painting of three people. The background was a canopy of cerulean sky, fleece by creamy clouds that hovered above countless trees, their withering leaves dancing around them as they blew off in the distance. Standing near the middle of them, closest to the right, stood Sarah. The woman was dotted in a beautifully crafted dress. Threaded and tailored by talented makers who dedicate their entire lives of mastering and honing the old skill. The grandiose outfit stood out, glossing from the setting horizon overhead, creating a vivid canopy of colors.

Below her was a young boy, clad in an elegant brown suit, stood in front of her. His smile gleaming in the light, his stance was ramrod straight. Hands and arms clearly folded along his lower torso, betraying the epitome of the guidance set out by his parents.

And lastly, standing beside her, was a grizzled looking man. Beseeched by scars lining down his face all the way to his square jaw, the man was dressed in a ceremonial uniform. Metals emblazoned on his uniform, each one a testament to courage, valor, and duty. A firm smile marred his claim lips. His left hand folded the same way his counterpart below him did. His composure was calm, orderly, and almost impeccable in its form.

A fist was clenched as Sarah's eyes peered down at the old photo, memories flashing through her mind. She recalled the choral laughs she shared with old friends, familiar faces before her ascension to ambassadorship; the days that have gone by where she was jubilant about the life ahead, the amicable moments with her, and the vehemence share with her husband in the bedroom of their estate on Earth.

Breathing out another sigh, she killed power to the pad. Activating her Holo-tool, dialing away with her left fingers as she contacted the captain.

A deep, baritone voice barked forward through the speakers.

"Yes, Ambassador. Is there something you need?" The deep tone of voice was grating, yet light.

"Captain," She raised up from her seat, still clutching the pad in her hand. "I need a list of my personal guard who are to accompany me to open dialogue with the aliens. And a meeting with the president in the comm room. I need to go over the specifics of our mission."

She strides towards the automatic door, her holo-tool shone as the captain answered.

“Yes, madam ambassador. I’ll get on the horn with Central Command, but it may take longer, given our position near a pulsar star that is slowly making our connection to Earth very difficult.” The link went dead as the captain finished; the automatic silver doors splitting open.

She glanced at each side, her eyes tracing the utilitarian details of the hallways. The hallway was lit up by lights several meters apart, showering tiny sprouts of it on the metallic floor. Her feet turned right towards the comm room, parting her way as she dodged several of the crew members and service bots that maintained the ship. She turns right towards a corridor, striding through the hallway in her gait. The thudding in her heart increased as she reaches her destination.

Her holo-tool chimed, her lips whispered a quick thank you to the captain.

She slowed her breathing, purging her anxious mind as she prepared herself. The doors in front of her side open, allowing her to past. The room wasn’t large, not surprising for a ship its size. The communication device sat near the center on a raised plinth, haptic screens were mounted all around it, displaying trillions of data lines, codes, and the constant beeping of updates.

Near the plinth stood a table, barred with nothing, its silver coating glossing from the haptic lighting, and a single chair, also coated with the same hue as it furniture counterpart. With her lips parting out a last breath of assurance, she activated her holo-tool. The comm device chirped, a blood-color dot blinking as she inputs the address to call, queuing it up.

“White, Alex. POTTA, Capital building, Terra.”

Cold lighting flickered in front of her, molting into a digitized humanoid form before finally taking shape. Solid blue eyes peered downwards, a ghost of a smile tugged at the lips of its face.

“Miss Williams, it’s good to finally contact you. I assume you’ve arrived at your destination?” The President clasp both his hands behind his back, waiting for her answer.

She straightens her posture in her seat a little. "No, mister president, I've not. There have been no interruptions on our trip for the past twenty-four hours, except for the occasional pulsar storms that had ravaged our sensors."

The man nodded, but burrow his eyebrows. Removing one of his hands, he scratched the little stubble that adores on his chin. "I see, then." He rubs his chin a little, then continues. "Well, I assume this call is not related to your mission, is it?"

She exhaled, air gushing from her lips, setting down the pad on the table.

She lay it out for him.

“No, sir. It’s more about the risks.”

***

The fifteenth day of Frost, Age of Sorrows.

Canterlot, Equestria.

It was cold, very cold.

The frosty air stringed her fur as she inhaled the fumes of her tea, tasting the scalding liquid as its heavenly scent washed over her. Her alabaster wings flapping before setting down, feeling the needle-cut of the wailing wind as it wafted by. Another slurp of her tea brought temporary elation to her frustrated mind. Swollen clouds swelled above her, slowing boiling up to, carpeting her home with crystal-white stars. Her forehooves were safely ensconced beneath her warm coat. The comfortable seating that was set up for morning tea by her slave was perfect: clean, gloom and no speck of dust flickered from it.

Her eyes darted towards him. The young, vibrant man stood still near the entrance to her room, feet ramrod straight. The slave was cladded in layers of tight, warm clothing, each one covering parts of his body, showing off the thick sinews of his muscles. His arms were kept to his sides, waiting for his mistress's orders.

Indulging another slip, she called out to him.

“Lucifer, would you please sit. I don’t want my lover to freeze to death in that dreaded outfit.”

He merely complied, his equestrian-made boots crunching against the soft snow. Squaring his shoulders, He crouched down on the pillow, his mistress making room for him. Exhaling condensed breaths, he relaxes as he sits down, feeling the comfortable touch of the improvised seat.

The fluttering of wings gushed chilly air in his face, feeling the soft, angelic touch of his mistress as she wraps around him, heat flush against his skin. He slides his hands down to his legs, the freezing surface stringing calloused flesh.

His mistress brushes up against him, her forehooves unfolding under her as she set one on his lap, his taut and gnarled face slightly relaxed from her touch.

"Relaxed, my dear lover." She whispers, nearly a sound of purring in her contralto. She leans her head on his shoulder, feeling the hammering heart in his chest thumping. He stirred, hands raising up to meet her hoof. Rough and rigid skin brushing against lavish fur.

Lucifer exhaled twice, muttering under his breath as he relaxes with his mate. His hand slithers across his leg, before rubbing against his mistress’s hoof.

"Your sister's stars were beautiful last night, Celestia." His voice was light and stained, almost guttural. His hand linking with her hoof. Fumbling with his other hand on the pillow to get a better position, he glances towards her. His blood eyes brimming amongst the vivid canopy of dark clouds.

Celestia lookup. "Yes, my sister had sculpted a very elegant night yesterday," She paused, taking yet another sip of her tea. Setting it down on the porcelain plate, she pressed on. "Though I do wonder why she wasn't at the Winter Solace."

"Probably didn't want to deal with those tit-sucking bastards that want to emblazon their glories on her, the same way they did to you." Lucifer cursed, rarely for a slave to spout profanely in front of their owner would seem unspeakable to commoners, but extremely disrespectful to nobles, which usually results in death by hanging.

Instead, his mistress just chuckles under her sizzling breath, letting out that majestic laughter of his mate ringing in his ears. Sliding it around her, he placed his right arm around her swan neck, her trimmed fur brushing against his covered skin. Recognizing the familiar form of intimacy, she deepens her hold on him.

Celestia closed her eyes, letting the warmness of her mate's body heat dilute her troubled mind. The sensations of his raging breath in her ears eased her tired soul. Blood pumped through her veins as her body work to warm her body against the dreaded cold.

But she didn’t need the warmth. Pressing her body more against him, she rested her head against his shoulder, forgetting her morning tea as she stared out into the city. Her magenta eyes trailing the spawning lights that made her home gleamed with beauty.

Her eyes trail down towards the crafted city. Memories flashed before her: the cheering laughs of her subjects, the diligent industrious hammer blows from craftsmen and artisans, inventing and weaving through the spark of innovation in their hearts, the sweet and sizzling aroma of dishes and sweets permeating the air around the stores, and the laughter of fillies and colts.

Oh, how she missed those times that marked her life, the epoch of harmony.

But it all change. The sweet voices of her subjects were long gone, replaced by the sin indulgences of life itself. Her subjects still venerate her, but hidden under that mercurial mask was fear: fear of her power. They had listened to the legends and tales of her godly power: the telling stories of how she tore the arch of the sky to defeat countless armies with her horn coursing with golden fire, marking the fields with ichor. The defeat of her insane sister during the bloody coup that almost cost her the throne. The war with the Griffin Empire that ended in a stalemate, leaving both sides with deeply embittered hate and jaundiced faces eyeing each other across the great prodigious ocean that divides them.

Her mind pounce on the memories she wished could forget; the slithering and deceiving laugh of her uncle, his lanky fingers trailing down her neck as he teases her and Luna during the decisive battle between them. The quelling of remaining rebellious ponies who wish to return to the old ways of government, their screams and cries for mercy as they were pulled to the sword sometimes stalk her dreams.

Life is a cruel mistress. She had thought that, after taking the throne and restoring order to the fledgling nation, that peace would finally settle, allowing her subjects to put behind the senseless killing, the cold-harden pragmatism that bloomed during the frigid winters of sorrow long ago.

“I forgive you.”

Reeling from her thoughts, Celestia’s eyes glanced towards her slave, eyebrows arching.

“Excuse me?” He lifted his hand away from her hoof, only reaching and bending upwards to cup her pristine cheek.

"Do you remember when we first made love? The day that you barged into your room, I remember the soft, angelic eyes of yours dripping liquid, redness puffed around the edges." His rough, growl voice turn soft, sympathy, and neutral.

His jaw tightened, but Celestia did not speak, only listening.

“I remember when you called for me, seeing you for the first time in a weakened form. Your words washing over me as you beg for me to hook my hands around your neck, supplicating to end your immortal life of sin.” His tone was now somber, quietness filling his voice.

Celestia clenches her eyes, blocking the coming flood of emotions bursting forth. She remembered that terrible day: recalling the cries and screams of the slave being castrated for rebelling and killing his owner. She watched as he screams when he was dropped, the creaking rope knots creaked tightly against the beaten skin of his neck.

But what disturbed her the most was that his screams were not out of fear or mercy, but shouts of defiance; words that croaked from his mouth as he was fallen, wincing as his mouth still gurgled when his neck crack. She left the courtyard after that, obstructing the roaring cheers from knave nobles and most of the family of the victim.

She remembered the sound of her heavy hoof falls drowning out the wet pats of tears on the elegant carpet, ignoring the passing servants and polishing furniture that had long lost its appeal to her. Death, in all of its terrible deeds, was the many listed she did not fear, giving her long life. But to mortals, it was something that was taken seriously to the deeply religious and the frightened ones that kept it opaque to enjoy their little ignorance in front of them.

Her memoirs were flaunted with melancholy and poignant, something that her mind pushed back with relentless effort. But it wasn't easy; never was for an immortal alicorn. Snapping out of her deep reverie, she watched her lover continued.

"I kissed you, instead. Silencing your siren cries as you finally indulge what you've forgotten."

He swallowed deeply, the lump that stuck in his throat giving way.

"I felt your hoof against mine as you bade me to your bed, to feel the touch of another being for so long. To forget the troubles that had haunted you, to heal what you've lost, and enjoyed the pleasures of a mortal man." His hand drifted up behind her back, moving upwards along his mate's fur, feeling the burning surface of it, despite the declining temperature.

“When your blissful lips touched upon mine once again, your hooves wrapping around my body as you dive deeper into my mouth. You begged and cried in my ear as I made love to your voluptuous body, feeling the sweet excesses of your flesh.” His eyes turned towards her, his body gentile twisted around, languidly, not want to disrupt his mate’s position on the pillow.

Rubbing one of his thumbs on her face, the soft, lanky hair stood up from his touch. The outlines of a smile quirk from her lips, her eyes drooping slightly at the surprising softness of her mate’s hands. Her breathing slow, feeling the barrel-chest of her body rising and falling gently.

“What are you trying to say, love?” Her eyes hardened, but the human in front of her did not cave. His eyes continued to stare, his hands still caressing her face. Glancing down, breaking the stare between them.

"You and I've lost so much, so much to the dark. My hands wrapped around your body as we laid in your bed, tracing the scars on your back from a past long forgotten. I witnessed things that would break a being in many ways. My soul is stained with the blood of many that I've fallen by my blade and hand."

He still looked down, his cold hands still on her, whether out of cowardice or penitence.

"But unlike you, my dear, sweet angel, you're no different than me. You've endured as much I've done, facing death himself many times while your people shroud you into a myth of invincibility. You fought against the lord of chaos, yet your people place you on a false pedestal of godhood as they did to him.”

Lucifer made a sparse gesture to the heavens with his head, his eyes looming over darken clouds, then back to Celestia. "I woke every night to see you thrashed in my arms, whimpering above me, your tears gushing onto me. I've listened to your pleas, your calls for forgivingness, the inevitable sound of your shattered mind torn me up even more so."

His fingers lightly pinch the skin of his lover, but not enough to cause pain. Crimson eyes borne upwards, pupils harden and angry. A flow of magma pumped through his veins, his teeth clenched in his mouth.

“I watched as they used you. Standing idly by as they throw their venomous words at you, their insipid mouths threatening you with abdication,” His tone soon turn even harder, wet with fury. “They indulge themselves with their wealth while you suffer from their writ, drowning themselves in their decadence. They used you to achieve their goals, allowing your people to languish.”

His hands trembled, feeling the glisten, heartbreaking tears of his lover, the wet coldness barely having an effect on his skin. He felt a lump form in his throat, almost making it harder to rasp out the words. His hands put back from her ruffled coat, appendages still soaked in her secretions.

Swallowing the blockage in his throat, He gushes out a shaky breath.

“I say these words not because I hate you, but simply I missed the old you. The fire in your eyes, the cadence of your laughter in my ears, and the impeccable smile that marred your lips.” His hands grab hold of Celestia’s, gripping them firmly.

The weather above them still hasn't changed. The sullen clouds still swirled, insipid patches of white clung to the dark beast, snowflakes cascade down, blanketing Lucifer's hackle in white. Shaking his head, he allowed them to pummel. Tantalizing her hoofs-each move ponderous- he comforts her, allowing the old alicorn to further sink in the words.

Smelling the moist air, further relaxing his taut muscles, he continued, his voice still quivered with sadness.

"This is why I forgave you long ago. You're like me, my brothers and sisters, chained, only to be abused by those who denied your rule. I've long forgiven those that were slain by my hand in the ring, my love. Celestia…Tia, it wasn't your fault."

Those words finally broke her. A new batch of tears trickles down her white marvel face, tiny whines erupting from her snout, piercing the cold air. Celestia's hooves tighten around his flesh, her body shaking. Realizing of the expected emotions on her countenance, Lucifer, once again, removed one of his hands, cupping her chin with his index finger and thumb, rubbing away the soaked hair from melted snow. Purpose providing him with new strength, his lips made contact with hers, the alluring perfume of her fur faring in his nostrils, permeating his senses. A moan rumbled in his lover's throat as she reeled back, allowing Lucifer's tongue to prowl deeper. Celestia moans, the sweetness and ravenous skill of his mouth never seem to lose its virility.

But the human stopped, the moaning dying in both of their mouths. Lucifer's lips parted with hers, leaving behind a thin, silver line of drool and saliva. His voice, barely a wisp in the air, drew the first words.

“I love you.”

Whatever Celestia was going to say soon die in her throat. Both heads turned upwards to the blotched canopy, her pointy ears flinch up in the air. A thunderous, thrashing roar vibrated the air, strangling the calmness that permeated the morning. It soon became a shriek, a thunderous, ravenous sound that appeared out of nowhere.

Then the clouds began to turn on themselves. Wisps of thick cloud cover slowly receded, their colors changing from a depression gray to sun-yellow. The rumbling still continued, but both the human and alicorn couldn't pinpoint the direction where it's coming from. The breeze from before soon die and changed direction, lashing out against Celestia's translucent hair, stopping its own individual breeze.

Until they saw it.

It appeared out as a small dot, merely obstructed by the turbulent weather. Its form growing larger and more noticeable as it strides closer. Its coal-brown skin was akin to an earth dragon from the west. Ember light spews forth from behind, casting its monstrous, perpetual roar.

Celestia stood in shock, watching the hulking beast inch closer to her home, her ears ringed from the constant wailing of the creature. Her caution eyes scrutinize at the peculiar object, not noticing the crack of knuckles beside her.

The object spat once more then took a drive below. Her heart began to beat tremulous, fearing that it may have crashed into her home. Frantic eyes darted down, scanning for the eluting metallic creature, or any signs of where it had gone to.

Celestia's head swayed back and forth between her lover and the balcony, her eyes signaling for him to come. Feeling the all familiar flow of her blood pumping through her veins, the signs of adrenaline and the familiar itch of trouble. A flush of warm air drowns both of them as Lucifer opens the entrance to her room, slabs of muscle showing in his hands as he gripped the handle.

"We've to alert the guard." Celestia finally found her voice, breaking the cold and stillness of the air. Her lover in front didn't reply but stood close as he opened the entrance to the stairway. Passing by the two guards on sides of the elegant doorway, fumbling in their armor as he strode by, their eyes projecting fear at the strong human, merely watched as heavy footfalls pounded the marble floor.

He turns his head back, the bronze surface of his skin ripped, ablaze by the flickering torches hanging above. Blood eyes pierced the lid veil, watching as his lover seeped past him towards the stone steps, guarded eyes never leaving.

Tiny clips of hooves echo throughout as each takes a step on the stone. The patience of both hung on a thread; their flight down the stairs, unlike the many treks, felt longer than usual. The ripple in the air was slightly wreathed with tension, each keeping their claim façade as they descend further down, heartbeats pounding frantically. Their hectic gait soon turned into a full gallop, feet and hoof making tiny trumps each time when hitting the stone steps when shouts began emanating from the very end of the stairs, vocals bouncing off in different directions.

They finally reach the bottom, the creaking of stone finally coming to a halt. In front of them was the foyer that connected to the rest of the Castile. Emblazoned with the mark of the sun on its ancient surface, it was soon garlanded with a golden hue. Gears of a forgotten age began to grind and churn once again as the door opened, moving at a slow pace.

Scatters of light broke through the tiny crack openings, bathing both alicorn and human in the radiance of its pureness, making the tiny spots of darkness around them crawl away in fear. They both waited until the door finally open, both of its sides impacting against the stonework, allowing the couple to enter, her human slave hugging close the entire time.

When they take their first steps on the creamy purple color of the rug, their eyes set on something that they rarely see in the castle.

Chaos.

Rows upon rows of soldiers, their armor reflected off in directions by lumen electric lights, phalanxes of ponies were in pristine formation while trotting down the yawning hallway. Invectives and orders roaring from their captains, some leading up front; others near the rear, curses being thrown around in the heating air. Some armored Pegasus flew through hurriedly

"What in the . . ." Celestia's voice die in her throat when one of the captains spotted them, charcoal eyes spotted amongst the shouts and the banging of hoofs on the stone floor. Stepping out of his position he approached the wide-eyed princess and blooming human, who obscured himself away from the open.

The captain bow in respect, the insistent thumping of hoof falls still echoing the hall, and spoke, action dripping in his voice with tidbits of exhaustion underneath.

"Your Highness. One of our patrols has spotted an unidentified object approaching the city. We've postulated that it was the approaching Griffin delegation until they reported back that is wasn't." The young captain's eyes strayed towards the moving column of guards then back to the princess and continued.

"Our patrols weren't able to intercept it, but we have tracked it near the north courtyard."

Celestia looks back to her slave, who shy away from the open. Despite the benign treatment he has received from the princess and her servants, usually under a strict caveat by herself, the rough man still had a hard time dealing with ponies, especially those with slaves under their hooves, and his arduous past.

Celestia then asks, voice regal and elegant. "Is there any activity from the ship when landing, captain. I'm worried about how my people will react." She flaps her angelic wings in irritation, causing the humble air around them to be thrown about. The curve of lips lowered deeper than ever.

The captain replies. "No, ma'am. It hasn't responded since it touched down. The city guard has already closed it off from civilians. They've already set up a cordon around it and are awaiting instructions."

The princess nodded, and the captain scurried away back to his unit, his armor molding in the morass of bodies. It never stops, just a sea of ponies performing their duty to the crown. The constant staccato of hooves on marble floor was music to Celestia the first time she heard it, but now it spills dread, a rotten musical cord that sings out only destruction.

“Should we go, my mistress?”

She didn't notice him next to her. Always the gentle step, given his size. Lucifer steps up, his clothing shining in the light, both hands clasping each other in the front. The man scans the room, making sure there were no threats as the last of the royal guard left, their metal chorus still leaving traces of their song in the air.

Sighing yet again for the umpteenth time, she trotted towards the opposite direction, her slave in toll. Passing by boggled servants that knead and whisper her name in reverence, she ignored it, her mind more spending on dealing with one of the biggest headaches she’d had to deal first.

And she hopes that they'll listen to her this time.

January 20, 2583

Thunderstrike Dropship Mark V (Old Hickory)

Alliance military standard time: 0639

The scraping of something solid violated the tranquil silence of the ship.

The dropship rumbled as it ploughed through the atmosphere. Temperatures rose in the hundreds as the shuttle fought reentry, it cold-gray armor turn scalding-hot. Tongues of trailing flames draw across the frame of its metal form, fighting what it sees as a never-ending stalemate.

But it soon ended. The ship reaches towards a more tolerant level, its fire coated skin now cooling, the fires long died out by the tumultuous winds. The dropship glide through the clouds, piercing and descending towards the surface.

James could see it all.

The titanium knife felt light in his hand. Twirling it slightly, flesh touching metal. It was a dedicated skill, something he and many others in this profession take for granted. He flung it upwards in the air before catching it, and repeat the motions again.

He looked around, eyes hidden under the helmet he had worn so many times in his service, watching his teammates indulged in their usual habits. The knife flipped.

The ship rumbled again, adjusting itself yet again. The knife was nearly let loose on his fingertips but was able to catch it in time. A hot sear of pain erupted from his hand, the serrated edge of the falling knife buried thinly into his thumb. He stares at the wound, eyes narrowing; it would heal, regardless of the advanced nanobots pumping into his system. He wiped what left of the blood on the surface, the carved flesh quickly re-knitting itself together.

Done with his little game, he dragged his attention towards the other members who’ve boarded with him on this important mission.

At the far right, near the doorway towards the cockpit was the old Sergeant, Cortez. An old wolf born before the insurrection had spurt up in the colonies. His black armor gleaming against the lights above, both of his arms clasping each other in front, making sure there was no disturbance. He was mean, bellicose on the battlefield, a mere frantic, but has a tendency to show compassion to his squad mates and a devotion to the Marines than anybody on this boat.

Next to him was Corporal Jim “Jimmy” Johnson. Situated between the standing statue of the weathered wolf and one of the snipers, currently scrubbing the long-barreled rifle in his hand with a rag, his fingers danced across the colored keyboard of his holo-tool, his eyes focused.

There were several of the Marines he didn’t quite recognize, soldiers handpicked from across Alliance Space for their experience and reputation. Some came from the prosperous inner worlds; others from the flung frontier outposts, inhabiting death worlds that could scar a man's soul and come back from a tour of duty a different person. But unlike many of them, James was born to a simple farming colony.

A titter of laughter drove his attention. Caning his helmeted head towards the source of the gleeful voice that had broken the quagmire of tension and apprehensive. Once his eyes were set, his mood went sour, the two burning orbs behind his helmet rolling in annoyance as he discovered the identity of the giggle.

Slouching against her seat, gun facing upwards and resting against the fine leather, sat a being that spells trouble for anyone under the sight of her weapon. Known to be eccentric to the point of instantly, a perverted mouth that spills out invectives that make even sailors blush in embarrassment, and a skilled sniper that could pop a tiny bird two kilometers away, the woman would be either a grateful ally on the battlefield or a screaming banshee that could rain death upon her enemies.

She giggles again.

“So, I say ‘Bitch, if you don’t back off from my man this instant, I’m gonna shove my rifle right up your ass and twist it until you shit blood all over my new rifle and the goddamn floor.’” The female marine chortle, her hands motioning all over as she retells one of her tales to another Marine seating next to her.

“Then what happened, Kate?” The curious teammate asks.

Kate nodded, waving away a piece of the growing tresses from her hair.

“She just stood there, eyes wide and mouth gaping; like she just took a fucking dick in the mouth. I had this big smirk all over my face, thinking that I show her place, and maybe she leaves my boyfriend alone." She blinked twice in rapid succession before coughing up another laugh.

"And then she punches me, right here on my cheek," Kate emphasized by making a fist and pointing it at her face, the chubby skin reeling back from the pressure.

She continued. “Everything after that was a bit blurry for me, but I do remember a few things, though; insulting my virally, a few tables and bottles being thrown or broken, strong hands putting me away." She releases the pressure from her face and scratches her forehead, plucking out more information from the maelstrom mess of her mind.

She drew up another one of her smiles. “Then when morning came, I awoke with a shitty headache in some shit stain apartment. I turn my head to see my big, cuddly teddy bear curl up all against my side, his face showing that cutesy expression I always love. But before I even got up to take a piss, I felt something else tangling in the bed with us.”

Kate grasps her armor chest with both of her arms and started to chuckle, releasing the side of her that could not be encumbered nor stop.

“It was that bitch from the damn fight; sleeping right there, her damn hands clinging my bloody arm and my left tiddy. That goddamn face she made almost want me to sucker punch the shit out of her.” She cursed the words out like honey. The ship around them rattled, causing her body to slightly vibrate.

"What happens after that?" The incredulous marine quip, the mark of surprise still posting on her face.

But the storyteller didn’t end her story. She simply laid back languidly against her seat, one of her lanky legs kicking off into the air. Arms flex and bend around the woman’s head, the stillness in her bones getting to her.

"Simply put, I went back to sleep. I didn't feel like kicking her out of the bed because of that fucking headache, and wasn't in the mood for some mere seconds." Her lips pulsed, fingers clapping against hair. She looks pleased, almost content, and looked out towards the rest of the group, the lights above giving her hair a shimmering appearance.

James' head hurled back, eyes escaping the gaze of the woman across from him, not wanting to be like the last guy who got caught peeping in onto one of her ‘conversations'. The dropship buckled yet again, and a buzzing voice spoke out from the intercom.

“This is call-sign, Echo Raptor, approaching LZ in five minutes. Visual contact of target city in a few seconds.”

That what spurt them. Gone were the leisurely and the playfulness that tarried around them. The snap clicks of ammo being slotted in. Energy weapons energize, the quiet startup of energy barriers mesh with the mush of flesh striking against armor. The pragmatic side of themselves took hold, lashing out against the thought that would harm them or poison the mission.

The dropship adjusts itself as it stopped descending, particles of clouds still sticking to its metal skin. The hole it left behind was soon patched by another layer of cloud, insouciant of being torn apart, simply being moved by the winds. The pilot depolarizes the cockpit windows, allowing, for the first time, to see an unspoiled world.

Rows upon rows of snow met his eyes. Snowflakes blowing through as the storm didn't relent, hitting the windshield of the ship, but was swept away. Hands on the controls, he guided the ship towards its destination, unhurried. Though the snowstorm is thick, he could see through his helmet, offering no difficulty without using the autopilot to carry him and the others.

The snow flaked out, but more kept coming. The hum of its engines spitting out blue flames, painting itself into a bright light on a coated canvas, but it was shrouded by the rancorous sound it gave; to any on the ground that heard its roar, it'd have been a dragon, searching for a prey to consume or its greed pumping purpose of gathering riches for its hoard.

The target city appears over the horizon. Splendid towers dotted across his vision. They stood tall, lumbering over their marginal ones below. One stands out peculiarly, its spire pole almost reaching the surface of the storm, its sublime gold leaf covering throwing off the embers of flames that surround it. The pilot's hands shifted his craft, gliding towards anywhere that could provide his beloved bird to land.

His left eye quickly inspects the radar at the bottom right of his helmet's interface. During the briefing, he was warned about the other species of the planet's inhabitants, the ones that could cognize flight with wings. Whether or not this was natural evolution giving the universe the finger or some fail primeval attempt by some psyker ponies of creating a sub-slave species to bow to their vacuous whelms, but the latter was his own theory to explain the different breed of pony on this world.

The ship steer onwards, finally entering the quiescent city. Shadows gnawed and rear back from the burning thrusters, sizzling lamb lights concurring an imagined path for the aviator. He slows the craft down, preparing for landing. He taps a few holographic buttons, the incessant humming ebbing down. He opens up the comm, informing his armed passengers that they're about to land. Getting confirmation from the old wolf, steel vocals mixed with the soft palate of Spanish, and the scratching sound of static, going through, the AI in orbit notify him of an idea target site near one what appears to be a castle.

She transmits the coordinates, voice full of vigor and cheeriness, telling them to stay safe and kick ass. The pilot broke a smile at that. Hands again moving off in a frenzy, setting the final preparations.

The ship's engines grouse once more, and turned, passing by another environ made of stone and thronged with shatter trees. The air around boiled, the coldness that once permeated now retreated. The thrusters diddle away its energies, propelling onwards.

The ship slowly reached its mark, stopping mid-air. Passing by grand alabaster battements cordoning around the largest stone structure, wrought in gold and cannons. Forward and afterburners balancing it for a safe and secure landing.

A flash of a notification covers his hub. Radar picking tangos all around, dots of ocean-blue washing across his swampy face. His features scrunched up in concentration, alarmed at this new development.

“This is Echo Raptor to Bravo team. Unidentified tangos closing on the landing site. Be on alert and be safe." He issued the caveat, which was soon buzzing with confirmations. The dots drew ever closer, some merging into one, obfuscated by one another. He quickly turned on the ship’s defenses. Even though the delegation was supposed to be not belligerent in order to secure first contact, the military had forewarned the use of weapons to prevent breakouts of hostile intent from the natives.

The ship continued its descent until it made contact with the ground. Both fore and aft burners still burn brightly, skinning away the layer of frost. The dying ember of green began to mold into coal black, the thrusters spiking the air with its scalding presence. Then the engines cool, once a thunderous machine of untold power, a war cry to its enemies, now felt silence. The snowfall continued unabated, the engines of the ship being cooled by the swinging crystal shards.

The marine company stood still, waiting as the hatch buckled smoothly, opening the crew to the alien elements of the world. Bits of snow seeped through, some landing on Cortez’s armor and some of the soldiers in the front. The comm was silent, except for the heavy breathing by some, but it did not distract them from what is in front of them.

They moved in sync, radio chatter silent. The neutral networks plugged into their brains sending the newest of information, the clutch of steeled boots onto snow stuck across like a jackhammer. The storm above never relent, snowflakes piled onto their armor before quickly melted, heated liquid running off before joining their frosted brethren.

James steadies himself before them, harden hands squeezing around his weapon, fingers ready, combat stims pumping into his blood. Nerves went off in his head before his training kicked in. The formation stopped as soon their feet laid their first print onto this new world, the place of unknowns and beings that have only witnessed nothing more than the truth of the universe being blown across them.

They all amassed around their landing zone, below and above. An army of shiny gold on the ground and watery blue in the air contrast greatly against the black ore of their armor. The standoff felt like it lasted an eternity, the whir of the dropship engines played well with the ongoing storm, now gaining momentum in its latest stage.

He looked towards the others around him, any change in their posture. Despite the change of not seeing their facial reactions behind the armor, their body language they showcased tell a different story. The winds around them buster passed between the two groups, two people of different circumstances. Two nations with vast cultural and social trenches that they could barely comprehend one another. The man had seen what they can do from the briefing; the power to wean matter around them without complex machinery, the unspoken brutally against his own kind he didn't know existed weeks ago. It haunted his dreams and distilled his nightmares. He had read of the atrocities on some of the contested worlds during the insurrection by the enemy and, regretfully, some of his own in the corp.

All the training, the situations and war games during boot camp he partook didn't prepare him for this, but dammit, he was going to give it his best to show what he was capable of. As James drown himself in self-doubt, he didn't notice the ambassador stepping off from the dropship, her suit a light blue from the others. Her gait was elegant, calm, it spoke of years of experience on her part, unfazed by the waning situation. The footsteps she makes are quite, pressing down the snow beneath her, the ubiquitous crunching sound it made chimed off.

She approaches the Sergeant, standing beside two other marines keeping watch, his dark, blue eyes behind his helmet peering off in the mass of aliens in front. His grim hands holding his weapon oppressively, augment appendages crushing down on the metal.

“Are you ready, Sergeant?" She asked. She finally stops her gait, taking her place next to him. Not knowing if the aliens were to discover if they were human, it was decided that only direct conversation will be by radio. And when it came time to converse with whatever representative these aliens would show, it was best to conceive of what they are, railing on the chance that their incentives would boon the chance of peace.

The man's guttural voice came through, his Spanish accent marking each word. "We're are, ma'am, but giving the little problem…." He waved his free hand across towards the armed alien horde in front. "The situation is still tense. So, unless we want this whole thing turned into a clusterfuck of fuck up proportions with horns stabbing our asses, I suggest we hold our ground here and wait until they make a move."

She chuckles wryly at his cursing. Though some that mirror her own profession would have balked at someone being so unacquainted towards someone who represents their entire species, she grew up around that, one of the many benefits of being raised around military folks. Williams could still hear in her head the bombastic and fury tone of her father shouting at holo-screen after the latest game of gav-ball, and the various words under his viperous breath that no children should never hear.

There was a disturbance in the massive wave of gold, all eyes around the dropship were raised at the prodigious shifting of armor. The eyes of the ambassador watched with a mild curiously, wondering if the aliens finally sent someone to speak, while the grayed eyes of the Sergeant watched with a heated caution, an instinct grounded into him since basic.

When the final barrier of gold and flesh finally parted, what stood a couple of meters away from them was enough to shook the ground and blacken the skies ten times over. Curses broke throughout the marines out amongst the public comms. The weapon in Cortez's arms was being crushed by rough arms, even more as he scrutinizes the new creature's every move as it came closer.

The pony was unlike the others. Its neck elongated unlike the brawny members of her kind around it. Like the rest of its body, its fur color shade in dark blue, some obscured by the obsidian lunula covering the alien. Lapis eyes stared across the snow-blanket scene as two long, elegant wings of power fluttered against the wind. But what mainly disturbs the humans most of all was the mane, gritting against the backdrop of the snow and armored ponies. Mints of what looks like stardust sparkle and grin across the span of translucent hair. It wavers almost like the storm, but instead, it undulates, not changing course in its projectile regardless of the change of wind.

Sarah sense power from this being, the hairs on her body rising in secure perturbation, but she composes herself. It was no time to frighten by something unexpected.

She takes one step, allowing the weight of her body to propel into the snow, hammering yet another mark of history. She could feel the sweat of her efforts beading down on her olive skin, each crush of snow as she pressed on reverberate against her own heartbeat. Each step took an immense amount of strength, not only on the body but on the mental level. Each touch of the air against her armor sent tremors down her spine. The alien's face looks defiant, proud etched in its very being, but her very bones were prime in alacrity, matching that of the being she was about to speak.

Sarah finally stops, just a few meters between her and the pony. Upon closing inspection of the creature, her eyes perused that not one single snowdrop has touched it. All around them, the sluggish snow rave around them. Some of the front row ponies closest to them were covered in snow, their reflective armor faded as the whiteness took over, making them look like snowmen from a distance.

Her right arm was soon embellished with digitized lighting, bushes of tawny light colored the air around her, reflecting off her. Neighs of a surprised tone summon amidst the few ponies in the front, some obscurely hold up their weapons pointing at her, but were restrained by the more decolorate among them. The pony in front of her shriveled back a few paces, its face perplexed, but its deepest emotions still guarded.

Sarah took a deep breath, allowing the crystal-clear taste of oxygen to settled into her lungs. Her mind vindicated of any doubts.

‘This is it. History in the making.’

She repeated the words, muttering, replaying them repeatedly in her mind. Her heart was to explode from her chest like a supernova, her breathing condensing against her helmet, but she placates them, allowing the years of duty to her race setting aside the petty emotions of her mind at ease.

She gulped down the resurge hump in her throat and finally spoke, the holo-tool translating the words and letting them out from the speakers of her helmet.

“We come in peace.”

“The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war.”

-Norman Schwarzkopf