"You copy, Bernard?" a voice crackled through my radio. The void of space surrounded me, shrouding my every move in sparkling darkness. Beside me, a shuttle drifts through the weightlessness.
"I copy," I said, gripping the Reaction Control System control handles on my suit, "executing mission."
The black ceramic heat tiles glistened in the sunlight, showing off the shuttle's underbelly. My breath felt stuffy and loud, cramped inside a pressurized suit. White jets of monopropellant shot out of my pack, shooting me forward at the touch of a lever.
"Status?" Sylvia asked over the radio, "I see you."
"Approaching object," I said, "captain."
"Understood. Proceed." She disappeared from the communications line, leaving me on my own once again in the silent void of space. The object drew closer as I skillfully maneuvered towards it, cancelling first my vertical then my horizontal velocity with two flicks of a control stick.
It looked gray, with flecks of pink paint spotting the surface occaisonally. One ragged solar panel jutted out of one side, numerous holes in its blue surface. I could see it was attached to a sun tracking mechanisim, which now sat lifeless in space, merely attaching the dead solar panel to the worn craft.
I grasped it easily, its small rectangular form willingly slipping into a harness I had prepared. The harness was attached to a tow line, fastened to my utilities belt. A dull blue spark shot from the box out into space, dancing among the white stars until it disappeared forever.
"Object aquired," I said into the radio. A little bit of cheering came from the other end, followed by Sylvia's sharp voice.
"Return to craft," she said, in an unnecessarily sharp tone, "quick."
Underneath that tone, I knew she was just as excited as I was. Sylvia's method of remaining calm and collected, perhaps a little bit nippy, when stressed or happy, was what earned her chieftainship of this vessel. I smiled a little. This was the first foreign craft captured in orbit around Earth in all of history!
The green and blue sphere glowed below me, radiating its beauty and numerous cities. Clouds drifted over its surface and water lapped against tiny shores, as I floated millions of kilometers above.
I approached the shuttle carefully, maneuvering so I was lined up with one of the airlocks before going forward. It flew at me at a gentle speed, a speed I could stop at any time. I reached out with my arms and clumsily grabbed the railing with a padded glove, hauling the rest of myself into the doorway.
"Entered," I stated after floating into the airlock and closing the door, "and locked."
"Open airlock door #2 any time," Sylvia said, as I took off the helmet. God those suits were stuffy; and it was a relief getting out of it.
After stowing the insulated suit, I pressed a green button on the airlock console and the door to the cabin slid open. I held the box under one arm as I floated into the living area. Sylvia was waiting, along with the rest of the crew.
Sylvia was a slim, athletic woman, always ready for the chase when it came to it. Her short cut brown hair drifted upwards menacingly as she gave me a look of expectation. Jim, Pete, and Heather looked at me as well, expectation and excitment showing on their faces.
"Alright," I said, holding the box out in front of me. "This is it."
Jim gave it a shrewd glare. "Has it got any buttons?" he asked, looking over the blank surface.
No obvious buttons were on it, but after close inspection we did find a small, metallic knob. Beside it was a strange crest, resembling two pegasi... unicorn... things, one black one white, flying in circles. Heck if I know, I'm not their seal designer, whoever they are.
I pushed the knob, and the box unfolded, releasing a white smoke. I coughed, as did everyone else, but it cleared. A tape recorder sat on the metallic plate with two reels of glistening tape attached two it.
"Bloody hell," Pete said, looking at it, "we've just found a craft designed by aliens that were still in the '80s?"
"I don't think so," Heather said, squinting as she glared at the opposing object. "That doesn't look quite like a tape player to me."
"Let's find out," I said, punching a suspicious looking red button, which set the squeaking wheels in motion.
An image popped up over the box, an image we all jumped at. It was a... horse, a... purple horse, with... were those wings? And a horn? Hard to tell with the scattery image, but the audio came in loud and clear.
The purple... horse, wingy, thing began to talk... and it sounded very upset.
If you're listening to this, we're probably already gone. Time is running thin. They're coming. Oh Celestia they're coming!
We were infiltrated, shot in our own wounds, by them! They came, screaming through the skies, ripping our crops out of their soil! They murdered us. They're coming! Not much time.
Gas. Our cities were filled with white gas, shot directly from their wretched contraptions. We fell, poisened. Dead. They burnt us and maimed us, they destroyed every, single, stallion, mare, and foal in this world!
They are pitiless to us, they care not about our plight! They want this land to for themselves... Oh, please, please help us!!!
The pony was crying now, on her knees in front of the camera. She sobbed on through her message.
Armies are useless against them, our only hope was to run. But where could we go? This capsule was designed to bring one of us, but it can not be completed. This message is our last mark on the universe.
Equestria has fallen. Celestia was killed in battle and Luna is dying as we speak. We're all dying!
There were screams of missiles and ponies from outside the window, as fire lapped at the building. The camera shook as the pony continued her lament.
Help us! Please, just... HELP US!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!
Gas billowed into the room, and the pony began coughing. It looked exactly similar to what we encountered upon opening the box. She dropped to the floor, looking at the camera with pleading, big eyes as she died.
Run. It's you're only hope-
She stopped abruptly, her eyes open and lifeless as she sprawled out on the red carpet. Her body was barely visible through the gas, rapidly filling the room. The recording stopped with a hiss as the box sealed shut, and the sound of thrusters shooting it through the roof.
The picture condensed back into the box, which snapped shut with a hiss.
We were silent.
"Intercept, can you read me?" mission control cried through the radio. I kicked myself towards the control console.
"Yes," I said, somewhat shaken by the whole experience.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. But how is the manned deep space flight coming along?" I asked.
"Fairly well... why?"
"We may have to... Run."
