Unit 7 is the oldest gray still in operational status. He walked down the drab sterile hallway towards his assignment. Tonight was first contact. After studying the planet's inhabitants from orbit for a month, they'd abducted a pair of subjects for preliminary sampling. Unit 7 stopped to look through a glass window into the skinning room. Subject one of planet seven hundred and four was floating limp suspended in the paralytic reticulum life-support goo chamber. Her furry gray hide had already been removed and was stretched out on the examining table. Units 67 and 120 were busy taking measurements and collecting tissue samples. Unit 7 nodded and moved on. It was always good to check that room first before an interrogation with a new species to minimize the risk of encountering biological surprises.
Within examining room B was subject two. Unit 7 placed the palm of his hand on a panel next to the door. The ship's computer scanned it and granted him access. The outer door hissed open into the sterilization chamber seperating the hallway from the examination room. Here, he donned his skin-tight medical uniform. He also took a data chip containing language data and connected it to his wrist implantation. He waited a moment for his brain to sync with the device and acknowledge the new information. Properly prepared, Unit 7 opened the inner door and entered.
“Whoa, dude. This place is so metal,” subject two said. It was white with electric blue hair and, unlike subject one, had a bone protruding from its forehead. Perhaps that meant it was the male of its species. Testing would be necessary.
Unit 7 took the time to examine the restraining straps. Their operational range surpassed the observed and predicted maximum strengths of the test subject. It would not be able to escape.
“What are you called?” Unit 7 asked.
“I'm Vinyl Scratch, but you can call me DJ Pon-3, little dude.”
Unit 7 nodded and made notes on his data pad. The speech pattern extraction had been a success and communication is possible. “What are you?”
“I'm a disc jockey. I can make music from other music. It's great. The music flows within me.” Subject two bobbed its head back and forth. That was the only part of its body that was not fully restrained, yet.
Unit 7 paused and typed more notes with his thin, spindly fingers.. This language leaves room for misinterpretation. More precise wording is needed. “What type of creature are you?”
“I'm a unicorn. Everypony knows that.”
The purpose of the interrogation was to improve the efficiency of future subject gathering and potentially head off retaliation from the natives. Subject two had already been treated with truth serum and amnesia drip. The subject would not be able to recall the events in this chamber beyond a few fleeting images, assuming the dosage was correct. That sometimes needed adjusting.
“If one wished to gather a large group of your kind into a single area, what would be a good way of doing that?”
“Huh? Everypony loves a good concert. If you have music, they will come.”
Unit 7 noted this. Music wasn't something the grays understood, but they'd collected enough samples by now that they could put something together. “How long would it take before a unicorn that's gone missing would be noticed?”
The interrogation continued for another hour. Unit 7 received a lot of surprising results. They verified with the cultural data collected, but they were highly unusual compared to the data from almost every other planet. Along with the strange orbital periods of the planet itself and its moon, the happy forgiving nature of these creatures was another anomalous thing to record. The ship's computer would analyze this data before they made their next move.
“That concludes the interrogation.” Unit 7 strapped down subject two's head. “Let the probing begin.”
“The what!?”
ƣƺƾ
“Ugh, what a night.” Vinyl rubbed her bloodshot eyes. Pretty much every single orifice on her entire body felt inflamed and sore.
“You're telling me.” Octavia qwoped[1] into the room and fell flat on her face. She sat up and rubbed at her side. Her hide stretched unnaturally when she did so. “My skin feels loose.”
“What did we even do last night?” Vinyl pulled her eyelids down and rolled her eyes around in front of the bathroom mirror. She turned on the sink and splashed water on her face.
“Beats me.” Octavia got up and attempted walking again. She wavered unsteadily and collapsed by a window. While there she pulled open the blind and flooded their apartment with light. “But I had the most disturbing dream...” She shuddered.
“Ugh, me too.” Vinyl put her sunglasses on and looked around. The room was surprisingly clean. Aside from an empty pizza box and a half-empty soda bottle there was no sign of any debauchery. “You know, at this point we usually find the empty bottles and get into an argument.”
“Perhaps we've gotten so good at the hangovers that we don't even need to get drunk first?” Octavia looked out the window. “What time is it? Noon?”
“We don't drink that much, just...”
“Only on Fridays, I know.” Octavia sighed. “Go check the newspaper. I can't even remember what day of the week this is.”
“Why don't you go? The sun's really bothering me for some reason. It's totally lame.”
“I can hardly move. My legs feel like jelly.”
“Fine, but don't say I never do anything for you.” Vinyl walked up to the door a looked through the peephole. A moment later, the newspaper floated in through the pet door surrounded by her magical light blue glow. She floated it over to Octavia who grabbed it and pulled off the rubber band.
“It's a Sunday.” She gave a small sigh of relief. “At least I don't have to be anywhere today. Wait, what's this?”
“What's what, Octy?”
“It says here there's going to be a concert by the Gray Band tonight. It's something about hypno-rock. Hmm, I've never heard of them or that type of music before.”
“Whoa. That sounds awesome! I can't wait to hear it.” Vinyl grinned.
“Meh. This new-age stuff can't really hold a candle to the classics in my opinion.”
“Pfft. Bleathoven's old news. The electric razor rock can shear her stuff any day. When it comes to dropping the beat, new-age has beat her bleat.”
“Hold still while I swat you with this newspaper.” Octavia took a step and fell flat on her face again. “Eventually.”
ƣƺƾ
The concert hall wasn't open yet, but Vinyl and Octavia both had keys (not that anypony even bothered to lock it). Unlike every other building in Canterlot, this one did not have a permanent roof. Ponies were busy working to remove the tent cover when they got there.
“Huh, I don't think I've ever seen this place open before,” Octavia mused. She was walking fine now. After a solid breakfast of oaty-ohs, whatever had been ailing her seemed to have passed. Vinyl was still sore and itchy in places she'd rather not be sore and itchy in.
“You wouldn't have. Ponies like you prefer your boxes.” Vinyl looked up at the stage. “I wonder where the band is.”
“An enclosed room with the proper acoustics provides the best possible sound immersion.” Octavia walked around the edge of the room and put her hoof on a door leading backstage. “They're probably still setting up back here. It's not really a good idea to be in the room when they're working on the roof anyway.”
“But with the roof off, the wubs can fly free.”
Octavia rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. She took one look inside, had a sudden panic attack, screamed and ran off.
“Octy? Octy! What's wrong, babe?”
“It's them, the skin-peelers!” she screamed as she ran out the main entrance and off into the streets. She kicked up a cloud of dust behind her as she went.
“The... what?” Vinyl raised an eyebrow, but Octavia was already gone. Hesitantly, she cracked opened the door and peeked inside. Strange gray-skinned creatures stood upright on only their two hind legs. They weren't like anything she'd ever seen–
Vinyl took a step back and rubbed her eyes. She was having the strangest sense of deja-vu. Had she seen them before? She didn't think so. Perhaps in her dream...? That could be it. Why would she dream bout them, though? They gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She shuddered and shook her head to clear it. They looked harmless enough, and she wanted to question them about the concert.
The uneasy knot in her gut got worse when she opened the door and stepped in. “Uh, hey guys. How's it hangin'?”
The creatures glanced at each other. Their heads were about half the size of their bodies. That gave them a childish appearance. Their large, empty black eyes had no iris or whites to them. “Subject two has approached us.”
“How unexpected. Past subjects usually stay away until we call for them.”
“It does not appear hostile.”
Vinyl frowned. She felt like flattening her ears and growling but resisted the urge. Threatening them would not make a good impression. Something strange suddenly popped into her mind. “Hey, I thought I told you to call me DJ Pon-3.”
“Did you?” one asked. It held a strange, metallic, glowing screen in one of its hands.
“I... um... don't think so?” Vinyl rubbed her temple. She'd best change the subject before she got a headache. “So what's hypno-rock like? I've never heard of that music genre before.”
“Our preparations are not yet complete. The music will be defined when the production begins.”
“Oh, it's a trade secret? No biggie. I'll be there to wub it all the same.” Vinyl clapped her hooves together and smiled. She watched as the thin gray creatures unpacked their weird metal boxes lined with knobs and buttons. It looked like only two of them were working, while the other three stood there and watched. “Say, since we've got lots of time before the concert begins, would you like to take a tour of Canterlot? You guys are obviously new here so I bet you'd just love to see the sights.”
They huddled together in response. After a minute, one of them broke free and stepped up to Vinyl. “This is a good opportunity to observe the natives in their natural habitat.”
Vinyl knelt down and stretched her neck out. “Excellent. Hop on.”
The alien did not move. “Hop. On?”
“It'll be a lot faster to ride than if you walk everywhere on those tiny little legs of yours. If you don't want to ride bareback, that's fine. I've got a saddle here in the studio that I can put on.”
“One moment.” They huddled together again. It lasted longer than the last one, but eventually it broke apart and the alien stepped up to Vinyl again. “The risk has been deemed acceptable. This unit will ride.”
Vinyl waited for him to climb on and grip her mane before she stood up. She had some experience carrying passengers from her brief stint as a cheerleader and knew enough not to make sudden movements. It'd be impolite to jostle her passenger and send him off-balance. “Are you comfortable back there?”
“This unit is seated.”
Vinyl pulled open the back door with her mouth and stepped out into the streets. Canterlot was always a din of activity as ponies of all colors walked the streets. Self-important nobles wore their elegant dresses and fancy suits. Vinyl fell into a slow trot as she headed towards the royal palace. That was always a popular tourist destination.
“This unit?” Vinyl asked. “Do you have a real name?”
“This unit has been designated with the number seven.”
“That's... whoa, dude.” Vinyl paused in her tracks. “I'm just going to call you 'Wubmaster,' okay?”
“This unit has always been designated with the number seven.”
“Whatever you say, Wubmaster.” Vinyl tuned onto the main street and picked up her pace. Arching stone buildings lined the street. Colorful signs swung from them, advertising their contents for the richest of clientele. Private clubs, fancy diners, expensive jewelry shops and grandiose theaters all awaited those with the connections or the money to use their services. This was the ritziest part of town next to the castle itself.
Truly, any of the sights here could capture one's attention. Anyone with a shred of curiosity would be drawn in and absorbed by the wondrous architecture and blooming gardens, but Unit 7 was absorbed by something else entirely. “It's–”
He felt the muscles shift under his legs. The feel of their rhythmic motion fascinated him. He'd seen muscles before. He'd touched them; he'd measured them. He could even describe what colors they were. But they were always restrained, drugged, or exposed. They were never allowed their natural movements. Sure, he'd seen videos of natives in their habitats, but it was distant. It was data. This though, he could feel. It was different. “It's–”
He felt the hair in his fingers. It pulled against him as it bobbed with the motions of her head. He released one hand and ran it along the flank of this test subject. The fur was smooth and fluffy as he'd expected but he could also feel the warmth of the body beneath it. Depending on where he touched he could feel muscles pulling or bone beneath the surface. Those were sensations that he missed out on when the skin was separated and stretched out cold in the examining room. Those were sensations that helped to define the creature as a whole rather than as a collection of its individual parts. “–alive.” he could think of no better word to describe it.
“Yes, the city is quite vibrant this time of year.” Vinyl slowed to a walk as she carried him up the steps of the royal palace.
The guards spread their wings to bar her entrance. “Halt! Who goes there?”
“It's me, Vinyl Scratch, the DJ Pon-3. Don't you recognize me?”
“We were referring to the, uh...”
“Oh, this is Wubmaster. He's new in town as part of that hypno-rock group that performing tonight. He's cool man, you can let him in.”
The guards glanced at each other. “Are you here to cause trouble?” one asked.
“This unit is here for observational purposes only.”
“This what?” The guard looked confused.
“He just talks like that,” Vinyl said, “it means he's going to keep to himself.”
The guards folded up their wings and returned to their posts. “Very well, you may pass.”
“Thanks, dudes.” Vinyl bobbed her head and walked past them. The interior of the castle was huge and, oddly enough, gave the impression of being in an open place more effectively than being outdoors did. Vinyl's hooves clacked on the cold, stone floor.
“Each of these stained-glass windows represents an important moment in pony history. This one here shows the three clans united for the first time after centuries of mistrust. The friendship that burned between them was strong enough to drive away the winter spirits that threatened to encase the world in snow and ice...”
Vinyl didn't really consider herself a history buff but she could pick out the most important scenes and give a cursory explanation of them. It didn't take long for her guest to pick up on a common theme.
“So this, 'friendship...' It's very important to your culture, is it?”
“More than anything. It's what holds the world together in peace and harmony.”
“This is worth nothing for our records. Your culture rated at the bottom of our hostility scale. It's the first time we've appeared publicly since we archived the slug beings of planet five hundred and eighty six, and those creatures were not fully intelligent. Tell us, what is 'friendship?' ”
“What? Planet five hundred something? Isn't Equestria the only one?” Vinyl asked.
“Inhabited planets are more common than most species think. This is the seven hundred and fourth that we've visited in this galaxy, and we're only searched about seven percent of that. Tell us about friendship.”
“Wow, that's... deep. Far out there, even. I wonder if Celestia knows about that.” Vinyl lifted her sunglasses briefly to rub her eyes. “Friendship is... what ponies do for each other? They help each other with what they love, or something? It's, uh... well... simply put, friendship is magic.”
Unit 7 held his notebook but did not add anything. “Magic has yet to be proven.”
Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “You're seriously expressing disbelief in magic to a unicorn?”
“Yes.”
Vinyl shook her head. “Nevermind.” She paused and cocked her head when a bell rang seven times. “Shoot, we've been talking here longer than I thought. I guess we'll have to skip the tour of the gardens. We'd best get back to the concert hall.”
ƣƺƾ
“This is not the concert hall.”
“My apartment's on the way there, little dude. This won't take long. I'm just stopping here to see if Octavia's home. I won't let her to miss out on your concert if I can help it.”
Vinyl grabbed the door handle in her mouth and pulled it open. Octavia was half-draped over a table with a bottle in her hoof and several others lying scattered nearby.
“Octy? Octy babe, what's wrong?” Vinyl's voice pitched into deep concern.
Octavia groaned and lifted her head. Her eyes popped open when she saw them. “How dare you bring one of those—those things in here! OUT! GET OUT!” She grabbed the handle of a dirty frying pan in her mouth and stood up unsteadily. She snorted with nostrils flared and her ears held flat against her skull. She swiped a hoof on the table, spilling her bottle and sending others crashing to the floor.
“Octavia! What are you doing!?”
She snapped her head and sent the frying pan flying right at them. ”OUUUT!“
Unit 7 had been operational from the very beginning. He'd survived the acid beasts of planet eighty-two. He'd evaded the mind squids of planet two hundred and six. Neither the chestbursters from four hundred and fifty nor the fungal rot from four hundred and fifty-six had been able to do him in. It was ironic in a way; the least threatening planet they'd visited, full of happy, cheerful colorful ponies, was about to kill him. Grays were not fighters; they did not carry weapons nor wear any armor. The only reason for his survival had been luck. Well that, and they were not completely emotionless.
He was afraid.
The deadly metal projectile arced through the air on a direct collision course with his thin, fragile skull. He could not dodge. He futilely held his twig-like arms up and cringed. The frying pan cut through the air and arced towards him with deadly precision and...
Perhaps Unit 7 did die just then.
“Yikes, Octy, careful. You could have hurt someone.”
His eyes could not blink, but he wasn't sure he believed them. In defiance of basic physics, the frying pan stopped mid-air surrounded by a light blue glow. Irrationally, it just hung there floating. He could feel no magnetism nor see any strings or other attachments. It was like... magic.
“Grrrah!” There was a horrendous crash as Octavia flipped the table and crushed every single bottle in the process. Vinyl quickly shut the door.
“Sweet mother of Celestia! I've never seen her flip out like that. Not even the alcohol could explain that, and she hardly ever touches the stuff on her own.”
“W-what is that?” Unit 7 poked the floating frying pan. He pushed on it, but it did not move.
Vinyl moved it in front of her, much to Unit 7's shock. “It's a frying pan?”
“How is it doing that?”
“Wait, you were serious? You've never seen magic before?” Vinyl set the frying pan down and canceled her levitation spell.
“This unit–”
“Ssh!” Vinyl perked her ears up and she swiveled them towards the door. There was sobbing on the other side. “Tavi...”
Unit 7 sat in silent contemplation. Magic had preserved his operational status. Magic had quelled his fear. Friendship was magic. “Are we... friends?”
“Us? Friends? Uh, look little dude, I don't have anything against you but we hardly just met.”
“This unit does not understand. Have you not done things for me? Is that not being friendly?”
“Yes, but, true friendship works both ways. And, well, frankly I'm really worried about Octavia. I've never seen her react like that. Why does she hate you so much?”
Unit 7 paused before speaking again. He wasn't really supposed to be talking about this. “Subjects often undergo trauma when they experience total recall. A higher dosage of amnesia drip will be recommended for followup studies.”
“Wait, what?! Subjects? Followup studies? But... didn't you call me 'subject two?' ”
“Yes.”
Though no wind was present, Vinyl's mane and tail suddenly became frazzled and disheveled. “My dream! All of that... that... that was real? Does that mean...?”
“Yes. Every orifice in your body was scientifically examined and implanted with a biological monitoring device.”
Vinyl lifted a foreleg and rubbed her hoof between her hind legs. “Even...?”
“Yes, even your belly button.”
“No! Not the belly button!” Vinyl collapsed on the ground and buried her head under her hooves. She fought back a sudden urge to scratch her nose. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You asked.” With Vinyl flat on the ground Unit 7 stood up and stepped off her back. Though he was reluctant to part from her, his self-preservation instinct told him to put some distance between them. “The acquisition of knowledge is what we strive for and friends help friends with what they love.”
Vinyl stared at the frying pan but she shook her head and kicked it off. “You should go. You don't want to be late for your own debut.”
“This unit does not understand. Do you not wish to see the concert?'
Vilyl laughed, but it was a hollow, fake laugh. “You know, in spite of everything, I am still curious. I'd still go if it were just me. But... Octavia needs me more than anything right now, and sometimes, when you're friends you have to give up on that which you love most for their sake.”
“Isn't that contradictory?”
“No. I'd never be able to enjoy myself if I knew she was suffering when I could have helped her.”
“Um...”
“You can't help her. She hates you, remember? Go on, Wubmaster. I'll take care of her.”
Unit 7 turned and walked away. He spoke softly to himself, “This unit shall henceforth be designated as Wubmaster.”
ƣƺƾ
The concert hall was packed with curious ponies of all makes and sizes. Wubmaster scanned the crowd and briefly noted at least fifty different color combinations of coats, hair, and eyes. No two ponies looked alike. He should have have been satisfied; all of this variation would be a wonder to pick apart in the sampling chambers. Try as he might, though, he just couldn't bring himself to look forward to it. He kept looking for one color combination in particular: that of subject two, but she never came. No, her name was not 'subject two.' Wubmaster spoke, “DJ Pon-3...” His voice was so soft that even the flapping of a butterfly's wings was louder.
With the roof off, they had brought their saucer-like transport vessel down to the concert hall. The enclosed space made the landing tricky so they'd practiced few times in nearby cornfields. The resulting circular patterns allowed them calibrate the landing procedure specifically for this plant's atmosphere and gravity. It also confused the locals.
All elements were in place and they started the concert. The ship's lights strobed in patterns of flashing colors. Sounds of all different kinds echoed and screeched in variable rhythms. Pheromones and other odors were released from specialized containers. Among these were the inviting aroma of a mother's teats, the distinctive odor of freshly cut grass, the pungent odor of manure, and several other chemicals that were not really odors but included for their effects on the mind. This vast over-stimulation was enough to induce epilepsy in even the healthiest of individuals. Indeed, that was the general idea. With incredible skill, the grays overloaded the ponies' brains and inserted commands of their own.
Oh, and there was actual music too.
Everypony loves a probin'.
Line up by our ship.
Everypony loves a probin'.
Enter here; don't trip.
Everypony loves a probin'.
A subject you will be–
Everypony loves a probin'.
–numbered sequentially.
Everypony loves a probin'.
Your body is our book.
Everypony loves a probin'.
Inside you, we will look.
Driven in step with the music, the herd of concert-goers unwillfully walked in single file to the entrance ramp of their transport ship. This model could hold up to fifty ponies plus the five grays. Since they had more ponies in thrall than they could carry, they sorted out the ones they felt were less interesting and herded them aside into a reject group. Once they'd boarded forty-eight, they stopped.
“What are we waiting for?” Wubmaster asked.
The other grays pointed. That's when he saw them. Octavia and Vinyl Scratch, subjects one and two, lurched forward stiffly. They had wide-open bloodshot eyes. Unlike the others who were merely hypnotized, these two were being driven by the neurological implants in their brains. Their eyes darted around wildly, the only part of their bodies still under their own control. Both showed immense fear, but DJ Pon-3's showed disappointment as well. Wubmaster had to look away. This didn't feel right to him.
“Why are they here?” he asked.
“We called for them,” Unit 67 said.
“The follow-up studies must be done every night,” Unit 120 said.
Wubmaster fell into deep thought. He was in doubt, and when when in doubt, he turned to logic. Friends did things for each other. He'd been afraid, and the subject had protected him and removed that fear. He could return that favor and let them go, but he'd be going against his sole purpose: to gather data. Friends helped each other with what they loved; DJ Pon-3 would understand, right? Yet it still didn't feel right. he turned around and rubbed his hand on her flank as she lurched past. He'd seen her, felt her, experienced her as a whole being. The other grays would just treat her as a collection of parts to be measured and indexed. Sometimes, friends had to give up on what they loved most for the other's sake. That just led to the most important question of all: why did he even want to be her friend in the first place?
Because: friendship was magic. He knew what he must do.
“Stop!” Wubmaster pulled the plug. The lights went out, the sound died, the music stopped, and the radio control frequencies faded out. “Shoo, begone!” he called into the spaceship. The ponies were still under hypnosis, and followed his orders.
Octavia bolted as soon as she was free. Vinyl hesitated. She suppressed her urge to flee and walked over to give Wubmaster a hug. There was a tear in her eye. “Thanks, little buddy. I knew you could do it.”
Wubmaster did not know that gesture, but he could sense her immense relief and generally liked being in contact with her. He knew then that they were friends. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning from the blue. It was the most magical thing he'd ever experienced. He felt at peace; he was almost calm. Yet there was still more he had to do.
“You should go,” Wubmaster said. “The others will not approve. I will have to talk to them, alone.”
Vinyl nodded. She suspected as much. She reluctantly let go and tuned to leave. “Thanks again, Wubmaster. Good luck.”
ƣƺƾ
That evening, Vinyl held Octavia close.
Octavia cried freely and trembled in horror. “I can still feel it. I can remember everything. Oh, Celestia. I'm attached to my skin. It's not supposed to come off like that!”
“Ssh, baby. I'm here for you. They won't ever do it to you ever again.” Vinyl wasn't sure she believed that herself but she could only hope.
“Th-the sound of it... those black unblinking eyes... i-it felt...” Octavia choked up and started sobbing again.
“Ssh. Everything's okay.” Vinyl gently rocked her like a baby. “I'd drop every bass in the world just to make you feel better.”
“You wouldn't!” Octavia snapped. Her voice sounded harsher than she'd intended.
Vinyl laughed. “That sounds more like the Octavia I know.”
Octavia still didn't smile, but she'd stopped crying. It was a start. Vinyl suppressed the sudden urge to scratch at her nose where that thing was in her body. She couldn't worry about herself just yet. Octavia was broken.
While they laid there in silence, Vinyl wondered about Wubmaster. She knew so little about his kind, but she had the awful feeling that he was in trouble. She hoped the little guy was okay.
ƣƺƾ
Back on the mothership, Wubmaster had gathered the other grays. He told them in precise detail everything that had happened and everything that he knew about friendship. He even went so far as to lead them through his logic and reasoning. He knew it sounded strange, but he was a gray and one of them. They'd have to believe him, right? He really felt like he was getting through to them.
“That concludes the interrogation.”
The grays always numbered twenty. Whenever one ceased operational status, a new one would be synthesized. Twenty gray heads turned to look at Wubmaster. “Let the probing begin.”
“NOOOOOOO!”
