Chapter 1: Crash

Chapter 1: Crash

My eyes opened with the speed of a snail as the alarm clock grated on my eardrums with it’s horrid electronic squawk, disturbing my slumber. I reached my hand over to the nightstand, slamming my palm on buttons until the ringing stopped.

Slowly, my vision cleared out the haze of sleep, bringing window above my nightstand into focus. Celestia’s sun shone brightly through the glass window and the open, white plastic blinds.I could hear the city bustle with activity, carriages’ engines humming, and ponies chattering, all the way up in my fifth story room in apartment #502. It was the second of ten apartments, on the fifth floor of the R and R Tower, opened by Filthy Rich and his younger brother, Richie Rich. My mother, father, and I have been living here in Manehattan for about… four years. The rest of my life I had lived in the small town of Ponyville, but moved when my dad got a better job here.I cast aside my red blanket and white sheet, yawning as I stretched my arms and legs while still lying down. Smacking my lips, I threw my legs over the side of the bed, hooves not reaching all the way to the floor. Using my arms to propel myself with a small hop, I stood up, clad in two-tone green, plaid sweatpants, and a dark, solid brown shirt.Moving over to my dresser, I pulled out my clothes for the day. A pink shirt that read “Girlz rule and Boyz drool,” purposely misspelled in bold, black lettering across the front, and a pair of simple blue jeans.After a quick change, I exited my small room through a pine colored, wooden door. My room led out into the apartment’s living room where tan carpeting and white walls, decorated with family photos, greeted me.I strolled over to the dark wooden coffee table next to our couch and looked at it. The newspaper and porcelain mug of black, steaming coffee, sitting on its respective white saucer, was the coffee table’s usual morning decoration. Both a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper were part of my dad’s morning ritual before work. His absence on the couch led me to believe he could be in only one other room… the bathroom.And just like that, I heard the single toilet in the apartment flush. Moments later, a large stallion with crimson hair and tail, dressed in firmly pressed black slacks and blue button-up overshirt came out, struggling to get his red and blue striped tie centered just right on his chest.“Morning, Sprout,” my father, Cloudy Day said, using my pet name.“Dad,” I grumbled as I rolled my eyes, “I’ll be seventeen in a few more weeks; you can quit calling me Sprout.”My dad wrapped his left arm around me and pulled me close, using his right hand to give me a noogie, utterly messing up my already bedraggled hair. “Listen here and listen good,” He commanded in a joking tone, “I’m your father. You will always be Sprout in my eyes.”He finally let go, but I wanted something more. “I know Dad. I love you,” I said, pulling my father close for a hug. Then, I got revenge for the noogie by yanking his tie askew.My father let out a laugh as he tried to fix his tie again, “Love you too, Sprout,” he told me lovingly with a cheesy smile, “Now what would you like for breakfast?”“Pancakes,” I squealed out like a filly, blushing at the way my voice had sounded just then. Since I was a late bloomer, I had hit puberty just a little under three years ago, around a month before my fourteenth birthday, and my voice still loved to crack up at the most inopportune times. Giggling as my blush deepened, I asked my dad, in my non-squeaky voice, “Doesn't Mom usually cook us breakfast?”My dad laughed, “She does, but today she had an early appointment with Doctor Styles. I’m afraid after I leave for work, you’ll be stuck here by yourself.”“I’m not a kid anymore, I can handle being alone,” I declared, crossing my arms and trying to act tough, “You both have been gone long periods of time before.” In hindsight, I realize that crossing my arms made me look like a pouting filly.Nodding in agreement, my dad left for the kitchen. I, however, left to comb my messy hair and tail. As I prepared myself for the day, the sound of sizzling batter and pancakes wafted through the bathroom air vent above her head, prompting me to hurry up.Once finished, I raced from the bathroom and quickly sat down at my seat at the square table in the kitchen. As I waited for the food, I saw my dad spin around in front of the stove, wearing mother's apron. The flower print caused him to look utterly ridiculous. He was carrying two plates of pancakes which had three in a stack on each, topped with whipped cream and blueberries, my favorite.“Thanks, Dad,” I said. Dad then sashayed to our apartment’s simple white fridge - decorated with magnets holding up crude crayon drawings I had made when I was a lot younger. Then he retrieved a plastic jug of orange juice, and one cup from a cabinet over the messy counter - Dad had his cup of coffee sitting patiently by his plate.After pouring me a tall glass of orange juice, he set the jug on the table in case I wanted more. Dad set it down right next to the bottle of syrup he must of had put on the table while I was combing my hair. Sitting down, he bowed his head and said a short blessing.We didn’t speak as we ate, Dad had to hurry to get to work. Scarfing down his pancakes, he said a quick goodbye, and gave me a kiss on the forehead. I blushed and groaned from the unwanted sign of affection. I was getting too grown-up for kisses.After my dad left, I went back to my room, grabbed my cellphone and the pink wallet that Mom had given me, my apartment key, and left a note on the table of the time when I left, when I expected to be back, and where I went. It was a rule I had to follow every time I left the apartment. Exiting into the hallway that was just wide enough for two ponies to pass by without bumping, I made my way briskly to the elevator, entered, and pressed the ground floor button. That took me to the lobby.As I walked through the near empty room, I waved goodbye to Hoofstrong. The old stallion was in his wheelchair by the door. He gave me a quick nod, a smile spreading across his wrinkled face. Hoofstrong always shared the best stories with me about his time in the Equestrian Navy, aboard the Celestia Class Battleship, H.M.S. Helios. Leaving the apartment building, I began walking the streets I knew like the back of my hand, listening in on conversations of those I walked behind. Sure it was impolite, but oblivious ponies say the stupidest things.After following behind two mares who were gossiping about stallions, I made it to the place I wanted to go: Pony Joe’s Cafe. It was a modestly sized diner that served coffee, donuts, fried food, and most importantly… hot herbal tea. I licked my lips in anticipation of a cup of blueberry goodness.Entering the restaurant, I glanced around the diner as ponies chatted with each other, taking a deep sniff of the strong scent of coffee and food. Setting my gaze on the far end of the diner, I picked a booth sitting in the far corner. It was usually where I sat when I came here.Right after I sat down at the booth, a waitress came by, a bright smile on her face. Her eyes however, betrayed barely hidden contempt for me. Crap, I knew this mare. “Hey Stargazer, you still a jobless bum?” The green haired mare asked me with a sneer.Taking my order was one of the most annoying unicorns ever: Misty Mint. I couldn’t seem to shake her, anywhere I went. School, stores, apparently here.“Do I need to speak to your manager, or are you going to stop insulting me and take my order?” I said with a hiss.Minty rolled her eyes, “It was a simple question, you don’t have to be a crybaby over it.”One time… one time I had lost it and cried in class, and suddenly I’m a big wuss. Being the better mare, I gave a half-hearted smile and feinted friendliness, “I’ll have a mug of your non-poisoned blueberry tea.” Her retort was interrupted by a loud boom overhead. I gasped in shock at the noise and quickly got up from my seat to run to the door to look outside. Once the hot and humid city air greeted me, I looked up and my red eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets in surprise.High up above the city, heading towards the other side of Manehattan, was a massive burning hulk of grey metal. What looked like missiles firing out the side, making their way towards the ground.I realized then and there that my whole day had just got a whole lot more interesting after one of the ‘missiles’ sailed over the diner, crashing hard down onto the pavement, sliding nine meters across the asphalt road, before slamming hard into the wall of a building across the street. I had to shield my face as rubble and cracked pavement pelted my skin, but when the sound of screeching metal stopped, I looked at what landed.It wasn’t a missile, that was for sure. It looked kinda like a small, grey-painted spaceship. Running up to it, my shirt was grabbed by Misty.I was surprised by the mare and I turned to take a swing at the nuisance, “What the Tartarus, Misty!?”She caught my relatively slow punch with a grunt and and shook her head, “You idiot, that thing just fell from the sky. There’s no telling what it will do!” That’s when the back of the small spaceship opened with a loud hiss of compressed air, causing Minty to let my hand and shirt go. Looking towards the craft a creature that had the upper body of a pony - but definitely not the lower - exited the craft. Misty and I almost jumped in shock at the creature. I didn’t see Misty’s face, but my expression was nothing but awe from the concept of meeting an actual alien. He - I was guessing it was a he - was black like a zebra, and had a large cigar in his mouth, along with dark shades over his eyes as he stepped out, dressed head to toe in green armor. Five more of the creatures filed out of the ship, all dressed in similar armor and carrying guns. His shoulder displayed Sergeant Major stripes, and his breastplate had a patch with the name ‘Johnson’ sewn to it.He then caught sight of us, jerked as if struck by something, then pulled a pistol from a holster on his side, the other soldiers aiming their rifles, but unlike the others he didn’t take aim. “What the hell are you?” He demanded in a grizzled tone, ash falling from his cigar as he seemed to judge our movements.Misty looked like she was slapped by the question. “Excuse me!?” She snapped.Stupid question for military aliens with guns Misty, please don’t get me killed.The Sergeant Major let out a grunt before saying, “From the horn coming out of your head, I know you aren't human. So you best tell me what you are before I give you a bellyful of lead, and a pool of your own blood to drown in.”With that threat, I decided to take the diplomatic and hopefully less get-me-killed route of answering the question. “I’m an earth pony, and Mint here is a unicorn.”The soldiers let out a nervous chuckle, but didn’t lower their weapons. I could see Misty was getting nervous at having a weapon pointed at her, and honestly, I was to. The Sergeant Major looked to me, his face betraying no emotion as he spoke in an even tone, “Well now, since you haven’t shot plasma at us yet and can speak perfect English, can you tell me where we just landed?”“Manehattan, Equestria, on the planet Equus.” I answered quickly in hopes of being rewarded with not having weapons pointed at me.My hopes were ruined as more and more ponies began to inspect the crash scene, causing the soldiers to get antsy, aiming their weapons from target to target like we meant them harm. The Sergeant Major turned his head to the five others behind him, “Lower your weapons, they aren’t Covenant.”A soldier with the rank of Corporal on his sleeve spoke up, “How do we know. These may be Elite females. Note to everyone: look at their legs.”For some reason unknown to me, the Sergeant Major chuckled, “You ever read any Greek mythology? There’s a species called satyrs, which have the upper body of men but the lower half of another animal. Most records say goats. Even she said she was a unicorn.”That seemed to mollify the Corporal, who lowered his weapon further towards the ground, and a Private First Class chuckled, “Never took you for a book reader, Sarge.” I looked at the name tag on his chest armor: Mets.Sergeant Major Johnson shrugged, “When recovering from a wound in medical, I had to read something.”There was a muffled boom and a loud splash of water off in the distance in the direction of Manehattan Harbor. The Sergeant Major took a long draw of his cigar, “I bet each and every one of you marines a week of my rations and half a Sweet Williams that Captain Keyes survived that.” He then turned to look at me, “So, is there some sort of authority I can speak to?”Minty started backing away, “There’s Celestia, now goodbye!” She said rapidly before disappearing in a mint-green flash of teleportation magic.Oh yay, more guns pointed at me. I was saved from questioning about what happened to Misty when one of the soldiers starting gasping for air, dropped a few shades of color, and fell over. That distracted the other soldiers, and I finally realized how beat up they were. Some of them were bleeding badly - like the one on the ground - and all of them had bruises showing on their skin.“Marcus you okay ya bloody Irishman?” Mets asked, kneeling down to assist the soldier whose nametag read: O’Neill.“J-just peachy,” the private said with an odd accent as Mets looked at a bleeding wound on his side.“You have wounded?” I asked, concerned. They may be aliens, but they were hurt... badly at that.“The pilot and two others died on impact; the rest of us got banged up pretty bad.” PFC Mets replied as another soldier fetched a first aid kit from inside the craft. Moving to take a closer look inside the darkened vessel, I saw two bodies sitting limply in seats, a third with a strange helmet splayed out on the metal floor.Ignoring the bodies, I moved to kneel by O'Neill, the other soldiers confused at what exactly to do with my approach, and I tried to crack a joke. “And I was threatening enough you had to tough it out and point guns at me?” I asked with a sarcastic smirk as I knelt down to check the injury. I winced at the wound on Private O’Neill’s side; a bone-deep gash on his side was practically dripping with blood. He must have been running on pure adrenalin before he fell.I wasn’t able to get a reply as the soldier who fetched the first aid kit jammed a thick metal needle connected to a green can into O’Neill’s wound. White foam began to seep out the wound as O’Neill screamed in pain and grabbed my hand in a grip so tight I heard pops.What in the name of Tartarus kind of medical treatment was that?As fast as he had grabbed my hand with bone crushing intent, O’Neill relented, a sigh passing his lips. The foam that seeped from his wound had hardened, making a sort of wound-fitting bandage. From the relaxed expression of O’Neill, the foam was no doubt drugged with painkillers.I looked to the Sergeant Major, who had a finger pressed to his ear, “Foehammer, you in the air?”There was the faintest of sounds coming from the earpiece he wore over his right ear, the military cap having no place to mount an integrated communicator, like our soldiers possessed. Even the Royal Guard of Princess Celestia, in their archaic armor, still had communicators built into their helmets. The Sergeant continued, “We require immediate medical-evac. One severely wounded, and three dead from the crash. The rest of us are battered, but it’s mostly bruises and whiplash.”Mets gave a chuckle, “I’ve just realized this. You’re the first alien who hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”“So sorry to disappoint,” I joked, getting a weak laugh from O’Neill whose hand I still held.“Dammit, Foehammer, what do you mean no possibility!?” I overheard the Sergeant Major yell.After a few annoyed grunts and curses, the Sergeant Major spoke up, “Listen up, roughnecks, medevac ain’t coming. With the Pillar in the water, and multiple escape pods in worse shape than us, we gotta’ hump it ourselves to a rendezvous two klicks west. Check your HUD markers.”The Sergeant Major then pulled out a device from his pocket. It looked like an earpiece, but instead of a microphone, it looked like a tiny, green colored screen designed to cover one eye. All the other ‘roughnecks’ had one, and I could see a tiny blue light displayed on theirs.“We are moving out, Marines, grab tags off the three in there and haul ass. That’s an order.”“What about O’Neill?” I asked, letting go of his hand. “He has a laceration running across his side deep enough I could see bone… you’re not going to try and move him are you?”Sergeant Major Johnson sighed, “Ma’am, we got a bird in the sky that won’t land for us. Either we disobey orders and stay here, or we hump it two kilometers in that direction.” He finished with a point towards the direction of Silver Park, a square half kilometer by half kilometer patch of green land dedicated to nature. Lots of trees and surrounded by a high brick wall. My guess was that they wanted the spot because it would be a perfect place to defend if needed.Not even an hour in Equestria and they’re already planning for a shootout. Wanting to keep the peace between us, I made a snap decision, “I could get you lift. The Pegasi can pull wagons behind them.” I omitted ‘those cheating bastards’ from the rest of that sentence.That got a laugh from the soldiers, PFC Mets saying in between snorts, “So wait, you have unicorns and pegasuses?”“Pegasi,” I corrected for him, “And yes, we do. Is there some reason that’s funny? Because this isn’t a time to laugh. I bet that foam in O’Neill’s wound won’t make it half a kilometer, and you’d have to send another one of your stallions back to his mother in a box.”O’Neill let out a wheezing cough, “She’s right, I can feel the wound starting to re-open already.”Sergeant Major Johnson put his finger to the earpiece again, “Foehammer, we have one critically wounded soldier. Moving him will kill him, so I’m requesting a medevac.”From the string of curses that flowed out the Sergeant Major’s mouth, I could tell he was denied again.“Foehammer, are there any other birds up there?” From the shake of his head, I guessed that was a no. With a groan he wiped the sweat off his brow as he asked, “Maybe a civilian doctor will suffice?” There was a pause as he received an answer, “Yes, I know they’re not human, but I would rather trust them and they turn on us than be a bigot and let a good man die when I could have done something. I hate the Covies as much as any other Marine, but they aren’t Covies.”“How can you tell?” I asked no one in particular.O’Neill let out a wet cough and a string of wheezes that imitated laughter, “Lack of purple metal used for everything, lass. Plus, you didn’t shoot us on sight, and speak fluent English, rather than yell death threats and swears.”Sergeant Major Johnson tapped me on the shoulder, causing me to turn. “Can you get O’Neill some proper medical attention?”I nodded, waving over a pegasus onlooker. When the stallion was close, I gave an order like my Drill Sergeant in the JROTC – Junior Recruit Officer Training Corps. “I need you to gather a few pegasi and some rickshaws. Take them to Silver Park.”“Why should I listen to you!?” He snapped as he began to turn to get away from the Marines.I don’t get paid enough to deal with assholes. I clenched my fist, and looked him right in the eyes. “I’m trying to keep the peace between species here, any way I can. Now, would you kindly follow a simple request, while I save a wounded soldier's life?” I may have let my Manehattan accent slip to the surface to get my point across.That got him to nod his head and ask around the crowd. In moments, we already had a pegasi pulled wagon, the Marines staring in amazement as a single pegasus stallion pulled the wooden construct aloft through the air like it was nothing.    Meanwhile Sergeant Major Johnson looked into my eyes sternly, “Get my man to the hospital as quick as you can.” He then looked to O’Neill, “Keep your IFF tracker on. We’ll find you after we sort this mess out.”O’Neill nodded, reaching out with his hand to be helped off of the ground where he fell. I helped him to his feet, and he handed his assault rifle to another soldier, but kept his pistol.As the other soldiers began to run in formation away from the escape pod, I draped one of O’Neill’s arms over my shoulder and began to carry him. He let out a chuckle, “You’re mighty strong to be such a young lass.”I guess he could gage my strength since I was currently helping hold him up. “I’m an earth pony. Unicorns and pegasi may cheat with magic, but when it comes to sheer strength, we’re the right species for the job.”O’Neill’s pale face looked confused, “Species?”“You’re not the weirdest looking species I’ve met. The griffons who live up in the mountains have heads that resemble eagles, and their entire body is covered by fur and feathers.”“Griffons, as well as pegasi and unicorns that resemble satyrs, it’s like this world is from some mythology textbook.”Now it was my turn to give a confused look. Arching an eyebrow, I asked, “Mythology? I can assure you I’m very much real.”He chuckled, smiling lightly, “I can see that.” O’Neill then gave a grunt of pain, “Lass, wouldn’t it be faster to get one of them pegasi?”If I wasn’t holding up O’Neill, I would have facepalmed, “That would be better.”Looking around, I saw ponies staring at us with stunned expressions, their faces reading curiosity, and possibly, a few hints of fear. I didn’t blame them; the pistol on O’Neill’s hip looked like it could take down a full grown dragon.I waved down a pegasus pulling a taxi rickshaw. When the pegasus driver landed, he jerked his head in shock as he asked, “Is that one of the aliens?”I nodded, “Yes, and he’s hurt bad. We’ve got to get him to the nearest hospital, can you take us? I have money.”At the pegasus’ signal to board, I helped O’Neill into the rickshaw, taking a seat beside him. The driver saw we were buckled in and yelled as he took flight, “Next stop, Manehattan General!” Then added in a lower voice, “We should be there in five minutes.”O’Neill gave a weak laugh through a wheeze as we gained altitude, “Well I’ll be damned; this beats riding in a Pelican.”Wait… what? “A Pelican? Aren’t those some type of seabird?”Before O’Neill could answer me, the pegasi driver had to bank to let a large, green craft propelled by engines spouting blue flame race by towards a column of smoke in the distance. Guess one of the little ships started a fire.“That, was a Pelican.” O’Neill said simply.Why did I get the sudden feeling that I would be seeing a lot more of them soon?