Solar Sails: Marooned In Equestria

by Bluecho

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Human, Sad, Main 6, Princess Luna, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure, Princess Celestia
Length: 35255

In a universe where space ships put the sun in their sails, Sarin Miles is a bio-engineered soldier. A scouting mission to a strange planet leaves her stranded on a world of ponies. Can she survive Equestria? Will she want to?

Sergeant Sarin Miles - Modified Soldier G7-H3 - serves her Empire loyally. The Fatae Empire spans hundreds of worlds, carried on ships propelled by sunlight through the ocean of Ether that is Space.
But in the middle of a scouting mission to a strange, previously undiscovered planet, her boat crashes. Now she's stranded alone on a bizarre world, where magic is stronger, the beasts tougher, and the residents almost too friendly to be believed. Can the super soldier survive on Equestria? Will her superiors mount an extraction? Or has Sarin Miles been marooned on the planet of ponies?

It's a story of duty, adventure, wonder, and tested loyalties.

Cover art shamelessly ripped from Disney's Treasure Planet.

Published 2014-01-05 06:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-12 21:05:20 UTC

02 - Shipwrecked

02 - Shipwrecked

“Congratulations, soldier, on completing your first mission.”

“Thank you sir!” said Sarin Miles, standing up straight and cracking a salute.

She stood before her commanding officer, Lieutenant Vockter Jons. Like any proper imperial officer, his skin was brown like toasted almonds, his hair stark white and cut short. He wore a serviceable military frock and great coat; a uniform he wore well. A second generation G4, his series marked the first truly successful set of super soldiers in the Empire's command. They lacked many of the “tricks” that later series would become notable for, but possessed what many a scientist and officer dubbed “the peak of Fatae physical potential”.

That he could still wrestle cadets to the ground, even at his age, impressed those who served under him. Including Sarin. That the man was handsome certainly harmed him none in her books. Just looking at him, soaking in his praise, sent a shiver down her spine. She felt weightless.

“I received word from command for another assignment just this morning,” Lieutenant Jons continued. He fished through the memos scattered on his desk, snatching up one in particular and holding it up to read. “You are to proceed to the Glencost system, where you will receive further orders.” He held the memo out to Sarin.

She took the memo, but her hands shook. Something deep in her stomach sank. “Glencost system? But...” she mused, frowning. Felt wrong, terrible. Dread draped her, spilling through.

“Is there a problem with your orders, cadet?”

“Cadet? What?”

The room shook violently. She staggered.

“What's wrong Cadet?” said Jons, his voice seeming distant. Distorted.

Instinct, or a familiar subconscious directive, told her to reach up over her head. Sarin did so, just in time for the world to fall away beneath her. She yelped, gripping the parallel bars directly above her.

“What's wrong Cadet? Get moving!” shouted a strong voice below. It was that Drill Sergeant. The one with skin the color of burnt almonds. Both his good eye and his blind eye stared up at her, a scowl on his face. The scar over that milky white eye told of combat experience. His tone told of a combative mindset.

“Sir! I-I...” Sarin stammered, vertigo building at the base of her skull. She didn't like looking down, feet dangling, poised over a drop a very primal part of her brain told her was unsurvivable. She also thought she heard the sound of coconuts banging together nearby...

“Stop whimpering and move, Cadet! They told me you G7-Hs are rated for celerity, so I want to see you move those arms!”

“I can't!” Sarin whined. Her hands started to slip. The sound of coconuts drew closer, as did the sound of fluttering wings. The distance to the ground only seemed to expand.

Not that the Drill Sergeant's voice became any less pronounced. It rang louder even. “No excuses, Cadet! The Empire doesn't take excuses! Get your ass in gear, or I'll make you wish they hadn't popped you out of the tube! Get. Moving. NOW!”

In desperation, she tried to move one hand to the next rung of the horizontal ladder, but the effort was too much. Sarin's other hand lost traction, and she fell. Screaming, she saw the ground rocket towards her...

The force of the stop shot Sarin awake. She gasped, looking around her at a sea of green and brown. She realized she was hanging from branches by her open parachute. A glance down revealed the forest floor, only three meters below. Looking up again, she saw that the chute was caught on a particular branch, one that was beginning to bend in increments. She spied a break at the base of the offending limb, where part of its girth had splintered. But the limb was pretty thick, so it held her weight.

So far.

Three meters. I can fall three meters, the soldier thought, eyeballing the drop. It was either drop or attempt to climb up the ropes holding her. The branch could snap at any second, so Sarin opted for the former. She carefully worked the latches on her pack, then allowed herself to drop.

She kept her knees bent as she fell, and upon reaching the ground pushed forward so as to roll. Using the momentum of the roll, Sarin settled on her feet, squatting. Perfect landing. Better be perfect, she griped to herself. After learning to cross over the gap, the Drill Sergeant made me fall from it until I mastered landing.

Or had that been a natural consequence of trying to cross the length? She didn't care to remember the Drill Instructor. She didn't care to remember many parts of her life.

Sarin Miles took in her environment. Temperate forest, calls of birds. Looking through gaps in the canopy revealed the sun at midday. Sarin hadn't paid enough attention to the sun's position while in the dory – there being more pressing matters like a transonic animal or the life-threatening fall – so she could only guess how many minutes or hours had passed while she was unconscious.

Oh wait, she had a watch. Embarrassing blunder. Sarin checked it, and figured her nap had lasted somewhere around thirty minutes.

It was at that point she remembered the two crewmen. The crash site needed to be found. Sarin determined one direction was uphill, remembering the mountain. She started a hike in that direction.

The Lady was on her side, at least in that instance, as Sarin ran straight into the crash site within five minutes of setting out. When she saw the shape of the site, she almost wished she hadn't found it.

A small clearing had been made by the breakage of branches upon the boat's landing. The dinghy itself was trashed. Hull splintered, engine crushed and spewing smoke, mast bent, sail in tatters. And the Fatae inside could be deemed deceased at a mere glance. Sarin averted her gaze for a moment before setting to work dislodging the remains. She also found a small trenching shovel amongst the intact tools, which made the next task easier.

Shoveling dirt gave the modified soldier time to think. She hadn't known the two solar sailors. Not even slightly. She could swear their names had been given, but she assumed there would be time over the course of the mission to learn them properly. Then she had to stop digging once she realized the two did have names; they were etched into their tags. Further embarrassment.

Sorchess and Bidd. That had been their names. She debated carrying the tags around her neck to remember them by, before deciding that if discovered, they would need identification on them. A courtesy to the two of them and to whoever might find them. Whatever those might be.

The sun settled on the horizon, casting the landscape in a curtain of warm colors. Sarin shoveled the last of the dirt atop the makeshift graves. She opted not to mark the spots. While the prospect of the bodies being found and identified was accounted for with the tags, she really didn't want them being found at all. Could give her presence away, could alert the residents to the Empire's existence, and could give natives a head start in finding weaknesses. The only reasons she wasn't outright burning the bodies to dispose of them was 1) it could create (more) smoke to signal her position, and 2) because a rescue party would want to retrieve the bodies for their families.

Not that a rescue party was coming anytime soon. The radio in the dory was, like practically any other piece of sophisticated equipment, smashed and inoperable. Which is not to say the Docket Lot wouldn't know to send help. The plan had been to radio the Lot once they hit land. Several hours without word was more than sufficient to know the mission went awry, let alone what they would conclude the next day.

Plus, there were telescopes watching the surface of the planet at all hours. Someone would have noticed the rainbow colored explosion. Whether they saw the crash in progress was unlikely, but Lieutenant Jons was smart. He'd figure things out.

Jons will rescue me, thought Sarin, watching the sunset and its pretty colors. He'll send another dory to investigate. Right?

She took the chance to begin hiking uphill, partly to shut out the niggling doubt already growing in her mind. She carried whatever tools she could salvage, knowing she didn't have time to deal with the wreck itself before it became too dark to work. In the fading twilight, she found her salvation: a cave nestled on a cliff. The Lady was further generous by making the path to it thin but workable, so it was barely a climb before she had shelter. Enough of a challenge to ward off casual investigation, Sarin hoped.

The next three days were damage control. The engine on the dory finally stopped smoking, so she cobbled together a crude sled from planks and hauled it back to the cave. She did the same for the radio and sails. If nothing else, she couldn't permit those advanced pieces of technology to fall into native hands, assuming they could reverse engineer them. The remainder of the wood could be hauled in bits and pieces. All told the task took the entire day. A long, arduous day.

Second day was mixed between finding fresh water – succeeded within the morning by way of a convenient creek – and to retrieve her parachute. This required a fair bit of climbing, but her sub-series, the H3s, were uniquely suited towards agility. The parachute was a goldmine of useful ropes, and the fabric could be used to make an impromptu bed roll.

Sarin slept reasonably well that night, despite obvious problems.

By the third day she couldn't deny her hunger anymore. The dory and her pack had been furnished with provisions, but most of the dory's were smashed and ruined by the impact. Rot was already seeping into most of the tinned goods, so they were useless. Her light provisions kept on her ran low quickly, so by day three she was already preparing weapons for the hunt. She had merely one all-purpose knife and one light pistol – that is to say a pistol that discharges light but took a lot of power to charge. Not useful for hunting, so Sarin took to sharpening sticks.

If nothing else, the pistol would be useful in case she felt the need to off herself. A prospect she hurried to ignore.

The afternoon of the third day was unproductive. No wild animals seemed to come within her range. Either no substantive creatures happened to live in that neck of the woods, she was just really bad at finding any, or the animals were really good at avoiding her. Did the commotion of the crash and her activities scare them away?

She did find a number of berry bushes however. Experiments determined that no, they weren't poisonous. In retrospect, popping the berries could have gotten Sarin killed, but she wasn't in a particular mood to be cautious with her diet.

Because as she trudged back to her hole in the wall, Sarin Miles got the distinct impression that the crew of the Docket Lot weren't going to send any rescue.

Three days. Three days and no sigh of another solar dinghy. Granted she could have simply missed them. Tree cover blocked much of the sky, so it might have behooved her to simply wait on the mountain cliff and watched for flyovers. But pressing needs had to be met, and she couldn't stay still all day. So during her tasks, Sarin had looked through the canopy as well as able, watching for flying boats. None revealed themselves.

What she did notice was unusual cloud activity. Every so often she would look up to see clouds, only to look again a minute later to see the sky cleared of them. Not dissipated, not thinned. Completely missing. When this happened repeatedly over the course of days, she began to wonder if it was her mind playing tricks or some kind of magical effect ambient to the world. It seemed to shift the position of planetary bodies at odd times, so why not have inconsistent weather?

Or maybe it was just the trees blocking them? At times, Sarin would feel silly and reprimand herself for seeking conspiracies where none existed. Other times she would wonder if she could afford to ignore conspiracies if they existed. This was a strange country.

On the morning of the fourth day, the in-name-only Sergeant found a boon. She uprooted the plant, discovering a sweet potato. Not a root vegetable that looked like a sweet potato, as if the result of convergent development between this planet and the worlds of the Empire. A real, legit sweet potato. At first Sarin was glad; free sweet potato. But then she was confused. She tilted her head at the boon.

How is a sweet potato, orange flesh beneath brown skin, growing on an alien world? Had there been other visitors from the Empire or related systems that had carried seeds here? And then she wondered further: how is any of this forest here? All the plants looked like plants found on worlds she was familiar with. She could hardly account for worlds that had been discovered (and conquered) by Fatae civilization; those had their fair share of unique plants and animals. Some had firm places in Fatae diets. But the worlds terraformed under the Genesis Initiative were based on existing standards, and hosted many of the same species. Species like the ones growing on this world.

Sarin shook herself out of that mystery spiral. No point in wasting mental energy thinking about subjects that have no answers, she thought. I need to get back to gathering information on things that do have answers. I need to return to my mission.

As she walked back towards her cave, spear in hand and yam under arm, Sarin heard a sound that had been absent for the last few days. A voice.

“I think it might have landed in this direction.”

Sarin Miles ducked behind a tree and looked to the direction of the voice. A creature floated over the forest floor, held aloft by beating feathered wings. It was four-legged. Its fur was cyan...and its mane and tail a vibrant rainbow.

You.

Author's Note

Once again, point out any typos, grammar errors, or narrative hiccups if others have not already commented on them.

Personally I found the idea of dwelling on every little step of the three days to be horribly dull, so I got it over with as quickly as possible. I've got places for this story to go, and I can't let it drag longer than it needs to.

I swear this story will have more ponies actually appearing in it. It's not all about Sarin in the woods. I actually had to add more pony to the last chapter just to get the story published in the first place, so I can understand the frustration. Not that I'm complaining about the additions.

03 - Stalking and Tangents

Ch. 3 - Stalking And Tangents

Sergeant Sarin Miles had a mission. To land upon the newly discovered world and learn what could be learned about it and its inhabitants. Doing so would put the Empire closer to dealing with a planet abundant in resources, both physical and magical, and possessed of no preexisting space travel. Whether the Empire opened up diplomatic ties with the inhabitants or sent an invasion force was immaterial to her. She had her primary objective.

Upon crashing on the planet, Sarin identified a secondary objective that was linked to the first: reestablish contact with the S.S. Docket Lot and arrange rescue for herself. As escaping to Fatae civilization was critical to conveying what she learned on the new world, it was paramount as well. That she could avoid unintentional exile on a wilderness world by completing Objective Two was merely a bonus.

And finally there was a new objective, freshly clarified to Sarin as she witnessed the figure roughly thirty meters ahead: get her hands on the cyan winged pony that caused the crash in the first place and murder the business out of her.

It. Her. Gender was difficult to ascertain, though the voice hinted female. Whatever, murder business.

“Slow down, Rainbow Dash,” came another voice. As Sarin crouched closer to the tree, she saw the business end of the second voice come around the bend into view. It was another pony, purple fur and hair, with a magenta stripe through the mane. Unlike the offending pegasus, this one came endowed with both a set of wings and a horn extending from her forehead. A pegasus...unicorn?

Were these two different species? Or sub-races of the same species? Or was the cyan abomination – the aptly named Rainbow Dash – merely deficient in her species' native head ornamentation? Could it have been removed? Or was she born without it, like some deformity? Was she more like Sarin than she thought possible?

Sarin shook her head. No, I'm too angry to sympathize with the enemy, she thought. Especially one who killed Bidd and what's-his-name. Sorchess. That's right.

“You're sure it was in this area?” asked the pegasus-unicorn, looking around the trees. She carried a bag across her back, seemingly laden with supplies of some kind.

“Positive,” responded the hated Rainbow Dash.

“Even though you only saw the smoke from a distance?”

“When I say I'm sure, Twilight, I'm sure.” Rainbow Dash waved her hoof through the air before turning back to the trail. “Come on, we're almost there.”

“You know if there was anypony in trouble, they're probably long gone by now,” said Twilight, rubbing her chin. She seemed less sure of wing than her cyan counterpart, preferring to merely flap over minor obstacles. “You really should have told somepony about...”

“I know I know!” yelled cyan abomination. “I said I was sorry, okay. So I get a little distracted sometimes. Is that so wrong?”

“It is if ponies lives were in danger because of your Sonic Rainboom,” retorted Twilight.

A Sonic what now?

“How could you even miss a flying machine out here in the middle of nowhere?” continued the purple pony.

“I told you before, I didn't have time to go looking around,” whined Rainbow Dash, looking back again. “When I'm doing a Sonic Rainboom, I need to concentrate. Otherwise I'm going to get hung up on the sound barrier and be sent flying the other direction. I ain't doing that again.

“Besides, we're almost there. Pretty sure.”

As the two equines lapsed into silence, Sarin Miles took in all the new information she just learned. First, that at least one race, possibly two, to inhabit this world were talking flying ponies. This astounded Sarin little; more than a few species that flocked into and around the Fatae Empire were quadrupeds. The Er'thop, the Moanza. There were even six-legged species, mostly insect-like. That a species of intelligent life on this planet was a race of small horses barely registered as overtly strange.

Second, that the culture and species were fixated on themselves. She knew this because they used the words “anypony” and “somepony”. A casual observer would chalk this up to language barriers only. This is not the case because the translation enchantment plate in Sarin's head would have accounted for it.

Translation magic among the stars was basically one of the most important discoveries in interstellar travel in the known universe. Right there alongside the solar sails themselves. The spells did more to foster interactions and connections between disparate species than anything else, simply because it cut through language barriers and let everyone just talk.

The spells were also notoriously finicky.

A straight casting of the spell was complex, time consuming, and temporary. People would need to spend entire hours every day to reapply the spells, usually requiring the use of a trained mage. Or one could take chances with untrained magic use, which usually ended with disaster. Turning that spell into an enchantment was far more efficient and practical. They could be worn like a charm, and only need to be enchanted once.

No wonder why the Fatae Empire made such enchanted charms standard issue amongst its soldiers. Entire factories existed of "mages" who knew only the one spell, cast repeatedly to supply the needs of the common grunt. In the case of the Modified Soldiers (and assorted officers), this took the form of a charm plate inserted into the brain. Thankfully the procedure was easy – more magic combined with good surgeons – and it cut the total mana costs down by being able to influence the language center of the brain directly rather than doing it over the whole body.

In Sarin's situation, the charm allowed her to understand the ponies' language. If she were so inclined, she could also step around the tree and converse with them, as the enchantment modified her speech when speaking to listeners of another language. It made certain situations tedious, say if the speaker is speaking to two people at a time with different language requirements, making one repeat the same message for both depending on the target of speech.

Sarin noted that this race's language was strictly pony-centric because had they meant to say their equivalent of “anybody” or “somebody”, it would have translated as that. Their words were particular to their species – assuming they were the same species called “pony” - and they took only ponies into account. In the event a speaker uses a word that has no direct parallel, the magic would either give up and use the original word itself, or attempt to cobble a new word together that approximates the intended meaning.

In this case, anypony and somepony. This annoyed Sarin immensely, because while the bug fix in the magic was elegant in and of itself, it was still inefficient. Saying anybody can include every being with a body. Anypony is just exclusive.

So wrapped up in the nuances of magic and speech was Sarin that she almost missed the two equines heading out of sight. Very quietly, the soldier followed, ducking from tree to tree to maintain cover. Eventually she peered around and saw the two targets scoping out the clearing that previously hosted the crash site.

You won't find any bits of the dory there, thought Sarin Miles. I cleared the place thoroughly of wreckage.

What she couldn't clear were the many broken branches, their absence on the trees noticeable enough on their own. The purple pegasus-unicorn (pegicorn?) looked up and saw the evidence, saying, “You think this is it, Dash? It looks like something came through and cleared a hole.” She considered a moment, before adding, “I bet if I studied the angle of broken branch stumps, I could plot the angle at which the mystery object fell!” She hopped on the spot with glee.

While the two ponies were deep in thought, Sarin considered her options. She wanted nothing more than to sneak up from behind the trees and impale the cyan pony with her spear for what she'd done. But then that would leave the other pony. To kill her companion would leave the one called Twilight as a witness. Not only to a slaying, but to a slaying by an unfamiliar creature. This would leave Sarin exposed, her mission in jeopardy.

The obvious retort from there would be to kill the purple one too. But Sarin admitted to herself that Twilight hadn't done anything to deserve the killing. Sarin remembered Glencost, and her heart sank with guilt.

Besides, Sarin wasn't even sure she had what it took to kill both in rapid succession. Kill one, and the other would likely be alerted and flee. And they could both fly in seems, so she had no hope of catching the other if she took to the air. Unless Sarin implemented stealth enough to kill one without the other noticing. But that was a long shot at best.

Nothing to bet her anonymity on. Revenge comes after the mission.

Slowly, reluctantly, Sarin lowered her spear. The spear she hadn't even realized she'd readied for an attack. Her breath steadied, though her body remained coil. She was, after all, still hiding.

For a while the purple one examined the scene. Sarin was confident though. The only thing left to find were the graves of Sorchess and Bidd. Indeed she had turned over dirt to inter them, but that hadn't been the only topsoil she'd turned over in this area. The impact of the crash had created a dent in the ground. Once the remains of the dory had been cleared away, Sarin used the shovel to fill the dent. She also turned up dirt around it to dispose of the blood spots. Between all her diligent work, the whole clearing barely had any patches of undisturbed ground. Of course people – or rather ponies she supposed – would notice the disparity. But over such a large area, few obvious conclusions could be had. If the site had avoided detection for a season, new plant growth and occasional rains would have rendered the ground just as inconspicuous as the rest of the forest floor.

Evidently the one called Twilight was stumped about the ground, scratching her head with her hoof. The amount of time passed also seemed to work on Rainbow Dash's last nerve. “Come on, Twilight! We're not going to learn anything here. Let's go.”

“We could learn plenty from this, Rainbow Dash,” retorted Twilight, looking at her companion for the first time in several minutes. “Something crashed here, and this disturbed dirt has something to do with it.”

“Oh who cares about dirt! I'm bored! Let's just go back to Ponyville!” Rainbow Dash crossed her forelegs indignantly and began hovering higher in the air.

Ponyville?

“Ugh, fine,” sighed Twilight, shaking her head. She began flapping her wings in earnest, and ascended several feet in the air. Sarin began to let out a breath of relief. But just then, a raised Twilight fixed on something in a nearby tree's branches. “Hang on, what's this?”

To Sarin's shock, the pegicorn's horn began to glow purple. Following Twilight's line of sight, Sarin saw a similar glow enveloping some kind of object. At first Sarin thought it was another broken section of tree, but then the object slid out of the leaves and into full view. It hovered – really hovered – in the middle of the air, wrapped in the glittery aura of what Sarin could only assume was magic. And the object it revealed was no broken branch, but a broken slab of cut wood.

A slab of cut wood stained openly with dried blood.

I really should have killed her too, Sarin thought, mouth agape. So paralyzed was she that she couldn't move as Twilight examined the wood closely, a mixture of squeamish horror and curious fascination plastered on her face. “Hay Rainbow Dash, you've got to see this!”

But the cyan pony had already cleared the canopy and impatiently shouted, “Later! We're going home already!”

“Ugh, fine! I'm coming” shouted the purple one, tucking the critical evidence into her bag and flapping wings up to follow her companion. “Maybe I can see what this belongs to later” she muttered.

It came to Sarin's attention that a very important clue to her existence was about to leave in the hooves of a pony with an investigative bent. It also occurred to Sarin that she had at least one means of attacking even from below.

Reaching behind to her holster, Sarin Miles the soldier removed the light pistol. Stepping forward, she took aim at the purple creature. I could end her right now, she thought. Take her down, and then disappear before the Rainbow Dash knew what's what. She'd maybe even investigate the kill, leaving her open to attack. Two birds, one stone. If I just kill this one, everything could be fine.

If she just killed a civilian noncombatant. If she executed the creature in cold blood.

It was a single moment of hesitation, but it was enough. Sarin looked up at the pony who could expose her existence, and froze. Couldn't pull the trigger. It felt like an immovable object under her finger. The pistol felt damp in her hands, and she realized they were caked in sweat. More beads of sweat slid down her skin, over the blue-stained patches that marred her face.

The pegicorn – alicorn, whatever – flew out of view behind the leaves of the canopy. Sarin exhaled, an exhalation that seemed to deflate her entire body. She sank to her knees, dropping the pistol to the ground with her limp hands still clutched around it. Her breath came out shaky, and she realized her entire body shook. Furthermore, every muscle in her body ached. She'd been like a coiled spring, and when the pressure subsided, she realized just how tight she'd held there. Waiting.

How close had she been to Glencost in that instant? How close had Sarin been to going back to that place?

Ponyville. It sounded like another place. A place those two were going.

Sarin Miles looked back up at the sky. The two had come and taken off to the south. Flying creatures had no concern for obstacles or terrain; they moved directly. The shortest path between two points is a straight line. If they flew south, going south from her location would take Sarin straight to where they were going. To Ponyville.

Sarin stood up shakily. She holstered the pistol, easing it in for fear of herself. Then she took up the spear she'd dropped and looked south.

She still had her mission. Objectives to complete. In a pony community, she could learn everything she'd want to know about pony society. Its values, its structure, its hopes and dreams. And if there were means of attracting the Docket Lot's attention, a town would be a good place to start looking. She could even sneak into wherever the purple one lived, and steal back the bloody block of wood. Assuming they lived in that town. But if they did, it might give her access to the Rainbow Dash, including where she slept. It was a personal, noncritical objective, but it was in the same area. Convenient. If she was to continue her mission, she couldn't wallow in the wilderness forever. She had to infiltrate the civilization. She had to go to where the enemy lived. Sarin had to go south.

To Ponyville.

It's business time.

Author's Note

Post any typos, grammatical errors, or story hiccups in the comments section, if someone else hasn't already pointed it out.

Like I promised, here's a more pony-full chapter. One that involved near murder of one or more main characters. Hope that seems better!

I don't know about you all, but I feel pretty good about this chapter. Finally got into the zone. Kind of don't want to sleep now, because I'm so in the mood for writing.

04 - Maelstrom

Ch. 4 - Maelstrom

“Hey Fluttershy, where's Rainbow Dash?” asked Twilight Sparkle, looking out the library window.

“Oh, Dash said the Weather Patrol called her in,” said the yellow and pink pegasus meekly. “Turns out they needed another big downpour this week.” Fluttershy considered this for a moment, then gasped, clutching hooves to her face. “Oh my gosh, I need to head home and get all the animals out of the rain! Sorry, see you later Twilight!” Nervously apologizing, Fluttershy flew on towards her house.

Twilight looked past her departing friend, towards the sky. Indeed, storm clouds were building. Or being built, as it were, by the diligent hooves of the Weather Patrol. Scattered drops of rain started falling in irregular patterns, and the wind began to blow, whipping Twilight's hair around.

Shutting her window, the alicorn groaned. “So much for getting back to that spot in the forest before the rains came. Now all the evidence will be washed away.” She took a seat at her desk and pulled out the broken slab of wood. The brown stain of blood was still there. “Well, at least I still have you,” Twilight cooed to the wood block. “Let's see what your blood tells me.”

With that, Twilight began picking flakes off and examining them under a microscope.

…

Business, it seemed, was canceled for the day due to scattered showers.

Sarin Miles sat in the tiny cave she called base one, looking out the mouth at the torrent of rain. She'd spent roughly a half-hour collecting tools that might be useful for her trek south. As much as she'd wanted to set off right there, in the middle of the crash site, she knew she had to be methodical. Had to prepare with every resource currently at her disposal.

A part of Sarin hated herself for bothering to wait. For wasting time before the rains came. But her more rational side realized she had no idea the distance she needed to travel to get to the place called Ponyville. She could only deduce the direction, not the distance. Given her targets – the two winged ponies Rainbow Dash and Twilight – had the power of flight, they could very easily have ventured a hundred kilometers from their home to get here. Sarin had no means of knowing.

What she did know what that within thirty minutes, it started raining in earnest. She most likely would have been caught in the rain had she left immediately. Walking through the rain, especially this heavy a downpour, held little appeal for a trained soldier.

If Ponyville is a town, it's not going anywhere, Sarin thought dejectedly. She released a tortured sigh. So there's that.

She reclined back on the floor, or at least as far as she could in the cramped space available. The cave was more a crack in the mountain side. Even when Sarin found it, the space was limited. In the days since, she'd accumulated all the bits and pieces from the crash site. The busted ether engine, the busted radio, the busted boxes containing what remained of her busted provisions, and the busted remains of the solar sail. Between those, the parachute re-purposed as a bed roll, and the chunks of wood that comprised the hull, Sarin had somehow managed to pack the entire solar dory into the cave. Necessary and an admirable accomplishment if Sarin said so herself, but aggravating.

Not to mention she also had to leave room for the fire.

Sarin wanted to avoid sticking the fire at the entrance – thereby giving just a little bit more room to work with inside – because of the threat of being spotted. This fear was confirmed to Sarin as she saw the rain starting to pour, chancing outside to see a group of pegasus flying in the cloud layer and manually rearranging them.

That's another tidbit going in the report, thought Modified Soldier G7-H3. The inhabitants of this planet can manipulate its weather at will. Good to know. Upon further reflection, Sarin realized she needed to watch the skies as she traveled. Now for more reasons than just signs of rescue.

Thankfully, the cave seemed to have a pit already suited for building a fire within. Sarin worried the smoke would be trapped inside, but found there was already a crack in the ceiling that acted as a chimney. Further inspection from the inside and outside revealed that the chimney bent halfway through its course, so that it wasn't a straight shot. Presumably it also had a means of diverting water, since the present rain didn't leak in.

So very convenient, thought Sarin. If I didn't know better I'd say this cave was designed to be lived in.

No where to go and no preparations to complete, Sarin sat on the floor and thought about what to do. She didn't have any substantial hobbies; her training, exercise, and duties kept her busy enough. Her free time was almost always spent thus; her social life was, to say the least, deficient. But there wasn't enough space to do push-ups or sit-ups or to jog.

In fact, the only exercise she could perform were stretching. Contortion stretching. Small mercies.

Every sub-series within the MS G7 line had its own physical specialty. G7-Bs were known for their tough hides, G7-Es for their ability to absorb and discharge currents of energy. Both had other “tricks”, but Sarin could never remember their more mundane endowments. For her sub-series, the G7-Hs, they were rated for three things: celerity, dexterity, and contortion. They were spry, agile, and capable of squeezing, hiding, and bending where normal Fatae could not.

Part of the process of making G7-Hs so flexible was in the biological changes. Whereas average Fatae could exhibit a capacity for double-jointedness or flexibility, her sub-series had as much of such traits stacked upon them as was possible. Or at least as much as reasonable. To her unease, Sarin Miles was not the first with the third H position in her series; the previous one was euthanized because of complications resulting from their super flexibility. Technically speaking, Sarin's full designation was MS G7-H3b, though most in the military omit that to avoid embarrassment.

Sarin considered all this as she practiced bending her left foot behind her own head. Such was the second part of making the G7-Hs the contortion masters that they are: physically making them contort in every way on a regular basis. There's no amount of genetic manipulation that could substitute for raw training.

And so Sarin's exercises continued. To Sarin, most of them were simply habit. She'd been collapsing herself into tiny bundles of limbs for years, so they bothered her little. To an outside observer, the activities would seem grotesque and painful. And people wonder why I don't have friends, thought Sarin. Although my appearance doesn't help.

Thinking this caused Sarin to curl into a tight ball and sulk for thirty minutes. She had nothing better to do, she could afford the indulgence.

It grew darker outside, rain pelting the ground as heavy as ever. Sarin took to bending individual fingers back as far as was comfortable. When she was young it had been difficult, leading to more than a few tears shed from the pain. She learned very quickly how little the military thought of tears. She soon stopped crying; it's just that she had to stop the tears well before it stopped hurting.

What would the ponies think of this? Since they don't have fingers, Sarin assumed they would be curious at the idea of even having them, and less put off by such a grotesque display. Then again she had no plans to reveal herself, so the point was largely moot.

As Sarin began practicing to collapse her hand – both the most uncomfortable and most useful of all contortion tricks since it allowed her to slip out of handcuffs – she was startled by a crack of thunder outside. The storm was getting worse. She turned back to her hands and worked for a few minutes before an even louder sound came from outside. The sound of stone scraping against stone. Looking over to the entrance, Sarin saw what little light that came through was slowly being blocked by a shadow.

She was being sealed in.

Grabbing a spear, Sarin thrust out through the gap. Sarin struck out three times, on the third feeling the end of the spear impact against something. A soft something.

“Aaaahh!” bellowed a pained screech from outside. It sounded off, somehow, but Sarin couldn't fathom why. The spear pulled along further, sunk into flesh that was drawing back. Sarin tried to resist the pull, but before she could a flash of lightning lit up the area. Just at the instant of light, a cloven foreleg swept down and smashed the spear shaft.

Plunged into new darkness, Sarin scrambled backwards against her wall of useless dory parts, clutching the equally useless remains of her spear. She sank to the floor panting, hearing the boulder scrape at the mouth of her shelter until it stopped. Venturing over, Sarin could feel the hole blocked completely. Sealed.

At least that entrance is, thought Sarin Miles, before turning her head to look up. There's still one way out.

For a normal person – be it Fatae or Pony – the chimney would be impossible to move through. Assuming they could squeeze through the gap, they would be hard pressed (literally by the walls) to circumvent the almost ninety degree turns that prevented the hole from being a straight shot. But Sarin was not normal even by her species' standards. She knew she could get through.

After all, she'd done it before. More or less. Practically. Sort of.

She had to figure out the shape of the tunnel, so squeezing up into it had been the best way to do so. Of course she hadn't actually gone in one end and popped out the other. Just ducked her head up until she saw the zig-zag. It was a simple matter of placing a torch there and checking the top to prove her suspicions.

Climbing up properly with intent to travel through it was another matter entirely. Sarin used an impromptu stack of debris, moving the engine block et al to form a step stool up. From there, she reached her arms up ahead of her and began to shimmy up. The walls scraped against her side, with many points threatening to cut deep if she wasn't careful. Once she had her feet against the wall of the chimney, she began the climb of inches.

At least this section of the climb was dry. Not so much when she finally reached the bend.

True to her theory, the rain failing into the hole deviated down another smaller hole. No doubt collecting in some underground spring. Sarin groped around the bend, roughly half a meter in length connecting two parallel tunnels. This next part would be the deciding factor. Either she could bend around the angles, where she could keep climbing, or she couldn't, in which case she'd have to descend again and continue being trapped in a cave. All that assumed she didn't get partially around the obstacle only to get stuck somehow, and die horribly where she was.

At least my body would remain hidden, Sarin thought, chuckling uneasily and cracking a half-smile. The situation had induced dark comedy. Comedy that wasn't funny. Only now did she realize she might have at least tried pushing the boulder out of the way first. Shameful blunder.

No, I'm already here, she thought, let's just stay the course.

Sarin slowly rotated herself around so her back was to the bend. She could conceivably contort her knees or other parts if necessary, but going up so as to be in a sitting position was the most intuitive method. With agonizing slowness, she inched her head around the bend. She felt the rain pour down on her face, sapping precious heat and nearly blinding her. Sarin debated whether it would be better to wait until the storm subsided, but dismissed the plan. She would need as much lubrication as she could to shuffle the rest of the way. If she had oil it would be even better.

Her side stung where an edge slid over it. No chance to check the damage, just keep pushing through. Sarin's shoulders caught on a thin ring. She briefly wondered if she would need to dislocate one of her shoulders to make it through, but a modest turn provided the space necessary. As well as putting her face into a particularly thick stream of water cascading down the wall. It would be her luck to find the rain gutter of the mountain. Her upper back was through, and she pushed further, spitting water from her mouth.

By the time her bottom plopped onto the “shelf” of the bend, she was sure she couldn't get more soaked around the head and shoulders. She was mistaken, as a greater flood of water splashed down the hole in that second. Excellent.

Finally, after finagling her legs back and forth, she managed to stand on solid ground. Looking up, Sarin saw only a half meter between her and freedom. She was scratched, scraped, bruised, soggy, and for the first time in many years a little claustrophobic.

The last time was her test of compressibility back in training. Had to fit into a large suitcase and stay there for an hour. At least then, she knew the testers would pull her out if they detected that she'd stopped breathing. Nobody but her would-be murderer potentially waited outside.

With one final heave – contorting her shoulders so as to push her elbows up early and save time – Sarin heaved herself out of the chimney and flopped on the hard ground. Her skin felt raw in multiple places, she was cold, her muscles and joints protested such long-term abuse, and her heart raced with utter joy. She made it. Sarin smiled.

Somewhere below a beast grunted. She dropped her smile. Sarin remembered what trapped her in the first place. And now she'd have to face it too. She suppressed a whimpering cough.

Inching quietly, counting on the roaring rain and the claps of thunder, Sarin crawled along the stone cliff she was on to witness the one below her. Peering over the side, she could see little in the dark, but she could hear it just fine. A heavily breathing creature climbed up the path to the cave. As it paced in front of the stone blocking then entrance, lightning fired overhead, giving Sarin her first good look at her opponent.

Oh what fresh hell is this?

Author's Note

Please point out any typos, grammar errors, and poorly explained passages, assuming someone else hasn't already done so.

I seriously debated whether to write these next two chapters or whether to go from the clearing to Ponyville. I decided, given how important a detail Sarin being a contortionist was, it needed to be established as early as possible. This being the earliest opportunity to get her moving through cramped spaces, I went with it. Also I figured things were too slow lately, so I needed to spice it up with some action. So we're getting two chapters of it! Huzzah!

05 - Battling the Monsoon

Ch. 5 - Battling the Monsoon

What am I even looking at here?

Sarin Miles' view of the beast was limited to scattered impressions pulled from periodic lightning flashes in the pouring rain. Though in truth, even if light were plentiful and consistent, Sarin doubted the picture would make much more sense.

From her study she could deduce the following: the creature had cloven hooves, the haunches of a deer, the tail of a lion, and the head of a badger. A badger with a wide mouth filled with huge teeth. In short, an abomination worse than the Rainbow Dash for her crimes against Sarin's countrymen. It was roughly the size of a donkey as well. A large donkey. With sharp teeth.

Sarin had stabbed the thing with a spear.

She retreated over the edge of the cliff to weigh her options. If she couldn't wait for the beast to leave, or kill it, or indeed if she accomplished either but couldn't remove the stone from the cave entrance, she'd have to write off the contents of it as a loss. The equipment from the dory was broken anyway and beyond her meager engineering skills, so the lack was inconsequential. If anything it'd be harder for some random pony to find its alien technology. There were certainly advantages to just abandoning Base One.

Unfortunately the cave also contained most of her tools, supplies, and light pistol. Sarin opted to leave it behind, for the threat of water seeping into the mechanism and rendering it inoperable. Inoperable like everything else in the cave. It would certainly help her against the beast, but not if it's broken. As it stood, she had only her survival knife.

Moreover, she still had half a yam in that cave. Her stomach grumbled.

Hunger and stubbornness outweighed the possibility for being eaten herself, and Sarin jumped down from the upper cliff. Her knife poised, she brought the tip down just as the creature shifted its entire torso up to see her.

Pity. She had aimed for its back.

Blade plunging into its shoulder, the beast rolled over on its back and tumbled over the edge. To Sarin's dismay, her momentum carried her along for the ride. Egregious blunder.

The two tumbled over each other, Sarin lodging a foot against the beast's chest. Kicking forth, she freed the knife from the monster, sending the two spinning apart by several meters by the time they settled on the base of the mountain. A nice shrub broke some of the fall, though Sarin was sure she'd scratched more of her flesh open.

Sarin jumped to her feet, peering over to the beast. It sat up uneasily, shaking off the bruises it no doubt suffered. The wound on its shoulder bled a little, but it looked more shallow than she'd hoped. It's side was still marked by the point where she'd speared it, but it didn't look to be bleeding.

Had it just stopped oozing on its own? Did this creature heal unusually quickly? Or did it know plants in the area that could use to stem the blood loss? Why did Sarin think the creature had the intelligence necessary to apply herbs?

Oh right, she thought. The rock trap. Stupid animals don't use such tricks.

Sarin turned around and bolted for the cover of the trees. She heard the creature give chase, but more than a minute and its grunts grew more distant. After a few twists and turns, she'd lost the monster.

Celerity putting in work, she thought, beaming.

Coming to a stop, Sarin ducked behind a tree and waited. She settled her breathing to more manageable levels and looked behind. Plenty of rain, but no sign of fur-covered movement. Sarin strained to look to her left and right, wary of a flanking maneuver. No such signs could Sarin spy, but she knew better than to take that for granted. Especially in this weather.

Lightning flashed. Sarin stood ready while waiting for her vision to adjust to the dark again.

What options now? Continue running? No, she needed to find shelter soon, and that beast had ousted her from the only good shelter she knew. Taking to a tree would save her from the monster's jaws, but would be just as wet as the ground. She could try to find different shelter, but it was so dark that finding any such places would be unlikely. She needed that cave, and attempting to dislodge the boulder now would leave her open to attack. As would crawling back down the chimney, but that was already out of the question.

Not going back in there again, resolved Sarin. Never again.

As she looked around for any long sticks she could sharpen into a new spear, a shout resounded from the darkness. Sarin's heart skipped a beat.

“Help me! Somepony help me!”

The voice was female, and bound in terror. Sarin peaked around the tree again but saw nothing. The immediate vicinity was vacant. Still, the voice screamed out again, somewhere in the distance.

“Won't somepony please help me! It's going to kill me! Help!”

“What kind of stupid...” Sarin muttered quietly to herself. Someone who ran around in a rainstorm at night was honestly asking for what they got, she thought. She took up her knife and ran towards the noise.

If the beast found an easier target, it's obvious it would break off the search for the one that's fighting back. Sarin ran her legs until they hurt. A few times her feet slipped on the slick ground, but she was agile enough to catch herself and continue running. Being seen by a witness troubled Sarin for a moment, but...

She couldn't think of a good reason not to just leave the monster to its meal. She was too busy trying to close the distance.

She traveled to the point where she thought the voice came from, but stood with nothing around. Sarin huffed and puffed, seeing nothing. Had the pony run away? Had she been killed? Wouldn't Sarin have heard...

“Help Me!” screamed the voice, right behind Sarin.

The soldier spun around, only to see a blur run past her peripheral vision. Her heart raced.

“O Celestia help me!”

Another voice behind her. Another pony not there when Sarin swung around to check. And it was another pony this time. The voice had been masculine.

“Please no! Help!”

Another feminine voice, different front the first. Just as elusive when Sarin turned to face it. The blur at her periphery started to slow down, but she couldn't catch it. She held up her knife defensively.

Should have made that spear, thought Sarin, panic rising up her gut. Should have climbed that tree. Should have stayed in the cave. Should have refused the assignment when I had the chance.

She felt, didn't see or hear, the jaws lunging for her. Sarin twisted sharply just as a shaggy tuft of hair brushed the back of her head.

Sarin rolled, coming to a stop to face her attacker. It wasn't moving fast enough to escape sight anymore. In fact, it took a second, huffing along, before it ducked around some trees.

“What the hell are you?!” Sarin shouted, angrily swiping her knife at the air. It glinted in the light of a lightning flash, reflecting it through scattered rain as it went.

“Leucrotaaaa-hahaha!” it bellowed, rounding one last timber before digging its hooves in the first and charging for another bite. It's voice began as that of a terrified male, before transitioning into the haughty cackle of a female.

Bracing until the last second, Sarin stepped aside and swiped the knife over the creature's legs. It grunted another howl of pain, this one sounding like that of a small child.

Sarin followed behind so she could remain at the creature's back. As she did, thoughts formed. The creature was 1) called a Leucrota if the voice was stolen from an informed source, 2) capable of mimicking speech, 3) smart enough to employ its voice mimicry to the purposes of hunting, and 4) prone as hell to playing cruel mind games. It was even proud enough to cite its own name to the prey it was hunting, simply because it could.

Wonder how long it was sitting on SHIT!

The Leucrota spun around and snapped at her, forcing a twist and a jump away. She planted her free hand on the ground and used it to cartwheel over the creature. She ran again, keeping herself behind it.

It seemed to realize it couldn't match Sarin in a straight game of speed, so it spoke again. “It's all your fault!” it said with the voice of a women, shaky and hoarse.

Sarin's stance faltered. She froze for just a second. Her heart clenched. The breath shot from her lungs. She had felt that statement before, in her head. In her heart. How did it know?

Using the distraction, the Leucrota snapped at Sarin again. She just barely fell backwards to avoid the bite.

Taking a few steps back, the monster charged forward again.

Sarin's instinct was to raise her knife arm to block the attack. Only too late did she realize it would just clamp its teeth around it. And indeed, it was right about to. If she dropped it, the beast would just be on top of her.

So taking a different tract, she contorted her knee up into the beast's throat as the teeth closed on her arm. Sarin felt the sharp pressure, before the force of the strike against its neck caused the Leucrota to open its mouth wide again. Whipping her arm out of the jaws, Sarin pulled the pained limb back for a knife strike to the side of its head.

For whatever reason, seeing the knife coming caused the beast to turn its entire body to face the blade. Perhaps it was confused, though that hardly explained why it hadn't just turned its head to see the blade. Regardless, Sarin abandoned the direct attack and instead swung over the creature. She used the force of the swing to flip herself onto her front, kicking the ground as she did. She ran several meters before she heard the beast give chase again.

Damnit I'm just going in circles now, Sarin thought. Every second I fight is another chance he has to killing me. Have to find a way to attack him without him knowing.

More rain slicked the ground, which hindered her almost as much as it hindered the beast. Almost.

She spotted a group of trees grown closely together. Running towards them, she made to duck around them. As she passed, she grabbed the trunk and used it to make a sharp turn.

The creature followed, slipping on the wet ground as it tried to turn. Regaining its footing, it darted around the group of trees. It swept its eyes around, looking for its prey, then figured it had to have darted around the other side again. It ran around the trees twice before stopping. The Leucrota turned its body around several times, straining its ears, but couldn't see or hear the biped anywhere.

It's rapid breath seized up as it felt a weight land on its back.

Sarin Miles wrapped her legs under the monster's belly, locking her feet around each other to maintain a hold. She punched its eye, causing it to wince. She held her knife raised in her other fist.

“What?!” croaked the Leucrota in the popping, breathy voice of an adolescent. It tensed all across its body, fur bristling and unmolested eye going wide.

The soldier dug her hand around the animal's snout and pulled up. Instead of snapping up its neck, the action induced the monster to reflexively push with its forelegs so as to travel on Sarin's prescribed direction.

This thing's neck is built like a solid bar, Sarin realized. It can't move its head around to save its life.

As the creature balanced on its back legs, realizing it was in the most compromising position it ever experienced, it whined. From inside its bound mouth, it said, “No! No! No! No no no no no!” Each set carried a different tone, inflection, and original emotional context. Until the very last croak of “no” produced a pained, gutteral growl. It's true voice shining through?

Doesn't matter. “No more talking,” said Sarin, bringing the knife into the monster's jugular and slashing it over its throat. She pulled away, letting a spray of blood flow out.

Sarin released her hold as the beast pitched forward. She rolled over its head, coming to a stop on her feet and turning back. She saw the animal spasm wildly on the ground, snapping its jaws weakly, eyes wide. It's eyes lost focus as it curled its legs together at the chest. With one final groan from within and one muscular twitch across its whole body, the Leucrota stopped moving.

Nerves and energy spent, Sarin fell over on her side. She sat in a puddle, but didn't care. She allowed her face to drop and exhaled.

Crawling over, Sarin took in her first Equestrian kill. Not what she imagined it would be, though she didn't suppose at the outset she would need to kill anything here if she could help it.

Did this count as a kill? In the tactical sense? The Leucrota did seem to have intelligence enough to count as a sentient being, and thus more than just an animal to be driven off or hunted. Likely Sarin wouldn't have cared if it had been a random animal she speared for dinner.

Was this creature the reason she couldn't find animals to hunt here? Had they all been eaten or driven off? Was that why this creature seemed to rely on trickery to lead in ponies? Or was that just its natural habits? Why not migrate if the prey in this place was so scarce? Did this place have special significance to the beast?

Sarin shook her head. No mystery spirals. She couldn't very well learn the creature's secrets now. She shook her head again, then noticed she'd nuzzled up to the monster and set its snout on her lap, cradling its head in her hands.

What the hell is wrong with me? She moved to set the head down. This thing tried to kill me. Why should I give it any consideration? Besides, it's bleeding out. Don't want it to stain my pants.

She rose to one knee, then turned back. The Leucrota's eyes were open still. Only halfway, but still open.

Stupid. Shouldn't care. Tried to kill me. Killed innocents. Children. Sadistic monster.

Sarin drew her hands over the Leucrota's face and shut the eyes. She pulled away, only then realizing her face was wet. Moving her hand up to brush the rain from her eyes, she found the drops warm.

Why? Why did this get to me? She stood up in a huff, scowling. Stamped her foot, watching the puddle splatter out of the corner of her eye as she stared at the beast. I'm a soldier dammit! The Empire's best! Why does it still affect me?

She stepped over the corpse, wary of the blood seeping into the pools of water.

Why does killing still make me cry?

Sarin Miles walked as quickly as she could away from the scene. She only turned back one last time before scowling and breaking into a run. She would find a branch and wedge the boulder away. Dry off. Rest from her injuries. She made a vow to depart from this place for the south – for Ponyville – as soon as the rain stopped. Soon as the weather cleared.

Given the growing pain over her whole body – including her chest – she secretly hoped it would rain a few days more.

Author's Note

Not even I saw that ending coming when I sat down to write it.

As always, comment about typos, grammar errors, and storytelling deficiencies, so long as someone else hasn't pointed it out first.

Bonus - The Leucrota's Secrets

The Leucrota's Secrets (Bonus)

“Learn their words well, lad,” said the Crocotta, his words disconnected. They were pulled from multiple sources, linked together to form “new words” as he would often say.

The Leucrota turned back to the distance, where a gathering of ponies played. Unaware of the predators watching them. The Leucrota turned back to its sire, motioning with its legs towards the prey. “Hunt?” it managed.

“No,” returned the Crocotta simply. “Too many. Dangerous.” The father turned back to his crossbreed child. “Know you're hungry. Wait. They'll go apart some time.” He turned back to watching the pastel ponies again. “Get alone. Lead one away. Safe way. Live longer.”

The Leucrota wanted to protest, to whine more, to go into the ponies, but decided to yield. Father knew best. Father was a big dog-like beast. Knew the words well.

The child's stomach protested. Father kept them safe, but because of that they went long periods between food. The ponies would get angry if too many went missing at once. Would form mobs. The slow way was safe. But not satisfying. The Leucrota was often hungry.

The Leucrota wished there were more dumb animals in the forest. But none could be found. They all ran away, Crocotta Father said. Still, this was home. Crocotta Father hunted here. Pony Mother used to be here.

The Leucrota child missed Mother. Missed her, missed visits to the cave where Father kept her. She never liked Father, but she liked the Leucrota. And the Leucrota loved Mother. Missed Mother.

…

The Leucrota's first hunt didn't go well.

Sure, the pony went down. The Leucrota looked forward to the meal it would be. But the pony hadn't gone down without a fight. The Leucrota's side was bleeding.

Crocotta Father had stood back. The son needed to do it alone, because the Crocotta wouldn't be around forever. Wouldn't likely even be around for much longer. As he saw his child's first wound, the Father saw this as another opportunity.

“Come. I'll show you where good plants are”

They traveled around to a particular outcropping of stones. Weeds grew amongst the grass. The Crocotta pointed out one in particular. “Good plant. Heal cut.” He tore a leaf off, winced at the taste. Bitter. All the more reason not to get hurt. He helped the child kneed the juices into his cut. Eventually the bleeding stemmed.

The Leucrota nuzzled the Crocotta. Crocotta Father is smart. He knows everything. All the words, all the plants. The Leucrota loved his Father.

…

As it munched on a good meal – first meal in a long time – the Leucrota adult thought of Father and Mother. Missed Father and Mother. Someone came to the forest, long time before, took Father's eyes. Why take Father's shiny eyes? Ponies were strange.

Was it a pony that took Father's eyes? The Leucrota was never sure. It walked like a pony, but some things were different. He wished Father had been there to tell him. Father would have known. Crocotta Father knew everything, all the words, all the whys, all the creatures. Crocotta Father knew everything. The Leucrota missed Crocotta Father.

…

Another pony was in Mother's cave. The Leucrota remembered the cave from long ago, remembered the inside. Remembered what Crocotta Father did when a pony was inside. He slide the big rock in front so the ponies were trapped. Leave them there for days. Let them out, then pretend to leave. The ponies would go out after a while, and Crocotta Father would get them.

Crocotta Father was so smart. Father knew everything. The Leucrota followed Father's example. Father always knew best. No way out of the cave. Father said so.

Just wished it wasn't so wet. Cave was best place to hide from rain. Couldn't go in cave, had to wait. Rain was cold.

…

It wasn't a pony. The Leucrota had seen ponies, many ponies. Even the one who took Father's eyes, who only looked sort of like a pony. This one wasn't a pony.

What it was was smart. Nothing could get out of the cave, yet this one did. Did that mean this one was Nothing? Is Nothing eatable? The Leucrota was confused. He wished Father were there. Father would know the name of the Nothing. Know if it could be eaten.

Nothing talked like ponies, though. Stood on two legs, but talked like ponies. And it was fast. The Leucrota thought rabbits were fast, that nothing was faster. Guess Nothing really was faster than rabbits.

The Leucrota wished he could move his neck around. Move it like Crocotta Father, or like ponies, or like the Nothing.

Wished the Nothing would scare more. Nothing was scared at first, but then fought anyway. Too fast, too smart, too not afraid. Nothing should be that fearless.

The Leucrota guessed that Nothing really was that fearless. Or maybe it just knew fear better. Was Fear a friend of Nothing? Or was Nothing the child of Fear, just like The Leucrota was the child of Crocotta?

Maybe Father would have known. He knew all the words, learned them from watching ponies. He would know about Fear. Fear and Nothing. He wished Father was here to explain things again.

The Leucrota missed Father.

…

The Leucrota was dying. It wasn't fair. Get a pony on its own, it's easy to kill. Father always said get them alone, they'll go down easy. Even if they fight back, draw blood, they still go down. Ponies don't draw enough blood. Plants handle it. Alone ponies always go down.

But it wasn't a pony. It was Nothing. Nothing was scary.

Things were going dark. Darker than the night. Nothing was darker than the night, Father said so. Why did the Nothing make it so dark? And cold.

Would the Nothing take the Leucrota's eyes, like the thing that might have been a pony took Father's? He didn't know. Father would know. He knew everything. Maybe even Mother would know.

The Leucrota missed Father and Mother. He missed them so much. He missed them...

Author's Note

This is what you get when you listen to sad music while trying to write a simple "hero fights monster" story. You get not only a bittersweet ending, but also a chapter written from the monster's perspective. There's a trope for chapters written from a non-standard point of view, like an animals, but I don't remember what it's called.

Whatever, does this qualify my story for the Sad category? Need a moderator's advice.

You don't need to point out problems in conveying information, because that's kind of the point of this chapter. Nor do you need to point out the stilted grammar. Do point out typos though.

06 - Stranger In A Strange Land

Ch. 6 - Stranger In A Strange Land

“What an unmitigated series of blunders.”

Sarin Miles cringed, wincing at the well-deserved criticism. Grudgingly, she forced her eyes open to look at her accuser. The balding Fatae fixed a glare upon MS G7-H3, hard scowl etched on his pudgy, pockmarked face. Sarin's body shuddered; she forced herself back at attention. Only thing she could do to weather the storm.

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of coconuts banging together could be heard.

“Come now, Major, there's no need for that,” said Lieutenant Jons, leaning forward and extending a hand.

“Whyever not?” Major Minder responded, directing his ogle to the Lieutenant and then back to Sarin. “MS G7-H3's last three missions have ended in near disaster. I should think a reprimand for poor performance is the least she deserves.”

There they go again, Sarin thought sadly. When they're mad, they don't use my name. Just my designation.

“But Major,” said Jons softly, trying desperately to bring down the emotional weight of the conversation. “Sergeant Miles is still reeling from Glencost.”

“Are you still not over that?” spat Major Minder, fixing eyes firmly on Sarin. He balled up a fist and slammed it against his desk hard enough to make Sarin flinch. In the background, footsteps and those coconuts beat a hurried pace. Sarin could feel eyes settling on her from outside the office. The Major continued: “It's been months! A real soldier in the Emperor's army would have steeled himself by now! Where is your conviction? Why haven't you grown up and stopped crying?”

“Really Major, that's hardly fair,” Lieutenant Jons said.

“Bah! Fairness!” the Major scoffed, stalking around his desk to manhandle a bottle of some alcoholic beverage. He poured the amber liquid into a glass as he continued, “Back in my day...back in the Vor War...our men and women would have to do far worse than what went on in Glencost. We never complained.” Minder plopped down in his chair, sipping the fluid mindfully.

Lieutenant Jons adjusted the cuffs on his jacket. “As I recall, sir, several men cracked under the pressure during that particular campaign.” He cracked a smile, desperate and genial. “Not everyone can be as strong as you.”

Major Minder grunted, swirling his glass on the statement. “Maybe...” he said, “but it's our duty to become that strong. For the good of everyone. Can't have hearts too weak to do what's necessary.”

Sarin frowned deeper. Anxiously her hands shook, so she started bending fingers back to settle her nerves and the shakes.

Seeing his subordinate's disturbing display of unease, Jons said, “Perhaps a lighter, less aggressive assignment would be more fitting. Something more methodical, like...”

“You coddle her, Lieutenant,” Major Minder commented before taking a hearty swig. He composed himself after the taste, drumming his fingers against the glass. “But perhaps you are right. I've received word from command that a new planet was discovered. The Pheta Centari system. Been giving off more Mana than anything we've ever seen. Some irregular planetary body movements.”

Sarin swore she could hear those coconuts clack again, this time with a flutter of feathers.

“Command has been looking for some agents to investigate the surface. See what's about,” continued the Major. “I'll recommend your girl, Lieutenant. But only because I hate seeing good time and energy wasted.” He looked into Sarin's eyes, causing her to stand up straighter. “You hear me, MS G7-H3? No more mistakes. No more freezing up. No. More. Blunders.”

Sarin Miles shifted awake, disengaging the knot of limbs she'd taken to sleeping in. She stretched at impossible angles, banishing the stiffness she felt from sleeping in other impossible angles. Propping herself against the wall, Sarin began slipping on her outer clothes, belts, and boots. Once she had everything she could carry, she draped a cloak around her and climbed out the window.

The trip south to Ponyville had been an uneventful hike. Maintaining a brisk but steady pace had her travel the fifteen to twenty kilometers to the town in roughly three hours. This was followed by several more hours casing the community from the outskirts. Her first few nights were spent camping in a nearby grove of trees, but she soon found more private sleeping accommodations.

Standing near the edge of the town, roughly a kilometer from the local apple orchard – one Sweet Apple Acres – was an aged two-story house. Condemned for what appeared to be many ages, examination of objects and papers within the residence revealed it to have housed a family of Earth Ponies. Photographs and letters painted a picture of a modesty well-off family that slowly dissolved due to lethal accidents, disease, and cases of insanity. What few members of the clan escaped this fate did so by fleeing elsewhere, leaving the last inhabitant to wither and die alone. Sarin found evidence of wilted funeral flowers scattered around the floor, suggesting the distant family or descendents of the last resident attended his funeral, and promptly vacated, wanting nothing to do with the place. Skulking around the neighborhood revealed that surrounding homeowners view the place as unlucky, and they avoid it if at all possible.

Lucky me, lucky me, thought Sarin when she considered the vacancy. She didn't know if one could think in sing-song fashion, but she tried it anyway.

Sarin drifted through town – after a brief detour to covertly collect a lunch's worth of apples from the orchard – hiding amongst the shadows and bushes to avoid detection. Such comprised her standard procedure for intelligence gathering for the previous three weeks.

In that period the modified soldier gathered a significant bulk of data.

There were the obvious points. Learning about the three races of pony, their strengths and roles in society, how their communities were structured, “cutie marks” and their relation to a pony's “special talent”, and the distribution of magic and the forms it took depending on the race. All cryptic, yet verifiable through simple observation. The idea that the different races could interbreed was mildly interesting, as was the revelation that an Earth pony couple had birthed twins, one a pegasus and the other a unicorn.

Recessive genes? Perhaps their ancestors were of those other two, and they carried the traits until they manifested. Or there was infidelity involved on the wife's part. Sarin would have liked to know for sure which was the case. For the report.

Of significantly greater interest was the governmental structure of this land – this Equestria. A diarchey, ruled by two princesses. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Apparently immortal and of great personal magical power. Potentially dangerous all on their own. Sarin's confusion over why the rulers were princesses rather than queens was compounded by the presence – if rumor was to be believed – of other princesses who held inferior authority. All were alicorns (Sarin also heard tell of “minor” princes and princesses who were merely of one of the three races).

One of them being the Twilight – Twilight Sparkle – Sarin saw in the forest.

Thus brought Sarin to the present, standing guard over the still living hollow tree that acted as Ponyville's library, and the residence of Princess Twilight Sparkle.

What is even the hell, Sarin thought, gawking. She's a Princess, and if the rumors are to be believed her “special talent” is in magic itself. And she chooses to dwell in a tree library in the middle of a small town? Had she incurred the wrath of other nobles and been exiled?

The only working theory Sarin had for this quandary was the purple pony's proclivity towards books. She never left home without several bulging from her bags. Sarin knew this, she stalked the mare for days on and off. This of course had been after investigation revealed her true target – Rainbow Dash – lived amongst the clouds and thus couldn't be easily assassinated. Giving up on that objective for a time, Sarin stuck to the princess, guessing that her exile was self-imposed. Done in an effort to pursue prosperon studies into every subject imaginable. As well as presumably several studies that couldn't be imagined.

All the observation was done to answer one thing: how can Sarin get inside that tree and retrieve the blood-splattered wood? If it were possible as well, Sarin would attempt to make off with as many tomes as she could carry to deliver with her findings. Assuming she ever received rescue.

An assumption growing progressively poorer each passing day.

The timetable for the mission had been set at seven months. Three months to reach the Equestrian planet from the nearest outpost, three more to get back. That left one month for observation. The ship's complement of provisions could last the crew seven months, so any longer than that would require the ship to start rationing further. No one liked to be told that the last month of voyage would be without food or water because the modified soldier with skin painted like a capital city strumpet wanted extra time watching the ponies. Without any word from the missing ground team, it would be irresponsible and dangerous for Lieutenant Jons to keep the search going any longer past the cutoff date.

Assuming the S.S. Docket Lot still hung in orbit, it wouldn't for much longer.

Best case scenario, if Sarin failed to reestablish contact, the Docket Lot would venture home and return with fresh supplies and preferably with a new set of soldiers. Which would take six months minimum, probably more given that the crew would likely be rotated, word passed along to command, and replacement modified soldiers brought in. In all that time, Sarin Miles would need to wait and hide.

Even in the best case scenario, she was no closer to being found by whatever team they sent than she was now.

Nothing to do about that now, Sarin thought. First things first, contain what the enemy can learn about you.

She trained her telescope at the tree. Through the windows, she could see the princess shuffling about. Then she was joined by the dragon – her personal assistant Spike. He was most often around during the day, keeping house and minding the public service aspect of the book collection while his master was away. And when he left, Twilight Sparkle would refuse to leave. The reptilian mook was the most galling obstacle to infiltrating the building and finding what she wanted.

Or at least he would be, if not for the pink pony. The one Sarin saw coming into view. Sarin bolted.

Over her stay in the town, no thorn stuck more painfully in the Sergeant's side than the one called Pinkemena Diane Pie. Wild, excitable, frighteningly social. And seemingly always aware of those watching her. On eight separate occasions over the preceding three weeks, the fluffy maned beast would twitch across her body, before turning exactly to where Sarin was hiding. She always knew.

Running at that point was paramount, as the creature would give chase. Always one step behind Sarin, Pinkie Pie forced the modified soldier to employ celerity and agility to run as far and as fast as possible. To Sarin's horror, celerity seemed to do little to widen the gap.

The crazy mare can teleport, Sarin swore. Always calling out with her “where are you”s and her “almost got ya”s and her “hey mystery pony, don't be shy. I just want to throw you a party”s. Lunatic.

The only sure fire way to avoid a chase was to drop everything and run the second she shows up. Run and hide. Even then, Sarin had cut it close more times than she wanted to admit. It got to the point where Sarin kept her ears cranked when sneaking around pony conversations, just for word of a Pinkie Pie Party going on. At least then, the soldier could rest a little easier. A little.

Sarin jumped over a gap in the rooftops, then slid down a pipe on the other side to descend to an alley. If I'm ever going to get into that library, she thought, ducking low behind a garden wall as she crawled along, I'm going to need to break in at night. Can't put it off forever. Who knows how long before the bookworm learns something from the blood.

As she crouch walked, her foot fell on a newspaper. Looking down, she checked the headline. Sarin almost turned away and started moving again before the meaning of the headline processed in her brain. She snatched the paper up and held it close, rereading the title.

Alien Sailing Ship Spotted In Upper Atmosphere, Says Royal Canterlot Observatory

Sarin's heart threatened to beat itself out of her chest. The edges of the paper began to stick to her hands, they produced so much sweat. She shot her head above the wall to see if any witnesses were around, then looked back down at the newspaper. She strangled down a scream, her hands shaking. Finally, she started to read the article proper, searching for specifics and citations.

Where is this observatory?

Author's Note

As always, leave comments about any typos, grammar errors, and poorly explained plot elements, assuming someone else hasn't already pointed them out.

07 - Black Spot

Ch. 7 - Black Spot

Pinkie Pie thought she felt a twitchy twitch coming on, but it subsided too quickly for a fix. She looked around wildly, searching for that now familiar cloak.

"Where are you, spy?" she asked.

Reluctantly, Pinkemena Diane Pie gave up the search. That silly spy was getting better at dodging her. Oh well, she's probably just shy. A Shy Spy.

“He he he! Shy Spy!” she chuckled, unkempt mane bouncing up and down. Then her smile dropped, Pinkie placing her hoof against her chin. “What was I doing again? Oh right!” She slammed one hoof against the other in emphasis. Rising from the haunches she sat on during her contemplation, Pinkie bounced over to the library.

The door opened as she approached, revealing Spike the dragon on his way out. Pinkie bounced along as he passed, saying, “Hey Spike!”

“Hey Pinkie,” he responded, dragging a red wagon behind him. “Going gem hunting with Rarity. Catch ya later!”

“You bet you will! Have fun!” Pinkie bounded into the library, zoning in on her target. “Hey Twilight!”

Twilight sat at her work table, fumbling with test tubes while levitating a half-dozen books around her. She winced for just a second when Pinkie called her name, making sure to put everything down safely. “Hey Pinkie,” she said, not taking her eyes off the delicate experiment. “What's up? Another party?”

“Oh my gosh, how did you know?” Pinkie gasped, waving her hooves in the air. Then she smiled wider somehow, saying, “But yeah, big party tonight. I'm delivering invitations to everypony. It's gonna be great!”

Twilight looked up at the clock, then to Pinkie Pie before giving a sympathetic smile. “If you're going to invite me Pinkie...”

“Which I totally am!” Pinkie said, holding up a paper slip.

“...then I have to apologize, and decline.”

Pinkie Pie's smile dropped. Her eyes began to water. Even her wild hair threatened to deflate.

“No no no!” said Twilight, waving her hooves to avert the onset of a patented Pinkie Pie sadness spiral. “I mean I would totally go to your party! I love them.” She put on a big reassuring smile. “It's just that this research is really important and I want to get it down tonight before I head out tomorrow.”

This seemed to mollify the demi-fiend of chaos, who lightened up considerably. She even took up another smile, albeit a more subdued one. “Oh, okay...you've been going out a lot lately. What's that about?”

“Oh, that's actually something related to this research,” Twilight explained. She picked up a small silk bag and held it up. “A few weeks ago, I found a piece of wood with some blood on it, near a place where Rainbow Dash says something crashed. I've been back and forth there and here trying to figure out what happened.” She poured a little dust from the bag onto her hoof, then brought out the wood block. A considerable amount of the blood flakes had been removed for experiments, and she gently used tweezers to remove another flake. She planted the flake onto the sand pile.

Pinkie looked on, mezmerized by the deep magical science no doubt going on. Probably. Pinkie Pie was never good at magical science, but she trusted Twilight to know her way around it. Just like Twilight trusted Pinkie to block her mouth so as not to repeat that one time Twilight showed Pinkie a powder experiment.

It was such a big, pretty fire. Too bad for Twilight's mane, though.

Behind her hooves, Pinkie said, “So what's this stuff do?”

“I did some studying on ways to identify creatures by their blood, and found how to make this stuff,” Twilight explained, lifting a vial of green stuff so it was poised over the powder in her hand. “Just a drop of this...” she said as the drop fell to the sand, “...then add a little magic...” Here she lit up her horn, enveloping the pile of dust in her hooves. It slowly started to fizzle and pop, until her horn stopped glowing. The glow on the dust remained. “...we can see what kind of being shed this blood.”

With that, she cast the powder into the room. Pinkie Pie looked on with amazement behind her mouth-stopping hooves. The sand swirled in the air. Then it started to settle, taking the shape of a tall biped. It was gray as the sand it was made of, and was more a silhuette than a sculpture, but it held its shape perfectly. The figure stood on its two legs, fingered hands to its sides. The face lacked the pronounced muzzle of a pony, and its ears were long and pointy. Pointy ears!

“Wow!” said Pinkie. “What is it?”

“I have no idea,” shrugged Twilight, throwing her hooves into the air. “I've done that a dozen times now.” Twilight stopped at this and retrieved a clipboard, jotting down notes. “This makes it fourteen to be exact. No matter how hard I try though, I can't find any record of a creature like this in Equestria.”

Pinkie stared at the figure, it now slowly losing dimension as it dissolved. Shy spy? “You think one of these is out there? Like right now? And maybe in need of a party?” Her face lift up with this.

“Maybe,” mused Twilight, putting down her clipboard with a sigh. “But I do think something is or was out in the woods.” She stretched her wings with a few flaps, getting the kinks out. “And I don't know if we want to meet it.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Because I think it killed something,” Twilight said, grimly. When Pinkie's frown appeared again, Twilight elaborated, “A few days ago, I ran into some woodsponies who said the forest was dangerous. They said they found the body of a Leucrota buried somewhere in there. They only found it when they started digging a hole for a few signs. It had exsanguinated from a neck laceration.”

“It what from a what?” said Pinkie. “Also, what's a lewd crouton?”

“It's a monster that eats ponies, Pinkie,” Twilight explained, visually uncomfortable with having to show off these particular bits of knowledge. “And it means it got cut in the throat and bled to death.”

“Oh...” responded Pinkie, now seeming much less chipper or silly. “...uh...”

“See what I mean? Not necessarily something we want to meet.” The alicorn shook her head, taking one last look at the dust clone as it completely fell apart in a loose scattering of particles on the floor. With a sigh, she rose from her seat and went to retrieve the broom. Again.

Pinkie meanwhile look worried. “So you think that thing,” she gestured to the space the powder double occurpied, “was the one who ex-penguin ate-d the lewd crouton?”

Princess Twilight sighed again, levitating over the broom and dust pan. “Either that, or this came from another of those two-legged creatures that died. I'm working under the theory one or more of them might have crashed in the forest. If it's more, the blood might come from ones who didn't make it. And if that's true, we've got another one running around.” She considered for a moment. “Of course all of this is a theory. This creature might not be related at all to the Leucrota slaying. In might just be a pony who took revenge for an eaten loved one.” Not that that possibility sat good on Twilight's stomach. She swept the dust into the dustbin. “All I do know is that in that forest is a section of land recently dug up, and the blood of a mysterious creature. There might be something buried there. I've kind of been putting it off, not wanting to see for sure, but tomorrow I'll do it for sure.” She emptied the bin into the magical waste bucket near her desk. “It's kind of for that reason I'm not feeling up for a party tonight. Is that not okay?”

But Pinkie Pie barely caught the words. “Oh...yeah, it's okay...no problem...”

She was really worried now. She walked, not bounced, out the door of the library, deep in thought as she is not want to do. Finally she looked up to the roof tops, scanning them for signs she knew weren't there.

“Oh Shy Spy. What's going on with you?”

…

Sarin picked through the tools she had back at the abandoned house – titled Base Two. She would need the knife...and the light pistol. She checked the charges; five shots.

Hopefully it would be enough. What amounted to her master plan hinged on these five shots doing the impossible.

She sat down on the bedroll she'd made from the salvaged parachute and a blanket found in a dumpster. Her watch was set to go off at sundown; Sarin needed her rest for the night ahead. She had two destinations that night: the Ponyville library, and the Royal Canterlot Observatory. Sarin looked through her items again, and saw the newspaper. She'd underlined the address. She'd even scoped the place out from a distance using her telescope. Honestly she wouldn't need to bring the newspaper with her – she'd already memorized the address and the route – but she might need it as an...example.

Sarin wasn't sure whether she was hopeful or fearful of somepony being in the facility that late. At least she knew for sure Twilight and the dragon would be at the library and asleep.

Her entire body shook. She couldn't quiet her heart. Sarin shut her eyes, desperately trying to force sleep on herself. At the same time, she had a vague dread about sleep. She couldn't understand why.

A moot point anyway. The watch began loosing noise around sundown. Sarin Miles jumped up and moved out. She hadn't slept a wink.

09 - In The Brig

Ch. 9 - In The Brig

“Subject three seems stable, for what it's worth.”

She felt weightless.

“Good news is she'll live longer than her predecessor.”

She felt calm.

“She's even projected to follow orders well.”

She felt...at peace.

“Too bad she's also projected to be a complete failure.”

G7-H3 opened her eyes. Were they talking about her?

Her containment tube held her suspended in a viscus, transparent red fluid, tinting her vision a pale pink. Outside the tube, an entire group of Fatae in pink lab coats stood staring at her, scribbling on clip boards.

One of them spoke up. “Yes, it's too bad about this one. Such promise.”

“Just look at her appearance! Clearly a symptom or byproduct of her abject inadequacy.”

“You're sure we can't adjust some aspect of her to salvage her worth?” asked another scientist, this with close-cropped pink hair. He was handsome too. Or at least G7-H3 thought so.

“Not a thing,” another scientist answered, this one with a pockmarked face and angry scowl. “The data doesn't lie. She'll only be good at committing blunders. Blunders to the third power. Better ditch her at the earliest convenience.”

“Hmm,” said the handsome scientist, “Maybe you're right.”

“Oh please, you lot are so cynical,” said another scientist. His skin was a lighter shade of pinkish brown, and his hair jet black. He adjusted those rose-tinted glasses of his. “I know of at least one area she's projected to excel at.”

“What? Curling in a ball and weeping?” said the pockmarked scientist.

“No...she's perfectly suited for the act of killing.”

The modified soldier's heart tightened like a vice. G7-H3 began to see that the words she could hear were grossly out of sync with the lip flaps coming from the scientists. In fact, she could hear a faint, muffled noise underneath their words. But G7-H3 was in no position to actually understand them, even if their louder words weren't so loud.

“Regardless, in every other respect she's a total waste,” said another scientist. “Flush her down, will you?”

“Very well,” said the handsome scientist, placing hands on a lever. He pulled, and the fluid began to spin rapidly. G7-H3 flailed in glass container, finding no purchase on the slick walls.

She looked out, the scientists seeming to lose interest one by one of the spectacle. Only a single scientist remained behind in the end. One with four legs, a pointed horn, pretty wings sticking from her pink lab coat, and a color scheme of resplendent purple. She frowned, and G7-H3 did her best to scream with liters of fluid between them.

G7-H3 fell, fluid whipping around her. She found her voice to scream for help just as she spun so fast as to lose track of which way was up and which was down.

Sarin Miles awoke with a jolt, sucking air violently. She held the breath for seconds, arching her back and staring wide-eyed into the disheveled hair cover her face. Expelling the air, she released the tension and fell painfully onto her back again. Her breathing continued, hard and raspy.

Rolling over on her side, Sarin reflexively tried to reach up and sweep the oily hair from her face. Only to realize she couldn't budge her hand. Instead it caught on something hard, jingling with the movement. In desperation to see, she flipped her hair out of the way, threatening to deepen a mild headache she suffered from.

She could finally see...see the chains and manacles binding her arms in an iron straight jacket. See the dingy, poorly lit cell she lay in.

Oh. Right. I forgot, she thought, returning her head to the ground and letting her entire body slack. All she cared to notice was the column of light shining through the bars of her window.

After she surrendered, the Canterlot Royal Guard bound Sarin in chains and dragged her out of the Observatory. She hadn't resisted, so their handling (hoofing?) of her remained careful. Gentle even, as though she were a delicate flower instead of a violent criminal. Maybe they had pity on her.

Doubtful, she thought cynically. She grimaced. Pitied prisoners are permitted a full range of motion when it came to their limbs.

They had taken a carriage ride, then transferred to a train car. She managed to peak out the barred windows of the prison car, spying their destination: Canterlot. The shining city on the mountain. Capitol of Equestria. Throne of princesses Celestia and Luna, raisers of the sun and moon. The place where she'd get executed for sure. Or at least she'd thought so.

Instead the guards had walked her through the streets, the first light of day peaking from the horizon. Given that it had been so early in the morning, only a scant few ponies were around to see the bizarre, blotch-faced, bipedal prisoner marched to the castle and into the welcoming arms of its dungeons. How long would it take for word to spread among the gossips of the capitol? How long would it take for her presence to be overshadowed by some other petty news?

Either way, the secret was out. Her stealth mission failed as miserably as possible. Everypony would know about her in time.

The last thing Sarin recalled was being dropped in her cell. She supposed at some point she fell asleep – the previous night had been long. It brought her back to the dream.

Sarin remembered almost nothing from the tube days. Least of all the faces of the scientists who worked on her. Since she was immersed in fluids and behind glass, she most certainly couldn't actually recall what was said merely meters from her developing form.

Stupid dreams, she thought angrily. Even had a pony there. A purple alicorn. Twilight Sparkle? She seemed like a royal figure, but Sarin couldn't rightly remember the pony in her dream that well. I've been here so long I've finally started to dream of ponies.

She humphed, rolling over to her other side. The chains rattled and clinked as she settled facing the door. They weren't even that tight, just uncomfortable to sleep on. Her skin already felt sore. She exhaled angrily, over and over, until she lost the will to bother completely. Then she just lay there, staring at the door.

Sarin stared at that door for an indeterminate amount of time – too morose, too depressed – until a tapping on the metal door signaled a shutter to fly open.

The captured soldier – the POW she thought sadly – stared wide eyed as the face of a guard peered down on her. They locked gazes, then Sarin blinked. Shortly after, the guard hummed curtly and turned away, shutting the hatch. Sarin could hear the clop of coconuts banging together – no, not coconuts. Hooves. Why had she thought coconuts?

Sarin sighed, shaking away the nonsense. He's probably going to inform his fellows that the prisoner is awake, no doubt plotting an escape of some kind. Yes, that's probably his intent. Sarin turned back over to face away from the cell door. She started expelling angry air in bursts again.

She sighed away the last of the bad air minutes later. She tried to shut her eyes and return to sleep when the sound of the hatch opening again startled her to attention.

“The Princess wishes to meet with you,” came the voice behind her back. The hatch slid shut, and the sound of clinking keys and grinding gears followed.

Sarin rolled over again, concerned for the first time since she woke up. Struggling as well as she could to rise to her feet, she stood and looked the guard in the eyes when he opened the door.

He stepped into the cell and placed a hoof around a chain, pulling her firmly forward. “This way.”

A building trepidation in her belly, Sarin obeyed.

She was seated on a padded seat, the guard scooting her forward into her place at a white table. Sarin looked down and grudgingly admired the craftsmanship of it. Crafts-pony-ship? Looking around, she found the room to be modestly sized, and beautifully decorated. One guard stood at either entrance, and two stood around the window to Sarin's right. It overlooked a courtyard, where dozens of more pony soldiers milled about.

Moments later, the door opposite the one she entered opened. Princess Celestia waltzed in.

Sarin Miles was taken aback. When the guard who escorted her said the princess wanted to see her, the modified soldier assumed the guard referred to Princess Twilight Sparkle. Sarin broke into her house, after all, attempting to jack her books. No doubt it had been Twilight who raised the Royal Guard and directed them to the Observatory by the clues Sarin left. Meeting Princess Celestia – Queen in all but name of Equestria – was a possibility Sarin had not foreseen.

It took all her self-control to match Celestia's gaze. Her shockingly genteel gaze.

“Good afternoon,” the princess said, walking gracefully up to her seat. “Or I guess for you it would good morning. I gather you had quite an exciting night.” She smiled warmly, walking around her chair in order to sit down. “I wanted to talk with you after you arrived, but you'd gone to sleep by the time I got to the dungeons, so I decided it was better to let you rest.”

Sarin was paralyzed. Not by fear – justified as that fear would be – but simply by how incongruous this alicorn's attitude toward Sarin was with the gravity of her crimes. Was the ruler of this world really being so nice to an enemy invader?

Celestia noted Sarin's silence, humming to herself. “Let me be frank,” Celestia finally said, tilting her head. “I know you can understand me. And I want you to relax and talk to me. It'll get us both no where if you're unwilling to talk just a little.”

This snapped Sarin out of her daze. She blinked, then shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she looked directly at her captor again and said, “Okay.” Her voice was a touch on the weak side, she noted. How long had it been prior to the previous night's heated conversation since she talked regularly?

“Good! I'm glad,” said Celestia, giving another eerily warm smile. “So, how are your accommodations? The Canterlot dungeons get so little use these days, we hadn't even had time to furnish them. Is there anything you'd like for your cell?”

There were many things Sarin wanted at that moment. A bed to be sure, a simple mattress would do. Wool or cotton blanket. To have her chains removed, replaced with a straight jacket or ropes since the ponies preferred caution. Food and water would also be wonderful. Sarin hadn't consumed any food or taken any water since around sundown the previous day.

“I'm fine,” she said instead.

The rules of reciprocity dictated that when one has favors done on their behalf, reciprocation in some form had to be made. It wasn't mere social convention, but rather hardwired in the brain chemistry of most social species. Fatae were social animals, as were the ponies. An immortal princess with centuries of experience dealing with her subjects would understand this concept on some level at least. Sarin couldn't allow the princess to do her any favors. Celestia could use it as psychological leverage when the real interrogation began.

Can't submit, she thought. Mustn't allow her to buy me. If I accomplish nothing else, I'll carry what I know of the Empire to my grave.

Plus, the Princess could just as easily promise and then withhold the request items, letting Sarin get her hopes up before dashing them against the ground.

“Suit yourself,” said Princess Celestia, sighing. “If you ever need anything, all you need to do is ask the guards.” Her warm smile returned, beaming. She looked over her shoulder, waving to the guard behind her. “Have you eaten lunch? Or I should say breakfast. I don't think you have.” The guard nodded curtly, walking out the door. Another guard came inside after him, taking the first's place.

Celestia turned back to Sarin, smiling again. “While we wait, would you mind telling me about yourself? If it helps, my name is Celestia. What's yours?”

Sarin breathed a sigh of relief. At last, a question she was allowed to answer in the event of capture. “I am Sergeant Sarin Miles. Designated Modified Soldier G7-H3b, of the Fatae Empire armed forces.” It was a practiced statement; she practiced it for hours back in training.

“Sarin Miles, huh?” beamed Celestia, looking genuinely interested. She frowned briefly at the words “modified soldier", but continued nonetheless. “What a lovely name. And a Sergeant? You've done well for yourself.”

The modified soldier groaned unthinkingly. She looked away, frown creasing her face. That onerous honorary rank. The tightness in her chest doubled. It was only seconds later she tried to resume her neutral expression. She failed.

Celestia took notice. “Oh...is that a sore spot? I'm sorry. I have no idea if you have...had...aspirations for something higher. To tell you the truth I can only guess as to how your military ranks are ordered. Forgive my condescension.”

Sarin couldn't stand it anymore. She grunted grunted, hissing air out of her teeth. “Stop being so nice! I know you just want to dig any information out of me that you can, so get on with it!” The guards around her moved closer, spears held at the ready. Noting them, Sarin dropped her scowl and slouched in her seat, not even realizing she'd nearly stood up entirely.

Celestia merely shook her head. “I apologize if I come off as phony, but I'm not just putting on a performance to try to elicit information.” She looked behind to see servants rolling in carts full of food. As they placed plates before the two, Celestia went on, “I really do want to help you.”

Eying her food from the corner of her eye as covertly as she could, Sarin humphed. “Right. What makes you think I need your help.” A glass – complete with bendy straw – was placed next to the plate. It looked to be ice water. The food looked like roasted potatoes, carrots, green beans, squash, and grilled hay.

Celestia seemed to consider the question, but waved a hoof to Sarin. She was urging the captive soldier to partake before she'd answer.

Sarin's thirst was palpable. Drinking the water couldn't hurt. So long as she avoided the food, her show of contempt would be maintained. Unfortunately, her slow sips from the straw turned to strong sucks, and she soon exhausted the glass of liquids.

Only for a servant nearby to trot over and refill the glass. Sarin's cheek flushed as she sucked more water. Her blush grew stronger when her stomach growled, unsatisfied with mere hydration when it wanted sumptuous nutrients.

Celestia stifled a giggle with a hoof, saying, “It's alright, you don't have to restrain yourself. You can go back to refusing my questions after you've eaten. In fact, I daresay you'll need your strength to resist me.” She giggled more fully this time.

That last statement gave Sarin pause, though she secretly took pride in it for the apparent validation of her fears. Realizing the wisdom of her captor-host's words, Sarin bent forward and began gobbling up the warm food. The potatoes, the squash, the green beans, and the carrots all were sampled. All were delicious. She left the hay right where it was. She didn't even care that she was technically demeaning herself by eating the food like a pig ate slop. She simply wouldn't give the princess the satisfaction by being embarrassed.

Besides, she needed to get through the food quickly before asking for clarification. “So when you say resist you...”

“I mean I'll keep nagging you and feeding you and being extra nice until you feel like talking,” answered Celestia. She levitated more food into her mouth to add to the stuff she'd enjoyed while watching Sarin enjoy hers. “My food is good, yes? I wouldn't want to think my chefs shortchanged you because you're my...guest.”

Sarin ignored this, preferring to steer the conversation back a bit. “I asked you before but you didn't answer. What makes you think I need your help?” She tried to look as serious as she could, undermined by the bits of food she could feel was on her cheeks.

Celestia's smile dipped, showing signs of concerned sadness. “You stalked the streets, taking food from garbage or stealing from farms. You broke into my...former student's home. You even took one of my little ponies hostage, forcing him to search for a ship in the sky. If reports are accurate, you were distraught when you found out the ship in the sky had left.” She shook her head somberly. “If that doesn't scream 'I need help', I don't know what does.”

Twilight Sparkle was Celestia's student? Or had been? Sarin suddenly felt glad she hadn't murdered the bookworm at either previous opportunity.

When Celestia finished talking, an official looking pony with a mustache came in from behind the princess and stood by her side. “I'm sorry to disturb your...meeting, Princess. But Day Court is set to resume in eight minutes.” He looked over to Sarin, unimpressed.

The Princess sighed. “Very well.” She rose from her seat, wiping food away from her mouth. “I must unfortunately attend to yet more business today. Please consider all we've discussed, Sarin Miles. I would rather be a friend than an enemy. I'll see you again tomorrow.” With that, she turned and waltzed sadly away.

A servant remained behind to wipe the bits of food away from Sarin's mouth, a service she permitted. That done, a guard came behind and pulled her to her feet. As she was escorted back in the direction of the dungeons, Sarin did consider what they discussed.

That's the problem, Princess. It doesn't matter what you want. You became my enemy the minute I set down on this planet.

10 - Cabin Fever

Ch. 10 - Cabin Fever

“What's wrong with your face?”

A Fatae girl with long twin braids pointed her finger right into Sarin's face. Sarin shrank back from the digit.

“She's a freak is what's wrong with her,” said a Fatae boy, a smug expression on his face.

“N-n-no I'm not a...” Sarin whispered, but her voice couldn't carry, and the other kids ignored her.

“Yeah,” said another girl. “Why's her skin so white? Or is she one of you, Bronner?”

The one called Bronner – endowed with a much lighter complexion than most of the rest of the kids – shifted that light skin to a beet red hue. “No way! I'm nothing like her! I don't have blue all over me!” He stepped towards Sarin. “And I don't have ears that look like they were chewed on by a dog either!” He tried to grab Sarin's ear, but she dodged away.

Did this kid really want to avoid guilt by association so much he'd throw Sarin under the bus to do it?

“What's the matter, blotch face?” mocked the braid girl. “You'll let a dog chew on your ears, but not let one of us touch them?”

“You think you're better than us?” said a boy.

“No, I really don't...” Sarin said quietly, gripping arms around herself as if that would protect against their verbal assault.

“Maybe she does think she's better than us,” said another boy, coming up from behind the main group of kids. “I heard she was one of those fancy new misses. Ones with freaky powers.”

The braid girl turned back to Sarin. “Oh you think you're hot stuff cause your a new misses?”

“P-please...” said Sarin, trying to raise her voice above the din of the encroaching crowd. “Someone...a-an-anyone! H-help me!” Hher voice quivered, which set some of the other children laughing.

“No one's going to help you, dog chewed!” said a boy with big, beefy fingers. “You're all alone! Ain't no one like you here!”

“Yeah!” Bronner said, visibly desperate to distance himself categorically from G7-H3. “You're a real freak with no one like you!”

“That's not true!” Sarin said, eyes growing watery. “I'm not the only one!”

“Then where are all the other kids with blotchy faces and dog chewed ears and skin white as dog bones?” said the braided girl, smiling smugly.

“I...I don't...” Sarin said, looking around. In truth she'd only briefly met other members of the G7 series, and only one true G7-H. All were adults. Sarin had never met another of her kind of her own age. No kids with blue blotchy faces or blue dog ears.

“She doesn't have any! Nobody's like her!” said the fat-fingered boy.

“She's a freak! A freaky blue blotch face!”

Tears began rolling down little Sarin's face. She tried to find a way to push past her tormentors, but the crowd of children was too thick. She could only stand on her tippy toes and peak over the crowd. A short distance away, a line of caretakers and adults stood watching. A couple were turning away to avoid Sarin's crying eyes. None moved to help her. Not even the regal looking one with the wings and horn and flowing blue mane that shone like stars.

She looked visibly the most disgusted and tormented. But she didn't move either.

Why wouldn't they come help her? Aren't adults supposed to stop these sorts of things?

“Dog eared!”

“White wash!”

“Pointy forehead!”

“Blunderer!”

“Monster!”

“MURDERER!”

“IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Sarin shot awake, drenched in sweat. She shivered on the floor of her cell, panting heavily. The chains that bound her arms clinked as she shuddered.

Just a dream! She shook her head frantically to dispel the memories. It's just a dream, you stupid girl! Stop being a crybaby! It was years ago. All of those kids went on to join the military. Probably forgot all about you.

Sarin pulled her knees in and she rested her face onto them. She stifled the tears that threatened to push out. Breath in, breath out.

It doesn't matter anymore. They can't hurt me anymore. Can't mock me. Some of them might even be dead, killed by insurgents or enemy armies or wild beasts. So stop being stupid. You crybaby. You stupid freak...

Sarin Miles took her seat again. She'd realized that morning that she hadn't had a chance to bathe. The guards would probably have acquiesced if she asked, hosed her off at least. But as soon as she considered it, she rejected the idea.

If I'm to meet her majesty every day, she thought, I'll be as filthy and foul-smelling as I can.

Assuming she noticed the odor, Princess Celestia gave no signs of it bothering her. She simply sat opposite the modified soldier and smiled that infuriatingly pleasant smile. “Did you sleep well again? As I said yesterday, you can ask for anything if it makes your stay more comfortable.”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? I could also arrange to let you walk around the courtyard if you'd like to stretch your legs. How about it?” Celestia's smile faltered a shade, eying the stiff manner in which Sarin sat.

Honestly, Sarin would love the chance to run around. She had enough space in her cell to perform sit-ups, an activity she'd practiced the rest of the day until dinner was brought in. The chance to really stretch out, even under the watchful eyes of the guard, would content Sarin immensely.

“No thank you.”

A sigh escaped the princess' mouth. She shook her head, “Very well. Later perhaps. Moving along, would you be so kind as to tell me how you came to Equestria?”

“No, I would not be so kind.”

“I see. If you would permit me, I'll try to puzzle through what I know about you, Sarin Miles, and see if I can't figure it out on my own.” Celestia tapped her regal hoof against her chin. “Do feel free to correct me if my assumptions are too off-base.”

Sarin grunted in neutral acknowledgment.

“That you were so interested in a ship floating in the sky meant you came from somewhere beyond this world,” said Celestia. “I admit the prospect of there being creatures beyond my sphere is daunting. But that's for later.” She cleared her throat. “I can only assume you were separated from that ship, and sought out the astronomer in an effort to find it again. You wanted to return to it. Am I correct so far?”

The modified soldier merely stared.

“...I can also say you spent at least a little time in the forests north of Ponyville,” continued Celestia. “We found the body of the Leucrota, killed with a sharp instrument. One like your fine knife.”

“I know,” said Sarin. “I saw the notes in the other princess' house.”

“Indeed. You might not know that Twilight Sparkle found the bodies of the other...uh...”

“Fatae. I'm a Fatae,” Sarin said. Giving the regal mare a name for her species wouldn't hurt. It said nothing about the Empire. Nothing those bodies wouldn't tell. Sarin frowned at the thought of their capture. “They were Fatae too.”

“Yes, that is interesting,” Celestia said, before returning the frown. “I'm afraid we did need to unearth what I can only assume are your fellows. I apologize if I disturbed any sacred burial rights.”

Admittedly the act annoyed Sarin, but she merely grunted noncommittally.

“And we found what I can only assume was the wrecks of your landing craft in a cave,” said Celestia.

Sarin grimaced. Everything she'd worked to accomplish was coming apart piece by piece while she remained locked away. An absolute disgrace.

“From all this, I think I can hazard a chain of events,” Celestia commented, stroking her chin. “Your party was sent down to the surface of our world, but crashed for unknown reasons.”

Sarin considered naming Rainbow Dash as the cause – out of spite if nothing else. But the thought of Celestia realizing their solar sailed ships had a weakness to sonic rainbooms, and figuring out how to master that advantage in the future, gave Sarin pause. She held her tongue.

“Your fellows didn't make it – I'm sorry for your loss by the way – so you attempted to hide evidence of your presence yourself,” Celestia continued. “You were attacked by a Leucrota...and slew him in self-defense. Or at least I hope it was in defense.” Celestia eyed Sarin apprehensively. Sarin could tell this was one of the primary reasons Celestia held these meetings with the Fatae. Threat assessment.

“From there, you left the forest,” continued Celestia, donning again her kindly mask. “One of my subjects professed knowledge of your presence in Ponyville for a number of weeks, so I hazard you left because you harbored concerns for danger.”

Danger? Sarin only ever fought the one beast in that forest. The rest of the place was empty, and it seemed it could only support one starving predator anyway. One that subsisted on ponies wandering or being tricked into it. If she could have found a reliable food source, Sarin supposed she could merely have remained in the forest indefinitely.

“I must profess shock at hearing about the Leucrota in that forest,” said Celestia. “Most Crocotta and their progeny were herded into the Everfree forest long ago. By me.” When she saw Sarin's skeptical expression, she said, “It may seem hard to believe, I know. But it truly is surprising one managed to dodge me for so long. I apologize that my lack of diligence threatened your life.”

What is wrong with this woman, Sarin thought. Mare. Whatever. She's apologizing for being a threat to me when I'm the one who is the greatest threat to her subjects. I took one of her citizens hostage. Why is she ignoring that?

As Sarin mulled over those thoughts, Celestia kept talking. “I've received scattered reports of minor thefts in Ponyville over the last month, but nothing significant. Mostly of food or newspapers, bits and bobs. Your most significant crime was breaking into the home of Twilight Sparkle.” Celestia tilted her head. “You were trying to make off with books. I can only assume your mission originally was information. Either that, or your team was sent for resources on the planet, and when stranded you sought as much information of Equestria as you could to survive. But I'm inclined towards the former.”

“...wait, why?” said Sarin, genuinely puzzled.

“Because if your goal was mere survival, and returning to your ship so you could return home,” began Celestia, “all you needed to do was reach out to ponies and explain your situation. If you had asked me upon arriving, I could have mountains moved if they would help. I would be a poor host otherwise.” Celestia shook her head. “You never did, never tried, which means you were trained or under orders to mask your presence. Meaning you had goals other than mere survival. You were after books – and Twilight's research – so I can only assume it was a scouting mission.”

“You don't know that,” responded Sarin, taking the initiative for the first time that day. She scowled, sweat collecting like dew on her brow. “I could have come here for more aggressive purposes. I might even be here to assassinate your heads of state.”

Her guards flinched, but Celestia waved to them reassuringly. “I don't think so,” said Celestia, smiling. “If your purpose was deadly in nature, you would have killed far more than a lone monster. The fact that you knew Twilight Sparkle was a princess means you would have had reason to kill her while she slept the other night in her home. It would even have aided you, since it was Twilight who caused your capture in the first place.”

“That could have been caution,” retorted Sarin. “Kill a princess, and ponies would descend on the town. There would be inquiries. Investigations. The countryside would be torn apart looking for the killer. I'd be on the run with no safe havens. And the other princesses and nobles would be guarded more thoroughly. I gain nothing but trouble by taking her out then and there. That doesn't mean I'm not still out to kill you all.”

Celestia pondered these words. Then her brow raised slightly. “Tell me, Sarin Miles,” said Celestia. “This is the most you've spoken of regarding your potential motives. And you use it to argue against yourself?”

Sarin paused. “What?”

“I was willing to believe your activities were of a sneaky but nonthreatening nature. In fact, I would very much like to believe that. Yet here you are, advocating the interpretation that you very much mean harm to me and my little ponies. If you truly did, you would gladly accept my misunderstanding and use it to your advantage.” Celestia's eyes narrowed. “But if your mission is not one of harm, why argue it so strongly?”

“...well...I...what about the astronomer?” Sarin sputtered. “I took his hostage. How is that not harmful?”

“Took him hostage after being caught in my student's...my former student's home,” Celestia stated, correcting herself as she went. “Moreover, you were shown evidence that your escape could still be possible. You were stressed, alone, on an unfamiliar world. You were not likely in your right mind.” The princess smiled warmly as the modified soldier puffed her cheeks, frowning indignantly. “Besides, you seem like a good, careful individual. A disciplined one as well. I don't think you were capable of going through with killing-”

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M CAPABLE OF DOING!”

Pony guards were rushing forward to seize Sarin, the girl having shot up to her feet in order to shout at the diarch. It was only at the raised hoof of Celestia that they stopped. They didn't move back into place. They kept near, waiting for the situation to grow worse.

For her part, Sarin didn't escalate. She stood panting there, leaning over the table so she could meet Celestia's eyes close up. Sweat dripped off her. The chains binding her were tight were she squeezed against them, muscles tightened.

“You don't have any idea what I've done,” she stated, hard words cutting forth. “You don't know what atrocities I committed. You don't know me, or my sins. You. Know. Nothing.”

At last her surge of strength wavered, and she stumbled back. “Take me back to my cell,” she mumbled. The guards took this as a good suggestion, and grabbed her by the chains.

As the guards started pulling Sarin away, Celestia said, “Very well. I guess that's fair.”

There's nothing fair about this, Sarin thought. Nothing in my life has ever been fair.

Author's Note

Master/Slave Morality: wherein an oppressed individual or group bases their conceptualizations of morality on the antithesis of their master's morality. A morality of resentment, wherein everything the master values is considered evil by the slave, simply because their master holds the values.

11 - Darkest Hour

Author's Note

This is it guys. The big one. In more ways than one.

11 - Darkest Hour

Ch. 11 - Darkest Hour

“This is Theta Team to field command. We have the last of the rebels. Glencost is secure. Over.”

Captain Zandir waited for a few moments, answering positively to orders received. Finally, he said, “Understood. Will return when finished. Over and out.” He replaced the receiver in its slot. “At ease, soldier,” he said to the man carrying the portable radio backpack. The poor soul nodded and removed the heavy pack happily.

Corporal Sarin Miles milled about, watching her Captain get off the radio. She stood at attention when his eyes rolled over her.

“Miles,” the Captain said.

“Yes sir?” Sarin said, nervously saluting out of habit. She'd marched with the Captain the entire day, so formalities were hardly necessary. Sarin didn't agree.

“Go get the other Gs, will you?” he said, smiling. His skin was a light shade of brown, almost tan. He wore round glasses, and his jet black hair was long and bound into a single braid that hung down his back. Many infantrymen had scoffed at the obvious weakness he allowed with the hair arrangement, a convenient place where an enemy could grab and pull. Many were then challenged by the Captain himself to test the theory, resulting in more than a few men beaten and bruised, no closer to seizing Captain Zandir's ebony locks.

“Yes sir!” Sarin replied, marching off. It took her four or five minutes to navigate the throng of men and find her fellow G7s and the lone G5, three men in all. She brought them all to their Captain. “All present and accounted for, sir!”

“Good,” said Zandir, letting the four modified soldiers line up. “With our victory here, the Glencost system has been entirely freed from rebel control.”

The other Gs in the company smiled and laughed, as did the various normal soldiers at attention.

“Now all that's left is to deal with the captured,” he continued once the cheers had died down. “Are they all tied up?”

“Sir yes sir,” said the G5, an older grizzled individual, easily the senior of everyone else present, including likely the Captain. Sarin found him an odd addition, the G5 series having been an attempt to start delving into genetic modification, to limited success. Sarin never even knew what it was this G5 was supposed to be good at, though she noted he seemed to have a greater sense of the battlefield around him. Enhanced awareness of some kind? Maybe that's why he lasted so long. “All surrendered rebels and civilians bound and accounted for, sir.”

“Very good,” Captain Zandir said. He motioned a grunt forward, who carried a box forward. Zandir opened it, revealing four sets of fully charged light pistols. “Command doesn't really feel like dealing with all these guys, so take a pistol and start shooting. One MS per room over there.” He wore a casual smile.

...wait what, Sarin thought. She blinked several times, looking around.

The other Gs looked hesitant at first, but one by one stepped forward to arm themselves with the light pistols.

Sarin didn't move. “Um Captain?”

“Yes Corporal Miles?” said the Captain, seeming troubled at his subordinate's lack of motion.

“I require clarification,” Sarin said, remembering protocol. “You want...you want us...to execute th-the prisoners?” A knot was forming in her stomach. She can't have heard that correctly.

“Summarily, yes” said Zandir. She had heard that correctly. “With the gun.”

The knot in her stomach grew tighter. Blood ran from the surface of her skin. Sarin fidgeted in place, saying, “But...b-b-but Captain! Th-they are civilians! We c-can't just kill them!”

The Captain paused for a moment, then his face turned very grave. His eyes stared past the frames of his glasses and into Sarin's soul. “Is that doubt I hear?”

“What?”

“Corporal, are you expressing doubt about orders from your commanding officer? From the higher ups?”

“W-wha- No! I'm not doubting you or command, sir,” Sarin protested. Beads of sweat trailed down her brow. “I just think...”

“No,” said Captain Zandir firmly, causing Sarin's heart to jump. “That most certainly is doubt I'm hearing. In accordance with Thomas Protocol, you now have your first strike, Corporal.” He motioned to the light pistol with his hand. “Take the light pistol and follow your orders, lest you incur another.”

Sarin seized in place. Thomas Protocol. Strike one. How did it come to this? Why am I being punished for...?

She racked her brain. Thomas Protocol: soldiers voicing doubt of their commanding officers is counterproductive. If any soldier voices such doubts, they receive a strike. Three strikes, and they receive punishment. Punishments under Thomas Protocol range from a simple harsh reprimand to being openly flogged. The count would then reset to zero. Some soldiers – like the late Private Beggy – simply couldn't keep their mouths shut. For them, the harsher punishments were usually employed.

Sarin had just received her first strike. Her first ever.

“Hop to it, Miles,” ordered Zandir. “Or I'll have to assume you aren't simply doubtful, but are openly defying orders. That would be insubordination. Do you want that?”

“No, sir!” Sarin screamed, clutching the spear she held. Slowly, she walked over and picked up the light pistol. The metal felt heavy in her hand. It shook...no, that was her hands.

“Now get it done,” said Captain Zandir, pointing to the only room with the captured rebels that hadn't been entered by another MS.

Sick to her stomach, sweating bullets, Sarin Miles willed her feet to move her into the other room. She saw soldiers standing at the corners of the room, looking at the center. There in the middle were seven kneeling figures. Two men, three women, one child. And one...Sarin couldn't see from that angle.

Slowly, she walked up to the first penitent figure. He was a bedraggled young man, his left ear clipped at the tip by a blade of some sort. A trail of blood led from the wound down to past his neck. It was dried. He looked up to meet Sarin's eyes, confused. He looked down to the light pistol in her hand, and his eyes grew wide. They went from the pistol to Sarin's eyes and back several times.

Sarin raised the gun, pointing it upwards. She swallowed hard, face drenched with sweat. Finally she said, “For c-crimes against the Empire...” She gasped, then choked. “...you are all to be summarily executed.” She moved the pistol down and placed the business end to the rebel's forehead.

She froze. Muscles refused to move any further than where she was. It wouldn't be Sarin's first kill. Those had been on her first mission. Had to defend an imperial VIP and his convoy through a city. They'd been attacked. Sarin had to defend herself and her charge. In the end, she'd killed. But she knew – her fellow soldiers assured her of it – that she was completely justified. They were the enemy, had to die. They attacked her, she had to retaliate. And she'd accepted it as part of being a soldier. By the time she got to Glencost, she'd stopped feeling guilty about it. Mostly.

She was about to kill again, but under completely changed circumstances. Was this man rebel scum as the officers liked to put it? Certainly. Were they required to fight them? Yes. But was it right to kill a man who surrendered? Just like that?

The frozen execution continued thus stalled for thirty seconds before Sarin began to hear the sound of pistols firing in the other rooms. The kneeling figures all flinched, one woman even shrieking before realizing it hadn't been Sarin.

Sitting with a pistol to his head, the man in front of her looked tormented. Fear like Sarin had never seen. And she was prolonging it by waiting. It was less execution and more torture. Yet she couldn't pull the trigger. Sarin's hand shook violently.

“Do it.”

Sarin looked behind her. The Captain stood at the doorway. She whimpered.

“Do it, Corporal,” he said absolutely. “Do it, that's an order.”

The man in front of her shook his head violently, a pained expression on his face. He was too paralyzed by fear to utter a word.

“Do it now Corporal!”

Sarin looked her victim in the eyes, their gaze quivering. She dropped her spear to steady her aim.

“...please...” the rebel said weakly.

“DO IT!” the Captain Bellowed.

And she did. The image of it was carved into her memory. She felt like some parts of where she was didn't look right. The entire scene has seemed...off. Here she couldn't be more certain of whose face she saw when she fired. Whose life she extinguished. Her hands forced back with the power of the shot, she saw the mighty spray of blood. Felt as a few drops landed on her face.

Before she could become violently ill, before the echos of the shot could die, Sarin heard one of the women scream.

There were six more to go.

They went faster at least. The second man, a bald rebel with pierced earrings, spat at Sarin when she walked up to him. “See you in hell, Empire bitch,” he muttered, then shut his eyes. She fired. Another pained scream.

The first woman was next, an older woman with a shawl. She kept muttering the prayer she'd started when Sarin walked up. Perhaps sensing the soldier's presence, the woman picked up the pace, slipping in names that Sarin could only guess were either for her family, or for the ones that would go after her. Sarin didn't know what the woman was saying, too quick to hear, and never would get the courage to look it up.

Fire. Another scream.

Thankful in a perverse way, the screaming woman was next. She cried. A lot. Sarin was starting to get into a groove, and hesitated only a little bit.

“Monster!” the woman cried. “Murderer!”

Fire. Sarin felt guilty over how much relief she took from the silence.

Last woman was also dressed as a rebel, which is to say barely different from the civilians at all. She stared stone still, stone quiet, as Sarin raised the gun. Sarin couldn't tell if she was that ready to die, or if she'd stopped caring.

Fire. Sarin realized her hands stopped shaking.

Only to shake up again with the child. He looked shell shocked, which was a blessing she supposed. Probably barely knew what was going on. Still, the look he gave the modified soldier was innocent. Glass eyed but innocent.

And then he spoke. “It's okay. The war will be over soon...dad said so...”

Fire. Sarin's lip bled, she bit into it so hard. She staggered back and threw up.

“Very good, Corporal,” said Captain Zandir, smiling faintly. “I'll see you're promoted for this, Miles.” A soldier stood behind him, covering her mouth with her hooves. The blue skinned soldier had the look of abject horror...and extreme sadness. Twin trails of tears running down her face.

Sarin noticed that thick lines of tears were running down her face too. She wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and let every tear out.

“But...you missed one,” said Zandir, pointing behind Sarin.

Missed one? But that's not right. The kid was the last. She was sure of it.

She shuffled over, and saw her last charge. It was the Leucrota.

It looked up at her, its badger's head slick with rain. Sarin realized it had started to rain inside the bunker. The beast's wide mouth was turned down, frowning. It sat on its haunches, waiting for death.

Sarin pulled the pistol up to shoot it.

“It's all your fault!” the Leucrota yelled, its voice that of the child. The one the creature no doubt stole the voice from.

Sarin tried to fire. And nothing came out. Her pistol had only six shots. She turned around to look her commanding officer in the eyes. “Captain...I'm out...”

“That you are,” Zandir said smiling as ever. “But don't worry. I was mistaken.” He pointed at the figure again. “You already killed him. Good job.”

Sarin looked down and saw the Leucrota, soaked in rain, with blood pouring out of his neck. “...no...” he gurgled, the guttural utterance of its true voice.

Sarin heard the sad flutter of wings behind her. Sarin screamed.

She choked on the scream as she woke, a piece of chain planted firmly in her mouth. She spat it out and flailed on the floor until she settled. Her breathing was hurried and frantic. Hyperventilation. Eventually it slowed, and she sat up. From the light in the window, it was still the dead of night.

All my fault. All my fault. All my fault.

Sarin allowed herself to fall over. Nervously, painfully, she tucked her knees in and buried her face into them. Shivering, she began to cry. All the tears she'd held back over the weeks came flooding out. Letting herself act regardless of who could hear, she sobbed. She wailed. Thankfully, no one decided to interrupt by checking.

Sarin Miles cried for hours. She didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night.

Rays of weak sunlight hit her back when Sarin's door received a knock.

“You are being summoned,” said the voice through the hatch.

Sarin Miles continued to lie, tucked in her little ball of sadness. After a few seconds, ascertaining the time by the light, she decided to respond. “...too...early...for summons...” she croaked, wiping her nose and puffy eyes on her knees.

“Too bad, you're still summoned,” said the guard. He shut the hatch and opened the door. When Sarin didn't rise, he spoke again. “Come on, get up.”

“No,” she croaked. If I'm a crybaby, then I'll act like one.

“You have to go, the princess is waiting.”

“Make me.”

So he did. The guard grabbed the chains that bound Sarin and started dragging her across the floor. She felt them stop, and then another guard hauled her bodily onto the two stallion backs. They carried her the rest of the way.

The room was considerably darker than before, the sun only then beginning to peak over the horizon. Only one guard was present. A Lunar guard. As Sarin took notice of the different uniform, the other guards dropped her into her seat. She was about to slam her head onto the table and remain there indefinitely when the other door shot open.

It was the pony from her dreams.

For the first time since waking up, Sarin cared what was going on. “...you...” she said weakly. “...you're the...you were...in my dreams...”

The regal alicorn did not raise her head, no matter how she twitched her head as if to desire it. “We are. We art the diarch of the night, Princess Luna. We art the one who watched thee in thy slumber, Sarin Miles.” Her wings flared, starry mane flowing of its own accord. She also looked extremely sad.

“...how...dare you...”

“Beg thy pardon?” said Luna, though she stood firm. In truth she already knew exactly what was coming. Ponies were very predictable. Fatae it would seem were no less predictable.

“How dare you!” Sarin screamed, her voice hoarse. So hoarse in fact that the strain of shouting set her into a fit of coughs.

Luna levitated a glass of water from a tray another servant carried. She set it down in from the of the wheezing Sarin, setting a straw inside.

Not too petty to begrudge the offer, Sarin sucked water greedily. Her coughs dying down, she sat back in her chair. “...how...dare you,” she said, her voice breathy. “How dare you come into my head? Invade...my dreams?” But Sarin's will already faltered as she fought to keep berating. Fought to stay angry. She sagged. “How dare you come and see me...at my absolute worst?” She clasped her eyes shut, letting loose another fit of coughs.

There's nothing left, she thought dejectedly. Despair began building in her, a few tears she didn't know she still had forming at the edges of her eyes. These damned ponies can invade our dreams. Our minds aren't even safe. Nothing I do can protect the Empire from them. Protect what I know. My failure is truly complete.

“Indeed, as princess of night, all who sleep beneath my moon are subject to my jurisdiction. However...” Princess Luna took the seat formerly occupied by Celestia. Her hard, regal demeanor fell apart, leaving only a sad, sympathetic frown. “...thou art not wrong, Sarin Miles,” she said. Sarin opened an eye to look at the princess as she spoke. “What we...what I have done to thee is terrible. To encroach upon so personal a space as the slumbering mind is an awful, awful thing, though it is my domain. But I did it anyway. Do you know why?”

Sarin barely had the strength to muster an answer. “Because I'm a threat to Equestria?”

“No, it is not for that,” responded Luna. “Until this past night, I never told my sister Celestia that I spied upon you.”

At last Sarin pushed herself up to a higher sitting position. “What?”

Luna smiled a bit. “Didst thou suppose we fed our sister knowledge locked in thy dreams to aid her interrogation?” The night princess looked away whimsically. “Our sister is silly at times, and is indeed sometimes caught unawares. But she isn't stupid. She told thee only what she figured out herself.”

“...until last night...” said Sarin, sagging again. She grew nervous. Pained by the knowledge of what was lain bare.

“Indeed,” said Luna. “When thy...greatest tragedy played out before us, we knew we could no longer wait and watch. It was truly a...terrible event in your past.”

Sarin sniffed. “So...are you going to kill me now?” Her voice remained hoarse and weak. It was a painful statement. Yet a deep part of Sarin, one that new her greatest sins and had no illusions about them, was hopeful. A part of her welcomed death.

“Nay,” was the answer that came from the princess. An answer that sent Sarin tumbling out of her chair. Luna continued as she used her magic to levitate the girl back. “We have no desire to punish thee for thy acts in the system of Glencost. You acted under orders. Cruel, vile orders. Doing so haunts thee to this day.”

To Sarin's surprise, Luna stood up and waved the assembled guards away. The solar guard seemed hesitant, but the lunar guardspony left without a second thought. The modified soldier looked after them as they left the room, leaving the princess and the prisoner alone together.

What surprised Sarin more was when Princess Luna walked over to Sarin and embraced her.

“What? What are you doing?” she said, weakly.

“Thou art plagued by demons from the past, Sarin Miles,” said Luna, her forelimbs wrapped around the bound soldier. “Memories of the blood staining thee. The blood of innocents. Thou canst escape the memories, and they've writhed in thy heart like open wounds. It is a terrible burden you carry, soldier. I know this burden, this feeling well.”

Sarin's mouth was left agape. “...how could you possibly...?”

“We were at one time a terrible Queen,” explained Luna solumnly. “Nightmare Moon. A thousand years ago we committed terrible acts, the crown jewel being our attempts to plunge Equestria into eternal night. We were locked away until such time as we could be redeemed. Ever since, we...I carry the guilt of my crimes.” Luna brushed a hoof over Sarin's off-white hair. “So when we say we know thy pain, we speak from experience.”

Sarin was very still. She allowed her shallow, ragged breaths to sync with the silent princess'. Finally, she said, “So what are you going to do with me? What will you and your sister do to a person like me?”

“...the same thing Celestia did to me,” Luna said. “Forgive the foolish, penitent girl.”

“...she would do that? For me?” said Sarin, her eyes grown wide is disbelief.

“We know our sister, Sarin Miles,” said Luna kindly. “By the time we finished explaining thy plight, we're sure she already had.” Luna allowed the effect to sink in as she felt the Fatae shudder in her embrace. “The rest, as they say, is up to whether thou can forgive thyself.”

“...if your sister does as you say,” Sarin began, tears beginning to pour down again, “then she's just as warm and good as she always seemed. And I'm a fool for doubting that sincerity.” The Sergeant pressed herself deeper into Luna's hug. “But I just can't. I can't forgive myself. I'm weak. I'm stupid and forgetful. I make too many mistakes. I'm a freak. I can't be depended on.” She rattled off her worst traits as more and more bitter tears fell. “I have no friends, because no one wants me. I'm useless. And I wish I was never born. I...”

Luna's great wings folded over the pair, Luna shushing the babbling Fatae. “Thou art not useless, Sarin Miles. Thou art not weak. It takes great strength and great bravery to push through the trials that meet you. Thou make mistakes because no one is perfect. Thou art not stupid, for you seek and learn what you do not know. Thou art not a freak, for no living being is the mirror image of another. Thou art brave, inquisitive, bold, loyal...” Luna broke off her hug to look Sarin in the eyes. “Thou art a sensitive, gentle soul who fights on in spite of herself for what she believes is right. Thy only true sin...” She held up a hoof and wiped tears out from the soldier's soggy eyes. “...is that thou pledged thy loyalty to cruel masters.”

Sarin looked up and shook her head. “No you're wrong! They...”

“Masters who raise a child alone so that they may mold her into a loyal, unwavering killer,” Luna continued, stopping the well-meant defense of Sarin's commanders. “Masters who degrade thee, hate thee, send thee to commit despicable acts for their convenience, and then refuse thee the help thee needed.” Luna nuzzled Sarin's face – a most surreal sensation by Sarin's reckoning. “Do not defend them, because they are also the masters who left you alone in the wilderness.”

More tears fell out, rolling on her face. Sarin Miles allowed herself to settle back into the embrace.

Is it true? But how can I possibly reject the Empire? They made me, gave me strength, taught me everything I know. They gave me food, warmth, the clothes on my back. And they taught me a trade, one I was literally designed for. Lieutenant Jons was kind, and Major Minder only wanted what was best for me in the end. Even Zandir could have just been following orders, and pushing me to have the same mindset. And after everything, the military was my only family. Otherwise I was alone...

...or was that what they wanted?

A sudden, horrifying realization hit Sarin in the back of the head. She struggled against Luna's embrace, and the princess obliged. Sarin sat back in the chair, eyes wide and wet. Salty, and staring out in horror.

Why was I the only G7-H of my age? Sure the one I replaced had died, but couldn't they just create an entire second group? Or at the very least one more? Why only me? Why was there no one else I could relate to?

Why did the teachers and caregivers never intervene when I was bullied? Why did they never try to make the others stop, or reprimand them for turning on Fatae who would eventually be their allies? Why was I allowed to suffer the abuse? The alienation?

Was it because they wanted me to feel alone? Wanted me to have no one else to turn to?

...except them.

Sarin nearly fell over, but thankfully the princess extended a foreleg to steady her. The Fatae accepted the support gladly.

Why make me murder an entire group of prisoners? Waste of energy firing off shots into unarmed people. Why do it? And why make me do it? Is it because they wanted to harden me to the more unsavory aspects of military life? Or because they wanted me to commit acts so evil that I try to justify them later on? Make me more likely to be loyal because I feel I gave them everything...even my soul? That to retain some peace of mind, to prevent truly crippling cognitive dissonance, I'd make myself feel more favorably towards the Empire? That I'd fool myself into believing I liked it?

Her entire body was shaking. Her stomach churned, a terrible pain rising from beneath. Sarin distanced herself from Luna just in time to fall to the ground and begin puking. There was nothing to expel, so she dry heaved. The taste of bile coated her throat and mouth.

“Sarin!” Luna shouted, louder than she'd intended. The princess clapped a hoof over her mouth in response to the unintentional use of the Royal Canterlot Voice.

The Fatae coughed, ravaged throat burning. “...I'm...alright...” she croaked, hacking up bile.

Luna helped her up, cradling the Fatae in her arms. “Art thou certain, Sarin?” she said, supporting the bound girl's head. “We could get thee a doctor...we art not sure if a pony doctor could aid you, but...”

“No!” said Sarin, coughing up again. Finally her scratchy throat began to settle. “No, I just need a minute.”

As Luna continued to support her, Sarin continued thinking.

What about Lieutenant Jons? Did they assign him to lead me specifically because he's nice? Or is the niceness just an act, to make me like him? Did he play devil's advocate for me so that I'd remain loyal and productive? And when I crashed on the planet, was it him who ordered an early retreat?

Did he despise me? Was he looking for such an opportunity to ditch me? Or was that an order given by the higher ups? Did they think I was no longer worth anything?

Wait, no. Back up. Sarin shook her head. Assuming the crash was intentional implied the ability of command to set up a sonic rainboom months in advance by the time they arrived. As much as Sarin would like – or liked – to believe the Empire all powerful and far-reaching, she couldn't accept the crash as planned.

Need to stop, she thought. Can't get caught up in a conspiracy spiral.

She looked up at Luna. The princess held her gently, ever vigilant should Sarin begin convulsing again. Sarin spoke in a hoarse whisper, “Princess...”

“Yes, Sarin Miles,” said Luna, smiling in a concerned manner.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Sarin Miles,” cooed the princess. “...may I ask what specifically for?”

“...for showing me...” Sarin said, before letting out a cough. “...showing me how foolish I was...”

12 - Gone Native

Ch. 12 - Gone Native

“Art thou ready?” The princess yawned. It was way past her bed time. But she would power through it.

“Yes, I'm ready,” said Sarin, hopping off the bed. After her – perhaps well-deserved – emotional breakdown, Sarin Miles had wanted nothing but to sleep. So Luna allowed her to drift off. When Sarin awoke hours later, she had been deposited, not in her usual cell, but in a small guest room. It was still locked, with guards patrolling the outside hall and flying past the windows. But it had a modest bed and warm sheets. Creature comforts.

Luna had spoiled her. She was a prisoner, after all. At least Luna had left the chains on.

The princess opened the door, allowing Sarin to walk out. A couple guards accompanied them, but Sarin noticed they seemed less attentive. Almost bored. As if the idea of a lowly mortal assaulting the princess was somehow funny.

Had Luna threatened them? Wait, no. No conspiracy spirals.

Sarin Miles stood before Princess Celestia, her and Luna having taken their places in the Canterlot throne room. They cast their regal air in the most formal manner. Yet the Fatae couldn't help noticing Luna shooting reassuring smiles her way.

Celestia, of course, was all about reassuring smiles.

“Sergeant Sarin Miles,” she began, “over the last week we Princesses have observed and spoken with you because of the crimes you committed, and because of the potential threat you pose to Equestria.”

Despite the smiles, Sarin remained nervous. “And what have you decided, you highnesses?”

It didn't seem possible, but Celestia's smile became even warmer. “We've decided that you pose little to no threat,” she said, “and that you are free to come and go as you please.”

On the one hand, Sarin had prepared for this possibility. Luna had stated repeatedly that Celestia would forgive Sarin, that she would be fine. But another part of Sarin felt that need to rebel against it. “But your highness,” she said, frowning, “are you...hmm...”

“Go on, Sarin Miles,” interjected Luna. “Thou need not fear censor here.”

Sarin smiled. “...are you sure I can be trusted? After all I've done? After all I am?” Another pained expression settled on her face.

Celestia smirked, then feigned insult. “Oh, you wound me, Sarin Miles,” she said playfully. Then she gained a measure of seriousness. “For all that's good, girl, stop arguing against yourself. And very much stop assuming I'm some mad mare. I'm a smart cookie. Explain to me why I feel it's safe to let you go.” Quite naturally, perhaps without her knowing, Celestia had shifted into the role of teacher again. It was a familiar, pleasant feeling.

Taken aback, Sarin looked down and hummed in thought. Then she thought of a good idea. “Rather than tell you, your majesty,” she began, “may I show you?” The chains binding her jingled as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

“Hmm, I don't see why not,” Celestia mused, looking at her sister. “I hope you're going somewhere interesting with this.”

With a nod, Sarin Miles tipped back and fell to the floor. The royalty in the room and the many guards became confused, but leaned forward out of curiosity.

Over the following five minutes or so, Sarin Miles rocked, tumbled, and most importantly squirmed around in her vest of iron. She bent at impossible angles, many of them causing a guard or two to become ill. At one point Sarin debated dislocating her shoulder – a possibility she'd never contemplated so often in her life in rapid succession – but managed without the trick. The hardest part, and the one that almost caused the princesses to stop the entire display, was the process of compacting the hands to pull them through her shackles.

Needless to say, it was just as painful to perform as it was to watch. Okay, maybe not that painful. She was a professional.

Finally, Sarin rolled to her feet, stood up, and allowed the entire metal vestment to fall to the ground, pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it, stretching her hands out to either side. “...ta-da...” she said meekly.

The princesses stared wide-eyed. They said nothing for a great many seconds. More than a few guards, meanwhile, were both sickened and apprehensive about the display. Finally, Celestia ventured comment. “That certainly was...interesting to say the least...and what does this tell me about why I trust you free in Equestria?”

“Simple, your highness,” stated Sarin, stooping to pick up her discarded bindings. “I remained bound in these chains for a full week. I am also a contortionist. At any point, I could have removed these and attempt egress. I did not.”

Celestia mulled over the point. “Hmm, I see,” she said, rubbing her chin. “Go on.”

“If I could have escaped at any time, why wouldn't I?” continued Sarin. After a moment, she answered. “Because I had absolutely no need to be anywhere but here. I had no where to go, nothing to do. My people were long gone, rescue impossible. It was better, I thought, to stay where I was and mooch off your gracious 'hospitality' for so long as I could manage.”

“That, and because you were angry and stubborn, and couldn't allow yourself to be beaten by me,” Celestia added, grinning mischievously.

Sarin blushed. “Yeah...there's that too...” She kicked at the floor. “For what it's worth, I glad I stayed. And it also shows that I'm not a threat. I'd much rather be in a dungeon than amongst your insane subjects, your majesty.”

“Close enough,” Celestia smiled, giggling. Then when a guard came up beside her and whispered in her ear, Celestia said, “Speaking of insane subjects...there's a few ponies who just arrived that I think you'd like to meet.”

“Really?” said Sarin, visibly apprehensive. She looked away at the stained glass covering the walls. One of them depicted a familiar set of ponies. “It's not...”

“Oh it is,” Celestia nodded. “My best former student and her friends will want to see you personally. They do, after all, have vested interests in vetting you. Is that a problem?”

Sarin stared at the stained glass. She saw the six, the ones who wielded the Elements of Harmony (whatever those were). National heroes, saved the world multiple times. She saw Twilight Sparkle, sans wings in certain windows. So she'd originally been a unicorn, huh? She saw the onerous Pinkie Pie, bright...well, pink, and fluffy as cut glass could depict. There were three she only recognized in passing; Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy.

And then there was the abomination. Rainbow Dash. Sarin sighed. She clenched her fist, then let it relax.

All good things in time. Be patient for once in your life.

“Okay,” she said. “Send them in.”

One minute passed before the sound of flaps and clops and that horrific spring-like bouncing drew within earshot. Sarin shuddered, her every instinct honed over weeks to flee the scene and never look back. But no, she had to face them. All of them. She had at least something to say to all of them, more or less, but some would be harder than others.

When they walked into the throne room, the ponies assaulted Sarin's ears with their noise. They cantered over.

“There she is.”

“Well ah'll be.”

“What is she wearing?”

“Doesn't look so tough.”

“Hope the princess knows what she's do-”

“Ah ha! Got you Shy Spy! I win hide and seek!”

Sarin had enough. Before crossed to the half-way point, she kicked against the ground and shot forward. She stopped mere meters in front of them, throwing up a hand. “Stop!”

The whole lot of them ground to a halt, their voices knocked out. They were about to start their cacophony again, but Sarin said, “I'm very sorry. But if it would please the princess...” She looked back, and the curious Celestia nodded. “...I'd prefer to talk to each of you, one at a time, in the order of my choosing. And that you don't venture any comments or approach until it's your turn.” Sarin dropped her hand. “Is this acceptable?”

At first the utter alien nature of the request left the group dumbstruck, even the talkative ones. But – reluctantly in some cases – they nodded too.

“Good,” said Sarin. “First, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

“Me?” said Twilight, pointing to herself nervously. Part of it was from being put on the spot, and part of it was being put on the spot by her alien stalker. But then she remembered she was talking with the best source for information on aliens. As such, she gave a tentative smile. “Okay...what do you want to talk about?”

Sarin paused, exhaling. “I want to apologize for what I did to you, Princess. I was in a hard place, still dealing with matters heavily personal. I broke into your home with the intent of stealing your books and ruining your research. And on at least two separate occasions I seriously contemplated murdering you.” That last statement elicited concerned gasps among her friends.

“Wait, two times?” said Twilight, pupils contracting.

“It's a long story. The point is I'm sorry.” She scratched the back of her head, before adding, “I'd also like to ask...since you apparently know more about research than anything, whether you could provide me with references to informative works in the Canterlot library that would help me learn about this world.”

If a formal, sincere-sounding apology wasn't enough to smooth Twilight's impressions, a formal request to help impart knowledge upon a willing student was too much. Twlight Sparkle lit up like candle. “Of course I can! There are so many books I can think of off the top of my head that could teach someone of your position about Equestria. Equestria Throughout The Centuries, Real Pony Politics, Magical Theory For Beginners, the Star Swirl Memoirs...”

“Yes, thank you,” Sarin cut in. “If you wouldn't mind compiling a list and sending it to me, I'd really appreciate it.” Luckily the mare seemed further elated by the prospect of making lists, and giddily allowed herself to be passed for the next person.

“Applejack?”

“Yes'm,” said the country mare. She'd allowed her Stetson to fall over her eyes just so she could peek out from it.

“You work on Sweet Apple Acres?”

“That I do,” said Applejack, tipping her hat. “Best apples in all of Equestria.”

“I know,” said Sarin. “I stole a number of them to eat. I needed food and your orchard was extensive. I'm sorry.”

Applejack got taken aback. “So it was you what were stealin' ma apples,” she said. Seeming to consider the point, Applejack shrugged. “Well, I reckon' if you was hungry and alone, I ought to excuse you on account a' charity.” She frowned, “but then again you did cause trouble for Twilight, and took a mighty long time apologizing to her. A jus' don't know.”

“If you want, I could return to Ponyville sometime and help around the place,” offered Sarin, reaching out a hand. “Work off the debt. I'm a very hard worker.”

The orange pony scratched her face, then took her hat off. “Eh, what the hay? You got yerself a deal!” She reached over with both forehooves and began vigorously shaking Sarin's hand. “Come around during applebuckin' season, we'll have plenty for you to do.”

“Thank you...now then.” Sarin turned to see who was next in line.

Of course Pinkie Pie bounced up and down excitedly, desperately trying to will herself as next. She contorted her face into horrifying grimaces.

The more Sarin could put her off, the better. “Rarity?” The pink one fell down, mane deflating.

“Oh yes!” the white, purple maned pony said, stepping forward gracefully. “Darling, dearie...uh...”

“Sarin.”

“Yes, darling, Sarin!” said Rarity, getting awfully close to the Fatae. “Now honey, don't be offended, because I really only mean well...but...your clothes look absolutely dreadful.” She stepped forward and pressed herself against the biped.

“My...my clothes?” The entirety of her momentum was ruined by the pretty pony. Sarin's whole plan was to halt the group by force of initiative and her own will, so as to prevent herself from being swarmed. The fashion designer had turned the tables in a matter of seconds. Sarin wasn't sure she could recover her advantage.

“Well of course, Sarin my dear,” said Rarity, batting the loose bottom of Sarin's shirt. “In addition to being drab and boring and uninspired, it looks like you've been wearing them nonstop for a week. If not a month! They're so filthy.” She shook her hooves at the offending garments.

“Well, that's kind of because I just did...”

“That shall not do!” Rarity declared, sticking her nose into the air. “I shall have to produce a new outfit – no!” She stopped herself, pointing up with a hoof and nosing even higher. “An entire wardrobe of clothes to fit your unique body and more unique colors.” She pulled Sarin's head down so she could get a closer look. “I should think blue for these lovely eyeliner marks. Or something to match those sunflower eyes of yours. And of course something to bring out the beauty of your pearly white skin.” The mare looked to be ecstatic.

Sarin's chest fluttered. “You...you don't think I look...freakish?”

Rarity gasped. “Oh my poor baby!” She hugged Sarin closely. “Sarin, you're a beautiful creature. You look like a work of art! Never let anyone tell you different!” That last was a rather forceful order.

Sarin felt close to tears. “...thank you. And thank you for the offer.” She hugged Rarity, receiving a tentative back pat once the mare got a whiff of Sarin's personal smell.

“Oh yes, you're welcome,” Rarity said cringing, her voice forced and tight to avoid that stench. “Just remember to take a bath, darling, before you come around for fitting.”

Disentangling the poor mare, Sarin moved to the next. “Fluttershy?”

“Oh come one!” said Pinkie Pie, huffing.

Fluttershy for her part just cringed. Sarin got the impression she'd been hoping to put off talking with the strange biped who kills beasts. “...uh...um...hello...?”

The effect was eerie. The Fatae could remember the kind of awkward, nonsocial feelings this girl likely felt all the time. To put her at ease, Sarin crouched down and walked on her hands and knees as she approached.

It seemed to do the trick, because Fluttershy's apprehension lessened enough to let the Fatae approach. “Um...so...?”

“Fluttershy.”

“Eek!” she said, jumping up. “...uh, I mean, yes?

Aside from the obvious logistical problems of dealing with this one, Sarin just didn't know how to approach the topics she wanted to discuss. “Well...you see...first...I...I'm sorry.”

“Uh, for what?” Fluttershy said softly. Her wings flapped a bit.

“For disturbing your animals,” Sarin explained. “Every time I traveled around your house, your animals would all freak out. And I wanted to say I'm sorry for the trouble.”

“Oh...um...apology accepted...” the yellow pony said. She smiled a bit.

“You know,” said Sarin, trying her least offensive smile. Enough to reassure, not enough to overwhelm. “When I was in the military, I never really got a chance to have a pet or interact with animals except occasionally in a work animal capacity. Do you think you could show me yours sometime?”

Most of her conversations were centered around apologies. That was how she'd planned things because she genuinely wronged most of the ponies there. But with Fluttershy, she genuinely never got a chance to be with animals. The thought of doing so – it sent warm, fuzzy feelings inside Sarin.

Fluttershy seemed to light up for a second, but then frowned. “Um, maybe that's not such a good idea...”

“...it's because of the Leucrota, isn't it?”

“Oh! Um...yes, a...little...”

“I'm sorry about that too,” said Sarin, looking pained. “It's true I killed it.” Fluttershy squeaked, but Sarin had a followup. “But when it was done, I couldn't feel satisfaction in doing so, even though it tried to kill me. All I could feel was this intense sadness. Like I did something wrong by it. What I'm saying is, I feel guilty about it.”

Fluttershy's attitude fluctuated here. She blinked, then frowned sympathetically. “Oh, it's okay. I forgive you.” She tentatively extended a hoof and gave a gentle pat on Sarin's shoulder.

“Oh, and the forest north of Ponyville where we fought had no animals in it besides the Leucrota.”

“Poor dear! No wonder he tried to eat you!” Fluttershy grew more bold, straightening up and allowing Sarin to rise to her feet. “Don't you worry, I'll try to see if there's any critters who would love to move there.”

“Thank you.” Leaving the yellow pegasus, Sarin turned towards the remainder, and realized she'd have to stop stalling and talk to them.

Lesser of two evils. Sarin pointed towards the rapidly bouncing pink blur. “Pinkamena Diane Pie?”

The explosion of confetti and balloons nearly knocked the soldier right on her back. “SHY SPY!” Pinkie shouted, wrapping her arms around the woman. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this day! So let me just say...tag you're it!” Pinkie poked Sarin in the chest with her hoof then ran out of the room.

...at least that was over.

“Oh by the way”

“Dah!” Sarin screamed, using celerity to flinch away as Pinkie appeared behind her.

“So Shy Spy...”

“Sarin!”

“So Shy Spy, you were in Ponyville for three. Whole. Weeks!” said Pinkie, saying the last three staccato style for emphasis. “And yet you neither went to a party or had a party! We have to rectify that immediately!”

The pink pony began rattling off a list of increasingly daunting party activities. Sarin for her part was shaken enough to create a sufficiently spy-like martini. “Uh, Pinkamena?”

“And then we could fill it with pudding and have a pudding wrestling match!”

“Pinkamena.”

“...with the glow sticks...”

“Pinkamena!”

Pinkie Pie stopped in her tracks. Literally, as she'd started running in circles, stamping ruts into the tiled floor. “What?”

Sarin smiled. “I'd love to have a party with you.”

“What?” said, well, every other pony in earshot.

“Really?!” asked Pinkie Pie, smiling expectantly.

“Really,” Sarin said. “When I was with the Empire, I never had any friends.” Sarin could almost hear the sound of hearts breaking in that room, there were so many gasps and statements of shock. “No one who would throw me a party or care if my birthday came and went.” Technically Sarin didn't have a “birthday”, being born from a tube, nor would the military who made her bother to celebrate it. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I'd like you to show me everything I've missed.” She smiled.

The pink one seemed to smile herself into tears. “Oh my gosh, you want me to? And I...ah!” Pinkie fell over, grinning stupidly. Fluttershy, to her dismay, was the one who had to catch her. Naturally it ended with Fluttershy pinned beneath a swooned dessert-lover.

Which just leaves one, thought Sarin. She turned around, staring at her. The abomination.

Rainbow Dash stood in the back, looking smug. “Well, it makes sense you'd want to save the best for last,” she said, shining her hoof on her chest.

I could murder you right now, Sarin thought, beginning her advance slowly.

“I mean, I'm the fastest flier in all of Equestria, and I'm not even bragging. What's that Applejack says? 'It ain't bragging if you did it'?”

Could run right behind you while you strut, snap your neck.

“If you're coming to get an autograph, I'm more than happy to. Got a pen?”

It would be easy.

“Hey you ever seen a Sonic Rainboom?”

Sarin engaged super speed and punched Rainbow Dash right in the face.

Everyone in the throne room, princess to guard to regular pony stared slack jawed as Rainbow Dash fell head over heels and landed on her back. As Rainbow regained her senses, her five friends ran in front of her. They were ready for a fight.

What they were not ready for was Sarin, standing stock still, tears rolling down her face.

Rainbow Dash took a second more to notice. “What's the big idea? What are you...huh?” Her angry scowl fell away, and her eyes grew wide.

Sarin sniffed, staring directly at the cyan pegasus. As Rainbow Dash remained sprawled on the ground, Sarin could look down on her most hated enemy. “When I first came to this world, I traveled in a flying dory. As we were coming down, you set off a sonic rainboom. It was beautiful...but it also interfered with the ship's ability to fly, and we fell like a stone. I managed to survive the crash. My two crew mates did not.

“Because of you, Rainbow Dash,” said Sarin Miles, tears rolling down her hard face, “two innocent, hard working men died. Their names were Friedhelm Sorchess and Aerix Bidd. I just wanted you to know that.”

And with that, Sarin walked right on past them. As she did, she looked down on her enemy, whose face betrayed the slowly dawning realization of what she'd done. Sarin didn't bother to stay for the full show.

She needed a bath. A nice, long bath.

Author's Note

I think that's everything I wanted to put into this story. Might add another chapter to the end, might not. If I don't, this is the end of Marooned In Equestria.

Doesn't mean it's the end of Solar Sails. I've got plans.

Hope you enjoyed reading this crappy little story half as much as I enjoyed writing.

01 - Coming Ashore

Solar Sails: Marooned In Equestria

By Bluecho

Ch. 01 - Coming Ashore

The solar dory descended from the opening at the bottom of the S.S. Docket Lot. One crewman prepared to deploy the sail, while another readied the ether jets at the rear. The third passenger was not a crewman at all, nor even a man, and instead sat up at attention. As the small boat cleared the opening, she flashed her commanding officer a salute, which was returned with a nod.

Modified Soldier G7-H3 watched as the mass of the Docket Lot gave way to the infinitely more massive expanse of stars. Their dinghy flared to life, pulling away rapidly from the Lot's undercarriage. At a side view, the vessel flaunted its solar sails, expanses of orange sheets divided into hexagonal cells, each roughly five centimeters across. When starlight caught them, the materials would react by “riding” the light waves. Put thousands of cells together, and their collective can move vessels across vast reaches of space. Presently they were drawn closed, as the Docket Lot maintained its orbit.

The same materials were stretched out on the dinghy's modest sails, catching the rays of the sun behind them. Jets flared to life at a fraction of full capacity as the small boat directed itself in a controlled, angled entry towards the ground.

“Get yerself comfy, ma'am,” said the crewman manning the engine. “It'll be...”

“An hour until landfall, I know,” interrupted G7-H3. “The briefing was thorough.” She met his eyes while attempting her best, most neutral face of professionalism she could muster. The men would ferry her to and from the planet's surface. No use establishing a hostile working relationship now.

“My apologies!” he said hastily, before adding “...Sergeant Miles.”

A sigh escaped her lips and she nodded in confirmation. By the letter of Chronicles Protocol, MS G7-H3 received the name Sarin Miles upon turning age five. Up until then she had simply been G7-H3, or more commonly just H3. The reasoning behind Chronicles Protocol was vague at best, never explained. Naturally she couldn't ask; the threat of Thomas Protocol made the prospect potentially dangerous, so she held her tongue. Regardless, she was from age five Sarin. This didn't bother her.

It was her rank as Sergeant that needled her. It was entirely honorary. She was a bio-engineered soldier. She held no authority.

Sarin sank into the seat, nervously re-checking the safety line tied around her waist. Absentmindedly she turned back to the Docket Lot, now distant enough for the Ether and Fueled propulsion vents in the rear to be visible. In the event of emergency or need for great haste, either or even both could be deployed in lieu of or in addition to the solar sails to propel the ship. As it stood, using all three standard methods of space propulsion would be unnecessary. The solar winds behind them had been more than sufficient coming out, and the local sun would similarly propel them away once it was time to leave.

This of course in spite of reservations by the navigators, who has insisted this sun could not be trusted. According to the mission dossier, the sun (or rather the planet) possessed inconsistent day/night cycles. The patterns observed by scouting ships over the last few years noted that while the schedule was regular, it was hardly clockwork regular. Rotation of the planet would vary by a few minutes from day to day, and if reports were to be believed, it would even lurch rapidly at select points.

Sarin noted with mild amusement that one of the scouting ship's crew was quoted as saying, “the sun seemed to rise and fall on that planet whenever it very well felt like it.” Similarly, the planet's moon was reported as having subtly irregular movements. It was this, among other traits, that attracted the Empire's attention.

Another was the seeming excess of Magic emanating from the globe. Such was difficult to ignore.

Given the whipping winds of the newly entered atmosphere, Sarin could not hope to distract herself with another perusal of the mission dossier. As such, the hour passed slowly. Not even the usual attention – or feigned lack thereof – was there to provide distraction. The two men accompanying her were too busy maintaining proper entry and stability to either stare or avoid staring. Staring at her.

Frowning, Sarin dislodged one of her arms from the hand-holds to adjust her goggles. Beneath them was a largely pale complexion, accented by bright blue patches around her eyes. Like gaudy eye shadow, ringed around her yellow eyes. Her forehead sported additional off-color marks, this a blue triangle that pointed down until it troughed sharply at the space between her eyes. Her off-white hair was here capped by a poorly padded helmet. This at least helped conceal her ears; unlike the natural single points, her long ears extended only to flare out in four tips each, tipped once again with blue.

At least no one can see all the rest of the blue on me, she thought, thinking of the rest of her body. Her series, the MS G7s, were notorious for their genetic irregularities that marked them distinct from the rest of Fatae race.

For once Sarin held hope that the men would stare at her, if only to pass the time feeling terrible about herself. I'd honestly rather feel self-conscious than bored, she mused sadly.

As the soldier lamented her fate, the dory slid down its slanted course, descending slowly along the path of the rising sun to planet below, set to touch ground on the central, large continent. Orbital studies had pegged it as a richly varied mass of land, which the rest of the planet dotted with smaller plots and scatted islands. This central mass was also observed to be the focal point of the unusual solar and lunar activities. As if the schedule of the sun and moon favored that one particular side of the planet.

Sarin spied tracts of land and forest as they approached, and even a mountain off in the distance. The dory slowed, ready to begin spiraling. They were coming through cloud level when she saw off in the distance a trail of light. It blurred together a few different hues, but Sarin almost mistook it for a rainbow. One with a course towards the ground. Moving at transonic speeds.

“What's that?” she asked above the whipping winds, pointing at the object.

The crewman at the head of the boat glanced off starboard side before saying, “Don't know. Might be meteorite.”

“Nah,” said the rearmost crewman, “we'd a' seen it back topside.” He divided his attention between checking the object's path and keeping the course on the ether rudder steady. “Might be a flyin' machine, or some kind of creature.”

“Moving that fast?” responded Sarin, tucking a stray hair back under the helmet. “No living creature moves that fast. Except maybe some of the L series.” She strained her eyes, before popping out her telescope to get a better look. “...is that a...cone?” She sat up with both hands clasped around the scope.

“Hey! Get down ya' blasted idiot!” yelled the rear crewman, forgetting at the moment Sarin technically outranked him. “Yer gonna fall like-”

Just as the object neared the planet's surface, the mach cone ruptured. At once, a massive shock wave burst from that point, while the object's rainbow trail continued on brighter, faster than before.

Sarin herself focused on the object – a cyan, winged quadriped – curve over the land before beginning an upward climb. She could hardly keep track of it, moving so rapidly. Something this amazing has to go into the report, she thought. A living thing moving fast enough to...is that a pony...?

“Incoming!”

Sarin looked up from the scope just in time to see the massive rainbow shock wave as it slammed into the dory. The boat rocked aside with the force of the wave...and then continued moving.

“The sails!” called out the foremost crewman, gripping the offending rigging. All the individual cells on the sheet glowed bright, mixing their natural orange with the colors of the visible spectrum. So activated, they caught the light waves and pulled the boat along with it.

Not braced for impact, Sarin pitched away from the blast briefly, then pitched in the opposite direction again as the boat continued moving. Scrambling, she gripped the side only well enough to hang over as the dory traveled through the air. She coiled her fingers around the wood, adrenaline surging through her system.

“Aah! Help!” she screamed, eyes wide under the goggles, heart racing. G-Force training didn't prepare me for this, she thought in brief panic.

The rear crewman shuffled over a bit, reaching out his hand while gripping the hand-hold with the other. “Grab my hand!”

Finally regaining composure, Sarin set her eyes into hard lines and unfurled her nearer hand. She extended it forward towards the waiting fingers of the man. That is until she felt herself pitch forward again. Looking “up”, she saw not the horizon or the sky, but the ground.

The sails flew with the shock wave much longer than the boat's center of mass would willingly follow, causing the entire rig to topple over in the air. Momentum carried it further, causing the boat to de-accelerate sure, but also spin wildly.

Vertigo shot through Sarin's stomach upwards, into her head. Sky and ground alternated around her, up and down ceasing to be constants. Gravity was almost arrested at the point of first tipping, before the rolling caused “outward” to become the new “down”. It hurt her eyes to see the rapid cascade of light; a lesser soldier might devolve into a seizure.

Shocked, disoriented, and vaguely vomitous, Sarin did the perfectly natural thing: she let go of the boat.

The feeling of falling too quickly ceded to lurching pain centered around her waist. Flailing her arms, Sarin found her life-line and held it fast, feeling it taught in her hands. She desperately turned her head to focus in that direction, only to find the cord whipping her around. Still spinning, the dory strung her along like a gleeful child abusing a new toy on a string. Looking away, she saw glimpses of the ground getting closer...maybe. Yes, the ground was getting closer...she assumed.

Sarin felt behind her, making sure...yes! Parachute! Not that it does me any good, she thought. The very line meant to save me if I fell over is going to drag me to my death when the boat crashes.

Only one thing to do, she thought, holding the line tighter and pulling it in. Reaching down, she groped for a moment with her belt until her knife came free of its sheath. Gripping the handle like a vice, Sarin stabbed at the line. She hacked cord-ward for several seconds, chancing eyes “away” over her shoulder to see the ground coming up closer...probably.

Through a combination of spastic stabs and sawing cuts, the devil cord finally severed messily. The centripetal force cast Sarin away from the tumbling wreck as the two crewmen desperately worked at their respective controls as best they could. Sarin could see the two shouting, but the rush of the wind and the sound of blood pounding against her arterial walls left whatever conversation the men had as little more than noise.

Righting herself to one direction or another – she couldn't really be sure which direction was up and frankly cared little so long as it remained somewhere consistent – Sarin frantically seized the drawstring on her pack and jerked. This induced more vertigo as her orientation shifted violently one more time with the popping of the parachute. Except now with the benefit of a reduced speed, dizzy Sarin was positive down pointed where it should, towards the ground.

A ground that hastened to meet her; less rapidly that before, but approaching nonetheless. A heavy mass of green met her eyes there. Trees, tall and thick, and right where she was landing. She drunkenly looked away, seeing a mountain a few hundred meters away. Not that she could see the edifice well, as spots began to appear in the corners of her eyes.

Descending on currents of air beneath her chute, Sarin could vaguely hear the sound of a crash somewhere in the distance as the world went dark.

...

Rainbow Dash slowed her pace, looking back to admire her handiwork. "Awesome! Another Sonic Rainboom successfully pulled off! Glad to see I'm not losing my touch." She smirked to herself, her high spirits marred only by the knowledge that no one was around this time to see it.

She glanced around to check if she was incorrect - doubtful, being so amazing - and noticed a plume of smoke rising from a nearby grove of trees.

"Huh, wonder what that's about?" Dash wondered, considering a strafe over to investigate. The thought briefly occurred to her that perhaps that object she spied in the corner of her eye but ignored was some kind of observer. Or possibly a flying machine. And another brief thought occurred that the machine could have crashed.

"Hmm..." she hummed. Then she took a look at the position of the sun. "Oh man, has it been that long already! Better get back to Ponyville. Rarity said something about...something or other..." She trailed off, trying to recall what it was Rarity wanted her for. Coming up empty - knowing herself, she'd say she hadn't listened too hard - she turned a moment back to her earlier thought...and completely forgot her place entirely there as well.

"Eh, probably nothing," Rainbow Dash shrugged, before putting her incredible speed to work flying back home.

Author's Note

For reference, just imagine the space ships from Treasure Planet when it comes to the space-faring vessels in this story. It's basically exactly that. Also apparently solar sails are a real, scientific thing.

Feel free to point out typos, grammatical errors, and other instances where I tread the same ground or fail to adequately explain what's going on. Just make sure someone else hasn't already pointed out the same thing before.

08 - Shanghai'd

Ch. 8 - Shanghai'd

Go to sleep already!

Sarin Miles locked her telescope over the library from a safe distance. She knew from scattered conversations that the pink menace otherwise occupied herself with another party, meaning Sarin's actions would receive no untoward impediments. Furthermore, the streets of Ponyville blacked out entirely an hour before, bare and dark and lonely. Perfectly free of casual impediments.

Now if only the mare and her assistant would shut off the lights and sleep. Sarin wouldn't have time to visit the Observatory if their wakefulness persisted.

As the Sergeant contemplated abandoning the task and proceeding to the next, the lights in the tree individually winked out. The last one broke, and the house/tree was still. Finally, Sarin thought.

Taking up her satchel – a weathered accessory salvaged from a trash can with not but juice stains marring it – Sarin stalked down to the side of the tree. Testing a ground-floor window, Sarin found it unlocked. She crawled inside, leaving it wide open.

First order of business: make sure the occupants were asleep. Cursory observation of the bedroom confirmed them unconscious. Tip-toeing around wrecked havoc on Sarin's nerves, each marginal squeak of the floorboards eliciting an adrenaline rush, a palpitation of the heart. Her every breath was labored, her every movement carefully, shakily planned.

Second order of business: books. She worked her way to the bookshelves. Realizing she couldn't see, she found a candle and lit it. Shielding the flickering light from the upstairs loft, Sarin sidled to the shelves and began reading their spines. Where no lettering offered clues, she took them out to examine. Only so many tomes could fit in Sarin's satchel, so she needed to prioritize books on Equestrian history, anatomy, magical metaphysics, law, and economics. A tall order, but every little bit could aid the Empire when it came to properly approaching the inhabitants of the planet.

Thankfully the library was organized by subject, or Sarin would have spent all night just choosing books. It was also immaculately dusted and cared for; these were residents who cared for their texts as a parent would their children.

Eventually her bag could contain no more books, so Sarin moved to the third order of business: the evidence. Moving to an apparent magical workbench took Sergeant Miles dangerously close to the sleeping pair, but a stop to listen told her they still slept. The alicorn tossed in her bed briefly, muttering to herself – a moment that drove Sarin near to heart attack – before settling again. Sarin gave a sigh of relief.

She stood before the desk. An aching shoulder protested the weight of several volumes, so Sarin dropped it on the ground. She leafed through pages, struggling to wrap her head around many of the strange, esoteric notes and diagrams. Sarin was a soldier, not a mage or scientist, or one of the many crosses between the two. Eventually, perseverance and focus led to a rough understand of the lavender pony's progress.

The results were worrying. Behind Sarin, the pony's mutterings continued, but Sarin ignored them.

Rudimentary knowledge of Fatae physical structure, including diagrams. A suspicion rose up within her, one that threatened to excite her ire. Did this pony dig up Sorchess and Bidd's bodies, she thought. No, wait, further notation referenced a dust or powder that created a life-like construct when mixed with chemicals, magic, and blood samples. Crisis averted, she thought. Here I was thinking I would need to kill them.

Not that the idea didn't appeal to Sarin anyway, seeing that, if not as punishment for defiling a few graves, then simply for secrecy's sake, it might behoove her to slit their throats and torch the tree. Burying them and any evidence with them. Yet the more Sarin considered it, the more guilty she felt. She imagined cupping her hand around their mouths and slicing through their necks, letting them struggle impotently before the juices seeped out and they stopped moving...

NO!

Sarin wrapped her fingers around her face, doubling over until her forehead gently met the desk. She couldn't commit such a casual slaughter. She wouldn't. Innocent noncombatants shouldn't be so callously executed for convenience sake. Wasn't right...wasn't right...it was terrible...

Another tense bout of muttering from the purple pony brought Sarin back to the present. She steadied herself on the table, wiping beads of sweat from her face. Focus, she told herself, picking up where she left off.

What's this, she thought, reading a passage of personal notes. She shook her head. Looks like they've found the...

“Leucrota!”

Sarin felt her heart freeze. She turned around frantically. There she locked eyes with Twilight Sparkle, huffing heavily from a nightmare. She too became aware of who she saw.

The two didn't move, too fixed on each other. As seconds passed, Twilight's pupils – those massive pupils – started to dart over Sarin's face, her body, her clothing, hair, and skin. Sarin for her part was too shocked, slowly comprehending the gravity of her situation.

“Ugh, what's going on?” said the green and purple dragon, sitting up in his tiny bed-basket. He rubbed his eyes, then locked onto the intruder in their midst.

Darting sight to the dragon and then back to the pony, Sarin finally ran to the side, vaulting over the railing and onto the first floor. Using every ounce of speed, she covered the distance to the window and dove head first out of it. Rolling over to her feet, she kicked off and started running again.

Bad, she thought. Bad, bad, bad!

“Oh hey, it's the Shy Spy!” called a dreadfully familiar voice from across the street. “Hey Shy Spy, did you come to visit Twilight's house too? Oh! Do you want some cake left over from the party?”

Even worse! A thousand times worse! Sarin buried her heels into the ground, pushing her celerity for all its worth. Forget the evidence! Only the Observatory matters now!

Sitting in his comfy chair, Earth pony Nebula Gazer adhered his eyelids to Equestria's finest optical telescope. The Observatory was his silent domain, and place where he communed with the cosmos. Such was his love of the stars that he developed his cutie mark – a constellation – from a colthood act of stargazing. So obviously he would jump at the chance to be an astronomer. It was fascinating work, he would always say, like the time...

“You! Turn around and freeze!”

Nebula Gazer spun around to see...he didn't know what he was looking at. It wasn't a pony, none such he'd ever met that stood on two legs. The figure wore a cloak, hood slipped down to expose a most unusual head. Off-white mane, pale hairless face, blue blotches around the eyes and forming a downward pointing triangle on her forehead. Criminally short snout. Ghastly and unnerving. It – he or she was quite confusing – held a bizarre object in its/his/her equally bizarrely digited non-hoof, visibly breathing hard.

“Uh...now see here!” he began, pointing a forehoof at the figure. “You're not supposed to be here. Who are you? ...what are you?”

Sarin Miles answered back, “Shut up! Do what I say!” She shook her light pistol in her hand to emphasis her threat.

“...or what? You're going to clock me with a metal pipe?”

The Fatae soldier blinked. Then her mouth formed a disgusted scowl. She drifted her aim towards an ornate vase sitting on a nearby table. She squeezed the trigger, allowing a concentrated packet of energy to shoot forth from the barrel. Lighting the whole room for an instant, the ball of light struck the vase and shattered it to pieces. The astronomer yelped in surprise.

Sarin turned the light pistol back on Nebula Gazer, secretly satisfied that the idiot equine understood his imminent peril. “Do what I say or your head ends up like that.” She trudged forward, hairs falling in front of her sweaty face.

“P-p-please!” Nebula Gazer said, quacking in his swivel chair. “W-what d-do you w-want from m-m-m-me?” She held up his forelegs defensively.

She walked straight up to the pony and held the light pistol a mere meter from his head. She took a moment to brush the hair from her face. “That object in the sky. The purported sailing ship. You found it?”

“Yes! W-we d-did!”

“Find it again!” Sarin yelled, shifting her pistol a fraction closer. She turned her arm over so as to sweep the gun in a circle down at him. “Come on, turn around and look! I don't have all night!”

“Yes! Of course!” Nebula Gazer exclaimed, twisting around and planting an eye on the viewing piece. “B-but I should warn you...we haven't really...”

“No excuses! Just look!” Sarin prodded the pony in the back of the head, causing him to yelp again and cease talking. He bent over and nervously took in the night sky. Normally he would find the cosmos stretched before him supernaturally calming. But his situation, being what it was, left him twitching, dripping sweat that drenched his fur and lab coat.

Slowly minutes went by, the astronomer sweeping the huge telescope across the dome of heaven. Eventually, Sarin said, “Find it yet?”

“N-no,” said the flinching Earth pony, “not yet.”

“Keep looking,” she said, her voice lower, more restrained. Patience, she told herself. This stallion is a professional. He knows his way around the night sky, knows his instrument. Let him take his time.

Unfortunately the will to resist the Id was a finite resource, and after more minutes she repeated, “Find it yet?” She clenched her teeth, catching her slowly building tension.

“Sorry, afraid not,” answered the pony, wincing in case the crazy painted biped lost her temper and reacted with a squeeze of her trigger. When Sarin only grunted in reply, Nebula Gazer continued his sweeping look. He then ventured the question, “Sorry, but why do you want to find that ship so badly? If it's not too much to ask. What's your connection?”

Sarin chose her words carefully, then replied, “You're a scientist. Make an educated guess.”

The pony seemed to think on the matter, then said, “You want to find it because you came from it. And you want to go back?” When the soldier took too long answering, he added, “What by chance are you planning to do if you found it?” He shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to turn back towards the alien visitor.

Sergeant Miles rested her eyes, tight shut, turning focus inwardly to master her mounting agitation. “No comment,” she said, drumming the fingers of her free hand against her leg.

In truth she felt her plan was...insufficient. A long shot. It amounted to pointing her light pistol at the sky in the same direction as the ship – preferably over its nose rather than directly at it – and discharging her entire supply of ammunition. Her forlorn hope being that the ship would see the shots, fired every thirty seconds, and track her down from there. Or at the very least, they would see that their wayward passenger was still alive, and endeavor to return with more supplies and a search party later. At the moment she had five shots with which to deliver her signal.

Scratch that, four shots. Costly blunder.

Her foot was now tapping on the ground anxiously. She brushed more hair from her face. It was starting to stick together from all the sweat on her blue brow. Sarin consulted her watch; allowed another five minutes to pass. “Have you found it yet?”

“No I haven't,” responded Nebula Gazer. His attitude was growing harder. He'd allowed the calming effects of the star above to center him. The threat of death or injury still kept him to the grindstone, but that fear diminished. Nebula Gazer was starting to get annoyed.

As was Sarin Miles. “Well why not?” she said petulantly.

“Because I can't find it out there.”

“Why not?” Sarin said, raising her voice. She gripped the pistol harder.

“Because it's not bloody there!” Nebula Gazer yelled, turning around to shoot his captor a glare.

Sarin paused. “What?”

“That's what I tried to tell you at the beginning,” said Nebula Gazer, irate. He turned fully to face the pistol pointed at him. “The ship we saw isn't to be found anywhere in the sky anymore. I can't bloody find it because it's gone!”

“No...no it can't be gone!” Sarin yelled, waving her pistol around angrily. “The paper said-”

“That we spotted a ship in the sky,” finished Gazer, ignoring the instrument of death waving in his direction. “Spotted. Past tense. We saw it in the sky for a few nights, then it disappeared and we never saw it again.”

The soldier shook, rage building only to flounder. She felt sick. Gone? The Docket Lot was just gone? “When did this happen?”

“We decided to wait to tell the press about our findings until we could spot the thing again,” explained the pony. “When it didn't show back up, we decided to finally report it as is. Problem is papers didn't do a good job conveying that message, only being sensationalist as always.”

“When?”

“When? When what?”

“When did you last see it?!” Sarin screamed, extending her arm fully in order to bring the pistol within a half meter of the pony's snout.

It was perhaps only then that Nebula Gazer realized he'd dug himself into a potentially certain grave. His bravado, his anger, dispelled in an instant. But almost without thinking, he went ahead anyway with the truth, regretting it as it left his mouth. “Almost a month ago.”

All the tension in Sarin's body came undone. Her eyes went wide, her grip on the gun slack. A second later her legs felt like gelatin, and she staggered. Blood left her face, an effect that would leave another Fatae pale, and which only left Sarin's skin cold.

Nebula Gazer sat still, afraid to do anything to set the biped off. Finally he said, “Um, are you okay?”

“No,” said Sarin, weakly. She stared into space rather than at the pony. Her weapon swung limp at her side.

“I'm sorry, I-”

“No. No. No, no, no,” chanted MS G7-H3, clutching her head while doubled over. “No no no no no no No No No No NO!”

“Uh, miss? What's...”

“Aaaah!” Sarin screamed, full-bellied and loud. She shrieked, rocking up and down with hands still clasped on her head. “Aaaah! Aaah!” she continued, stamping her foot on the ground.

No, can't be happening. No. No. Can't have left me. No, why would they leave? A whole month?

Sarin stopped thrashing, standing uneasily on her feet. She suddenly felt weak at the knees, wanting desperately to just crash down. Still, she held her head and thought.

A month. They left a month ago. A couple nights only. The crew left only immediately after the crash happened. Didn't wait around to see if I was okay. If Sorchess and Bidd and I were okay. They just left. Left me behind. Left me here. Left me on this God-forsaken backwater mud ball. Left me here. Alone.

“Left me here. Alone,” she said, finally dropping her hands from her head. Her hair clumped where sweat and the vigorous rubbing had jostled it. She stared down to her feet. To those scuffed, muddied, well-traveled, needs-polish-and-a-shine army boots. “What...what...what do I do now?”

Almost as if taking the statement as cue, the doors of the room slammed open.

Sarin turned frantically around to see two, four, six, eight, ten royal guards rush into the room. All wore either polished bright white armor, or a gray understated set, depending on the color of their coats and the feathered or leathered wings. They each carried a spear, either hooked into a hoof or levitated in the air in front of them.

Not even having fully taken in that sight, Sarin heard another door slam open on the other side of the room. A look in that direction revealed yet more guards filing in with similar accessories. And finally, the flapping of wings drew Sarin's attention upwards to the telescope. Half a dozen pegasus guards flew in through the massive hole where the telescope ran through. Even the remote possibility of escape in that direction was accounted for.

How did they know I was here, Sarin thought, the only coherent question she could think to ask. She checked her side, only to finally realize. My bag. I left it...back in the library.

…

One hour earlier...

Twilight looked out the open window, seeing the escaping figure run out of sight. Reminded her vaguely of Trixie, who on more than one occasion absconded from the town like that. Except this figure...

“Shy Spy!”

Yes, this Shy Spy...wait what?

“Pinkie Pie?” Twilight said, looking over to see her party loving friend bouncing up and down with half a cake balanced on a head plate. “What are you doing here? And wait, you know that...thing?”

“Oh Shy Spy? Totally!” gleefully said Pinkie Pie. She gave one last look to the horizon where the intruder had run before bounding over to the window. “I've been chasing that silly willy all month. She's really fast, and really good at hide and seek!”

“Pinkie!” said Twilight, raising her voice. “She just tried to...and she's...you knew about these creatures the whole time and didn't tell me?!” She was sputtering now, barely wrapping her head around her friend's behavior.

“Well sure! It's not like I thought she was dangerous...until earlier I guess...” Pinkie frowned, then added, “But come on, Twilight. You know how we need to give everypony a chance. I'll bet when the Shy Spy finally comes around, she'll...”

“The 'Shy Spy' already came around!” shouted Twilight. “She just broke into my house and started going through our stuff! We need to get the royal guard looking for her.” The alicorn thumped her chin with her hoof, deep in thought. “Now how are we going to find her?”

“Hey Twilight!” came the voice of Spike, coming behind his boss. “Look what I found!” He displayed his find, an old satchel that had lain on the ground by the work bench. “It's full of books from the library.”

Twilight took the bag and reached into it, pulling volumes from it using her magic. “All these are reference books. Why would the creature need...?” The last thing she removed was a bent and scrawled on newspaper. “A newspaper?”

“Well to read about the news of course!” shouted Pinkie Pie, as if the supposedly intelligent Twilight had missed the blatantly obvious. “What else is it for?”

Twilight's eyes grew two sizes looking at the paper. “Maybe to note down one's plans to visit the Canterlot Observatory!” She showed off the find to both her friends. “Spike, take a letter!”

…

Sarin Miles' mouth fell agape. She lifted her hands up, including the light pistol, and issued a gutteral scream. When that failed to properly vent the inwardly directed outrage, she slammed her free fist against her head.

Despicable blunder! Asinine blunder! Inexcusable blunder!

“Drop your weapon and surrender!” a guard shouted, drawing Sarin's attention back to the matter at hand.

For the first time in minutes, Sarin started to think clearly. She was back in familiar territory: facing off against obvious enemies. Thinking quickly, she tightened her grip on the light pistol and swung it towards Nebula Gazer. “Nobody move! I got a...”

She looked back to where Nebula Gazer had been sitting, only to find the swivel chair spinning to a stop. Motion in her peripheral vision told her the astronomer already sought and obtained shelter behind an angry wall of meat and metal. His sounds of whimpering could be heard over the clangs of steel.

“...hostage...”

She shook off her dismay and summoned more anger. She swept the gun around at the circle of guards surrounding her. “Back! Back or I'll shoot!”

This halted their advance a moment, then they began moving forward. Sarin tried to direct the weapon around, but it only halted the guards when it was over them, before beginning again when she tried to cover the rest. Moreover a number of them were floating above the line, circling around with eyes fixed on her.

When the line of guards came in until they were shoulder to shoulder, they finally stopped. Not even pointing the pistol at them caused them to retreat, Sarin saw.

Looking around in circles, Sarin's anger turned desperate, halting, before finally dropping away. She stared at them. They had their spears forward, towards her. A shudder went through her back. She blinked. They were waiting for her move.

What are my options here, she thought. Five shots. No, four. Four shots. And my combat knife. If I discharge the whole volley into one side, I could run forward and try to squeeze through...

Whereupon the half dozen pegasi will swoop in to cover the gap, running me through, her thoughts continued. Even if I do slip by, run out the door, whose to say there aren't more guards waiting at the exit?

And assuming I get by them, then what? Keep running? Just keep running? Run away and hide in a cave somewhere? Duck in that Everfree forest the Ponyville locals speak about and contend with ferocious beasts ten times worse than the Leucrota on a daily basis? Or just keep running?

Slowly, Sarin's arms fell. Her grip on the gun gave out entirely. She was breathing quickly, but she forced it to deepen. Forced her heart to slow. She kicked the pistol, letting it skid across the floor away. The guards tensed as she pulled her knife out, but relaxed when she let that clatter to the floor as well, out of reach.

Her knees gave out, causing her to fall to them. She raised her hands, palms splayed.

They left her there on the planet. The crew of the Docket Lot. Lieutenant Jons. Left her there almost immediately after she turned out lost. They likely didn't believe she was even alive. Or if they believed she was, they didn't care. They abandoned her. Marooned her on a planet of ponies.

The guards, seeing their enemy's complete surrender, moved forward and laid hooves upon her. Some called for chains to be brought in. Soon enough, they were.

Sergeant Sarin Miles was left marooned. Marooned, and now captured.