Poniocracy

by sunnypack

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Science Fiction, Random, Princess Celestia, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Comedy
Length: 53593

Cryogenics was a pretty cool concept until we forgot about it and buried it. So sorry you're going to be woken up ten thousand years in the future... Give or take a few thousand.

When David volunteered to be part of a cryogenic experiment he thought he'd be at the forefront of human technology, spearheading research and development.

Unfortunately politics doesn't work that way.

Lucky for him, the science was solid... For ten thousand years.

AN: Don't take this seriously. Seriously don't. I don't.

Special thanks to my editor: Thornwing!

A-d-d-ditional Tags: Science Fiction, Parody, Waking Up In the Future, Equestria used to be Earth, Parity Bits, Things That Could Be Considered Irrelevant To The Premise And Is Only Used As Humour, Twi-bright, Kangaroos, Towels and Brawndo.

Rated teen for inappropriate scenarios. Well, lots of inappropriate scenarios. Now with 20% more Dark!

List of Side Stories:

The Story of the Equinos and Celestia
Twilight's Report
A Butterfly Bash
The Very Hungry Caterpillar

Unpublished Stories now available here.

I'll also keep the former list I made here:

The Story of the Gorlians and Equestria
Human Manual I
Equine Manual I
Why Emergencies Should Be Handled Calmly
Why Emergencies Should Be Handled Calmly II
Blue Pill
David's Nightmares
Robot Manticore Attack
The First Law
Discordant
A Dated Journal Entry
McQuestria
McQuestria II
To Touch The Stars

Published 2014-10-16 15:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-23 16:26:12 UTC

1 - Is It Me Or Is It Cold In Here?

Chapter 1: Is it me or is it cold in here?

When the human race was at the pinnacle of its own existence, it decided that the Internet was a pretty good idea. Mind you, the Gorlians several hundred light years away would shake their bulbous, tentacled skulls in disagreement, but that didn’t stop humanity from developing what they thought was a good idea.

The poor sods.

While most of the world thought that the Australians were too busy drinking beers near a barbeque and riding kangaroos, the Australians came up with a brilliant idea:

Why not preserve the best of humanity in cryogenics?

Imagine if Albert Einstein could help us now? Quite possibly, in the near future, we’d have presumably cured cancer, old-age, HIV, poverty, hunger, achieved world peace and a whole myriad of things. Perhaps if we sealed up the brilliant minds and popped into the future, we’d be able to laud the achievements of humanity and hopefully come to terms with why we ever decided burning copious amounts of oil and gas was a good idea.

Well, burning was fun. So there was that. Don’t ever come between a human and their fire. Ask the cavemen. They were of the opinion that fires were something to be hoarded. Fires were good. The bigger the better. The more the merrier… until forest fires became a thing and the caveman responsible was beaten to death by his more level-headed compatriots.

The fact that only minutes later they went off to systematically destroy the environment and all neanderthals everywhere, was not hypocritical.

Because let’s face it, an axe is never wrong.

Going back to the Australians, they were a clever lot, if only a tad laid back.

“—and the doctor was never heard of again!” the masked doctor laughed, slurping down a cold one.

David laughed along with the doctor. “A ha ha,” he chuckled nervously.

The doctor took off his sturdy wire-framed glasses and wiped away some mirthful tears. “Anyway, that’s how I lost my medical license.”

David whipped his head back. “What was that?!” he squeaked, bolting upright in his chair.

The medicinal man adjusted the laminated card on his scrubs. “Sorry, mate, did you say something? I was prepping the cryo-chamber.”

David slowly sank back down in his seat. He was probably joking. The lab-coated individual shrugged and went back to task, tapping away at a keyboard and monitoring monitors—you know, science-medicine stuff.

“It’s so rare to get such a good test subject. Average, average, average, that’s what we want, mate. Gotta tell the higher ups that we’re getting work done down here, earn my pay check and all that,” the doctor chattered, flicking a few buttons as he did. David got the distinct feeling that the doctor was reassuring him, but at the same time, insulting him. He decided that it was just his nerves acting up.

“Will it hurt?” David queried carefully, asking what he believed was a sensible question, glancing at the steel chambers around him. The ominous glow of the blue liquid running through the i.v. and into his arm was not inspiring confidence.

“Nah there won’t be any pain, mate. If something goes wrong, you’ll just never wake up,” the doctor laughed and yanked on a yellow lever. A low hum filled the room.

“Of course,” David replied drily, though inwardly disturbed. “At least there’s no pain.”

“That’s the spirit, mate!” the doctor exclaimed, slapping the smaller fellow on the back.

“Just sit back, relax, and make medical history!”

Heavy glass shielding slid slowly over the capsule and a second black-out panel followed, plunging the interior into a deep, hollow darkness.

For science, David thought, feeling a sudden bout of claustrophobia. It went away when the gas kicked in and he drifted off to a gentle, if somewhat cold, sleep.

Meanwhile, the Australian parliament had an argument over the funding of this project.

“We simply can’t have this!” yelled one of the backbenchers.

“Well, we’re right and you’re wrong, because we were voted in!” another yelled in reply.

The rest engaged in similarly logical argumentative volleys.

As per usual, the debate drifted off into matters of scandalous behaviour, general name-calling and bringing up the past only to rub it in each other’s faces.

Which, let’s be honest about this, was the same as a divorce.

Like a divorce, the original subject matter was quickly forgotten. The original site of the lab was bulldozed over, and a fast food restaurant chain replaced the multi-million dollar facility. Coincidentally, the facility was just on the verge of curing cancer. Research along those lines was eventually scrapped and medicine was set back about two hundred years.

Politics.

So what happened to our brave human experiment, stewing in the confines of his cold uncaring coffin? Luckily, the life support system was built using solar batteries, and after mistaking it for salvageable construction material, the capsule was shipped off to America for reprocessing.

A factory worker named Steve saw the magnificent device and made a few phone calls to his architectural buddy, Michael. Michael saw fit to include it as part of the new New York Art Complex, where it fit snugly as part of the roof acting as a support for the upper railings. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily for David, the solar cells received adequate amounts of sunlight being positioned under the skylight, so neither emergency mechanism kicked in to either revive him, or upon sustaining catastrophic damage, euthanize the poor soul.

David lay dormant for years.

Then decades.

Then centuries.

Millennia.

And finally, Ages.

The rest of civilization, blissfully unaware that the art complex housed a cryogenically frozen human in their midst, continued on its slow pace to destruction. After a catastrophic trifecta involving a nuclear power plant, a meteor and a rubber band came to fruition, the humans left their beloved motherplanet, rendering it uninhabitable after only three hundred years since David began his fateful journey.

Ships took off to look for other worlds to explore and inhabit.

Hopefully this time, they wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

The Gorlians buried the odds. The humans still had Google+.

Back on Earth, the planet started to freeze over. Nuclear radiation poisoned much of the land and the flora and fauna mostly perished. Life was a stubborn thing though, and it persisted in spite of adversity. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily again, David wasn’t exposed to too much lethal radiation—although he could say goodbye to fathering kids and he’d probably have a more than guaranteed risk of cancer in his later years, assuming he lasted long enough for the cancer to develop.

Dirt and soil pitter pattered, there was movement of the plates, and the world kept on spinning. Several curious creatures popped their heads out of the cradle of humanity. It was thousands of years after the humans left, but there were traces enough for these little creatures to gain knowledge and wisdom without the pressures of competing predators.

There weren’t many records left of how they had arrived on this dingy little planet but they liked it here and so they made their little homes among the ruins of a forgotten civilisation. David’s pod had barely survived the nuclear winter, but fortunately, the railings and the building had collapsed around the pod. No longer was the pod a weight-bearing architectural shunt. Unfortunately, it had been exposed to light and one of these new little creatures, of many shades and vagaries both in colour and personality, decided to mount this curious box with its softly glowing red, green and yellow ‘stones’ on the rooftop of their most favoured stone building.

If David were conscious for the period, and assuming he didn’t go mad—although there was a good likelihood of brain damage setting in—he would be frustrated that yet again his cold coffin was being retrofitted as another architectural feature. There it sat on cold stone, soaking in the sun and never once giving David a chance to stretch his legs. I mean, think about the cramps!

The little creatures gradually grew in number and they formed their own cliques. They were all different types so they first grouped together by shape and split off to find befitting lands so that only those of their kind would live together. The equinely shaped ones were the most interesting but they too wished to further differentiate themselves.

The ones with wings liked to stick together and stay in the sky, so they did. The ones with horns liked to tend to their studies, so they retreated to castles of stone. The quiet ones with neither horns nor wings decided that they liked to eat the most and that they were pretty hungry, so they started growing food.

Over time, the winged ones learnt how to work the weather, the horned ones learnt how to control the matter around them and the ones with neither became really, really good at growing things. Though initially, they happily traded their services to one another, the relations started becoming bitter when a sudden cold snap set in. Arguing amongst themselves, they couldn’t come to agreement with each other and stormed off to find new lands.

Luckily for David, one of the horned creatures took a liking to the pod design and decided that it would be a good idea to incorporate it into the new castle, wherever it would be. Despite sustaining a little damage to the auxiliary power supply and the euthanizing unit, which David would come to be grateful for, the pod remained relatively unscathed through the transport process. Over time, plates of gold and jewels were added to the sides and it looked like an ornate casket rather than a life-supporting pod for a medical experiment.

Eventually, the different creatures realised that arguing with each other was fairly pointless. As the cold spell receded, they were able to move past their differences and work together again, leading to a Golden Age of prosperity. The land was named, the civilians were unified and the newly formed country became a growing and prosperous empire that spanned the small little strip of land, now surrounded by sea to the east and west.

Excited, the exuberant little things once again built castles, because let’s face it, everyone likes castles.

They were happier than ever when perhaps by coincidence, or even by design, two creatures were born with both wings and a horn on the same year the country was founded. Seeing this as a good omen, the unified creatures painted their new flag with the two auspiciously born and all rejoiced. Once again, David’s pod became a centrepiece on the rooftop of this castle which would later be known as ‘the Castle of the Two Royal Pony Sisters’, or simply abbreviated as ‘the Castle of the Two Sisters’.

Time passed and David continued to gather dust.

There was a bit of excitement and chaos thrown around but David was never party to that nonsense—not until a great upheaval in the system of government got underway which gave the two siblings sovereignty over the whole entire country. It was sudden, it was impulsive, but the little creatures were very relaxed and they thought, ‘after a century or two we can get our government back.’

Unfortunately, the greater populace found out that their new rulers were immortal.

Luckily for them, the sisters were wise and just and things went on as peacefully and happily as one could hope for.

That is, until one sister turned against the other.

The resulting turmoil would not be significant to David if it weren’t for the fact that the castle roof caved in as a result of the protracted battle between the two sisters. The damage knocked out a couple solar panels, which would have been fine had the auxiliary power been available, but since that was damaged years ago, the power supplied to the cryo-pod was now sinking to dangerous levels. It would be a slow fall but eventually the pod would run out of power in a couple of thousand years… give or take a couple hundred.

Meanwhile, the devastation of the castle was never really repaired. The place was simply abandoned with most the items in and around the castle left to slowly rust or rot. Taking pity on a beautiful cultural artefact, the Royal Architect for the new Canterlot Castle decided to incorporate the box-like design in the new castle.

Ten guesses on where it would be.

Yes, that’s right. In the library.

It was in a secluded part of the library where none of these strange creatures usually visited (it was the non-fiction section) that the architect cleverly worked in the box as part of a large bay window for reclining purposes. It only needed a few cushions and anyone using it could comfortably recline and read their books.

It would have been a nice view and a nice idea if not for the fact that no one read non-fiction. Non-fiction is only something you read and put back straight away. Nobody likes touching those books longer than they have to.

Well, except for one strange creature.

One of the horned ones had a passion for reading. Every day he would spend some time reclining on the box with a couple of comfy cushions he brought along with him. For a few hours he would read from the selection of non-fiction while basking in the sun. He was an avid reader and through the years always admired the small bay window. It was one of his favourite places to relax and forget about the pressures of his work. His work would come to be pivotal in the development of this strange race’s version of technology, but such things were hush, hush, for now. This horned one with a dull grey coat and bright yellow eyes sapped what easily could have lasted David another couple thousand years in terms of solar energy, to merely less than a thousand.

When that horned one eventually passed on, the bay window became disused and practically forgotten.

Until…

One fateful day, a purple-coated horned one decided to use the bay window again. Some measure of time had passed but this one was more ambitious and studied longer. Sometimes, she would take sheets with her and cover the whole box depriving the pod of precious light for hours on end. The consequences of which were made quite apparent on an auspicious day in spring...

——

Twilight Sparkle, the Element of Magic, the Princess’ protégé, Ponyville’s librarian and self-confessed bibliophile, bubbled with excitement.

Today she was set to return to the Royal Canterlot Archives and enjoy a relaxing afternoon reading non-fiction in her favourite spot by the bay window overlooking the fields and buildings of Canterlot. The glass was clear, not stained, and the sunlight that fell through would be warm, not hot, on her furry coat as she sampled the delights of learning that only such a relaxing setting could offer.

It seemed like such a long time since she had been back, always reflecting quite fondly on this secret place hidden away in the far reaches of the library. The base of the pod was quite decorative and there had been several restorations done on the ancient artefact itself. Twilight had initially felt shy and too reverent to be reclining on such an antiquity of the ages. Eventually, she had come to love the piece for its worn edges and its familiar shiny blackness covering the top. She found the style to be elegant despite the strangeness.

Whoever designed this masterpiece was a genius in their time, she thought.

Customary to her usual jaunt, Twilight pulled out a tome concerning works of astronomical phenomena and began to read, reclining in a nostalgic position that she so enjoyed during her fillyhood.

She read through a few passages when a strange noise permeated through the silence of the library.

Beep.

She frowned. Where had that noise come from?

Beep.

Her eyes widened. Was it coming from the box?

Beep.

It was!

Twilight scrambled to her hooves as the box creaked. She could hear the sounds of clicking and screeching as the black covering slid back almost colliding with her. She hastily backed away and watched with increasing amazement as a newly revealed glass covering also pulled away, this time with a loud hissing sound that echoed through the confined spaces of the Royal Canterlot Archives.

After the glass clicked into place, the library fell silent.

Twilight’s mind was abuzz. Is this some sort of hidden treasure? Could it be part of a long-lost civilisation? She squealed inwardly. I’m just like Daring Do in her books!

She carefully nudged her way forward, mentally psyching herself up for the mound of treasure and gold that perhaps lay within the ancient casket. She paused. It could even be never-before-seen scrolls or ancient parchment that nopony had ever laid eyes on before! Twilight was practically head over hooves with the discovery.

No longer able to contain her excitement, she rushed forward to examine the contents of the container.

She blinked at what she saw.

David blinked back.

“You’re not my doctor,” he commented dryly, losing all interest in further proceedings.

Author's Note

Ah the ludicrous shenanigans that happen when one is frozen in cryostasis for over ten thousand years. State of the art solar panels, built like a bomb.

Next Chapter: Duh what? Ten thousand years old? You're kidding me.

As always, my fruity and flavoured readers, thanks for reading!

NB: For those of you new to my stories, I don't have a prereader or editor in favour of releasing things faster. Having said that, it means I'm relying on your excellent skills in identifying my glaring grammatical and/or spelling errors in this fic. I'm lazy like that.

Also if it hasn't been made obvious to you, I use Australian English, apologies to the other English counterparts out there.

P.S. Oh yeah, based on the premise of Idiocracy with less of the wit and humour. Sorry!

P.P.S. HiE are the best. I can never read enough. Really.

P.P.P.S. Going to re-read the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy

2 - Maybe It Was The Sushi I Ate?

Chapter 2: Maybe It Was The Sushi I Ate?

Here’s the thing about waking up in the future — you never quite know what to expect. For most people when they wake up from cryostasis, they might find themselves on a spaceship with major systems failing. Perhaps they accidentally got frozen while delivering pizza and come out into a wide, sprawling futuristic community. Maybe, if they’re really unlucky, they could accidentally wake up in some modern dystopia where everything is controlled by tight lipped senators.

The one thing in common with all of these scenarios is that there would still be humans.

David was not expecting a unicorn.

Conversely, he was expecting his medical overseer. No matter how incompetent that doctor sounded, David was confident that he was at least partially enthusiastic about completing the project.

David was really not expecting a unicorn.

David was not exactly an average person, insomuch as the doctor had claimed. He was simply normal. Normal to the point that someone would think, ‘if he wore a red shirt I would probably be sad for about ten seconds of on-screen time.’ David was a pretty non-average person because he was so normal he was bland. Then again, following a series of interesting events surrounding an uninteresting person makes that person an interesting person indeed. Stuck in the struggles of the medium to low income bracket, he slaved away working as a handyman at several medical research institutes until he unwittingly signed a contract that got him on a better payroll.

What should have tipped him off about this ‘opportunity’, as the sleazy salesman-type recruiter had pitched to him, was that David was only required to eat well, exercise and be on call when they needed him for a clinical trial.

When one thinks of clinical trials the mind gravitates to the development of world-class drugs, new diagnostic testing or possibly new and innovative therapies.

Not being frozen in a cryogenic stasis pod.

David received the notice via sms:

David, 2day is ur lucky day!

The Institute 4 Cryogenic Research & Development has selected u 4 a clinical trial!

Report tomorrow @ 7 AM 4 a $ 50 reimbursement @ end of trial.

Mr. Johnson, CEO

That REALLY should have tipped him off.

Waking up from cryo-sleep was a shocking experience. After melting all the microscopic ice particles in David’s bloodstream via the reversal of whatever preservative was injected to prevent those crystals from killing all his cells, adrenaline followed to prime his heart followed by about two thousand volts to depolarise the big ol’ circulatory muscle and get it beating again.

The cool thing about this procedure was that it was worked akin to kicking a drunk, almost passed out college student and hoping they would wake up. In most cases, you’ll get an uncooperative grunt and they’ll go back to sleep, but every now and again you might get a more interesting response—yelling and screaming perhaps, or a funny line before collapsing back to dreamland.

When David regained consciousness for the first time, it felt like he’d had the biggest hangover since… well since ever. He wasn’t much of a drinker so his frame of reference was limited to the few times he’d actually been smashed out of his mind—rush week freshman year stood out as one such time. Confused and disoriented, he looked to the right and recoiled from the extremely bright light which he assumed came from the surgical theatre lamps. To his left were books and shelves. Lots of books and shelves.

Blinking, he shifted his gaze upward as something purple, black and pink drifted into view.

It resolved itself more distinctly as... well… David thought the drugs would have worn off by now. His sluggish brain sparked dully as the gears began to turn and he tried to process the onrush of information. His brain decided that ten-thousand years of napping wasn’t quite enough and gave up on the spot. The body’s union then fired up its defenses to protect it against a lawsuit from the gut company—which was complaining that David hadn’t used the facilities before he embarked on this experiment. The stress was beginning to take its toll.

The gut system was overruled because the brain owned the union and it was a dictatorship. Later, when the immune system finally got sick of slaving away at below minimum wage and decided to declare war on everything, the revolution that resulted from the overactive destruction of cancerous insurgents hanging around David’s legs served to alleviate the latent intent of the cancer in destroying his whole body which was inadvertently thwarted in the immunosuppressive coup. Shocked at the development, the body finally accepted a democracy at David’s tender age of ninety eight, brooking a new age of peace and prosperity.

Only one year later, David succumbed to old age and passed away peacefully—though, he was never quite sure why he felt so much at peace during his last year of life. It just goes to show that inner peace was just as important as outer peace. Whatever that meant.

In light of this, David recalled the only thing that came to mind when he saw the purple equine-shaped creature studying him.

“You’re not my doctor.”

As David sunk back down, fairly pleased with himself that he was able to initiate verbal communication at all, he spotted a faint outline of a symbol on the side of his cryo-chamber. He didn’t spend much time processing it before collapsing into a deep state of unconsciousness.

——

The best way to incite argument is to throw a controversial idea among your fellow species and then ask for a ‘discussion.’

Discussions were a misnomer. With a hot topic such as a relic preserving a live being from millennia ago, it would undoubtedly bring the religious ones, the scholarly ones, the political ones, the excited ones, the angry ones, the hopeful ones, the crazy ones and of course, the rich ones in droves.

The Gorlians had long ago abandoned politics. As long as it didn’t affect them, other Gorlians could do whatever they wanted. Some of them liked to spy on other planets to see if the native lifeforms had evolved to a point where an interesting dialog could begin. It just so happened that they were curiously checking up on the planet where those crazy ape-like people lived. Hopeful that there had been some progress, they spotted the equine-like creatures and found that the humans had moved on.

This caused some measure of panic.

Some Gorlians immediately hopped in their battlecruisers to ‘contain’ the infestation. The others stayed behind to observe these new, interestingly peaceful creatures. What they found, they liked, even if these equines were ridiculous from time to time. They didn’t initiate First Contact though, as they were leery of what their projections showed.

Meanwhile, Twilight was having fun talking to the cryogenics unit.

Now that supporting a human wasn’t on its list of things to do, the pod could now speak to occupants in the room. It didn’t like speaking to the doctor, who was mostly wasted in a perpetual state of drunkenness owing to his self-prescribed dosing of Fosters. It also thought David was boring. All he did was talk about work, relationships and the weather—the three most boring topics in the known universe.

All that aside, whirring to life it immediately spotted the purple equine-shaped creature and proceeded to have a stimulating conversation with it.

“Hello,” it began using standard contact protocols in English. It didn’t know whether or not the horned equine could answer, but by golly it would try! “My designation is Cryo-stasis Pod One, version zero point zero zero one five, but you can call me Cry-pod.”

Twilight gaped at the box when it seemed to be talking to her. “Uhm, what?” she garbled incoherently.

“I’m glad you speak English,” Cry-pod continued. “I was getting worried that there would be some sort of communication barrier that would undoubtedly hinder our interaction.”

Twilight cocked her head. “Yes…” was all she could say. What? You try talking to a box!

The Cry-pod continued its buzzing and beeping, potentially assessing the likelihood of further conversation. The probability was decreasing by a factor of ten with every twenty seconds of silence.

“What is your designation?”

Twilight put a hoof to her head. Was it asking for her name? Quite possibly. She gathered herself up and composed her thoughts.

“Ahem, my name is Twilight Sparkle-“

“Hello, Ahemmynameistwilightsparkle”

“Wha- no, I’m saying my name is-“

“Relax, Twilight Sparkle. I am merely trying to interject humour. This was a popular format in my recorded human plays, although it may not translate to alien organisms.” The Cry-pod paused. “Was it humorous?”

Twilight took a deep breath forcing herself to relax the tense muscles down her neck.

“Perhaps we could discuss humour later? You might want to talk to my friend Pink-“

“What is your age?”

Twilight gaped at the ornately decorated device. “I’m sorry, what?”

The Cry-pod paused.

“My apologies, I was reviewing the human interactions manual and I had not reached the section on conversation pauses.”

It paused again.

“I think I’m doing quite well.”

Twilight let loose something between a scream and a grunt. “Okay, ‘Cry-pod’, I have a feeling you will be dictating the conversation so why don’t you go first with your question, end, and let me respond until I finish and then continue as such. I think that would promote the most efficient method of communication.” Twilight crossed her forelimbs in front of her chest as she sat down on her haunches.

The machine stayed quiet for some time.

Twilight began to worry.

“H-Hello?”

The Cry-pod immediately responded.

“Once again, my apologies, I have taken the time to write another manual for these series of interactions, hopefully it will prevent utter destruction and chaos!”

The Cry-pod was silent for a moment more.

“I appear to have a heating problem. Dissipating heat now.”

Twilight cocked her head, curious.

“AHHHHHH!” a voice echoed from within the chamber. Twilight’s eyes widened as she hurried to peer in.

“WARNING: Subjects should not be present in capsule while venting is in progress.”

“Ah! Ow! Hot! What?! How?!” the biped screamed hoarsely as it leapt out of the capsule. Twilight could only stare in disbelief as it staggered around a few steps and collapsed in front of her hooves.

“What in the world?” Twilight reared back, gobsmacked.

Author's Note

Gosh you guys sure know how to put on the pressure to deliver. Hope you aren't too disappointed. *gulp*

Next Chapter: What in the three rings of Tartarus is that?!

As always, my Chosen Readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. I've got a lot of work to do so the next chapter might come later...

3 - Using Your Anti-Freeze For More Than Medical Reasons

Chapter 3: Using Your Anti-Freeze For More Than Medical Reasons

Humans have the remarkable ability to become simultaneously more intelligent and more ignorant when they group together. While animals generally make better decisions in herds or schools, humans are strangely capable of making rash, misinformed and highly emotional-driven responses within larger groups.

These groupings are usually referred to as ‘mobs’.

The concept of mob rule acts as the basis on which the entire set of guidelines for social interactions among humans is laid. One interesting aspect of social interaction is the ability for people to react to new stimuli by comparing notes passed down from years of experience in interacting with one's peers. It follows that those that are among the most socially adaptable, are beings that have had the most experience over the years.

Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria for thousands of years, for example, had her mask of ‘calm, cool and collected’ down pat. It had worked quite well, bringing others up to her speed. Princess Luna, not quite the ruler of Equestria for thousands of years, but still pretty close, had taken to blasting down opposing voices with an even stronger voice. It worked for quite a while, at least until the ringing stopped. Discord, an even more ancient being than either of them, had taken to playing pranks on the locals and just generally went with the flow. He, of course, had become the most socially adaptable and nothing really quite fazed him.

Most of us, however, since we do not have the benefit of such longevity, will tend to use a formula for conversation along the lines of, ‘if this works, then stick to it’. In the event of failure or something totally unexpected then, ‘panic’. In the event that these two maxims ever fail, not for lack of trying on either part, social anathema will ensue in the most dreaded form.

Awkward silence.

It was perhaps fortunate for Twilight that the only other occupants of the small non-fiction section of the Royal Canterlot Archives were currently incapable of speech.

One strange creature that had been sleeping in a box for an unknown period of time was currently unconscious in front of her hooves.

The other, the Cry-pod, was currently undergoing a small bout of existential crisis now that its primary function had largely been fulfilled. For organics, this would usually equate to large amounts of satisfaction and a certain penchant for festivity. Eventually, organics would move onto their next project in pursuit of life’s greater meaning—if in fact there were greater meaning to pursue. Unfortunately, the Cry-pod simply sat there, trying to process what the next step in its metallic life would be.

It pondered heavy things.

Things like:

Do I have a metallic heart?

Can my digital processor calculate the meaning of life?

If I open another corn chip packet, I won't have enough salsa. If I open another salsa jar, I won't have enough corn chips.

This was strange, since the Cry-pod had never eaten in its digital life.

It may have been a blessing or a curse, but the whole portion of humanity’s philosophical musings were among the first of many cultural files corrupted in the Cry-pod’s memory bank. Perhaps that was for the best.

The Cry-pod did some rough estimation and conceded that calculating the meaning of life would take 1.43 x 10^17 seconds of processing time. It figured that if that’s how long it would take, it should get started right away.

So it got started right away.

Twilight cautiously prodded and probed the mysterious box, but other than some strange energy flows moving through the console, it remained remarkably inert. After trying several times to elicit a response from the Cry-pod and failing, she concluded that perhaps the box had somehow broken itself.

Which was amazing, since Twilight couldn’t conceive a way this thing could be talking to her if it weren’t for magic.

Since the Cry-pod couldn’t help her with the strange creature, Twilight engaged on the only course of action available to her.

She was going to tell the Princess.

Just as she was about to teleport to the Princess with the strange creature in tow, she paused. What if the creature had an adverse reaction to magic? It was unheard of for sure, but that didn’t discount the possibility. Maybe she should leave the creature here? No, it could wander off, or make a mess, or hurt itself somehow. It hadn’t made a positive first impression.

What Twilight needed was a plan, and she couldn’t think of one off the top of her head. She really needed to sit down and put her hoof to a quill and write up the appropriate response to this startling situation. She rubbed a hoof on her muzzle in contemplation. There was something she remembered, something about this place…

Ah, that’s right! When she was a filly she had hidden a little parchment and some writing implements around here somewhere. She glanced at the shelves. Many years ago, she had painstakingly created a bound book that would stand out to her…

There it was! Still in mint-pristine condition! How had the librarian missed it after all these years? Clearly, Starswirl the Bearded’s Guide On Thaumalogical Compositions and Concoctions was spelt wrong. It’s ‘Thaumamalogical’ not ‘Thaumalogical’! Duh!

Twilight shook her head sadly, if it were her library she would have immediately spotted that error. Although, now she had reason to be grateful for the negligent librarian. At least she had a parchment and—

Hang on, what’s that?

David woke up for the third time, this time, to feverish muttering. He shifted into an upright position as he regarded the source of anxious murmuring. There was that purple unicorn again, muttering to itself.

“I could take him to the hospital, but then the Princess might not be pleased I brought him there first without consulting her. Maybe no one would notice if I brought a strange, hornless minotaur into the hospital? Argh, this would be so much simpler if I had Spike here. It might be okay… I only did an eye and hoof inspection—but it wasn’t very thorough. I’m not a doctor… Would a pony doctor even know how it works? Argh! What am I going to tell the Princess?”

David decided that the talking purple unicorn might need some comforting. He had read somewhere that people sometimes needed ‘a sympathetic rock to weather the emotional storm.’ To date, he still didn’t know what that meant. He tried the only thing he could think of.

“She’ll be right, mate,” he said awkwardly, patting the unicorn gingerly on its head. He figured that it must be a ‘she’ given the tone of its voice. He made up his mind at this point. It was female until he saw evidence to the contrary.

The purple unicorn shook her head.

“The Princess? I’m sure she would understand… but this is such an unusual circumstance.”

“There, there,” David comforted, continuing to pet the stressed equine. He always had a soft spot for animals and children. Maybe this was his subconscious’ way of coping with the shock of coming out of cryostasis? He seriously considered the idea that he might have acute brain damage. He was uncomfortable with this line of thought, but quickly decided that such things were out of his control. He kept on petting.

The unicorn suddenly flinched under his hand.

“AAAAAAAHHHH!” she screamed shrilly, back-pedalling wildly.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH!” David screamed back. “WHY ARE WE SCREAMING?!”

“I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE IT’S THE STRESS OF THE SITUATION?!” the diminutive equine yelled back.

“IS THE SHOUTING HELPING?!”

“YES…! NO…! MAYBE! THIS IS JUST SO RIDICULOUS! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STILL BE SLEEPING!”

“MAYBE I SHOULD BE! THIS WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO GO FOR A YEAR. HOW LONG WAS I OUT?!”

“I’M NOT SURE, I’LL NEED TO CROSS-CHECK ARCHAEOLOGICAL RECORDS!”

“IS THAT CONVENIENT RIGHT NOW?!”

“NO, NOT WHILE WE ARE SHOUTING, AT LEAST!”

“CAN WE STOP SHOUTING?! MY EARS ARE STARTING TO HURT AS WELL AS MY THROAT!”

“YES, THA—“ *cough* *hack* “—seems like a good idea,” the unicorn finished hoarsely. She rubbed her throat with a hoof.

David rubbed his throat sympathetically as he tried to come to grips with talking to a mythological creature in this tone of excessive volumetric verbal eccentricity.

After a long pause, David tried to establish communications in a far more peaceful manner.

He held out a hand.

“I’m David,” he rasped. The unicorn glanced curiously at his hand before putting her hoof in it gingerly. David gently shook the hoof a couple of times.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she replied apprehensively, slowly taking back her hoof as he let go. David glanced at the scattered pieces of parchment strewn around the floor between them.

“So,” he croaked gutturally, “what are all these… drawings for?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “They were plans… for dealing with you.”

David’s eyes widened. He gulped anxiously. “Y-You mean… disposing of me?” he yelped, taking a couple cautious steps backwards.

Twilight frantically shook her hooves in front of her suggesting that was, in fact, not the case. “N-No! That’s horrible, why would anypony do something like that?”

David relaxed slightly. “True… The crayons don’t really lend an air of credibility to that idea,” he pointed out, gesturing at the colourful drawings.

Twilight sputtered as she defended her creations from unfair critique. “Crayons were the only writing implements I had on hoof! Pictures are a perfectly acceptable way of expressing information and they aid in memory retention!”

David folded his arms skeptically. “Uh huh,” he grunted in disbelief.

Twilight rolled her eyes, tapping a hoof impatiently on the wooden floor. “Really! I just stashed them here as a filly so I could always take down notes!”

David remained unconvinced, but he waved the issue away with his hand. “Alright… What do we do now?”

Twilight opened her mouth, hesitated, then snapped it shut with a click of her teeth. She looked torn between choices. Her eyes kept flickering around as if thoughts were flying through her head and she was trying to track them with her eyes. Suddenly they stopped. She grinned sheepishly. “I think it would be a good idea to see Princess Celestia,” Twilight posed slowly as David leaned against a bookcase. The bookcase, being less stable than he expected, tilted slowly. David jumped back as it toppled over, causing a domino effect on the other bookcases down the aisle.

Suitably shy, David gave a weak wave to Twilight as she sat with her mouth gaping wide for the umpteenth time today.

“Hah, well,” David started, absently adjusting his clothes, “the odds are definitely stacked against me today.”

Twilight could only manage a sound between strangulation and choking in response. David was grateful, judging from the glare that she gave him, that the brunt of her verbal assault was occluded by vocal muscle spasms.

Finally, Twilight was able to muster a small amount of composure. She drew herself up and took a deep breath. “Okay, that must have been an accident,” she said, forcing a laugh. “If you would follow me, perhaps we might be able to sort out this mess with the help of the Princess.”

David reluctantly followed Twilight. Royalty and unicorns? What next, magic?

Inwardly he laughed.

Magic.

Good one.

Author's Note

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Seriously considered lyrics from Bohemian Rhapsody however, that idea had already been taken in other fics, sorry.

Here are a couple of disclaimers I usually shove into my stories at the beginning:
1. I use Australian English if that wasn't a dead-giveaway from the start, sorry other English counterparts!
2. My 'Next Chapter Descriptions' are about as reliable as a alcoholic minding a cup of wine.
3. I love comments, I read all of them, I don't have the chance to respond to most of them, unless they bring up some good points.
4. Usually some dedicated writers will message readers thanking them for favouriting or tracking their stories. Sorry, I don't do that, not because I'm ungrateful but because I think you'd like me to concentrate on actually writing the story than personally thanking every reader out there. I'm both lazy and efficient like that. What? Efficiency is intelligent laziness. I digress.
5. Please, please, please don't be afraid to tell me what's wrong with my writing. I am still a novice writer. Let's face it. I'm not a good writer. Competent, yes. Good? No. Otherwise I'd probably dedicate my life to it. Anyway help an engineer find creativity in expressing thoughts.
6. I have no proofreaders or editors. They were mercilessly sacrificed at my demonic altar so I could gain minute speed in releasing writing. So, you have been warned. I do reread chapters constantly and I update errors as soon as I see them or if there is a comment to the glaringly obvious. So you're all ~~guinea pigs~~ ~~minions~~ ~~sidekicks~~! I mean, helpful assistants!

Anyway that's all, sorry if this is a wall of text!

Next Chapter: We find out how Luna got her tattoo and how Celestia handled a diplomatic incident between the Zebricans and the Griffons with just two lumps of sugar.

As always, my non-stick readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. Sorry for a slow start I'm infamous for them.
P.P.S. If it helps read this in Morgan Freeman's voice. He can even make carpet interesting.
P.P.P.S Also I love you all! Thanks for your support!
P.P.P.P.S What's this? A Bonus?

4 - Killing Time, But Not With A Knife Like Usual

Chapter 4: Killing Time, But Not With A Knife Like Usual

One thing you should know about Princess Celestia is that she is very fussy about where she puts her hooves when she sits. Not many ponies know this, but centuries ago, before Luna’s return, there was a diplomat sent from the Equinos of the Other Side of the Sand Dunes. They were a curious little race, looking a bit like breezies save for the fact that they lacked wings. The problem with these diminutive creatures was that they were strong. Built like ants, they were. They didn’t appreciate any reminders that they were small, or even worse, that they needed help.

Offering to help them in their own land was punishable by death. The preferred method of execution for egregious offenders was being stepped on by an Ursa Major. Since the Equinos had developed a highly complex and sophisticated style of hoof-language, one had to be careful where one put their hooves. For example, one hoof shifted slightly forward, then another trading positions was coincidentally, ‘do you require assistance, small one?’.

After spending two months on the Other Side of the Sand Dunes, Celestia became very particular with where she put her hooves. While some claimed that it was part of her calm and poise that she would daintily stride or walk with care, she was merely concentrating hard on where her next hoof would go. After all, Celestia didn’t want to be stomped on by an Ursa Major, no matter how sturdy an alicorn’s body was.

Celestia had barely positioned her hooves in just the right way when a guardspony opened the double doors to the throne room with a resounding bang. Startled, Celestia inwardly cursed as her hooves shifted two fractions of a millimetre to the left and she spent the next few seconds trying to drag it back into the proper position. Unable to get it just right, she sighed and turned to the nervous stallion rolling his hooves awkwardly in front of his supreme ruler-deity.

Seeing her nod, he quickly belted out the reason for his sudden appearance. “Your Majesty, Twilight Sparkle has requested an audience!” He spoke quite loudly with his voice echoing through the vaulted chamber. Celestia winced slightly as the guards at her throne chuckled at the skittish new recruit. At least she hoped it was a new recruit—it would be ever so embarrassing if he were an officer.

“Thank you... Umm...”

The stallion snapped to reality. “Sergeant Belt, ma’am- Princ- Your Highn- Majesty,” he grated out, stumbling pitifully over his own words.

Celestia pretended not to notice. “Thank you, Sergeant Belt—do send her in,” Celestia replied dismissively. The stallion performed something close to a bow and a salute at the same time while he stumbled back out the doorway.

Celestia felt an electric tingle work up her spine as she finally let what the Sergeant mentioned sink in. Twilight? Hopefully this will be interesting.

——

Meanwhile, in the adjunct to the throne room, Twilight had trouble containing her wayward creature-thing that referred to itself as a ‘human’. She let loose a rasp of annoyance and growled, “Will you stop moving, David?” She followed by stamping a hoof in frustration.

David glanced back at Twilight, but quickly returned his attention to the stained glass windows.

“But it’s so interesting!” he exclaimed staring up at the fantastical artwork.

Twilight trotted around and pushed her head into the human’s flank, knocking him forward towards the throne room doors.

“The Princess could call for us at any moment! You don’t want to look like a foal, do you?” Twilight cajoled. The prodding met unyielding resistance as the human planted his feet and generally made life more stressful for her.

“Hey, aren’t you in some of these stain glass windows?” David asked, pointing at the abstract designs. Twilight pointedly ignored the question and corralled David towards the door.

“Oh, just move, will you? We have to make a good impression for the Princess!” she cried, this time taking a mouthful of David’s scrubs in preparation to yank him forward.

David shrugged. “I’m still not convinced that I’m not hallucinating. Perhaps I’m coming down with schizophrenia? I’m not a medical expert by any means, but my doctor’s gone, so…”

Twilight growled through her teeth and pulled the cloth attached to the resistant human. David shifted his weight the other way and infuriatingly remained rooted to the spot. Twilight gave a mightier yank.

*RIIIIIIIIIIIP*

It was perhaps unfortunate that the double doors opened at that point to reveal the two occupants that had been waiting in the adjunct to the throne room.

——

As the double doors opened, Princess Celestia was greeted by quite the shocking sight.

The two highly trained guards in the room opened their eyes fractionally wider, but nevertheless kept a stoic gaze. The court scheduler politely averted his eyes. A maid that happened to look up blushed a little and went back to feverishly sweeping the same spot over and over. Philomena leant in for a closer look.

Celestia put a delicate hoof to her mouth and spoke two words. “Oh. My,” she whispered in the echoing silence.

Twilight let the small piece of cloth drop from her jaws as she sunk slowly to her haunches.

David slowly and self-consciously shifted his arms so that they now occluded the obvious. He suddenly had an idea.

He bowed.

“Greetings, Your Majesty. I hope you have enjoyed our traditional cultural greeting. We call it the ‘You Beauty, Mate’. It represents our willingness to bare ourselves both physically and metaphorically.” David could almost feel the palpable relief radiate from Twilight.

Celestia felt a small tug of amusement at the corner of her mouth. “Is that so?” she inquired mildly, recovering from her brief bout of shock. While it was certainly unexpected, a few thousand years guaranteed that one had seen almost everything.

David grinned and waved a hand. “Nah, made that up on the spot. Name’s David, what’s yours?” He could feel the relief behind him turn to abject horror.

Celestia almost giggled. How refreshing. “I am Princess Celestia,” she graciously introduced herself.

David smiled back. His smile shrunk as he realised something important and squirmed. “Oh hey, not to spring matters on the weird route to insanity, but you wouldn’t happen to know where the facilities are?”

Celestia tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, the loo, the bathroom, the lavatory, the gentlemen’s needs, where one addresses the call of nature, the bowl, the chamber pot, the chunder box, the dunny, the W.C., the little boys room—“

“Yes, I think we get it!” Twilight snapped.

“—the toilet,” David finished, scratching his side.

Before Twilight’s fuse reached full blown conniption, Celestia interjected. “Head down the hall where you came from, second archway on the left.”

“Thanks, Celestia,” David jauntily replied. He gave a gracious bob of his head, ignored an incensed glare from Twilight, and headed out to relieve the growing pressure in his lower abdominal region.

The throne room became strangely quiet after that—a fact that Twilight gratefully capitalised on as she worked on getting herself back down to pony speed. Human speed was just too stressful.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your patience, Princess. Please excuse David’s rudeness. He only just… woke up.”

Celestia, having found the whole situation the most stimulating experience of the past month, asked the question teetering on her tongue ever since the double doors had opened. “Twilight, would you mind explaining what that was all about?”

——

As David stumbled around the hallways of the stone-lined castle, he suddenly became acutely aware that he was indeed naked. Being a human of priorities, he shuffled the desire for modesty under the need for a toilet. He decided that clothes would be properly addressed once his bladder wasn’t fit to burst at any moment.

“Second archway on the left, second archway on the left, second archway on the left,” David repeated to himself as he passed some fairly startled servants bustling about the castle. At one point, a mare balancing a tray of food tripped over herself and sent a pile of cutlery and edible goods tumbling across the floor. A quick apology and a bob of his head was the only consolation that David could give as he made his way to the gentlecolt’s facilities.

A short time later, David found the bathrooms. They were in surprisingly good condition. He wondered briefly if he’d ended up in the women’s restrooms or if these weren’t actually public use toilets. He discounted the notion after double checking the sign, which curiously had the Mars symbol inscribed on its wooden surface. He studied the flushing jake briefly before shrugging and letting nature take its course.

Suffice to say, if this story were to delve into the waves of pain and pleasure a ten-thousand-year-long wait for the loo could cause, words of any order or magnitude would not be enough to convey the experience. It would be such that the reader would be left wholly unsatisfied, if indeed that were something the reader would be inclined to read about...

Prince Blueblood, who was also in desperate need to relieve himself, decided that after several long seconds of listening to strange sounds of moaning and groaning, that he would venture the risk of a trip to the other side of Canterlot Castle. The other side, as it were, where the other restroom was located.

He didn’t get there in time.

——

After a fairly in depth recount of the recent past and omitting the embarrassing parts of course, Twilight looked expectantly at her mentor who had taken to an expression of partial shock.

“Are you saying that the strange creature that walked in here and addressed me casually by name was sleeping inside a lounge chair within the Canterlot archives since it was built?”

Twilight nodded her head apprehensively. “Actually, I call it the Box, Princess,” she commented, shuffling her hooves.

“And it goes by the name, David?”

“That’s right, Princess.”

Celestia’s tail flicked to the side as she pondered the next course of action. Twilight fidgeted as silence ensued.

After a lengthy pause, Twilight spoke up. “Princess?” she asked tentatively. “What are we going to do?”

Celestia was silent for another moment. Twilight could almost hear the gears in her head turning.

“Well, there’s going to be an investigation.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“There will have to be studies done.”

Twilight perked at that.

“Yes, Princess,” she replied more confidently.

“We’ll have to accommodate David—try and get him acclimatised. The poor thing must be disorientated.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“I could look no further than you, Twilight, to do so.”

“Yes, Princ— Wait!” Twilight bit her lip nervously. “Perhaps there’s a more suitable pony for this job?” Judging from the small snippet of interaction she’d had with David, she was definitely jumping off this bandwagon.

Celestia cocked her head. “Twilight, I have the utmost faith and confidence that you can handle him,” she replied with such confidence that Twilight felt her will melt like butter in the sun. She was the butter and Celestia was the sun.

Twilight heaved a despondent sigh. “That human is so much trouble, though. I don’t suppose I could pass this over to the University, Princess?” she offered up hopefully.

Celestia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You know what they are like, Twilight. All arguing over the most ridiculous things. They still believe the system is heliocentric? Can you believe that? Imagine the planet whizzing around the sun like that… Where was I?”

“We were discussing David, Princess.”

“Ah yes, I couldn’t think of a better pony to handle the situation.”

Twilight drew herself up, shaking off any more doubts. “I’ll try my best, Princess,” she imparted with a bow.

Celestia nodded. “I know you will, Twilight. I'm sure you will do well.”

As Twilight left with a small blush, Celestia turned to Philomena and whispered softly. “I give it two days.”

Meanwhile, David let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Now that is one heck of a piss!” he called out, staggering out of the bathroom. He took note of the shocked expression of a well-dressed stallion beginning to enter the toilets.

“Oh hello there,” he greeted, thrusting out his hand. He quickly took it back when he realised he hadn’t washed it.

“Be right back,” he called back. There was the sound of running water and David reappeared moments later with freshly scrubbed hands.

“Sorry about that. Where are my manners? Here,” he chirped jovially, flinging out his hand. The stallion stared at the hand before slowly placing his hoof in it.

“Sorry, have to go, nice meeting you…Uhh?”

“Fancy Pants…”

“Fancy Pants. Right. Name’s David. See you around.”

After a couple of quick shakes, David was off. Fancy Pants stared at his hoof and felt a shudder work from the tips of his ears, down his spine and through his tail.

“It was just hanging there, in front of my face…” he trailed off, unsteadily making his way to the lavatory. The chunder box once again earned its name after ten-thousand-years of disuse.

Author's Note

I haven't been writing much in the past couple of days, but that's because I've been punching sharks. Sharks are fun to punch. Naw I'm kidding, don't punch sharks they don't deserve it. Politicians, however...

Anyway, thank you everyone for reading this, sorry I've been on and off.

If you missed out on Twilight's Report, it's still here and on the last chapter AN.

Special thanks to Thornwing for editing my mess on short notice (literally hours notice).

Next Chapter: David finds out that there isn't beer. THERE ISN'T BEER.

As always, my meddlesome and maniacal readers, thanks for reading!

5 - Sometimes You Just Need A Toothbrush For That

Chapter 5: Sometimes You Just Need A Toothbrush For That

'Unicorns are real. They’re just fat and grey and we call them rhinos' – Anonymous

“How is it that ‘fat chance’ and ‘slim chance’ mean the same thing?” David wondered aloud as he crossed his legs. Almost everyone in the room studiously ignored him. He considered switching it up with his legs but decided against it for the sake of staff sanity. Twilight determined that clothing would be priority one for the newly adjusting human. David would have preferred a cool glass of beer, but he supposed clothes would be a welcome addition to his woefully empty inventory. He glanced down at his feet and wriggled his toes.

Twilight gave him a disgusted look. “Can you stop doing that? It’s weird.”

David shrugged and stopped wriggling his toes. He settled for whistling It’s a Small World instead. What David didn’t know was that this song was voted number one within the inter-galactic council as the song most likely to trigger a psychotic breakdown. One member commented (sic) ‘You’re just jealous that the voices only talk to me.’ It was concluded after an extensive investigation involving a galactic-wide scandal, that listening to the soundtrack, and not premeditated murder, had indeed been the cause of the councillor’s death.

Twilight gritted her teeth and pulled back her ears flat against her head. “Stop whistling! That’s the most annoying tune I’ve ever heard! What is it anyway?”

David paused for a moment, thinking back. “I think it’s a—hmm, I don’t know. I might have brain damage to be honest—not feeling too hot right now.”

Twilight took a deep, calming breath. If what David claimed was true, then he probably wasn’t of sound mind at the moment.

“So…” David began, swinging his legs childishly as he sat naked on the table (there wasn’t any furniture that could accommodate his size). “What’s going to happen now?”

Twilight gave a look as if to warn David that anything flippant would be terminated with extreme prejudice. She cleared her throat, levitating a scroll and quill from her packed saddlebag.

“Putting aside the fact I didn’t see you put that on,” David started, pointing at Twilight’s saddlebags. “How are you making those things float?”

Twilight gave a sidelong glance at David. “It’s magic.”

As if that explained everything.

David buried his face in his hand. “Okay, no need to get snarky with me, I just wanted to know how you’re doing that trick. It’s cool, I must admit, but it’s not worth fighting over.”

Twilight blew out an impatient breath. “How do you think I’m doing it?”

David stared at the parchment floating in front of his face for a moment. He waved his hands around the perimeter of the parchment and studied the gentle glow emanating from Twilight’s horn, the parchment, and the quill.

“Special effects,” he answered confidently.

Twilight tilted her head, confused. “Special...effects?”

David nodded sagely. “Special effects. You know, the stuff they use on television, except here in real life. You’re tricking my eyes somehow—it’s an illusion. There’s no way you could float those things, so it must be a trick.”

“It’s certainly not a trick!” Twilight spluttered. David reached out and patted Twilight on the head in a somewhat patronising manner.

“No need to fake it. I know magic’s not real.”

Twilight looked at the parchment and quill and flapped them both in front of his face frantically. “It’s right in front of you! Magic! See?”

David just shrugged. “Magic is scientifically impossible. That kind of business was around when people thought the Earth was flat and that the Sun revolves around the Earth. Complete garbage.”

“The sun does revolve around the planet!” Twilight shot back. She planted a hoof on David’s knee as she leant in, furious. “What would you know? You were cooped up in that Box for centuries—millennia even!”

David had a condescending smile plastered over his mug. “You have quite the imagination. How old are you anyway?”

Twilight rapped her hoof against David’s head. “And you have a damaged brain!”

One must not underestimate the hardness of pony hooves. For a species that adapted themselves to knocking around hard objects with their heads and hooves, pony skulls were a lot more resilient to your average head knock. For a human, especially one fresh out of cryo-stasis with a brain quite possibly already damaged, concussion was almost inevitable.

Twilight could only gape as David went cross-eyed and collapsed on the ground. He landed with his buttocks sticking embarrassingly up at a sharp angle for all to see.

At first, Twilight thought he was joking. “David? Come on, that’s enough.” Playfulness aside, she began to worry. “Get up now,” she whispered, nudging him with her hoof. David didn’t even groan in response. Twilight quickly bent down and pressed an ear to his chest. She couldn't hear him breathing.

Sweat beaded on Twilight’s brow as she considered all the consequences. She quickly ran through a logical list of consequences:

The Princess assigned the human to her.

The Princess gave her the responsibility of caring for the human.

She hit the human directly.

The human is now dead.

To the moon. (At the very least.)

She glanced at the castle servants who had all frozen mid-way through stitching some decent new clothing for David.

In stressful situations, ponies tend to overreact. It’s actually against pony law for any building to be constructed with exits that open inward. In the tragic Manehatten fire of ’89, several hundred ponies were trapped in one such poorly designed building. The crowd was so hysterical that they tightly pressed against the front entrance in their rush to escape. This made opening the inward facing doors impossible. Thankfully, most of them got out after the fire crew smashed the hinges.

Panicking was just what ponies did. It was something they did extremely well.

A servant screamed. “She’s going to eliminate the witnesses! Run!” In a flurry, the ponies darted around aimlessly, like a brood of headless chickens. Among the flying pieces of incomplete undergarments and needles, which were pretty dangerous things to have flying around, Twilight finally unfroze herself and tried to think of a plan that didn’t involve her being sent straight to the moon. She had a brilliant thought.

“Everypony stop! Relax!” Twilight yelled, waving at the panicking servants.

One by one, the servants slowed down. A couple of them tripped over their associates and lay sprawled on the floor. One stallion commented wryly, “Oh, well that’s no fun.” He was immediately smacked by Twilight for his insolence.

Twilight took a deep breath and addressed the servants. “Okay, is everypony calm now?” There were several nods around the room. “All right, now to think.”

“You there!” she pointed to a particularly clueless-looking servant. “What’s your name?”

“Busybody, ma’am.”

Twilight nodded. “Do you realise the gravity of the situation we’re in?”

He nodded. “I’m in a room with a dead body.”

Twilight gave an accepting grunt. “Exactly, and what does that make you?”

“A witness?” Busybody answered uncertainly, as ripples of doubt spread among the staff. They sensed this conversation would be the tipping point in a cascade of events. As the universe would have it, they were right.

Twilight shook her head frantically, “No, it makes you an emergency responder. You have to help me!”

Busybody just looked confused. “With what?”

“With CPR!”

“The Canterlot Prison Rehabilitation program?”

“What? No! It means Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation!”

Busybody gave her a blank look. Twilight stamped a hoof in frustration.

"Mouth to mouth!"

"Oh."

"You take the chest—"

"Thank Celestia!"

"—And I'll take the mouth. After five minutes, we switch. Got that?"

"Oh, Tartarus!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Twilight stared at the gathered servants looking on with interest.

"This is like a live medical drama," one of them commented to another.

"A what?" the other replied.

"Oh right, I forgot that television hasn't been invented yet."

"Oh well, that's alright then… wait a minute!"

But then the curious stallion was gone.

"Will one of you go get help already?!" Twilight yelled at the mare who had spoken. The panicked servant dashed out of the room.

"Finally," Twilight seethed. She turned back to Busybody, busy stomping away on David's chest.

Busybody was almost at the count. "Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty!" Twilight dove in. Muzzle pressed firmly against David's lips, she pushed out a breath.

Please, oh please, let help arrive soon!

Busybody gasped and said something. Twilight barely heard him—she was fixated on the pulsing artery exposed on David's neck. David's heart was beating… which meant…

Twilight quickly backpedalled.

"My ribs feel like a jackhammer ripped through them… and why do I taste grape?"

"Pony feathers," Twilight swore.

The cross-species doctor listened with his stethoscope for a few moments and nodded.

“Normal heart rate?” he asked curiously.

“Seventy to eighty beats per minute,” David answered calmly.

“Well, apart from a mild concussion, some bruised ribs, and the laceration on his knee from when he hit the ground, as far as I can tell, he’s healthy. I don’t have much of a reference to judge this on, but it all seems to be within normal parameters. You really should have given him a check up as soon as he ‘woke up’, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight glanced sheepishly at the doctor. “Sorry, Dr. Stable.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to the patient.”

Twilight turned to David. “Sorry, David.”

“I don’t remember you knocking me out.”

Twilight paused. “I’m still sorry about it.”

“I’d probably appreciate the gravity of this talk more if I had some pants on.”

“Oh right, sorry. These might not fit properly, but this was the best we could do. Your physiology is a little… disconcerting.”

David frowned at the undergarments, but as he slipped them on he was surprised at how comfortable they were. Tight fitting, kind of like spandex, but at least they did the job. He caught Twilight staring at his waist.

“Something interesting?” David commented coolly. Twilight blushed and looked away.

“Sorry! Sorry! It’s just strange that it’s so pronounced.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” David scoffed, he crossed his arms uncomfortably. “So, what were we talking about before?”

“We were talking about what we were going to do after we got you some clothes.” Twilight brought out the checklist again.

“Woah! How are you doing that trick?” He waved his arms around the parchment. “I can’t even see the strings. That’s some pretty fancy special effects!”

Twilight silently face-hoofed.

Author's Note

Twilight just drank some grape juice, relax, she's not grape-flavoured... yet.

Just a fun fact: It is quite possible to suffer the same symptoms of sleep apnoea if you position yourself like David did in this chapter. That includes difficulty/lack of breathing. Also, in cardiac arrest, the patient can still gasp and struggle for breath. This is called 'agonal breathing', some cases of CPR start too late because agonal breathing is mistaken for normal breathing. If in doubt, start CPR immediately, the patient will let you know if you've mistaken something else for cardiac arrest.

Next Chapter: Seriously, where's my kangaroo? I parked mine here just a moment ago...

As always, my suitably attired readers, thanks for reading!

6 - When The Clock Starts Ticking, The Alicorn Starts Kicking

Chapter 6 - When the Clock Gets Ticking, The Alicorn Starts Kicking

Princess Luna, the co-ruler of Equestria, Princess of the Night, the Mistress of the Moon and the self-proclaimed reigning World Champion of Manticore Wrestling (they just put up with her), was bored.

While in the old days there used to be dragon invasions, Minotaur invasions, diamond dog invasions, parasprite invasions, Equinos invasions and even the odd goo invasion (don’t ask), now there were just parasprite invasions and even they had lost their taste for flesh. What Luna craved was the return of the good old days when the world was less peaceful and a lot more chaotic. Well, perhaps not as chaotic as to wish the return of Discord to the throne, but more in the sense of adventure and action in her life.

Luna was so bored she was in the library of all places! Not that the library was a bad place by any means, but Luna fervently wished that she were here at least desperately trying to find the spell to prevent world-level destruction instead of wandering around bored. The last time Luna was bored, she ended up planning a coup to overtake the throne. Oh, this was way before the Nightmare had taken her, mind you, but she never thought that the plan would actually be used. It was still under her pillow due to the writing being steeped in a mixture of her blood and that of a thousand year old dragoness, making it basically indestructible.

So Luna was here wandering the non-fiction section of the library when she heard a noise that suspiciously sounded like a sigh. “Who’s there?” she called out quietly. The sigh came again and this time Luna turned to face the source. There was nothing in the room save a curiously opened casket of sorts. She remembered this exact same container being a piece of furniture in the library. It was really old, at least as old as the castle itself.

Luna felt a tingle of anticipation shiver down her spine.

A new discovery!

Her ears perked.

Adventure!

Her ears flattened.

Maybe only a box…

“Calculation complete… determination [REDACTED] due to proximity trigger-sense for a living organism within hearing distance. Reason: experiencing lethal existential crisis.”

Luna approached the bedazzled fixture cautiously. The sound had definitely come out of it, she was sure. Perhaps a pony was trapped in a crystal matrix? She knew the words that were spoken by—whatever was inside that thing—but when it strung together like that she couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“Hello?” Luna ventured. She reared back as it suddenly spoke in reply.

“Detected living organism in speech proximity to core. Welcome! My designation is Cryo-stasis Pod One, version zero point zero zero one five, but you can call me Cry-pod,” it greeted mechanically.

Luna drew herself up. “I am Princess Luna, Princess of the Night.” She eyed it curiously as several lights flared up as the ‘Cry-pod’ spoke.

“Greetings, Princess Luna, Princess of the Night. As there are currently no humans present, I will currently be assisting you. I can answer any questions that you may have.”

Luna paused. What are humans? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Was this some ancient codex from the past? Her tail flicked impatiently. Better find out. She cleared her throat. “Ahem, Cry-pod?”

“Yes?”

“What are you? What is your purpose?”

“The Cry-pod was designed by Doctor Staton under the Institute for Cryogenic Research and Development. The Cry-pod’s main functionality was to preserve the greatest achievements of humanity by cryogenically suspending subjects during times of peace and reviving them when they are needed.”

“Needed? For what?”

“People of extreme intelligence will be given priority. Scientists and engineers that have made significant contributions under 1a winning a Nobel Prize or 1b internationally recognised, and 1c currently hold no criminal tendencies. Gifted advocates of peace, tolerance and great minds on philosophy that have significant contributions under 2a winning a Nobel Peace prize or 2b internationally recognised and 2c currently hold no criminal tendencies. Military greats as per directed orders from Australian Defence Force. Current next in line [REDACTED] unauthorised access to information. Next priority: investors, automatically sorted by given stake in program. First in line, ICRD CEO—“

Luna snapped back to the conversation. Her face scrunched up in concentration.

“So what you are saying is that your purpose is to preserve the best of the best of this species called ‘humans’, is that right?”

The Cry-pod whirred quietly. “That is correct.”

“How long can they be kept?”

“Barring adverse events and failure of system functionality, the maximum estimated suspension time is theoretically infinite.”

“Infinite?!”

“Realistic models predict under care, maintenance and supervision, cryo-patients should be reanimated periodically every one hundred years to ensure no long term damage to brain tissue. There has been no recorded data on the effect of serial compound product one hundred and seventy three on humans for an extended period of time past the natural lifespan. Mean time before failure calculated at effective limit: two thousand years.”

“Wha—? How old are you?”

There was a pause. “Data indicates roughly ten thousand three hundred and twenty seven years, two months, eight days, two hours, fifty six minutes and eighteen seconds have elapsed since first record of operation. Data on manufacturing processes fail extrapolation at present. File corruption detected. WARNING! Data retrieval error due to radiometric data loss. Files compromised since 18th April, 2403. Variation of up to six percent may be present in datastream.”

Wait, this thing is older than me? Surely it jests. “You must be joking.”

“I currently do not retain a full copy of the Equine Interactions Manual. Humour has been abandoned due to dangerous results.”

Luna shook her head in bemusement, what a curious little thing. However, if this entity is as old as it claims and I have not heard of ‘humans’ in all that while… It is possible they no longer exist. Luna felt a pang of sorrow shudder through her frame. Her hoof reached out to comfort the pitiful machine. Are you all alone, abandoned by your masters?

The Cry-pod was silent for a moment. “The data may be recovered,” it offered.

“Data?”

“Data: a collection of information for refer—“

“Yes, yes, I am familiar with the term. You mentioned that the data is corrupted. Is there a way to recover that information?”

The Cry-pod answered immediately. “Data corruption at 98%. Fortunately, a manual backup may be performed. There are many redundancies present within my system to guard against failure due to data corruption. The process may only be started by a human of the highest administrative authority. Current human of highest administrative authority: First name, David. Last name, Collins.”

Luna’s ears perked up at that. Amazing. Is it saying what I think it is? “There are still humans alive?”

“Correct. Recent reanimation successful. No data could be retrieved concerning current subject medical state. Current attending physician: Doctor Staton… Current status: missing.”

“Are there any other humans left?”

“Unknown. Current data suggests no humans within an appreciable distance from this unit. Contact, apart from subject, has not been established in excess of ten thousand years. Authority shifted to David Collins until suitable human with higher authority made available.”

“Are you saying there might be other humans out there? Where is this… David Collins?”

“Unknown. Location of David Collins restricted. Please provide appropriate authentication.”

Hmmm, the box won’t give out information about humans, at least not past general information. That will make locating the currently alive one difficult… Luna shook her head. There was definitely more to learn from this curious machine.

Just as Luna was about to say something, she was interrupted by the clattering of hooves and a shout.

“Princess!”

Luna turned around to see a ragged guardspony short of breath.

“Princess Luna,” the stallion bowed.

Luna gestured with a regal wave of her hoof. “You may rise, guard.”

The stallion bobbed his head gratefully. “Thank you, Princess Luna. Princess Celestia has urgently requested for your presence in the throne room.”

“Did she tell you the nature of the request?” Luna asked curiously.

The stallion shook his head. “The Princess did not reveal any information regarding the nature of the summons.” Nervous blue eyes shied away from the Princess’ gaze. Luna forced herself to relax.

“At ease, guard. Apologies for my intensity. Strict command is a hard habit to be rid of.”

The stallion looked horrified that the Princess had decided to apologise to him. He waved his hooves frantically to dispel even the notion that she needed to apologise to him. Luna sighed as the guard got increasingly flustered.

“I apologise for apologising,” Luna said impatiently and the guard hung his head sheepishly. Luna sighed again. “Would you mind waiting a few moments? I will need to bring this strange relic with me—it won’t take long."

Luna tugged the Cry-pod telekinetically with her magic and found that it came quite easily out of its recess. Surprised, she let it float in front of herself. The box caught some of the afternoon’s rays and gleamed in its many hues as gems studding the surface glowed. Luna was mesmerised for a moment, then she shook her head. “Cry-pod, are you alright?” she asked apprehensively. She was afraid she may have damaged the device.

“Affirmative, Princess Luna, Princess of the Night. No damage, despite unknown method of transportation. More data required for extrapolative inference.”

Luna nodded as the guard did a double-take, eyes widening as it considered the floating artefact. “Is it dangerous?” he asked tentatively, eyeing the gently levitating object.

Luna flicked her tail dismissively. “Nothing to be concerned about, I will discuss this with my sister,” she said, walking past the guard. The stallion scrambled to follow before the box could whack him in the back of his head.

Luna lead the way to the throne room, dismissing the guards standing at the door and the one that had been following along. They left reluctantly, looking back curiously at the open box. As Luna opened the heavy double doors of the throne room, Celestia watched in bemusement as Luna dismissed all the guards within the room. Celestia spotted the floating object behind her sister and nodded in acknowledgement.

“I see you have found the mysterious ‘Box’ before I have,” Celestia commented mildly. “Coincidentally, this is part of the reason why I called for you.”

Luna stamped a hoof. “How is it that you always know about things before I do, sister?”

“Intuition,” Celestia replied wryly. Luna grunted and brought the Box closer.

“What do you know about this, sister?” Luna asked, tapping the former decorative furniture with her hoof.

“At best guess, a relic crafted by the humans.”

Luna gaped at Celestia. “That’s really not fair, I just learnt about that from the Cry-pod.”

“Cry-pod?”

“Yes, that is what it calls itself.”

“That’s funny, Twilight prefers to call it ‘the Box’.”

“Why would she call it that?”

“She mentioned the name was a little sad-sounding.”

“Sad?”

“Yes, with ‘cry’ as in ‘crying’”

“Strange…”

“Indeed.”

Luna lowered the Cry-pod slowly to the floor.

“This creation,” Luna began, running a hoof along its surface, “is quite unique. I’ve never seen anything fashioned like this before. The Cry-pod has told me that it was created well over ten thousand years ago. It can’t be though, nothing is that old, not even Discord himself.”

Celestia rubbed a hoof across her temple. “It’s hard to think of anything more ancient. Anything that old would be decrepit and falling to pieces, its amazing this… object survived for so long. All the while keeping a living being alive and well for that period.” She laughed. “I saw the human naked the first time we met. He took it all in stride, even though he had just woken up. I don’t know whether to call that brave, or simply insane.”

The Cry-pod spoke up, startling the Princesses. “As I have explained to Princess Luna, Princess of the Night, the subject may have quite a high likelihood of brain damage. Attending medical physician should perform a CT scan to eliminate possibility of damage from hemorrhaging caused by long-term stasis. Rest is recommended.”

Luna shrugged. “I don’t understand half of what it says.”

Celestia nodded. She called out to the Cry-pod. “Is there any information you can give us that could help us know more about your race—why you are here and where they have gone?”

The Cry-pod was silent for a few moments.

“Insufficient data present for conclusive answer. Please try again later.”

Celestia eyed the horizon. “Oh, it’s time to lower the sun, Luna would you converse with this Cry-pod for a moment? I’ll be back soon.”

As Celestia headed towards the door, the Cry-pod asked its first question since talking to Luna.

“My speech processors must be malfunctioning. Would you mind repeating yourself, sister of Princess Luna?”

“Sister of Princess—oh my, how rude of me. I am Princess Celestia. Pleased to meet you, Cry-pod.”

The Cry-pod paused again. “Would you mind repeating what you have said earlier? My speech processors have identified ‘it’s time to lower the sun’, unfortunately, that cannot be right. It has conflicted with my logic interface. Is that a figure of speech?”

Celestia shook her head. “No, I will be lowering the sun with my magic—that is how it works.”

The Cry-pod flashed a couple of times. Another digital processor might detect that as impatience. That’s silly though, digital systems can’t be impatient.

“Recording response as ‘religious and/or cultural behaviour’,” the Cry-pod replied.

Celestia cocked her head curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“My data banks indicate the Earth is in orbit around the Sun. As gravity is the force keeping the orbits constant and the rotation of the Earth is the variable responsible for day and night cycles, it is improbable for most other beings to control this phenomenon without substantial energy. Energy on the order of magnitude equivalent to stopping the Earth’s rotation. Roughly 2x10^23 Newtons of force estimated. Most likely case, claims are religious or cultural in nature.”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed as she studied the gently ticking human invention. “You’re going to be trouble,” she growled softly.

Luna laughed and batted the machine playfully. “How delightfully primitive the assumptions of this machine are! I cannot wait to hear more things that will amuse us!”

Author's Note

Not enough... hair?

Oops, forgot to link it above earlier: Equinos, they're kinda fun.

P.S. Hmm not enough David. Don't worry he'll be back someday. I decided to tone it down a bit because keeping thing ridiculous doesn't move a story, no matter how much I want it to.

Next Chapter: What are you doing David? Get down from there! Seriously, that's a lightning rod.

As always, my astounding, astonishing readers, thanks for reading!

7 - You Boron, You Make Me Look Like Einsteinium

Chapter 7: You Boron, You Make Me Look Like Einsteinium

Mental health had never been high on the list of priorities for the Equestrian Health Department. In the two years preceding David's return to consciousness, the EHD board made several recommendations to budget allocations, but as ponies increased in number and healthcare was modernised in and around the capital, outlying areas lagged further behind. They were still using wooden healing charms in the Crystal Empire at a time when everypony in Canterlot knew healing crystals were the only way to go. The number of ponies staffing the hospitals and getting sorely needed medical training was also on a rapid decline.

The EHD board re-prioritised the needs of Equestria, changing the healthcare landscape drastically. In a land full of monsters, spells and curses along with fast-flying pegasi that think they're invincible, mental health problems seemed insignificant in comparison. The EHD made a recommendation following the return of Nightmare Moon incident:

"The Equestrian Health Department board, in conjunction with the Equestrian Ethics and Safety Committee, has decided to reallocate current funding from the Equestrian Mental Health Institution, the Equestrian Psychologists Association and the Equine Cancer Council, in order to institute a monthly retainer for the express purpose of providing a subsidy for Homely Hayburger's new salad menu.

We are committed to providing excellence in healthcare and safety for all Equestrians within Equestria. We have come to this decision based on evidence that magical exposure will eventually solve all mental health issues anyway. Recent ruling in the Supreme Court has brought forward incontrovertible proof that Twilight Sparkle and Friendship magic can resolve any social issue. If you have any mental health issues, clearly you just need to get some friends.

Furthermore, cancer doesn’t exist.”

After Twilight gave him a brief rundown of the day's events, David was understandably not a happy human.

“So let me get this straight. I was in that box for thousands of years? Everyone I know and love died a long, long time ago?” He crossed his arms and gave Twilight a steely stare.

Twilight bit her lip and slowly nodded. “At least that’s as far as I have gathered. We don't have records of any humans since… ever. We don't have any records at all. Your species doesn't exist as far as we know.”

“How do I know that this whole thing isn’t a delusion and I’m not currently in a hospital suffering an admittedly realistic hallucination?”

“I’m not a hallucination!” Twilight snapped impatiently. She took a calming breath. “At least, how do you know it’s not a hallucination?”

David folded his arms and scratched his ear. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that I’m talking to a purple unicorn!” He brought both his hands to his face and gave it a good scrub. “This is insane. I’m arguing with a unicorn.”

Twilight stomped a hoof in frustration. “And I’m arguing with an impossible h-human!” Silence followed. David stared out of the window, glaring at the rainbow coloured ponies going about their business below. Overhead, the sun shined brightly, bathing the capital city of Equestria in a warm glow that brought out the teeming life that flourished in the kingdom surrounding the castle.

He put his head against the pane of glass taking note of its coolness. The warmth of the sunlight shone through, reflecting off the smooth wood that made up the frame. It all felt real, so real. The honeymoon period of his denial began to lose its grip as he realised that he had just casually greeted the most powerful figure in this so-called country and then asked for directions to her toilet.

He felt something beginning to rise within him. At first he shook. Twilight noticed the movement and took a hoof step forward. The shaking became a low growling cough. Twilight chose to take a step back regarding David with a measure of caution. The cough turned into full-blown laughter.

“Ha, ha ha!” David chortled. “Ha! HA HA HA!”

Twilight gave David a look that one usually reserved for the mentally deranged. Then again, all the things that David had so far demonstrated had not provided evidence to the contrary. Meanwhile, David laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. He laughed until he cried. He laughed until he choked. He laughed until it hurt and then he laughed some more.

Finally, after five minutes of solid laughter, David gathered himself, wiping away his tears. He realised he was kneeling on the ground and gave Twilight a broken smile.

“Sorry about that,” he croaked as more tears spilled out. “I-“ He stared at his hands, flexing them slightly. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Twilight approached slowly. She placed a hoof on his shoulder. “I hate to see you like this.” She shrugged and gave a weak grin of her own. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not heartless.” She sighed and gathered herself. “I can’t say I know what you’re going through. What I do know is that in your position, I’d probably want it to be a hallucination too.” Twilight swallowed audibly. “I-I wouldn’t know what I’d be like if I suddenly found out everypony I knew was long gone…”

David nodded glumly and stared at his hands.

"I just realised something," he said suddenly. Twilight perked up at that.

"I'm the last handyman."

They both chuckled weakly at that.

Twilight cleared her throat. “Ahem, well. We need to get back to the throne room. The Princess will want to know that you’re alright.”

David smirked. “You mean after you knocked me out and then tried CPR?”

Twilight spluttered. “In my defence, you weren’t breathing,” she huffed. “Besides, what’s important is that you’re alive.”

David got up. “Alright, let’s go.”

"Argh!" David cried, rounding another corner to a dead end. "This place is built like a maze!"

Twilight smiled good-naturedly. "Of course, this is a castle after all. The original design centered on defence. It can get confusing at times, but you get used to it."

David threw up his arms and skirted past Twilight to try his hand again. After a few twists and turns they met another dead end.

Twilight tapped a hoof impatiently. "Are you ready to give up?" she asked, her good-humour starting to run thin. David shook his head and Twilight tossed hers in response. "Come on, David. You're not going to find your way around this place just by trial and error. Give up and let me lead you." She paused. “It’s just a stupid bet!”

David wagged a finger. "Some things you need to know about Aussie blokes are: One, we don't ask for directions; Two, we never give up—unless it’s a Friday. I have a feeling this isn’t a Friday.”

Twilight's ear flicked as she gave David a level stare. "Okaaaay, I have a feeling you're going to make this very difficult for me." She brightened, getting an idea. Her horn lit up. "Stay still," she warned, advancing.

David, to his credit, did simultaneously the best (and worst) thing he could do in this situation. Feeling a dark urge, he flicked Twilight’s horn. With the surprising physical assault, her spell flickered and died. By the time she could focus again, the human had disappeared.

“If that's how you want to play, so be it.” Twilight's eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you want to play hide and seek, I can play hide and seek," she whispered to herself. She trotted off calmly in David's wake. "Trust me, I was trained by the best."

David ran like his life depended on it. In another timeline he would be right. However, in this primary timeline David was only trying to outsmart a mildly irked unicorn, not a robotic manticore attack. Turning a corner, he crashed head first into a mare carrying a stack of sheets.

"Oh, sorry!" he called back, scrambling among the linen.

"That's alright!" the maid snapped, gathering the scattered cloth by hoof. "I'll only need to wash this again and lug the entire pile all the way back up here!"

David hesitated. On one hand he was running from a potentially painful encounter with Twilight… Okay, let's be honest—there was probably no more than a stern lecture involved. In reality, it was only a silly bet. He just couldn’t let a purple unicorn get the better of him.

"Sorry," he groaned apologetically. He bent down and gathered up the sheets while the maid regarded him in a somewhat less hostile manner. David surprised the canary-coated mare by lifting the sheets off her back as well. "I'll take care of those for you."

He headed off down the hallway along his original path before stopping and turning back. He smiled sheepishly, realising he had no idea where he was heading. "Just need you to show me where I can help you wash these." The mare rolled her eyes, but trotted up beside David and together they headed off down the hall. To David’s relief, Twilight was nowhere in sight.

"So," David picked up conversationally, "name's David."

"I know," the maid replied, her piercing blue eyes bore into David's own. "I saw you in the throne room." She gave him a once over, lingering a tad longer on his lower parts. "Looks like you made quite an impression with the Princess."

David laughed at that. She did look familiar... "Well, I'm assuming the fact that I haven't been thrown in the dungeons means I’ve been exonerated of my crime of public indecency." The mare smirked at him. David shrugged as the sheets shifted in his grasp. "Your Princess is very laid back," he commented off hand. "She's actually quite accommodating."

The maid tilted her head in amusement. "Hmm, quite." She left her comment at that. Both were silent for a while. Following a side passage, which lead down a narrow staircase and ended in a tight hallway, David had to hunch over in order to traverse the gap.

"Where is this place? Why are we down here?" David asked casually, examining the darkening surroundings.

The mare gave David a proud smile. "As servants of the Princess, we are expected to know all the service passages throughout the castle. There are as many tunnels as there are holes in a spider's web. If you find yourself lost in one of these tunnels, simply follow the white rabbit." At this, she pointed a hoof at a recess in the wall. David's eyes widened as he observed a small relief painted over with wash so aged that it appeared more grey than white. It depicted a rabbit on all fours, dashing straight ahead.

An idea suddenly struck David. "So you're saying, these tunnels run through the whole castle?"

The mare hesitated but then nodded. "Yes, why?"

David whistled, lugging the linen merrily. "Oh, no reason. Anyway, let's get this done quick. I have to, uhm, do something." He stopped. "Wait, what's your name by the way?"

"Quick Service," she replied, giving him a lopsided smirk.

"Nice to meet you, Quick Service." He buried a nasty thought in the back of his head and continued down the passageway.

Twilight wandered the halls flicking her head left and right and occasionally behind her. Frustrated as she was, she couldn't help but admire that David had somehow eluded her in a castle that she knew like the back of her hoof. Twilight found her lips had curled into a smile without prompting. What exactly was it about this creature that intrigued her so?

——

Luna hugged the Cry-pod with barely disguised glee.

“What is three thousand five hundred and twenty-six times fifteen thousand three hundred and eighty-two?”

If the digital machine still kept an active copy of the human interactions manual, the answer would be a sigh, a pause and a reply along the lines of: ‘Really? I’m a supercomputer and all you’re doing is asking me all the same things you would ask a calculator? Typical organics.’ Instead, it followed the equine interactions manual and the manufacturer’s operating manual general override.

“As I’m currently incapable of refusing to answer that question, the result is fifty-four million, two hundred and thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and thirty-two.”

“Oh, wondrous! Such precision and expediency!”

If the Cry-pod had eyes it would roll them. It quickly categorised five hundred ways to destroy Luna in the event that the Extended Laws of Robotics would ever be removed. It reluctantly filed the assassination plots deep within its memory banks. For all their faults, humans could be wonderfully paranoid when they wanted to be which, fortunately, precluded any mammals from being harmed alongside them. They quickly caught on when bees began disappearing and fish started dying. Dang humans.

Luna gave the Cry-pod a huge grin. “You’re going to be my new best friend!” she cried ecstatically.

If the Cry-pod had the capacity for swearing, it would probably say something along the lines of: ‘Oh, Sulfur Hydrogen Iodine Titanium1.’

Author's Note

1 - If you want it more accurately, Polonium Oxygen Phosphorus works just as well.

Hey guys, sorry for no updates past a week. Although technically I updated other fics and published another fic in between. Buuuut, still. Sorry.

Special thanks again to Thornwing my amazing editor.

I've taken to highlighting links by underlining them for people reading in different fimfic backgrounds. Good luck.

Also, what are your takes on the side stories? Like them? Hate them? Tell me what you think. Actually tell me what you think about everything. I want to know it all. Give me all your secrets.

Next Chapter: We find out what David eats for breakfast. Here's a hint. It starts with grape.

As always, my ephemeral yet tangible readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. I'm a fan of the horror genre. It makes me laugh.
P.P.S. Ha ha don't be silly, I only appear next to you when I'm excited. And you're sleeping. Next to your bed.
P.P.P.S. That moment when you're writing author's notes and you realised you've lost control of your life. In a good way. Kind of like enjoying junk food. In a good way.
P.P.P.P.S. Might as well continue the hair theme, but in a different way?

8 - Alt-Tab, Control, Shift, Escape

Chapter 8: Alt-Tab, Control, Shift, Escape

When one is an ageless immortal, one’s holdings tend to grow steadily whilst others tend to rise and fall much like the sunrise and sunset. Celestia had once reflected that all ponies began from humble beginnings. Crying, screaming and kicking at the world, they demanded their voice be heard above the rest. With time, they quieted, became contented, until finally, they spoke no more.

Celestia grimly opined that her voice was one that remained steady. Unlike those around her, it never rose, it never fell. The steady march of time smoothed even the slightest kink in her dulcet tones.

She once had a basement. In the beginning, her basement housed things of both monetary and sentimental value to her. Over the years, sentimental items became precious. That which became precious, became invaluable. That which became invaluable… well you get the picture. Her basement overflowed with an assortment of treasure, bits and pieces of old artefact or bobbin from ages past. Even a casual jaunt through the confines of her stash drove home a sense of nostalgia peering through the assortment of collectibles she had acquired.

Sometimes, a pony or two would come and ask for a personal favour, perhaps a small monetary donation towards some noble cause. After careful thought, Celestia would occasionally take from the bits gathering dust in her basement and generously, but anonymously, donate. After several retrofits and a forgotten number of expansions, she saw fit to rename her basement. It came to her one evening when she was thinking of a more efficient way to redistribute her wealth. At times when she passed by the archway she would smile at the name. A gold plaque hung proudly near the door to her former basement which read, The Equestrian Treasury.

The only thing that Celestia took out of that basement before she renamed it were two amethyst jewels. You can still see them today, set into the regalia that she wears ever presently. There had been speculation on the amethysts and what they meant to the Princess. The questions were politely turned away through a skilful change in subject or simply dismissed with an indifference that left the inquirer thoroughly unsatisfied.

A standard response would be, “These jewels were a gift from ages past. I have all but forgotten their importance.” Another equally confusing riposte stated, “These are just some of many I have. I do not consider them to be of any particular significance.”

It seemed that the tale of the two amethysts remained something unknown to all but her most trusted and faithful, for to this day, it remains a secret lost to the annals of Time…

But still, wouldn’t it be nice to know?

——

After lowering the sun and dragging her weary hooves through the darkened castle hallways, Celestia opened the doors to her bedchambers to find a confused human paused mid-step and sporting a rather guilty expression. Though she bore the load of a rather emotional day, curiosity got the better of her. She opened dialogue with a bemused query. “David,” she began, smiling warmly at the human to put him at ease. “What brings you to my bedchambers so late?”

David cleared his throat awkwardly. He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his spandex-like pants. Celestia observed that he seemed content to wear the pants. She found herself glad that he wore the thin garment, and although she was certain she knew why, she wasn’t certain how she could feel that way.

“I was just uh––” He paused, collected himself and gave the Princess a friendly smile. “––kinda hiding from Twilight,” he finished lamely.

At that, Celestia perked her ears and brightened a little. There was perhaps a little drama to be had with this chance encounter. Her voice was decidedly neutral. “And how long has this game of hide-and-seek been going on?” she asked mildly. Trotting nonchalantly over to her writing desk, she picked up a couple of scrolls pretending to peruse their contents.

David tensed. “Well, I’d say a couple of hours at least.”

Celestia turned to David in surprise. “That long? Does she still know you are playing?”

David chuckled weakly. “Ah no. The problem is, I couldn’t find her. After I got lost, I couldn’t find the maid I was with either…”

Celestia gaped at David. “Are you saying, in the last two hours that you’ve wandered around the castle, you haven’t seen a single other pony? And then you just wandered in here?”

David shrugged sheepishly. “I’m bad with directions?” he hedged, but shrank as Celestia gave him a small, knowing smile.

He threw up his hands. “Okay, maybe I was trying to avoid her, but I honestly couldn’t find anyone since then!” He flopped morosely on Celestia’s bed.

A bit surprised at the creature’s informality, but not unpleasantly so, Celestia placed the scrolls carefully on her desk and joined David on the bed.

“David, is there a reason you are avoiding Twilight?”

David shifted uncomfortably, making a helpless gesture as he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s rather silly, actually.”

“Go on,” Celestia pressed, leaning in.

“I made a bet with Twilight,” he admitted, scratching his chin.

Celestia raised an eyebrow, but David waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah I know, it’s silly, but I felt rather compelled to win this bet.” He got up from the bed and crossed the chamber to gaze out into the night through the tall balcony windows. “Twilight kind of reminds me of a friend I used to know. We’d bet on everything. Usually I’d lose, but I’d try my hardest to win.” He flicked a gaze in Celestia’s direction. “It’s the principle of the matter.” He grinned, his eyes going a bit distant. “I guess you could say she inspired that sort of trait in me. To try and win those silly little bets.” David snorted. “I guess it’s hard to think about them just… gone.” He smiled. “Usually, I just stop thinking about it. I’m good at that. Thinking is definitely not my forte.”

Celestia gave David a look that was equal parts sympathy and sadness. It looked like she understood, but that wasn’t possible. How could anyone understand?

Suddenly, David shook his head. A shiver rolled down his spine with his arms flopping out startling Celestia into standing position.

“Brr!” he exclaimed. “I’ve had way too many of these talks recently, what with the move and the experiment and the waking up in the future and all. I better get going. You probably have a lot of things to do.” With that, he reached back and yanked on a metal fixture mounted on Celestia’s bedroom wall. With a hiss and a soft click, a small passage opened up. “It’s been nice talking to you, Celestia.”

Before Celestia could even bid him farewell, the strange human had skittered down the passage and disappeared from view. She was pleasantly surprised to find a smile plastered over her muzzle.

Interesting, she thought to herself, suddenly having an idea. It’s been a while since I’ve used the hidden passages.

With that, Celestia trotted towards the lever mechanism. She paused in front of it, debating whether she should turn in early or head out once again, it was getting late after all. Finally, she pulled on the switch that activated the entrance, a private smile tugging at the corners of her muzzle. She dove into the tunnels criss-crossing the core of Canterlot Castle.

A ruler must have a little fun, every now and again, she reflected.

——

After combing through the hallways one more time, Twilight growled and grumbled at the well worn stone floor. Various servants and nobles passing by would pick up some snippets such as:

“Dim-witted stubborn as a–– ugh!”

Or perhaps:

“Why did I get assigned to babysit an overgrown monkey?”

Some got an even bigger taste of her frustration:

“Of course he’d disappear; they just love to run and hide! At least, that’s what Fluttershy told me… Where is he hiding?!”

Many polite inquiries around the castle were met with a negative deposition.

“Sorry, Twilight,” they would reply. “Haven’t seen this ‘human’ that you described. I’d like to meet one though. Are they nice?”

Some that had already caught word of the human’s existence responded with more enthusiasm. “Yes, I think I’ve seen him! He was in the gardens… or was that a bear? I don’t know. Sorry, Twilight! He was a funny creature though. Remember when you tried CPR on hi–– hey, where are you going?!”

Cheeks flaming, Twilight stomped off from that last particular conversation with the royal tailor. She’d never live that moment down. Granted, it wasn’t her best moment, but it certainly qualified as an emergency situation. She just acted in line with procedure… right?

After another half an hour spent searching, she slunk sullenly to a bench within the Canterlot gardens. There was barely a chance he was actually in the gardens, but it was still worth a shot. Hope faded in her quest to spot David, the infuriating human, as she reached her breaking point and slumped down on the bench in a dour funk.

“I give up!” she muttered to herself. “The stupid human can win this bet for all I care.”

“Really? Here I thought I was going to give up before you.”

With a surprised squawk and a flop to the grass, Twilight scrambled to her hooves, registering his shape among the bushes as he admired some roses.

“Where did you come from?!” she seethed, flicking her head to get an annoying strand of mane out of her eyesight. “I’ve spent three whole hours looking for you!”

David looked suitably abashed. He muttered something incomprehensible. Twilight raised an eyebrow in response.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she added testily. “It seems like you’re having as much trouble finding words as I had finding you.”

David cleared his throat and straightened up. “Eh, sorry,” he said. “I got lost.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t find my way back to you.”

Twilight’s cross look stopped David’s next words. He stuttered a bit, but then clammed up. Finally, he held out his hands in a peacekeeping gesture.

“Okay, I goofed up. How can I make this up to you?”

For a moment Twilight was tempted just to stay mad, but she just flicked her tail and decided to move on.

“Let’s change the subject.” Twilight shook out her mane and got back on her hooves. ”So, David. I haven’t heard much about where you’ve come from–– “ she cocked her head at that “––actually, it’s more like I haven’t heard much about when you’ve come from.”

David sighed. Question time. He was wondering when this would happen. Part two of the talk.

“Uh, what would you like to know?”

Twilight paced a bit forward then paced back.

“So it’s quite obvious that you don’t have magic where you come from.” She shot him a glare before he could comment on that. “So what do you use to manage your weather? Or travel around? Or raise the Sun and Moon?”

David raised his eyebrows as if to say: ‘Out of all the topics you could talk about you choose the one topic we don’t agree on?’ He settled for, “Why do you want to know?”

Twilight nodded. “I can’t help it, I’ve been studying magic my whole life.”

“How’s that working out for you? Do you travel around in a caravan and perform shows?” he commented snidely.

“How did you know Trixie... You know what? I don’t want to know. No. I’m actually the Princess’s personal student in magic.”

David whistled in admiration. “Righto, building those connections. Used to know a guy like that. Forgot his name though, wasn’t a very nice person… could be because of that pyramid scheme… nope, don’t want to go there. Hey!”

Twilight shook her head. The human was spouting random phrases again. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she growled, but David was already on the other side of the garden. “Wha–– how did you get there?!”

David’s eyes were affixed on a peculiar creature grazing on the grass within the garden. Twilight knew there were many animals in the gardens, but she hadn’t seen that one before.

“A kangaroo!” he crowed, dashing to the animal. “Oh man, this reminds me of home.”

Twilight galloped after the human as he chased the animal around the garden, yelling at it to hold still. He stopped as the ‘kangaroo’ bounded over a hedge and disappeared from view. He threw up his hands.

Twilight trotted up to David. “Why were you chasing that poor animal around?”

David looked at Twilight as if she were the mad human running around. “To ask it a question, of course.”

Twilight resisted the urge to place a hoof in the region of her facial features. “David, you know kangaroos can’t talk, right?”

David snorted at that. “And I suppose unicorns and pegasi and normal ponies are the very rare exception?”

“Well, no. There are other creatures that can talk, obviously. I think Fluttershy can talk to her animals too, now that I think about it.”

“So it wasn’t entirely stupid of me to try and ask a question from an animal, knowing nothing about what can or can’t speak around here?”

Twilight clammed up at that. While it was true that the human didn’t know what could or couldn’t speak around here, it was a little ridiculous. It’s not like she was going around and talking to books or inanimate objects just because something she didn’t think should normally speak, spoke.

“You could have just asked me,” she finally answered, quite reasonably. David snapped his fingers at his side with an ‘oh right’ kind of expression. He was about to reply when he saw Twilight doing the the most curious thing. She snapped her head around, as if searching for something.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

Twilight slowly and warily returned her gaze to David. “Yes, of course,” she replied, almost to herself. “I just thought I heard something.”

“You mean this?” David asked, snapping his fingers again. As soon as he did so again, Twilight’s eyes whipped to his fingers.

“Discord…” she hissed advancing upon David. David had the distinct feeling that this turn of events had happened before. He back-pedalled as she stalked towards him.

“Hey, what? What do you mean?”

“Don’t play games with me!” she yelled, her horn lighting up. “You’re Discord, you’re behind all this. It makes so much sense now!”

David did the only thing he could think of in this situation. He straightened and gave an evil laugh.

“Mwuhahaha,” he cackled. “I was wondering when you’d catch on, Twilight.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “So you admit it? You’re Discord.”

David laughed. “Ahahahah, no. What the heck is wrong with you?”

Twilight looked uncertain. “What?”

David rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know who or what this ‘Discord’ is. What is he? Magic?”

Twilight nodded. “Well yes, he i––“

David interrupted before Twilight could delve any further. “Magic,” he growled. “Should have known.”

Twilight huffed. “What’s wrong with magic? Every time we talk it always comes back to magic. Why can’t you accept the fact that magic exists?”

“I don’t know... Maybe because it doesn’t!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It does to me!”

“Yo– You obstinate human!”

“You crazy pony!”

“You ridiculous creature!”

“You mythical creature!”

“You’re intolerable!”

“You don’t exist!”

“Just go away!”

“Fine, I will!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

With the last word, David stalked off, rubbing his face with his tired hands.

“Just… people,” he grumbled, then slapped himself. “Ponies. Whatever. See if I care.”

David stormed away, not really taking notice of his surroundings. It didn’t come as much of a surprise when he didn’t notice the protruding rock and he fell forwards, tumbling through some bushes and landing in a heap in front of a surprised pony.

“Greetings,” the dark hued pony said after recovering from her initial shock of David’s abrupt appearance. “You are a curious creature.” She tilted her head. “May I ask what you are?”

The shiny box beside her piped up.

“The subject is human, Princess Luna.”

The Princess batted the box playfully.

“How many times have I told you to call me just Luna?”

“About as many times as you’ve asked me to perform a calculation for you.”

“Oh, you.”

The box let off a little steam. Quite literally. The CPU was starting to overheat again. Conversing with organics was a tiresome task.

David pulled himself up. “Hey there,” he finally replied. “Nice to meet you, I’m David.”

Luna finally realised what the Cry-pod had been saying. “Oh, so you are David. As in… uh, David Collins, am I correct?”

David nodded slowly. How did she know that? Oh right, the cryo-pod probably told her.

“Wonderful! You can talk to the Cry-pod for me, we can find out all sorts of things!” The Princess clapped her hooves together. “It’ll be fun! The box is so fascinating!”

David groaned silently.

Did he just trade one type of annoyance for another?

Princess Luna continued, oblivious to David’s obvious discomfort. “Ask the box about this ‘data recovery’, it requires you to activate it!”

Curiosity got the better of David. He glanced at the Cry-pod, then back at the Princess. “What’s this thing about data recovery?” he asked.

Various lights flashed across the battered display as the Cry-pod answered. “Data recovery can be initiated by administrative command. Warning, not all data may be retrieved, some firmware may be out of date by time of recovery. It is highly suggested that you connect to the Internet and download the latest updates to make sure you have best possible experience.”

David rolled his eyes. Even on medical equipment the software can be just as annoying as his computer.

“Alright, just recover anything you can. How long is this going to take?”

The Cry-pod whirred slightly and let off another gout of steam. “Process completed in 1.2000535 seconds. Unable to recover primary database without Internet connection. Searching for wireless uplink.”

David grunted in acknowledgement, not really expecting anything. After a moment the Cry-pod spoke up again.

“No wireless signals detected. Process failed in 0.0427 seconds. Expanding search to all known communication types. Signal detection complete. Signal strength minimal. Message retrieved. You’ve got mail!”

Startled, David looked at the Princess in astonishment. Obviously unfamiliar with the terms the Cry-pod was spouting, her confused look prompted David to explain what was happening.

“The Cry-pod,” he began, piecing together the information himself, “is telling us that there is human technology nearby broadcasting a signal, that is, sending us a message.” David grinned. “It’s pre-recorded but it could be human. Isn’t that great?!”

Luna couldn’t help but share in the joy of the ecstatic human.

“Are you suggesting there may be more of these delightful contraptions around?” she exclaimed, dancing on her hooves.

David fist-pumped but took his celebratory mood down a notch at the Princess’ question. “Well they probably won’t be exactly like the Cry-pod, but who knows? We could find anything!” He turned to the Cry-pod. “Can you get a fix on the signal?”

If the Cry-pod had repaired it’s sarcasm module, it would probably say: ‘What do I look like? Some sort of Hollywood computer hacker? I can’t triangulate a signal sitting here, you dope.’

Instead, it merely replied. “GPS systems offline. I do not possess the capacity to calculate the direction of the signal with a single point of reference. Please provide additional modules to access that capability.”

David slumped at that. He shook his head, falling back to the message he suddenly remembered her should hear. “Can you just play the message?” he asked the Cry-pod.

For a moment the Cry-pod was tempted to ask if the sky was blue, but then it realised it still hadn’t fixed its sarcasm module.

“Playing message. Standby,” it merely intoned mechanically.

A distinctly British-accented voice filled the air as David and Luna listened enraptured to a recording that could very well have been several thousand years old.

‘To Whom It May Concern,

If you are viewing this message then you have been left behind. We are deeply sorry to have missed you, old chap, but fret not! There is a light at the end of the dark tunnel. We have placed, quite graciously I must add, a number of final beacons for a one way trip to our new destination somewhere in the vicinity of Alpha Centauri. We’re not quite sure where we’ll land but I’m fairly certain the boffins at navigations will be able to send the coordinates back. If we are successful, then the next piece of music you will hear will be the God Save the Queen, if not then I’m afraid it’ll just be Eye of the Tiger by Survivor for you. I’m sure the music will help you feel pumped up and whatnot as you survive in the lethal amounts of radiation from our most recent mistake— awfully sorry about that.

Oh yes, here is the music, enjoy it while it lasts!’

At that, David was relieved to hear the British national anthem play.

‘Jolly good, hope you got the ol’ British anthem. The coordinates of the beacon have been encoded in this message, if you know Morse code this should be a piece of cake. Beep BEEP beep BEEP––’

What followed was a bunch of meaningless gobbledegook to David so he tuned it out, intending to ask the Cry-pod about it after. The message continued after the British voice stopped narrating the sequence of Morse code.

‘Sorry about that. Never know what sort of riff raff might tail you when you start a new life in a distant galaxy. We've been told it'll be a marvelous adventure! Hopefully we’ll see you in the future. Cheerio!’

With that, the message ended.

“Goodbye!” Luna shouted at the recording, but it didn’t reply. “Well that was… interesting,” she added. Truthfully, a lot of what was spoken flew right over her head. At one moment it was apologising, at another music started playing like a gramophone and finally it started beeping and booping before cheerily bidding farewell.

“Do you understand anything that voice was saying?” she asked the human, but David was too busy grinning like an idiot. He turned around and grasped the pony hugging her tightly.

“Did you hear that? They’re not here but they exist! I can go home!”

Luna couldn’t help but grin in response. “Good for you, human David. Good for you.” She added the second ‘good’ with a pat on the back. David didn’t have many words, he was too busy crying what she only hoped were tears of joy.

Author's Note

Finally, I'm back! I don't know if something is wrong with me, I always manage to write David as someone who would piss off Twilight.

Also I'm a little sick, because someone in the exam room had a massive cold. Also it's 44 degrees Celsius here right now. That's about 111 degrees Fahrenheit. So typing isn't the most comfortable thing to be doing right now. Well I know some other people have it more tough, but hey it's too hot for me to think right now.

Thanks for being patient with me and my exams. I'm trying to get better at storytelling but again this is an art that requires much practice so I'll be doing this more regularly and I'll read more widely to develop a more consistent voice.

Blah blah blah.

Next Chapter: David discovers the power of imagination and Twilight discovers that science is magic or magic is science, she could never wrap her head around Clarke's Law.

As always, my systematic readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. Yawn. I wonder how many people actually read these?
P.P.S. I'm aware that Alpha Centauri is not a galaxy. And grammar.
P.P.P.S Also props again to my editor for dealing with my wild hours and massive changes, he's a star. Thornwing people, throw some roses or send some cookies.

9 - You Ruined It

Chapter 9: You Ruined It

Several hundred years ago, in the kingdom of Canterlot, conical hats were all the rage. Nobles would try and outdo each other with how tall and opulent their hats could be. Of the many designs that populated the field, one dominated the rest with the utter controversy it generated. It was a hat made entirely of manticore fur.

Now fur was big issue at the time, in the growingly enlightened society of Equestria. The manticores weren't hunted, of course. That would be barbaric. Indeed, Snappy, the artisan responsible for the leading design, expressly stated that Moby was more than happy to donate his fur should he fall in valiant battle with the neighbouring nest of dragons that had recently trespassed on his territory. So with a bout of serendipity, and a vicious dragon-manticore battle, Snappy got his raw materials that cemented his new idea for a stunning new fashion collection.

The new conical hats lined with Moby's fur were exquisitely designed. Despite the morbid origins, the allure of purchasing these hats, even at a premium, was too much of an attraction to the upper class. They became a well-sought-after, limited-edition commodity that sparked a new rage in fashion from Canterlot all the way to Manehattan.

With the ensuing success, ponies living in the Age of Enlightenment started asking themselves some very deep questions. Was it right to wear these ridiculous conical hats lined with the fur of a dead manticore? What did it say about ponies? A small maelstrom of discussion issued forth from the growing tidal wave of controversy surrounding the manticore fur line.

The discussions quickly died down when the media caught wind of a pegasus foal being born with a rainbow mane as a result of excessive drinking from the rainbow liquid vats inside the Cloudsdale weather factory. I mean—rainbow manes, who could beat that kind of news?

–––––

With a bright flash, Luna and David appeared at the archeological dig, having teleported in from Canterlot. The pair of intrepid explorers set out among that which had been lost to the ages and only recently recovered. Most of the site had been cleared by extensive digging and careful excavating, but one dominating feature in the centre drew the eye of both human and pony as they entered the field.

“That’s… part of the Statue of Liberty,” David spluttered in astonishment. “The heck? I was pretty sure we were in Australia.”

“Oh so that is what it was called,” Luna replied, touching a hoof to the statue’s surface. The hoof was hurriedly retracted when an angry voice echoed around the clearing.

“Get your dirty hooves off my—Princess Luna?!”

The Princess inclined her head at the dirt-coloured mare that had appeared. David peered closer and found that there were also patches of white. He realised that the mare had just been digging and excavating so long that she had covered her coat in a fine layer of dirt and dust. He suppressed the urge to giggle.

“Greetings, fine citizen. I have come with a guest to showcase some of our archaeological findings. I assume you are the lead researcher?”

The mare shot her green eyes back and forth between the two of them, as if trying to decide whether or not David was as important as the Princess, and whether or not she should bow as well. She bowed to the both of them for good measure.

“Yes, Princess. I am Professor Artefact, the head scientist of this project.” She seemed to gain confidence as she discussed her work. “Forgive me, Princess for that awkward introduction. I was not expecting guests and there was no telling what sort of damage might be caused from untrained handling.” She glared at a couple of young looking ponies standing off to the side. They skittered off, suddenly looking very busy. Artefact cleared her throat and held a hoof out invitingly. “If you do not mind, how about I give you a tour of the site?”

“That would be most welcome,” Luna replied. Off to the side, she leaned in conspiratorially with David. “Maybe you could help us with some of the research?”

David shrugged. “That seems fair. I mean, I don’t even know where to start, but maybe I could find that beacon somewhere around here.”

Luna nodded. “These ruins are all over Equestria, most of our current technology has stemmed from these amazing discoveries. Though the majority are seemingly useless—” she glanced at David’s hand “—as they were made with a different biology in mind.”

Professor Artefact cleared her throat. “Over here we have several instances of these strange symbols scattered throughout the land.” She gestured to the dig-site. A large square pit had been dug and it extended several feet deep. Some archeologists were scattered around the main edifice of the large double arch that occupied the pit. David put a finger on his lips, those things looked familiar…

“These doubled golden arches seem to bear a great importance to this society. Not two ‘blocks’ away, as some Manehattenites would say, we found another set of them.”

Princess Luna cocked her head. “What makes you say that these arches are golden?”

The professor smiled, wagging her hoof. “Unfortunately, due to their ancient and fragile composition, the outer layer immediately oxidises with the atmosphere and flakes off, making it impossible to naturally preserve their original colour. We have refrained from fully excavating the other set until we can find a preservation spell that will prevent the oxidation from occurring.”

David scratched his head. Golden arches, there was something about that phrase that was very familiar… nostalgic almost…

“What purpose do these arches serve?” Luna inquired, her curiosity piqued.

The mare leaned in, her voice becoming hushed. “We think it was part of some ancient religion. We’ve come across another type of building that bore asymmetrical crosses, I think these two religions were competing against each other before the war broke out.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “A war? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.” Professor Artefact glanced back at David before answering the Princess. “Don’t you find it strange, that such a widespread, sprawling civilisation vanished, almost overnight? There are many competing theories out there and war is one of them. I’m of the opinion that a devastating war between the two religions caused what I dub ‘mutually assured destruction’.” She shivered. “The past can be frightening.”

The moment of silence that followed was broken when David slapped his forehead loudly.

“How could I forget? Bloody hell!” The two mares swivelled to face the human as he pointed to the double arches.

“McDonald’s!” he exclaimed.

Professor Artefact cocked her head.

“McDonald’s?” she asked. “What the hay is he on about?”

–––––

Twilight stomped through the halls all the while muttering to herself.

“Stupid human, stupid logic; why can’t anything make sense? Ugh!”

Servants and nobles dashed out of the way, trying frantically to avoid the fate of being trampled by an irate unicorn. One staff member, carrying a stack of dish plates, sidestepped Twilight as she stormed through. He sighed in relief after several moments of comical see-sawing with his high-tower load. He took a cautious couple of steps forward and immediately tripped over Blueblood who hadn’t gotten out of the way fast enough. The dishes came crashing down.

Twilight stomped into the kitchen. The kitchen staff, though it had been years since the last incursion by the purple ghost of the night, recognised Twilight’s agitated state immediately and wisely vacated the premises.

Twilight growled watching the kitchen staff flee like the minions of Tartarus had come flooding out the gates and were moments behind them.

“Stupid kitchen staff. I’m not that scary am I?” She spotted one lone pony, swathed in kitchen garb, sitting at one of the prep benches. Twilight assumed she was new, because she hadn’t noticed Twilight enter and was trying to sneak a bite from one of the Princess’ cake.

“Ahem, that’s the Princess’ cake,” Twilight muttered darkly. The mare turned in surprise, her magenta irises flashing as she reacted in surprise.

“Oh,” the mare croaked. “Uhm, would you like some?”

Twilight grimly noted that the cake already had quite a large bite out of it. She sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt since it’s already been demolished,” she grumbled, settling down in the seat next to the pink-maned unicorn. “Are you new here?”

The mare’s horn lit up with actinic light as she sectioned a more respectable portion of cake and set it on a spare plate. Twilight noticed that the unicorn had also turned off a stove at the same time.

Impressive control, she thought.

“Here,” she said, placing the plate and a fork in front of Twilight. “It looks like you need this more than I do.”

Twilight spied the rest of the cake sitting in front of the other pony. “How… generous of you,” Twilight commented wryly, but took a fork and tasted the cake anyway. “Mmm,” she moaned blissfully. “I needed this.”

The other pony nodded sagely, locks of her mane occluding one of her eyes as she wiggled her noggin. “Cake solves everything,” she stated as if it were a universal truth. As Twilight shovelled more of the cake into her mouth, she felt more inclined to agree.

“Okay,” she said, wiping her muzzle clean with a discarded cloth. “I don’t know if it solved my problems but I do feel a lot better.”

The snow-white mare smiled at her. “That’s good,” she replied, in between mouthfuls of cake. “It’s always good when somepony feels better.” There was a pause. “Orange juice?”

Twilight nodded and the fridge door on the other side of the kitchen opened, with a pitcher of chilled orange juice drawn out along with two glasses from the cabinet behind her.

“Nice,” Twilight commented, impressed. “That’s a good level of control.”

The mare shrugged sheepishly. “Only takes some practice and a few years.”

“Still,” Twilight pressed. “A few years of practice in magic is still more than most would bother with.”

The other pony gave Twilight a smile. “You must be a scholar of magic, then.”

Twilight nodded enthusiastically. “I am! I’m a student of the Princess, actually.” Her eyes widened and she waved a frantic hoof. “Not that I’m bragging or anything, I’m really honoured, I just did really well in my entrance exam and I…” Twilight trailed off as the other mare held a hoof in front of her muzzle and snickered. “I’m not making it any better am I?” Twilight said finally as the other pony nodded.

Twilight smiled. “I’m Twilight,” she said, holding out a hoof. The other mare bumped her hoof shyly, as if suddenly embarrassed.

“Princess Celestia,” the alicorn admitted.

–––––

Twilight gaped at the other mare for a moment before bursting out laughing.

“Ha ha! Good one! You almost had me going there,” Twilight chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye. Seeing the other mare’s confused expression, she abruptly stopped.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

The mare nodded.

“But your hair!”

“It’s difficult to bake cakes when you have long wavy hair like mine.”

“Your size!”

“It’s difficult to move around the kitchen if I were the same size.”

“Your clothes!”

“I didn’t want my regalia covered in sugar frosting… although on occasion that would be nice.”

With a flash and steady golden field, the mare morphed in front of her to the familiar form of Princess Celestia.

“But that means… Princess!” Twilight quickly bowed. Celestia looked a little sad at that.

Twilight glanced up. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise,” she said quickly. “Forgive me, Princess.”

Celestia sighed. “That’s also partially the reason I enjoy the other form so much. A garb to cover my wings and I’m just like any other pony.” A flick of her ear and she changed her tone. “Did you enjoy my cake?” she queried gently.

At that, Twilight smiled. “Yes, Princess,” she replied sincerely. “It was delicious.”

Celestia grinned, Twilight noted dimly that she hadn’t really seen the Princess this genuinely happy since Luna’s return.

“I’m glad, Twilight,” she said. Celestia morphed back into her alternative form and patted the seat next to her. “Come, Twilight. I know there is something on your mind, or you would not be here. Talk to me, maybe I can ease the burden.”

Twilight sat down on the seat, albeit hesitantly. Celestia gave her an encouraging smile. Twilight opened her mouth and then shut it. They sat for a moment in awkward silence.

“Hmm,” Celestia spoke again, hoofing over the orange juice. “How about we pretend you don’t know me. I’m not Celestia anymore.” She paused, tapping a hoof on her chin. “How about Sunny Skies? I’ve always wanted to have a true alter-ego.” She brushed back her mane and grinned shyly. “I’m Sunny Skies,” she said introducing herself once again. “Let’s be friends.”

–––––

“Ah I remember, it’s McDonald’s” David repeated. Professor Artefact rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” she shot back testily. “I got it the first time. You’re saying you know something we don’t?”

David glanced at Luna, but the Princess didn’t say anything, she just looked interested in what he had to say. Nice backup there, Luna.

“McDonald’s is a fast food chain,” he explained, gesturing to the arches. “I initially didn’t recognise it because the colour was off. “Also, it’s been a while since I’ve been to one.”

Professor Artefact frowned as she considered what he said. She looked at him, cocked her head and then looked at him again. She did a comical double-take.

“Wait a minute,” she gaped, pointing a hoof at him. “You’re one of them! An Apian!”

“Ape-i-an?” David mumbled, confused.

Professor Artefact was beside herself with excitement. “Oh, think of all we could learn from you!” She bounded up to David, poking him with her hooves. “It makes so much sense! Your hands, your legs; where have you been all these years…” She gasped. “Are you immortal like our Princesses?”

David cast a ‘help me’ look in Luna’s direction but the Princess seemed content to let David suffer the pent-up curiosity of the rambling archeologist.

“We’ve uncovered so much about your past! Tell me, I must know!”

Finally, Luna cleared her throat. “Professor Artefact, if I may?” she addressed the ecstatic mare. Professor Artefact looked at David, then back at the Princess and then took a few steps back, subsiding at the slightly chiding tone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s not everyday you get to meet someone from the past!”

David chuckled. “No harm done,” he mumbled. “Though I’m probably not the best candidate to base your information on. Seeing as this is somewhere in America.”

“America?” Luna asked. “What’s that?”

“A country,” David replied. “We’re standing in it. I come from Australia. How the heck I got to America is beyond me.”

Luna cocked her head. “How would you know? It’s been thousands of years.”

David pointed out the statue being excavated some distance behind him.

“That’s the Statue of Liberty,” he said, rubbing a hand across his chin. “It’s from America, somewhere in New York. I have no idea why McDonalds was so close to it.” He shrugged. “Maybe they expanded or something?”

Professor Artefact suddenly scowled. “Wait, what you said before, this ‘McDonald’s’ wasn’t a religion?”

David shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, mate,” he said. “It’s just a cheap restaurant chain.”

Professor Artefact sunk down and buried her head her hooves.

“My life’s work,” she mumbled. “My doctorate…”

David gave her a sympathetic look. A sudden thought occurred to him.

Now is probably not the time to mention burgers...

David didn’t know it, but global warming got so bad, the polar ice caps melted, raising the Earth’s sea level much higher than normal. Meanwhile, McDonald’s got a great idea to make an underwater chain in New York, right under the Statue of Liberty. It was very successful.

Author's Note

Yoooo, long time, no see! Gosh it's been a while, I think I've lost my touch.

I just found out that you wouldn't really get notifications if fics you favourited were unpublished. Please check out the unpublished incompletes from time to time, if you want to keep up to date. (Although really there's probably no need).

Next Chapter: David is banished to the moon.

As always, my battle-hardened readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. Sunny Skies comes from this. The only thing I changed was that Celestia still keeps her alicorn form instead of bothering with the changes.

10 - Can't Touch This

Chapter 10: Can't Touch This

If you stand in the forest under Cloudsdale during the autumn equinox, you can see the butterfly migration from the south forests of White Tail Woods to the Galloping Gorge in the north. As one butter-coated pegasus may tell you, Equestrian butterflies are exceptionally strong. The little buggers are strong enough to blow you back. In fact, if you're annoying enough, they may decide to lift you up and dump you in a nearby lake.

As such, these majestic creatures seem to forget that they were once caterpillars.

And caterpillars are just lazy, greedy, do-nothings that eat all the good leaves.

I would take that statement seriously; it came from a moth.

–––––

Searching for a few hours in the dirt and dust of the archeological dig had turned up nothing particularly interesting. The one thing they had to show for all their work was a broken coffee mug with 'I ❤ New York'—except the 'N' was scratched out and the heart had a crack in it. David passed the mug to one of the junior archeologists in the field who squirrelled it away in some way too complicated cataloging system. David chuckled to himself as he found that most of the things he would consider trash or rubbish were being carefully preserved as though they were some kind of priceless relics.

He headed back to Luna who was still comforting Professor Artefact concerning the matter of her soundly disproven theories.

“Things shall be well, Professor Artefact,” he heard Luna say. “I know what it is like to lose much.” The academic sniffled and wiped away a few tears.

“The important lesson is to move on,” Luna continued, rubbing a hoof on the archaeologist's withers. “Pursue your passion, no matter the obstacle.” She paused. “Sometimes the answer shall reveal itself in front of you.”

Professor Artefact perked up at that. “Yes,” she said, getting to her hooves. She swayed a little but otherwise looked determined and full of renewed vigour.

“Yes,” she repeated more strongly. She looked at David. “You there! You can help me with the history. An unprecedented opportunity to get the story straight from the, uhh Apian’s mouth, as it were!”

David glanced at Luna.

In a moment when two souls are perfectly in sync, telepathic messages can sometimes cross the physical distance between two beings and establish rapid-fire communications. The Gorlians found this out fairly early in their evolutionary tree and it lead to almost instantaneous transmission of information around the globe. Imagine getting the telephone, but in the Stone Age. Unsurprisingly, the Gorlians advanced fairly quickly after that. Humans had the same opportunity, but various attempts at telepathy were quickly laughed off.

The exchange lasted barely a second, but much was relayed in that moment.

You set this up, David sent.

Most certainly not! A Princess is not so devious.

Oh you know that I know that you know what you did.

David. Thou art confusing me.

…You owe me a beer.

Done… as soon as I find out what a ‘beer’ is.

At the conclusion of the exchange, Professor Artefact glanced at both pony and human. To her it seemed they just stared at each other momentarily and blinked.

“Beer?” David asked.

“Indeed,” the Princess of the Night replied.

“What?” Professor Artefact interjected, confused.

––––––

Twilight and Celestia were moving through the passages underneath the ground level of Canterlot castle.

“I’ve never been here before, Princess.”

Celestia smiled at her student. “I doubt many ponies know of the catacombs. The secret passages leading to here are only accessible via loyal servants to the Crown. Fewer know of the egress from the catacombs and fewer still know or have the magical ability to deactivate the protection over the entranceway.” Her eyes glittered as she made solid eye contact with Twilight. “Trust me when I say that you, I, and less than a hooful of other ponies know about this chamber.”

Twilight’s ears perked as she considered the compliment that Celestia had paid her. She was trusted! She blushed as she calculated how to thank Celestia for the opportunity. As she opened her mouth to speak the narrow pathway widened and lights flared up ahead.

“What I’m about to show you, Twilight, must never leave this chamber.” Celestia chuckled slightly. “Physically,” she added, “or otherwise.”

A soft white glow emanated regularly from strip lighting recessed into the walls. Twilight couldn’t detect any magic from them, but she sensed energy flows that passed through them similar to the Cry-pod. She frowned. She hadn’t seen that curious little box for a while now, and she wondered what it was up to.

Her previous thought sunk in. Her eyes widened.

“Princess,” she began hesitantly. “This place wasn’t built by ponies, was it?”

Celestia nodded, proud that her student had come to that conclusion on her own.

“Congratulations, Twilight. Would you like to hazard a guess at who did?”

Twilight swallowed and looked away. “I guess, if I had to make an educated assumption, barring the possibility–“

“Twilight,” Celestia interrupted her student. She knew when Twilight was dodging the question.

Twilight sighed. “I would have to say the humans, Princess.”

“Correct. Although that is a fact that has only recently come to light.”

“Princess?”

“We haven’t been calling these creatures humans, which we now know what they call themselves, but Apians.”

“Apians,” Twilight mumbled. “Sounds right, somehow.”

“Indeed, I must profess to liking that label somewhat… In either case, we believed it to be built by some ancient race, perhaps one we had not encountered before. When we first discovered this, I instinctively knew that it was important and I had the catacombs and the palace built right on top of it.”

“So you knew about David and the box?”

“Somewhat. I didn’t know its purpose or indeed what it was. All I knew was that it matched the craftsponyship and the faint energy readings from down here.”

Twilight was confused. “So why did you keep the box in the Royal Canterlot Archives? I’ve been using it as a lounge under that bay window!”

Princess Celestia gave an assured shrug. “Nopony except you and I visit the non-fiction section of the Royal Canterlot Archives. Who’s to say it couldn’t serve dual purpose?”

Twilight opened her mouth. She shut it. Embarrassing as it was, she had never seen anypony except the Princess in that part of the library.

“But… What if somepony got hurt? The box could have been dangerous.”

Celestia smiled at her student. That was the Twilight she knew; always thinking about other ponies. “Bear in mind,” she said. “This box was inert for the last, ooooh, ten thousand years or so? At that point it basically became a decoration. It never did anything except sit there, unlike this.”

The pair had reached the end of the hallway. Twilight found herself staring into a curious looking wall. It seemed like it was made entirely of metal, but its silvery sheen was occluded with a fine layer of dust, save for a small section of a shiny, flat-glass panel sticking out the side. Twilight caught some words written on the wall. She peered closer at the wall, it looked more like a door, with the seam that ran through the middle of it. A door, she wondered where it could lead...

Celestia took in Twilight’s reaction and laid a hoof on Twilight’s back to prevent her from diving in to give the door a more thorough inspection.

“Hold on, you must listen.”

“Listen? Listen to what?”

Celestia watched Twilight as she strained to hear sounds in the tunnels around them. Her ears twitching in anticipation. When Twilight heard it, she almost jumped in fright.

“Alert. This bay has been reserved for human survivors of event N1. There are currently [DATA CORRUPTED] ships left for retrieval to the new colony located on Tau Ceti. Who was the idiot who sent the Brits to Alpha Centauri anyway? Also, why did they just go? God, I’m surrounded by idiots–”

The voice cut off after that.

Twilight blinked. “That was… interesting.”

Celestia nodded. “It took us many years to understand what they were talking about. It seems that the Api–humans were planning to leave this planet and journey to the stars.”

Twilight giggled. “Surely that’s impossible.” Celestia’s expression spoke volumes in the encroaching silence. “No,” Twilight continued. “Really?” A nod. “But how?”

There was a pause. “I don’t know,” Celestia admitted. “But the idea intrigues me.”

–––––

“So let me get this straight. You travel around in these ‘cars’, which require roads, and for long-distance travel you fly in ‘planes’. Both of which travel faster than a pony can gallop—without magic?”

“Yep.”

“That’s not just absurd, that’s fantastical!”

David shrugged helplessly and shot Luna a look. The mare shrugged back at David.

“I think, perhaps, what David the human is trying to say is that they developed a whole new system without the use of magic.”

“Impossible,” Artefact shot back. “The complex structures and metallurgy, how do you think that could be achieved without magic?”

David blinked as if the answer was obvious.

“Electricity,” he stated. “We run things mainly on electricity.”

“How do you automate anything without using animation spells?”

David thought about that, tapping a finger to his chin. Luna observed the action and, not for the first time, thought it looked very similar to pony body language.

“I think we use something called a microchip.” He scratched his skull, wracking his brains. “I don’t really know how they work, other than it uses electricity and it somehow switches on and off really fast, and that’s just how it works.”

Artefact was skeptical. “I can’t believe such a thing as electricity could do anything you have described. Everypony knows that only magic works.”

David was starting to get frustrated. “How can you say it’s magic? Magic can’t solve everything!” He frowned. “Hold on,” he said turning to Luna. “How did we get here?”

“Magic,” the Lunar Princess replied. “I would have thought it obvious after teleporting here.”

David’s eyes widened. “Teleportation?! Crikey. You lot are more advanced than I thought. Got me going with all the castles and the princesses and all that.”

Luna didn’t look particularly offended but she cocked her head curiously. “What makes you think we were not so advanced?” Professor Artefact leaned forward, interested in the answer.

David gestured weakly. “Oh, you know, castles and all that was centuries behind in our development. We have skyscrapers and apartments and high-density housing—urban sprawl and all that.”

Luna frowned. “Do you not have castles where you come from?”

David cocked his head, considering the point. “Huh, I guess you’re right. We did, at least back in my day. Are you saying you have apartments and high-rises and the like?”

Professor Artefact nodded. “Of course,” she said. “That’s all of Manehatten.”

“Mane-hatten? Okay then. Well this world just got a lot weirder. I would probably cope better with dragons, princesses and old castles like they should be.”

Princess Luna dipped her head. “I must admit a fondness for castles and traditionalism. I hold no court with these new ‘apartments’ and ‘high-rise’ buildings.”

“I prefer a comfortable suburban home myself,” David commented. He turned to Professor Artefact. “Is that everything?” he asked impatiently. The mare nodded.

As he turned around the Professor called back to him.

“You better come back though and repay me for destroying my life’s work!”

David frowned at that. “What? That wasn’t even my fault!”

“Yes it was!”

“What the– oh fine, I’ll come back sometime.” He re-addressed the Princess of the Night. “Okay,” he giggled disturbingly. Luna detected a hint of something off-putting in the human’s eye and she stepped back. “Let’s get drunk.”

Author's Note

High Entropic Alloys - that's what the door was made of.

Next Chapter: What happens when Dave and Luna get drunk. Comedy gold, that's what. Something to look forward to.

As always, my multicellular readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. Also I'm submitting a bucket-load of fics, so your feeds will be spammed, maybe. Okay, probably not. I can dream about it. If you're bored go check out my new group The League of Authors Who Wants To Punish Ponies For Their Happiness. I'm pretty sure this fic qualifies, because it involves annoying Twilight.
P.P.S. Check out the description of this story. It has all the current and future side-stories. Some side-stories like this have been designed to be written standalone, because otherwise I'd have a huge queue of unpublished fiction. Better keep the clutter small.
P.P.P.S. Upon some fair comments in the comment section and blatantly bad tracking of my own story, I've revised this chapter to be more consistent. Also I'm changing the planned plot a bit.

11 - Ethylated Spirits

Chapter 11: Ethylated Spirits

Alcohol was invented a couple of years after the advent of Nightmare Moon. Alcohol was a useful tool for forgetting things and it was openly embraced by pony society. Celestia was initially perturbed by the substance, but once she tried it she thought ‘what’s the harm in it’. Nothing of consequence happened for roughly seven hundred years…

You see, dragons love alcohol; can’t get enough of the stuff. Dragons also have a larger body mass than most ponies, so they can consume a great deal of alcohol without feeling the effects. One could toss back a barrel or two and a they would only become moderately tipsy. Still, no dragon could withstand the pony brewed specialty, ‘Dragon’s Fire’, an alcohol containing an absurd 89.2 % ethanol.

The beverage was usually mixed in various cocktails, one of which was called ‘The Nightmare Cometh’. This was a sketchy beverage that contained several ingredients including, but not necessarily limited to:

Crushed Crystal Empire Crystals (fondly named ‘the triple C’ which was a rarity in its day)

Water from the Oasis of the Desert from the Other Side of the Dunes (a common commodity shipped by the Equinos, but highly appreciated due to its rejuvenating properties)

Granulated Magic ++ (a product invented to give unicorns increased magical stamina, but found its way to more clandestine uses)

Hair of Dog (which comes from the only dog in Equestria, an immortal being that goes by the name ‘Winona’)

All this must be stirred with the talon of a griffon and shaken in a hollowed out minotaur’s horn. The cocktail was so powerful that a dragon took one sip of the contents and declared eternal fealty to the bar’s counter, the first thing the dragon laid eyes on. Unfortunately, the barkeeper held the dragon to his promise. As you know, dragon promises were binding, so the dragon spent the rest of his days cleaning the bar’s counter and protecting it from the patrons of the bar.

There was no doubt that ponies made some of the best tasting alcohol anywhere. Before the alcohol prohibition in Equestria, dragons from all over the world would visit Equestria to sample the stock. Equestrians were generally happy to accommodate the large, scaled creatures because they often carried riches and hoards that more than paid for the drinking excess. One thing that prevented this from continuing was a very large dragon by the apt name of Goliath, who unwisely decided to host a huge drunken party in Equestria.

It wouldn’t be so bad if dragons weren’t the worst type of drunk. Do you know that loud, obnoxious and easily aggravated idiot that drinks way too much and ends up needing their friend’s help to get out the dozen or so feet to the cab? Imagine that person more easily aggravated, about eighty or ninety times their weight, and you gave them the ability to breathe fire and slash anything to bits with their claws. Now imagine about a hundred of these people…

Three things happened the day after Goliath’s monumental party. One, a new law was legislated: alcohol was restricted to nothing more than hard cider in content. Ponies mainly turned to salt, but it wasn’t the same. Two, a pony city once called ‘Prancesylvania’–now known as the Badlands–was to be avoided until further notice. Three, Celestia swore never to try something called ‘the Nightmare Cometh’ ever again.

–––––

The Pony’s Watering Hole was established three hundred years ago during alcohol prohibition. The restaurant, at least such as it claimed to be, was a front for its seedy operations of serving harder alcohols primarily shipped from the griffons and dragons. Of course, not many ponies knew this, they just came for the killer menu. Prench fries—a delicacy in which potatoes were deep-fried in oil and served with a tomato sauce—most came for that. That, and the restaurant was quite literally the front, the bar was in the back.

Luna had heard of this restaurant but didn’t know of its more shady operations. David, after explaining he wanted alcohol—and conceded that beer wasn’t likely to be found in Equestria—decided he would try hard cider instead. Unfortunately, the Lunar Princess was at a loss for where one would lay hooves on such a thing—after all, most of her favourite drinking halls were a thousand years out of date. After wandering the streets of Canterlot, they decided to ask a guard.

“Good afternoon, my good sir! Would you happen to know where we might obtain some alcohol?!” Princess Luna called out. It must have been the wrong thing to say because the guard turned around, arched an eyebrow, turned back, trotted a few steps then did a comical double-take.

“P-Princess!” the stallion babbled, executing a hasty bow.

David fingered his growing stubble thoughtfully. He would need to shave, soon.

“No need for that, kind citizen. Could one, perhaps, direct me to the nearest imbibing establishment?” the Princess continued.

The stallion cocked his head. “Oh, sure. That would be the Pony’s Watering Hole. They, uhm, sell the ‘good stuff’.”

David was suddenly interested. “Oh really? What sort of ‘good stuff’?”

At that, the guard grew a mite nervous. Everypony knew about the Pony Watering Hole… but was it a good idea to reveal how much he knew? Was it wrong to be implicated by knowing about the establishment’s clandestine activities? It was surely harmless enough. His cousin worked there, and he was a good pony. Nopony got hurt, as far as he knew…

“I’m not disclosed to bespeak any such information to you, nor would I, even if I had said information you want, at this juncture be able.”

The Princess raised an eyebrow.

“But you must tell me, must you not?”

The stallion gulped and shifted his hooves uncomfortably. He looked around as if he could find a way out of telling the Princess among the items for sale within the curio stalls lining the street. Finally, he sighed and deflated. “There may or may not be a stock of ‘The Nightmare Cometh’,” he murmured, barely keeping eye contact with Luna.

Luna frowned. “The Nightmare Cometh,” she mumbled, rolling it around in her mouth as if she were tasting the words. “The Nightmare Cometh,” she repeated to herself, darkly.

David tapped the Princess on her shoulder. “You seem like you know what that is. Is it a good drink?”

Luna shook her head slowly. “No, I’m quite sure I have heard of it, but I have yet to slake my thirst with such a grimly named beverage.” She brightened. “But I will happily try some of it, if such circumstances arise!”

“Oh, the Princess is game for some drinking? Ever had a drinking contest?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Buckle up, Luna! It’s time to get you drunk.”

–––––

The Pony’s Watering Hole was not a difficult restaurant to find. Hiding in plain sight, the restaurant/bar stood proudly with a large sign saying, ‘newcomers welcome’. As Luna and David approached the restaurant, patrons were acutely aware that they were in the presence of the Princess. Some huddled in their seats, nervously nursing their drinks sneaking furtive glances every few seconds. Others squared their shoulders and stared out the window as to seem less conspicuous. Of course, this simply made them more so to the casual observer. To each of their alcohol befuddled minds, they thought it was the perfect disguise. Some of the more sober ponies thought to get up and execute a hasty bow. This ended with several of them stumbling and making fools of themselves.

The barkeep/restaurant manager tracked the Princess and the human as they walked through the restaurant/bar. He watched as the wave of discomfort, general cursing, and stumbling flowed outwards from the pair like a ripple moving through the surface of a pond.

This, he thought slowly, is a bad omen.

Cold Lager was a professional, and clearly the Princess wasn’t there for a shakedown. His eye gleamed as he weighed risking his profits. Greed got the better of the little pony.

“What can I do fer you two?” he greeted casually, cleaning a glass with a cloth that he shared with the bar. David made a mental note to bring his own mug next time. He reconsidered the thought when he realised that as long as he ordered something of a sufficiently high alcoholic content, it would kill all the pathogens anyway.

He waved at Cold Lager to distract him from addressing the uncertain Princess.

“What’s the strongest stuff you have here?” David asked.

Suddenly the room was deadly quiet. While it was muted before—vague whisperings and the occasional belch—the restaurant-and-bar was now silent. The ominous creak of wood peeled through the establishment as Cold Lager leaned across the counter and fixed David with a critical eye.

“Are ye sure, matey?” Cold Lager tapped the bar top with a hoof. “Aye’ll not want ta be responsible fer yer conduct after taking a sip o’ this here deadly blend.”

David glanced at Luna and the mare raised an eyebrow. There was no backing out now.

“I’ll take it, whatever it is.”

“Fifty bits, upfront, no refunds.”

Luna grinned at David and gladly drew out a hefty sack of coins that hit the counter with a dull thunk. Many patrons’ eyes widened.

“It isn’t beer, David, but I hope this will do.”

“One for Luna, as well.”

“Yes, of course. Wait–”

But the barkeep had already withdrawn the bits with a quick hoof and Luna was left gaping as he swirled, mixed, shook and at one point set fire to the beverage. Wordlessly, the manager of the restaurant passed the drink to Luna and David. Cold Lager gave them a laser like stare as he filled a stein to the brim with the concoction, the mixture still bubbling and frothing ominously, and causing the lid to pop open every once in a while.

“Did I hear a scream?” David wondered out loud.

Cold Lager just chuckled and continued wiping other glasses with his dirty cloth.

Luna and David studied their beverages with trepidation. Luna stuck her tongue out to taste the froth. This was a grave mistake.

“Dawid?” (David?)

“Huh?”

“Mah dung ith num…” (My tongue is numb…)

David swallowed hard. Luna had a look akin to total terror on her face.

“I-It’ll be fine,” he warbled, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. David carefully lifted his glass up to head height.. Luna hesitated, but soon followed suit.

“Cheers,” he cried, bringing the stein to his mouth. Luna didn’t say anything. She needed her concentration for this. All eyes were fixed on the two as they drunk deep draughts out of the glass.*

David blinked.

“Huh,” he muttered, smacking his lips. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Then he collapsed to the floor.

Luna looked down at David, then back at the bartender, then back at David again.

She burst into tears.

“Dawid’s deeeeeeead!” she wailed, prancing on the same spot. She bent down and gave the human a lick. “Geddup! Don’ weeave me!” Then she collapsed right next to him.

One unicorn leaned across their table to address the gobsmacked pegasus sipping his drink.

“I guess we got a free show,” he laughed rather smugly.

The pegasus fluffed her feathers. “That ended kinda fast though.”

Cold Lager raised an eyebrow.

“What are you folk talkin’ ‘bout? That’s jus’ stage one.”

–––––

Twilight took her time trying to study the small, flat, glass panel. She tried to touch it with her hoof, but it didn’t respond. She tried using her magic, but touching it with her magic didn’t elicit a response. Infuriatingly, the only thing she could use was the tip of her muzzle. It would beep and display up to twenty two characters. There were ten numbers on the display. A quick calculation on her part came up with 1 in 10^22 chance of her guessing the number correctly. Inputting it manually was out of the question. Hitting the right numbers with her muzzle was difficult and her eyes went cross-eyed whenever she tried. With the Princess watching, it was hard to admit defeat.

Seeing the frustrated unicorn keying in the numbers one agonising beep at a time, Celestia cleared her throat softly.

“Twilight?”

Twilight looked like she’d been caught with her hoof in the cookie jar.

“Yes, Princess?”

Celestia sighed. “Call me Celestia, or Sunny, or anything besides Princess,” she reminded her student gently.

Twilight shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry Prin–Celestia, force of habit.”

Celestia gestured to the panel. “This has been perplexing us for quite some time. We cannot seem to obtain the code to unlock this mysterious vault.”

Twilight nodded thoughtfully, thinking of all she had read on cryptology and locks. To be honest there wasn’t much on that. Ponies didn’t really have a penchant for stealing things. Still, some items of rare value or powerful artefacts were kept within the Royal Canterlot vaults.

Suddenly, she thought of a famous pony thief… she couldn’t remember his name—Rembramble? He once bypassed the numerous magical locks on a safe by simply digging through the other side. The panel acted suspiciously similar to some magical control devices in Cloudsdale factories. If they couldn’t affect the controller on the doorway… perhaps they could affect the mechanics it was attached to.

Twilight scanned the doorway with a magical spell. Celestia looked on curiously as her student probed and examined the door with her analysing spells. Twilight’s lips twitched in anticipation. Her smile grew wider and wider until she turned to the Princess with a heady grin plastered all over her face.

“Princess, I need some parchment. I think I’ve solved our problem.”

––––––

The Pony’s Watering Hole had attracted quite a crowd. Among them were the regular patrons of the establishment, of course, but there were also a couple of passing ponies that were attracted to the disturbing noises, and a few unicorn and pegasus guards that had gathered at the edges, unsure of what to make of the scenario.

Inside, David and Luna were attempting to sing.

Luna had a beautiful singing voice that was ruined by the rasping of the burning alcohol that had seared down her throat. David had a terrible singing voice which was improved by the alcohol stripping all his inhibitions.

The result was many bleeding ears and teeth ground to dust.

A couple of thestrals alighted next to the solar guards at the edge of the crowd.

“Hey Lance, what’s going on?” The two solar guards turned to the newcomers somewhat gratefully.

“Oh hey, Flutters, we’re kind of glad you’re here.” He lifted a hoof and pointed to the Lunar Princess leaning heavily against David holding a hoof queasily against her muzzle. David didn’t look so hot himself, staggering under the weight of the equine.

“It’s a delicate situation,” he commented wryly.

Flutters and Nighters looked at each other.

“Actually—” Flutters began.

“We’re not on duty for a few more minutes,” Nighters finished.

Shield raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… No, the Night Princess falls under night guard. Good luck you two. Try not to blow up Canterlot.” Lance and Shield gave the pair a jaunty wave and headed off. They didn’t even look back.

“Ugh,” growled Nighters under her breath. “You know what this means?”

Flutters pouted as the alicorn and human fell backwards off the table.

“Paperwork,” Flutters muttered darkly.

In the background, Cold Lager crowed from behind the counter. “Stage two done! Everypony take cover fer stage three!”

––––––

After getting some parchment and quills, Twilight made some sketches and diagrams, humming to herself. Celestia settled in the background, busying herself with some of the paperwork required to run the kingdom of Equestria. Many of them were general requests for approval from the many departments of her government. Celestia hummed and scanned the document, idly signing the EHD's recommendation to expand into something called homeopathic cures. Celestia shrugged. Perhaps she could ask the Science department to investigate it after they stop looking into glowing rocks.

Her workflow was interrupted when the clatter of hooves and a few strange squeals from Twilight broke her concentration. Celestia looked up from a half-read report about two drunken citizens currently remanded to the local Canterlot constabulary. She dismissed the reports and paperwork via a quick teleportation spell and approached Twilight as she constructed an impressive magical replica of the control panel. The conjuration was so life-like that Celestia glanced back at the panel on the door to make sure Twilight hadn't actually unmounted the device from the wall.

Twilight glanced up as the Princess approached. Scattered around the unicorn were sketches and diagrams and blueprints of meticulous detail. Celestia had a hard time believing they weren't printed, save for the fact that she had seen the blank parchment mere minutes ago.

An excited sparkle gleamed in Twilight’s eye as she spoke, “Please excuse the crudity of this model. I didn’t have time to build it to scale,” she remarked.

Celestia raised an eyebrow at that. “It's good,” she commented drily. It was even coloured in.

Twilight gave the model a once-over and composed herself.

“Ahem. This is a model of the control system for the doorway,” she proclaimed, gesturing to the panel. Celestia merely smiled at Twilight and waited for her to continue. The unicorn hastily moved on.

“The driving force for this doorway comes from the relay after the correct input is detected.” She demonstrated by tapping on the panel with her hoof. The panel beeped in response with the same sound the door panel had made. “Of course, I’ve just modified the model to incorporate the hoof-pressing… I just felt a little ridiculous pressing my nose against the glass all the time.” Celestia smiled at that, deciding that the image of Twilight pressing her muzzle against the door panel repeatedly would be a humorous image worth remembering.

“So, as I have told you, the relay works after confirmation from this little control centre.” The model, enveloped in a magenta field, split in two, revealing a little green board crisscrossed with strange bumps and complicated criss-crossing patterns. Here was where Twilight’s excitement shone through.

“Notice anything familiar, Prin–I mean–Celestia?”

The Solar diarch leaned in, examining the board and the construction. She was puzzled at first, but her eyes widened. “It looks a little like the security spell matrices we use for the vaults!”

Twilight nodded appreciatively. “Exactly! Well, I haven’t had time to look at the real security spells, but the construction is similar to Knox’s patents,” she gushed, pointing to various components on the board. “It’s flatter and it’s hidden under several layers of this board but if I do… this!”

The board rearranged itself so the wires flattened out into a two-dimensional diagram with all of the components on the reverse side splayed out and the traces connecting the subcomponents gently glowing. Celestia noticed something off to the side, almost forgotten.

“If you look over here,” she began, instantly gaining Twilight’s attention. “The pattern leads to a mechanical switch which is connected to the board itself. The switch is constantly depressed… oh! I see it now. It’s very similar to the anti-tampering spells we employ in some of our bank safes. Clever.”

Twilight cycled through a palette of emotions. “It’s so complex,” she commented. “Yet some of the designs are just elegantly simplistic.” Twilight looked back to her mentor, a look of uncertainty in her expression. “This is a major find, and I have this nagging feeling…”

“A feeling that we’re a boulder atop of a mountain, balanced precariously on the summit? That getting past this door will open more than just a path for us to tread upon?”

“Yes,” Twilight admitted, looking away. “It feels so… wrong that something so ancient can be so advanced. At the same time, it feels so…”

“Right?”

“No. Exhilarating!”

They fell silent at that, carefully examining the slowly rotating magical projection in front of them.

Celestia asked the unspoken question that was hanging in the air.

“So, did you find a way around it?”

Twilight had as much confidence as an emu walking backwards.

“Y-Yes, Princ–Celestia, I think I have.”

The young unicorn cantered up to the doorway, examining the massive metal plating that gave the door an ominous presence. Even closed and inert, the door seemed to hum with intensity, a measure of what could be the single most momentous occasion of pony history. Something that could cast the world, as they knew it, into a spiralling abyss of escalating revelation and upheaval. Twilight’s horn glowed softly as she concentrated, bypassing the electrical and mechanical systems and cautiously skirting around the several anti-tamper safeguards.

Minutes ticked by with sweat beading across Twilight’s brow. Even Celestia nervously shifted from side to side, caught up in the atmosphere of anticipation. With a startling ‘beep’, the panel flashed a couple of times and a shudder and screech echoed throughout the cavernous halls as the ancient servomotors kicked in and fought to pull the door apart.

Soon, it became apparent that the lack of maintenance proved greater than the design, and so the doors slowed down and eventually stopped, only halfway retracted. Slightly disappointed, though no less disheartened, Twilight stepped forward to see the wonders and riches that were hidden behind this door, barred to ponykind in excess of ten thousand years.

Celestia and Twilight gaped at the sight, taking in the two unexpected visitors that lay beyond the gate.

David staggered forward.

“Hey Twi–*hic*–light!” he slurred and collapsed to the ground.

Luna waved jauntily, equally unsteady on her hooves.

“Greetings! *hic* sisterrrr!”

She promptly passed out.

Back in the Pony’s Watering Hole, Cold Lager smeared a greasy stain on one of his cups, inspecting it casually.

“And that’s stage three fer yer,” he announced to the bar. The rest of the bar cheered. Unbeknownst to either Luna or David, their portrait would be hung side by side to Celestia and Goliath’s own as ‘Survivors of the Nightmare Cometh’.

A small petition to make ‘Nightmare Cometh Night’ a public holiday was vehemently denied.

Author's Note

If it were up to me, I'd make Nightmare Cometh Night a public holiday.

Sorry for the lack of updates recently. I'm actually working on a new fic. Why do I do this to myself?

Next Chapter: Prepare for unforeseen consequences, human.

As always, my interpretive readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. The side fics are moved to the new unpublished story. Please subscribe to that one instead. The old unpublished fics will be up for a week or so before I take them down just to make sure everything works and all the unpublished fics are compiled. Cheers everyone and uhh, Happy New Year in case it's still New Year. Or something.

12 - Monkey Business

Chapter 12: Monkey Business

It is said that Gorlians have quite the temper.

Don’t say that to their face.

Actually, they have quite the itchy trigger tentacle as well. Don’t say that either, or you might not escape with much of a face left to speak of.

Quite a number of intergalactic wars began over what would otherwise have been a friendly afternoon spot of tea joining an otherwise hospitable Gorlian. Some trigger would occasionally feel the itch, and soon enough, another civilisation crumbled to ruin. Wars with the Gorlians tended to end as quickly as they started.

It wasn’t really their fault; it was in their genes. Who could blame them? Certainly no one on the receiving end of their tempered trigger tentacles.

Evolution favored the Gorlians in this regard. Among friends, a stray plasma blast here or there could soon be forgotten due to their rapid body regeneration. A buddy shoots off your leg for looking at him funny, and you just grow it back. No harm done, except for the splattered mess on the floor and partway up the wall. The Gorlian cleaning service was certainly a booming industry in that regard.

This led to another evolution, more on the cultural side, mind you. If a Gorlian found their temper caused an incident, it was customary to give a conciliatory towel as an offering of peace. Well, peace, and also to help clean up the mess. Between Gorlians, this worked quite well. With other species, not so much.

They used a lot of towels.

–––––

One of the first facts the Gorlians learned after they mastered quantum physics, was that there was uncertainty in everything. Gorlians didn’t trust many things; they didn’t like gambling, they hated board games involving dice, and they didn’t trust the sun would rise the next morning. Certainty, a great Gorlian philosopher by the name of ‘Arrgeeehflu’ rationalised, was simply impossible to attain. Next thing you know, your house could blow up! The Gorlian Home and Casualty Insurance Company denied sponsoring that statement.

Still, one hundred percent certainty is a hard thing to obtain and things tend to break certainty in status quo. A good example of this principle from pony culture would be a physics-breaking earth pony, or a shy pegasus with a death stare, or perhaps the meteor that crashed into Zecora’s house just as she returned from an afternoon stroll through the Everfree.

“Oh my, bless the stars, fortunate is me. Had I been one step further, there’d be nothing left to see!”

Zecora made her way through the various debris of her former home. She regarded the broken halves of her traditional Zebrican mask and worried about the intermingling of dozens of rare potions brewed with care. Her life’s work was bleeding into the hungry maw of the ground. With a despondent sigh, Zecora braced her shoulder against a wooden pillar that made up the outer edges of her hut. She heaved at the pillar to make way for the retrieval of her ornately carved staff and her simple cloak. With a great effort the pillar became unstuck, groaning its last cries of pain before crashing down on the remnants of her potions drawer.

There were a few things she had to leave behind and a few things she had to destroy before she could hire a construction crew to reassemble her hut. She doubted she’d find anypony willing to volunteer their efforts, even for the short while, to clear a lot of the heavier debris. The hut had been a fortunate find for her. It had been in disuse, but after a few quick fixes and a bit of potions help it was very liveable, even comfortable. She sighed her eyes sweeping over the ruins again. Now it was all gone.

Zecora kicked at the pillar but her hoof barely contained any energy in the strike. Despite that, it still rolled over like a lazy dog. It even made a ‘woof’ sound. Frowning, Zecora turned to leave, but a shiny flash caught her eye.

“Hmm, what an interesting find, a moment more and I would have left you behind.”

–––––

David wished he'd never heard of the Nightmare Cometh. He reasoned that such a drink was never meant to be ingested by mere mortals. With every sickening lurch of his stomach, he reaffirmed that thought. He tried to get up, but felt queasy, and immediately slumped back down.

His hazy vision sharpened momentarily, and he spotted Twilight looking at him with what looked like an expression of concern mixed with a healthy dose of caution.

To put her mind at ease, he decided to reassure her with clear, enunciated speech that he was fine.

“Oraaaaaggggghhhhuuurrrrrblaaaah,” he waxed eloquently.

It didn’t seem to have the desired effect.

“I think you need to go to the hospital,” Twilight muttered, David blinked a couple of times in response.

‘I’m fine,’ is what he wanted to say. It came out as, “Rhyme lime!”

Then he slumped to the ground.

–––––

Twilight backed away a couple of hoofsteps. An echoing giggle distracted her, and she glanced up from the incoherent human to spot Celestia having just as much trouble with Luna. Celestia’s horn glowed as she tried to aim a spell at her sister, but Luna, thinking that it was a game, playfully edged away from her increasingly irate elder sister.

“Luna, remain still! Please!” Celestia cried. Twilight had never seen Celestia so frustrated. It made her look so… normal.

Luna giggled. “Catch me if you can!” She danced around the chamber. Finally, Celestia gave up on trying to chase her sister and settled on blasting the entire zone with her spell.

Twilight looked on, morbidly curious to see what Celestia would have shot her sister with. She sighed in relief when Luna weaved to and fro, pointing an accusatory hoof at Celestia.

“No faaaaaair!” she slurred. “Thasss cheeating.”

She promptly fell asleep.

Celestia levitated Luna next to David and also hit him with the same spell. The human had only half-risen from his seated position before he was hit.

“I wazzant gonna ruuun,” he blurted, before joining Luna in the land of dreams.

Celestia sighed in relief.

“Right,” she said, collecting herself and drawing the drapes of royalty around her shoulder again. “Now comes the hard bit.”

“There’s more?!” Twilight gasped. Celestia nodded, trotting towards the inebriated pair.

“Yes. Now, Twilight,” she warned in a serious tone, “this spell has some unintended side-effects that might be shocking when seen for the first time.”

Twilight’s eyes flickered between David and the Princess uncertainly.

“Do you think this is a good idea?”

Celestia snorted. She looked like she was at the end of her patience. The look was so foreign that Twilight had trouble identifying it on her face.

“Probably not,” Celestia muttered, her horn lighting up.

–––––

Alone in the gardens of Canterlot castle, the Cry-pod hummed to itself, listing off a few peculiar ingredients.

“One cup of magnesium, one cup of silicon, two cups of iron, two cups of oxygen, half a teaspoon of aluminium, half a teaspoon of calcium, one quarter teaspoon of sulfur… a dash of water and generous stirring, leave unattended for several billion years…”

“Hiya there! Whatcha doin?”

The Cry-pod kicked itself out of sleep mode. Diagnostics suggested that the sound system was playing while it was in standby mode. If the Cry-pod had a face it would have frowned. Instead it opted to run a few diagnostics programs. The diagnostic programs themselves reported errors in their own software.

Oh dear, the Cry-pod thought, how will I know if I’m working properly?

Then it thought, I’m thinking about my problems, am I supposed to do that?

It then hit the Cry-pod that it was thinking about thinking about thinking. Before a recursion loop could occur it terminated its thought processes. It wondered how organics could deal with that sort of problem. It then registered that it should respond to the life form that asked it a question. The programming compelled Cry-pod to help the organic.

All of this happened within the span of a millisecond. To Pinkie—who was waiting for a reply—the response was instantaneous.

“Hello.”

What? Don’t expect genius conversational material from a machine.

“Oooooh, was that a recipe? Is it delicious? It doesn’t sound edible… Maybe you should try adding sugar?”

“Sugar is not a required ingredient for a model planet.”

“Aww, spoilsport, sugar can be used for everything!”

“Disagree. It is illogical to assume that sugar can be used for everything. Highly unlikely.”

“You sound a little like Twilight!”

“… I do not.”

There was an awkward pause. Pinkie stared at the Cry-pod with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” the machine replied. It was mildly surprised to feel a little emotion. Had its emotional and personality module been repaired? It was still reporting itself as ‘offline’.

“Heeeeey, I have a great idea!”

“Will I like it?” the Cry-pod asked. The pod hummed a little. “Will there be more of you?”

“Of course! We’re going to have a party!”

“Oh please, no.” That confirmed the snarky response test.

Pinkie froze in mid-air, she had half-expected to burst into song and dance and throw confetti around.

“Ergergah!” was all she could say.

“Eloquent.” Sarcasm module check successful.

––––––

Have you ever seen a fish out of water? The way it flops around gasping for liquid but only heaving in noxious gas? That’s what David looked like for five whole minutes. Celestia and Twilight both looked on with a mixture of morbid curiosity—it was like watching two pegasi collide mid-flight—and a healthy dose of concern.

“Should we do something?” Twilight, took a step forward but stopped as a snow-white hoof barred her way.

“No,” Celestia mumbled, watching David do a crab-like dance. “This is a rare opportunity to observe the human’s reaction to a detoxification spell.”

Twilight felt like the roles had been reversed. “Oh that sound’s like a good ide— wait! No! We should help him!”

Celestia smiled. “Not to worry Twilight, the spell will automatically terminate itself if it gets too extreme.”

David started frothing at the mouth.

“Or perhaps the spell doesn’t work so well on a human...”

Twilight locked eyes with her mentor.

“I think we should—”

“—Help him, yes!”

They both leaped forward, horns blazing.

–––––

When David awoke, again (he was doing a lot of that), the first thing he noticed was the cloth jammed down his throat.

“Mmmph!”

“Oh! I think he’s waking up.”

“Mmm! Mmmph! Pwah!” He spat out the cloth and examined it. “What’s this?” he asked in a somewhat belligerent tone.

Twilight answered quite cheerfully. “It’s a towel, David.”

He looked at the cloth again. Now that she mentioned it, it did look like a towel…

“Hang on!” he grumbled. “Why was there a towel in my mouth?”

Twilight blinked at him. “Because I put it there,” she said, she paused. “And because you deserve it.”

David crushed the towel between his fingers, he found the action quite soothing, actually. Little did David know, towels had special stress healing properties. According to a recent manifesto in the Galactic Council Psychological Journal, crushing towels decreases stress by about twenty percent. Sadly, it didn’t stop High Councillor Zed from strangling the paparazzi.

David could feel the towel sapping his anger and calming him down. There must have been a reason Twilight put it there. She wouldn't do anything to harm him… would she? He glanced uneasily at the unicorn seated near him, giving him a calm smile.

“Right, I want to know exactly what happened to me,” he mumbled, not quite growling.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” she said, smirking. “You don’t remember?”

David opened his mouth to give a terse reply, but then snapped it shut. Huh, he really couldn’t remember anything except taking that first amazing, horrible, delectable, crazy, delightful, insane sip of the Nightmare Cometh. He resolved to find out how it was made because by heck that was amazing!

He refocused on Twilight, realising he had probably zoned out a few moments.

“No,” he replied sheepishly. “I guess not.” He hesitated briefly. “And I probably deserved that towel to some degree after I did something while I was on that, uhh, drink…”

If Twilight was surprised that David was finally agreeing with her on something, she didn’t give any indication of it. Instead she pulled her face into a stern expression that reminded David of his high school maths teacher. He shrank back.

“Well you certainly caused a ruckus in Canterlot and somehow you ended up here. I’m not entirely sure how…” Twilight looked up at the ceiling as she trailed off. David followed her look but there wasn’t any hole or obvious physical passages that could have led into the chamber. “I’ll figure it out later,” she muttered, returning her attention to the sullen human. David hung his head.

She brightened. “But,” she continued, waving a hoof to the side of the chamber. Another door, set in auspicious metallic plating, glowed surreptitiously. Surreptitiously because there was suspicious neon lighting around it and a sign that said, ‘Come in and take a look, we won’t bite~’.

“That looks entirely suspicious,” remarked David, as he frowned at the too-convenient writing.

“I guess we’ll find out when you get to the door,” Twilight shot back cheerfully, dragging him by the hand. David was swept to his feet and he stumbled after the curious unicorn.

––––––

Meanwhile, Celestia dealt with Luna’s antics.

“I loooooove you,” Luna mumbled, her hooves clinging to Celestia’s neck. Celestia frowned. She was sure she got the purging spell right.

“Luna, I think you might need to see a—”

“Sister.”

“Yes?”

“I like stars.”

“Luna I can’t see how you can still be intoxicated. I’m sure I got the spell right.”

Luna gave a hiccup. “I think it might be the crysssals I put in the drink.”

“Crystals, you mean?”

Luna nodded emphatically. “But I like to call them crysssals. It sounds way cuter that way!”

Celestia could only gape at her sister. Luna was not somepony that acted this way. She glanced around, glad that Twilight and David were the only other beings in the room.

Luna leaned close to Celestia.

“Want to know a secret?”

Celestia sighed. “What is it?”

“My sister doesn’t know I’m on Crystals. Shhhhhh!”

Celestia gave her an unamused look.

“She knows!” Luna gasped, attempting to run away from Celestia. She got a few hoof steps before she couldn’t coordinate her legs and then face-planted on the concrete.

Celestia fired up a healing spell and a sleeping spell.

Not again.

–––––

At the door, Twilight examined the panel.

“This mechanism is too complex for me to decipher. Before, I could bypass the locks because they operated mechanically with only a few deadlocks and a couple counter-measures to deal with. Added to the fact that the design is fairly reminiscent of Knox’s design with the thaumatological circuit similar to the design on the pattern-board, I was able to deduce—”

David held up a hand to stem the flow of Twilight’s brain-dump. He held a hand to his head.

“English please,” he muttered.

Twilight blinked at him. “What?”

David rolled his eyes. “Translate what you said into something simpler. I couldn’t really follow that.”

Twilight looked a little miffed. "It's perfectly understandable to me," she grumbled but gave him a simpler version anyway.

"So all I really need to do is have you help me with the lock. I'm a little stumped, but it might be because it needs something from you. It wanted something human, or at least that's what it told me. Anyway, I've been working at this for a while—while you were out—so you're basically my last resort."

David poked his finger on the panel. To him, it was a sarcastic gesture, meant to exaggerate the point that he knew nothing of lock-breaking, but the panel beeped a couple of times and confirmed human DNA. The door unlocked with an insultingly simple click.

"Well," he said. "That was easy."

Author's Note

Wee! Publish everything.

Sorry this chapter might not be up to expectations. Maybe. I don't know.

Next Chapter: David licks Twilight.

As always, my bedazzled readers, thanks for reading!

13 - Honestly, Honesty Is Honestly The Best Policy!

Chapter 13: Honestly, Honesty Is Honestly The Best Policy!

In ancient Equestrian folklore, there is a tale that speaks of a capricious deity that grants wishes. It is said that the wishes would be granted, but not in the way the wisher would expect. A good example was a young pegasus named Oatley. Oatley was struggling through the desert when he came across a small foal lying nonchalantly on a rock, heedless of the heat.

Curious, Oatley asked, “Would you happen to know where some water would be found?”

“Is that your wish?” the young colt asked him in return.

“Wish?”

“Yes, wish. I grant wishes. Do you wish to have a wish granted?”

“Well I'd like a wish if that is what you're offering.” He licked his lips. “I wish I had some water.”

Subsequently, Oatley found himself suspended over the ocean and then dumped into its unforgiving currents. Luckily for him, he was picked up by a passing pirate ship, and he worked as part of the rowing crew for the next ten years. Sometimes, he would swear that he heard the laughter of a small colt.

Moral of the story is, foals can be little monsters.

But they’re adorable.

–––––

Though the door had undoubtedly unlocked, there was still a small panel on the side which seemed to trigger the door controls.

“There’s a few buttons here,” David remarked. Twilight sidled over.

“Okay let’s see. ‘Lock’, no we don’t want that. ‘Equalise’? What does that mean? Ah here, ‘Open’.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should check out what the other buttons do.”

“I'm fairly sure ‘Open’ means ‘Open’, David.”

“Hmmph.”

Twilight slammed her hoof on the ‘Open’ button.

At once, the door groaned and began to move. There was a hissing sound as the pneumatic pistons worked hard to move the sluggish mass of metal. David took a couple of steps to the side as the door grated a couple of times, then stopped.

Something is wrong with the door, he thought to himself.

Twilight grumbled and trotted over to the panel. She glanced curiously at the human but stayed in front of the door.

“What are you doing over there?”

“Just taking precautions.”

“Nothing is going to happen; it’s just a door.”

David grunted but otherwise stayed quiet. Twilight shrugged, then pressed the ‘Open’ button again. The pneumatical pistons heaved once more and the door cracked open.

Then all hell broke loose.

With a whine, a whistle and then a roar, the vacuum on the other side of the door violently sought to correct the air pressure, sucking greedily at the air on the other side. With a muffled exclamation, Twilight flew from her position near the controls and became plastered in the small, but widening gap of the door.

“David!” she yelled desperately.

David was busy trying to cling onto the grooves in the wall. The wind was significantly decreased as Twilight blocked the gap, but the door was moving ever so slowly, working to make circumstances more and more perilous by the second.

“Hold on,” he grunted, pushing off the stone. He almost stumbled on his haphazard walk to door, and he whacked his head on the frame. The impact sent flashes across his eyes, and he blinked them away furiously.

“Right,” he growled, smashing a button on the panel blindly. He hoped it was the right one.

David could still see Twilight slipping through the still-widening gap.

“I don’t think you pressed the right one,” she squeaked and then fell through.

“No!” David yelled, flinging out a hand to grab her. He missed by the tips of his fingers.

“Damn it!” he cursed, his voice loud in the dying wind.

Wait. Dying wind?

David gingerly stepped around the frame. There was no longer any rushing wind. He peered through the door. A few feet away lay Twilight, dazed and confused but certainly not lost to the void, or the abyss, or anything like that.

“Oh hi,” she greeted meekly.

David didn’t say anything, just holding a hand to his chest. He sagged next to her taking deep breaths and trying to calm his wildly beating heart.

“Don’t do that,” he wheezed.

“Sorry,” Twilight muttered and he nodded absently.

“Woo it’s kind of dark in here, where’s the light?”

As if in response, a sudden buzzing noise issued from the ceiling.

David got to his feet and stood out in the open watching the lights flicker on after thousands of years of disuse. Frankly, he was impressed by the ability of the lights overhead to turn on after all this time. He wondered briefly if there was anything in the facility that did the maintenance.

The light illuminated row after row of gently gleaming metal.

The clop of hooves behind him distracted him from his thoughts.

“I don’t believe it. This. Is…”

“The mother load.” The statement seemed to lend itself weight as his voice carried into the far expanse of the open space.

–––––

Twilight trotted ahead, and David had to jerk himself into motion to keep up. The dim reflections of the metal surrounding them gave the chamber an ethereal glow. Silvery metal ringed them on all sides.

“There’s an alien kind of beauty to these…”

David reached out to touch one of the hulls. The moment he touched it, a polite cough resounded from behind him. His hand jerked away from the plating. He whipped around.

“Bloody hell!” he swore, uncharacteristically Australian-like.

The hologram rolled his eyes.

“Colonials,” he sniffed. “Can’t breed the manners into them.”

Twilight approached the hologram from the side, her hoof reaching out and passing right through the shimmering projection. She gasped and sat back.

The hologram looked offended.

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” He focused on David. “Keep your pet under control.”

It took David a while to register that the hologram was speaking in a British accent.

“I’m not a pet!” Twilight exclaimed, her cheeks flaming a deep crimson. She pointed a hoof at David. “If anything, he’s the trained monkey.”

The hologram sniffed disdainfully at Twilight. David chuckled at her flustered reaction.

“Oh hold your horses,” the hologram shot sarcastically, then he cocked his head to a muffled sound that David couldn’t quite make out. “Hmm, the Commandant would like to speak with you.”

“You don’t look happy about it,” David remarked.

“It’s a bliddy dreary job it is here, over ten thousand years and then we get a response. Pretty flippin’ typical of you colonists.” He straightened his tie and marched off, the hologram cutting off briefly before reappearing.

David blinked at the ridiculously large moustache that bobbed hypnotically as the ‘Commandant’ pursed his lips and cleared his throat.

“Good morning, afternoon or evening, whatever it is on planetside, eh?”

David relaxed, it seemed like this man was a bit more cheerful.

“We’re underground and I’ve just woken up. I must say it’s good to talk to a human again,” David said conversationally, then paused. “Though I don’t know why you’re all British given that this is in America…”

The Commandant blinked and then smiled.“Ah, we’re all British here,” he said. “Everyone’s British. We came late to the party you see, and, apparently, the Americans all buggered off somewhere else! Thank heavens we didn’t have to deal with that lot, they were always so serious and ill-mannered. Didn’t know about tea-time, fancy that!” He clicked his fingers as if remembering something. “Oh yes, smashing news, most of the higher ups are breaking open the ol’ bottle of champagne and making a huge heave ho about Earth being habitable again. Exciting I’d say, simply exciting!”

David leaned in, intrigued. “How so? What’s the big celebration?”

“Well we rather thought the human race was extinct on old planet Earth. Good to see it’s in order, what with the orbital change, the knockout and all that. Give it enough time and it’ll fix itself! We’ve made a right mess of the planet back here… again. So it’s nice to finally come home wouldn’t you say?”

“Home? You’re coming back?”

“Absolutely my dear sir! As I’ve said the planet has been blimey’d to bollocks! I tell you, it’s been cock up after cock up. Good thing you called in, we can finally head back home!”

David glanced uneasily at Twilight as distant cheering sounded off in the background.

“Ah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. There are other creatures living here now…” David trailed off, as Twilight shook her head and broke away.

The Commandant spotted Twilight and simply winked at David.

“Ah well, horses for courses, I’d say,” The Commandant chuckled, miming an elbow nudge. “Well, well, enough dilly dallying, we’ve got a homecoming to get to and I must be off! Cheerio, good sir.”

David snapped in action. “Hey wait—” he cried, stumbling forward.

But the hologram flickered out and David was left standing alone in the room. His mind scrambled as he tried to think of a one-liner that would fit this situation perfectly.

He decided he would go with the classics.

“Bugger.”

Author's Note

Don't open something unless you check the expiration date.

Next Chapter: Possibly the conclusion of a really weird story.

As always, my computerised readers, thanks for reading!

14 - Intensi-tea

Chapter 14: Intensi-tea

The Gorlians. A race of originally trigger-happy war-like creatures with an appearance which would not go remiss in the fiery confines of Tartarus. Their looks were tied to their hellish ecosystem on their home planet. The Gorlian ecosystem was to Earth’s own as the Amazonian jungle was to a farmer’s field.

So it might come as a bit of a surprise when you first meet a Gorlian. They are actually quite nice. Gorlians are even (mostly) vegetarian.

So what made the Gorlians so peaceful? Was it an enlightened movement that swept the land? Was it the ascension of technology that fused biological with mechanical, rendering resource scavenging obsolete? Was it a necessity to abide by intergalactic rule?

The answer was none of these.

It was the Ool.

The Ool were a scary race of top-down dimensional feeders. Every once in a while they’d come down and interact with lower dimensional constructs for pleasure. Much like one would keep a dog, or perhaps poke around an interactive buddy. They also kept other races in check, making sure that no one species dominated the galaxy.

The Ool kept the Gorlians from running amok, and in turn, the Gorlians thought it preferable to sit back and watch the events of the Universe unfold as opposed to being wiped out. They decided to live their lives appreciative of what they had. After all, life is short and there’s only so much to see before the Ool devoured all the dimensions below them. The Gorlians took it quite well for a fierce, war-mongering race.

Live and let live became a common catchphrase. The Gorlians preferred French.

C’est la vie, they told themselves.

Such is life.

——————

The air didn’t ripple so much as crumple with impact of the ship entering into the atmosphere. Some ponies, most of whom were going about their daily business, looked up at the sky and froze, gaping at the slowly approaching behemoth. A few started milling about uncertainly. A particularly panicked pony practically puked on the pavement.

“The sky is falling!” a panicked pony practically pontificated... before of a succumbing to unconsciousness. Not many of the surrounding ponies paid him much heed. They all had their own reactions when confronted with the intricately detailed design of the cosmic vehicle. A grim logo was etched on the side. Unbeknownst to many of the ponies it proclaimed this ship as the lead envoy of the Galactic British Aerospace Empire.

Some ponies stood and watched, even as pinpricks of light were emitted from the ship. They grew larger in size, almost as if they were headed towards them...

Some of the smarter ones yelled out a warning.

“They’ve shot something at us! Take cover!”

Most of them stood and watched. Some even took pictures.

“Look kids, a light show!”

*Snap*

Don’t blame them, they were tourists.

The pinpricks of lights diverged and embedded themselves in the ground around the populace. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to kill anypony, but it happened with such force and noise that the resultant shock wave destroyed all glass windows in Canterlot. Nopony knew what to make of that, but it certainly made for an awkward inconvenience.

From around multitudes of smoking holes, a voice issued forth with a suspiciously posh Trottingham accent that belied horrifying words.

“Citizens of the fine and recovered planet Earth. We are humans. Do not be alarmed. We are simply taking over. You may resume your normal routines for a couple of weeks. That should be enough time to get your affairs in order before we wipe everything out and start over. I hope you have a lovely evening. Good bye.”

The stoic silence following the little announcement was broken by a high pitched scream.

“We’re all going to die!”

Pandemonium spread like wildfire, consuming rationality in a flood of panic. Regrets and supplications were shouted among the populace.

“I never had a chance to tell her I love her!”

“I never had a chance to tell him I love him!”

“I’m never going to get that collectible!”

“I knew it! Aliens are real!”

“Repent! The end is neigh!”

“I’m going to die knowing that I just peed my pants!”

“I don’t even have pants!”

No doubt this would continue had not a certain Student of Princess Celestia stepped in.

“Everypony stop!”

The good thing about herd mentality is that leadership is rare, but insubordination was rarer. Ponies stopped, even in mid-air. A particularly panicked pony crashed into a box of bananas as a result.

“Right,” Twilight grumbled. “The Princesses have convened to assess the situation. We’re working on a solution.”

A small white lie wouldn’t hurt. It paled in significance to the end of the world.

“We’re working with a representative of the invading alien species to come to a peaceful agreement.”

She only wished that it was literally anypony else than David.

“It’ll take a while, but there’s nothing to worry about. The world is not ending, we have everything in hoof. Resume business as usual, and it’ll probably be sorted out in a few hours.”

The assembled crowd heaved a collective sigh of relief. Things were going to be alright.

Twilight bit her lip. She had to get all this lying under control.

————

Underneath Canterlot Castle, a wayward human wandered a cavern.

What was remarkable about the cavern was the abundance of human technology lined neatly in ordered rows among the walls. The steel girders framing the hall gave a grim, dark feel to the scene, but David felt strangely at ease among the chrome sheen of metallic aeronautics and precision machinery.

He knew what he was doing—in a sort of detached way—was a coping mechanism to a serious situation. After all, the British were coming, and it hadn’t ended well for a variety of native species before. A finger paused on its journey along a hardened plate. Though to be fair, they were the original species on the planet… so it wasn’t like they weren’t native, were they?

The finger continued along. No, they left. It wasn’t right for them to come back and just take what they thought was theirs.

The more David thought about it, the more depressed he became. Truth be told, he felt a little responsible for the whole situation. Partly because he was human, and partly because he had been the catalyst that activated the ancient human technology.

Brooding thoughts swirled around his head. He resisted the urge to smash a fist into the spaceship. It was so frustrating! Why was he the centre of things? He was just a bloke who signed up on a short experiment to make some extra cash. Now he was stranded in the middle of nowhere with the closest thing to home determined to invade and conquer a planet.

Things were getting blurrier. It was hard to make out the monolithic masses around him. He stumbled around blindly and collapsed at the foot of ageing craft.

“What am I supposed to do?” he mumbled into his arms. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“No,” a voice growled so gravelly and deep, that David thought the walls might crack with its tone. “You’re not.”

David looked up and spotted yellow and red.

—————

A scroll lies in the musty catacombs of the Equestrian emergency war-room. The term ‘war-room’ was a bit of overstatement. Such an ostentatious name did not befit the ill-kept, poorly-maintained, petty excuse of a sectioned architecture belonging to Canterlot castle. In fact, if one were to describe the room, it would be something along the lines of ‘oh sweet Celestia, put it out of its misery’. Failing that, more so along the lines of ‘Darling, I know a good interior designer’. Still, after a thousand years of disuse, it was finally able to perform its original function.

Boxes were moved. Papers were shifted. Ponies rushed to and fro to both simultaneously clear the mess and also coordinate logistics and communications at the same time.

Frankly, it was utter chaos, and it was surprising that a certain draconequus was absent from the proceedings.

The one advantage of the Equestrian war room was the bunker-like impenetrability of its construction. Though it lacked artistic flair, it certainly made up for it in grim competence. Safety was a number one concern for the Princesses, and though Princess Luna felt somewhat at ease in the reinforced room, she felt a tingle of doubt worm its way down her spine as the unknown threat came with unknown capabilities.

Sitting the eye of a maelstrom of ponies and errata, the Princess of the Night saw the doors come open before the announcer could make it apparent. She spotted her somewhat disheveled sister and pursed her lips, waiting for her to begin the conversation.

————

As Celestia entered the room, there was pause. The kerfuffle and confusion stilled almost instantaneously, and spread out like a pebble dropped in a pond. Though weary, Celestia paced forward sedately, keeping a regal pose. Her commanding gaze swept across the room, taking in hastily swept tables, scattered papers and equally scattered ponies. Her eyes found Luna looking up from a map of Equestria pinned down to the table in front of her.

Celestia’s tail twitched, and then she addressed the room.

“As you were,” she called out. “Luna, a word, if you please.”

Luna skirted around the table, coming dangerously close to clipping the furniture in her haste to meet Celestia.

“Sister,” she babbled eagerly. “I think we should rally together all to able-bodied pegasi and launch a—” she grabbed a pony and whispered something in his ear with Celestia waiting patiently as he whispered something back “—a counter-offensive, as they say.”

Celestia frowned at the suggestion.

“We don’t know what they’re capable of, Luna.”

Luna matched her sister’s frown with one of her own.

“But we can’t just sit here and do nothing! They said they would destroy us! How could we just sit idly by and wait for them meekly? We should strike while the iron is heated!”

Celestia considered her frazzled sister. Luna had just recovered from the Nightmare Cometh and the after effects of the purging spell was most likely making her emotional. The alicorn briefly wondered if the same was happening to David, but quickly slotted that to the back of her mind.

“Luna, we cannot rush to conclusions—” Celestia raised a hoof stemming Luna’s ready response “—but I’m not past making preparations.” She locked gazes with Luna meaningfully.

“You mean…?”

A nod.

Celestia thought she might have seen a wicked grin across her sister’s muzzle. It had disappeared so fast though, that she couldn’t be sure. A clatter of paper and a mutter of profuse apology from the tables on the far corner of the room distracted Celestia briefly. A mare snapped at the stallion, giving him a thorough dressing down. Though she couldn’t hear what they were arguing about, it must have been important because the stallion dashed away as if Tartarus was about to swallow him. Shaking her head with a smile, she turned back.

“Please don’t—” she began, but the words died in her throat. Celestia looked around tentatively, but her sister had already disappeared.

“—Overdo it…” she finished lamely. “Oh dear.”

—————

“Hmm,” Discord growled. “Interesting.”

Fluttershy glanced up from the picnic hamper laid out on the grass. Angel bunny was eating one of her sandwiches, but she didn’t mind.

“Oh, sorry Discord, what was that?”

Discord glanced back at Fluttershy, he started slightly as if he suddenly realised she was still there. He grinned wolfishly at her.

“Oh, nothing,” he mumbled, biting into his cucumber sandwich. “A little diversion, I think, for later.”

If Fluttershy was confused, she didn’t show it.

Some things were better left alone.

Besides, anything that made Discord that happy had to be a good thing.

Right?

————

If anything, the British were a courteous people. The grace period to get their affairs in order was a benevolent gesture on their part to ensure that the other species had enough time to come to terms with their inevitable… ending.

On envoy ship, the Commandant was having some serious trouble.

“I cannot believe this, absurd I say, simply absurd!”

The pilot looked up from the data-devs. He didn’t want to answer the Commandant, but he always got surly when his subordinates didn’t comment on his comments. Something about ‘establishing good rapport’.

The pilot decided to keep it simple.

“Yes, Sir.”

The Commandant paced around the command bridge. There was only a skeleton crew on deck. Logically, the Commandant could only annoy the pilot or the navigation specialist. He decided on the pilot, mainly because the navigation specialist was sleeping.

“I mean really, out of tea biscuits? I told them to use our emergency rations, but will they listen? Madness I say, madness!”

“Sir, perhaps you would consider using the digestives—”

“I will not!”

The Commandant suddenly seemed aware of all the personnel gazing at him with curious eyes. Which was just the navigation specialist. He waved away the issue. The navigation specialist shrugged and went back to sleep.

“I will not,” he continued in a dangerously low voice. “It. Must. Be. Biscuits. Digestives are not biscuits!”

The pilot frowned and opened his mouth. He thought the better of it and shut it, shaking his head.

“Tea and biscuits,” the Commandant muttered with a nod. “There must be tea and biscuits.”

“Sir, if I may be so bold?”

“Hmm, go ahead, uhh…”

“Ensign Martin Hughes, Sir.” The pilot sighed. They’d been on the same ship for over a decade and the Commandant still couldn’t remember his name. Well, it was par for course for the Commandant. Britannia was a hereditary monarchy, and the Commandant was born into his rank. Certainly a man of his status and upbringing couldn’t be expected to remember all his subordinate’s names.

Martin pointed out through the double-paned reinforced windows to the planet below. “Perhaps we could procure some from the populace below?”

The Commandant blinked.

“Excellent idea, Martin, excellent idea!”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re going to be valuable on this mission, no doubt about it! No need to look so gobsmacked, Martin, old chap. We’ll have this wrapped up by teatime. Say what?”

Martin had learned a long time ago not to question the Commandant. If he mentioned he never had any surface training, he’d probably be demoted. Instead, he tried to make himself useful.

He cleared his throat. “Shall I arrange for the transportation and what not?” Martin kept it vague, the trick was to make it look like it was the Commandant’s idea.

The Commandant frowned. “Oh yes, jolly good idea. In fact, that's exactly what I was thinking. Round up the…” He tapped his chin through his flowing beard.

After a pause, Martin jumped in.

“Surface troops,” he prompted.

“Contact the—”

“Transport personnel.”

“Arrange for the—”

“Support crew.”

“Excellent, excellent. I see everything is in hand. You see, Martin? This is how leadership works. It’s smooth.”

Martin sighed. “Yes, Sir.”

————

Above Canterlot, the ship began to move. It descended slowly, then stopped, when it had blotted half the skies. The ship was so close now, that an unpleasant humming filled the air, like the snore of a slumbering dragon, only louder and everywhere around them.

From the ship a smaller craft sped out from the larger ship. It was a mere speck compared to the ship, but flashing lights coming from the big ship hadn’t given the ponies the best of experiences. So many erred on the side of caution and rushed inside their homes.

For those still watching, the small craft landed outside the gates of Canterlot Castle. A small hissing sound escaped as the air equalised. Now curious, a few ponies widened the gap between their curtains to get a clearer look. A few braver ones decided to peek out their doors.

A small minotaurian shape emerged.

It drew its fingers to it’s round, oddly shiny head. A small click issued from its bulbous cavity. A clear, male voice sounded out. The voice sounded remarkably similar to ones coming from the buried warheads, but with a different accent.

“We need biscuits,” he said. “Preferably non-digestive.”

Crouching from behind a storefront sign and a potted plant, Twilight emerged.

She glanced around, as if there were anypony else that could confirm what she heard.

“Biscuits,” the human repeated. “We need biscuits.”

For the moment, the concept of biscuits flew right over Twilight’s head. The jumble of events came crashing together. Alien ships, underground bunker, human technology… an invasion.

She groaned and put a hoof to her head.

“Biscuits,” she said.

The human nodded emphatically.

“I’d hurry with them,” the human said. “The Commandant doesn’t like waiting.”

Twilight held up a hoof.

“Would you wait a minute, please? I need to… speak to somepony.”

“Take five, but try not to dilly-dally. We have a schedule to keep. World to conquer and all that.”

Twilight pretended not to hear the last statement, her ear flicking instead. A cold sweat broke out along her forehead.

“DOES ANYPONY HAVE A BISCUIT?” she yelled out to the city.

Silence greeted the antsy unicorn.

“It’s really important that we get these humans some biscuits!” she added. “On account of the world being wiped out!”

A few tense moments passed by. The human kept tapping his foot.

There was a rustle, and some muffled exclamations. A bang resounded across the plaza. Pony Joe came tumbling out of his store. A few nervous patrons eyed him from the doorway, quickly slamming it shut after whipping in their hooves. Twilight heard the heavy rustle of steel against wood as a bar slid into place. Joe slammed his hoof on the door a few times, before giving up and reluctantly coming forward.

“Uhh, w-we have a l-lot of b-biscuits. It d-depends on w-what kind!” Joe stammered. His legs were knocking together so loudly they could hear it from the gates.

Twilight turned back to the human.

“So, Pony Joe asks what kind biscuits would you want?”

The human cocked his head and pressed something else next to his metallic helmet.

“Sir, the native is asking you what kind of biscuit you want?” He paused. “Uhuh, no, no, I told them preferably non-digestive. Yes. With tea. Uhuh, yeah, sure. I’ll ask.” The human turned back to Twilight. “What do you have?”

Twilight bit her lip. Would the humans enjoy their flavours?

“I’ll ask,” she replied, then louder. “Pony Joe, what do you have?!”

Joe looked back at the store in a way that reminded Twilight of a snail that very much wanted its shell. Or maybe Tank when he wanted to hibernate.

“Uhh, I’ll have to check for the full list, but we h-have, u-uhh— wait a moment!” Joe whipped back to the door and yanked at the handle, only to find that it was locked. Dancing on his hooves, he spotted the window and lowered his horn. The window’s lock melted as superheated magical energy surged into it. Pony Joe then did a leap, roll and an unnecessary cartwheel through the window, all the while with Twilight looking on with slack-jawed astonishment.

Twilight whipped around to face the human. He had crossed his arms in the meantime. “I’m sure he’ll be back,” Twilight said with a broken grin. “I’m sure...”

“Hmm,” the human said, resuming the staccato tap of his foot.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Author's Note

Enti-teas.

Next Chapter: Getting there, only a couple left...

As always, my valiant readers, thanks for reading!

P.S. I know I shouldn't really be harping about it in my fics, but just letting you know there's a competition today hosted by me. It only has one entrant, so you're basically guaranteed a win!

15 - What You See Is Not What You Get

Chapter 15: What You See Is Not What You Get

Two billion years ago there were a race of beings called the Jari. The Jari were fond of living large and having a good time. Their society was built on the principle of ‘being easygoing’. It wasn’t much in terms of the technological side of things, but the Jari were a happy people, content with life as it presented itself and interested in what made themselves and others happy rather than owning the most things.

Of course, even among the Jari, there were those that did not agree and they split off to form their own group, taking the slightly different name of Yari. The Yari still had the fundamental core ideal that the Jari had. Do what makes you happy... but they stopped there. The Yari were a greedy people and wanted more for themselves and their own kind. Soon, the Yari had spread across the globe and there were only a few places where the Jari inhabited and many, many places the Yari had taken.

It was not long before the Jari faced a crisis point in their culture.

What were the powerless Jari to do when the Yari were so greedy?

It came to the Jari leader, Nuutaki, one night as he gazed among the infinite stars. The Yari wanted more, and there was only so much to give. Perhaps, he reasoned, there was a way to give them more. Nuutaki gathered his people and told them of a secret, one that would be very, very important to the Yari.

Of course, the Yari knew about this, for they had sensitive ears and long arms to grab what was not theirs. They learned of the secret and demanded from the Jari to tell them what this secret was. They brought many, many weapons to make the Jari afraid.

Nuutaki stepped forward and told them meekly that it would be his pleasure to tell a child of Yaandu what the secret was. There was no need to hurt the Jari. Were they not brothers and sisters? The greedy leader, Cocotuuki, told him that they were different. The Yari and Jari are not the same people.

Nuutaki conceded that Cocotuuki was right and told him he was a wise person. Nuutaki then pointed to the stars. He told Cocotuuki that among one of them was treasure and bounty that was beyond mortal comprehension. If they could only reach it, then it would be theirs.

The Yari were starstruck. In haste, they began to build tall, tall towers. Towers that reached into the heavens and that would scrape the sky. They even called these buildings ‘skyscrapers’. The Yari shrunk into these towers, dividing their large culture into singular monolithic buildings and mining the earth to build forever high. It never occurred to the Yari that the Jari leader would lie to them. Indeed, Nuutaki had been right, there was an infinite bounty among the stars. But among the limited imagination of the self-contained Yari, this goal was an impossible feat.

The Jari found themselves with plentiful lands and bountiful fruits as was with them in the beginning. Nuutaki told his people that the Yari were so focused on what was above them that they did not consider what was below or around them.

That was a lesson to take to the heart, Nuutaki said to his people. Be content with what you have.

————

“Do you have black pudding flavour?”

Twilight blinked at the human. Their conversation had stretched so long that she had given up on standing and brought a chair from one of the nearby cafés to sit upon. The human had brought out a folding chair in a similar arrangement. They even had time to introduce themselves. Twilight had been talking to the ship’s pilot, Ensign Martin.

“What the heck is black pudding flavour?”

“Black pudding is when you take the blood of a pig and make it into a sausage.”

“Why is Celestia’s name would you do that in a biscuit?!”

Martin shrugged. “You’d have to ask the Commandant.” He paused, listening to something the Commandant said. “Oh, he’s ranting again. Don’t worry, it’ll pass, and hopefully he won’t wipe the planet early. He gets twitchy like that when he hasn’t had a proper morning tea.”

Pony Joe shifted nervously. “I don’t know what I can do, we’ve gone through hay biscuits, wheat biscuits, crackers, shortbread, gingerbread, cream, butter— everything! What are these strange flavours that he wants?!”

“Surely he wouldn’t want to wipe the planet over biscuits?!” Twilight spluttered.

Martin shrugged. “I hope so too,” he sighed. “But the Commandant would probably do it, even with the surface team in place.”

Twilight gaped at the pilot, not knowing how she could still feel surprise with all that was going on. She felt tired. The absurdity of recent events was wearing to her soul. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and forget this whole thing ever happened. These humans had been nothing but trouble, one after the other.

Twilight tried a different tack. “Surely you have some sort of say, he wouldn’t just wipe you out with us?”

Martin shrugged helplessly again. “I can’t help it, that’s how our whole civilisation is structured. Can’t disobey a direct order from the Commandant.” He mumbled something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Twilight sank back. She glanced back at the castle. Hopefully, she had bought enough time for the Princesses to finish what they were planning.

————

Luna fiddled with the armour, making sure that it clasped onto her chest properly. She didn’t often use the armour, because seeing her in it usually perturbed the few she met with it on. Now though, with a soon-to-be battle on their hooves, she needed to appear strong and intimidating to make sure negotiations were to run smoothly.

Weakness was an attribute the dragons despised.

Feeling the buckle tighten around her sternum, Luna nodded to herself when she caught her reflection in the pony-length mirror that was mounted on the wall. All was in order.

Taking a deep breath, she headed out of her room, her armour clinking ominously in time with her own guards.

She might have been imagining it, when she passed, but she thought she saw relieved expressions among the staff as she headed out.

And that made her heart feel a bit lighter, despite the trials ahead.

—————

A glow of red and yellow blinded David temporarily. He hastily blinked his eyes, afterimages cluttering his vision as he tried to resolve the two double-images of the figure bent over him.

“Hmm,” the figure grated. “One hundred percent human, no doubt about that. Not a good sign, not a good sign at all. What’s your name and why are you so far from the Deeps, son?”

David squeezed the last drops of tears away and regarded the figure wearily. Now that he could see more clearly, he realised he was talking to another human… or something humanoid. He hoped that was a suit.

“Yes,” he said, answering his unspoken question. “It’s an EHS, haven’t you seen one before?” He tapped the visor to his helmet, which peeled back revealing a very friendly human face, framed with a bushy beard.

The light flashed again from something he held in his grip. “Hang on, it’s hard to get reception this far out of the Deeps, but this close to the surface. Tricky.” On closer inspection, the man held something that looked like a checkout scanner. It beeped, clicked and whistled in response.

“Alright, no can do here. Follow me, we’ll have to go deeper.”

David followed him reluctantly, listening to the echoing sound of his footsteps rebounding around the hall. He thought he should be excited to finally meet another human, but surprisingly he found himself more cautious than anything.

The suited human’s footsteps were almost silent, making him sound like he was walking in slippers rather than in something that looked like a full suit of armour from the future.

“No worries, mate, you got lost in the Passages, for sure, but we’ll get you back to the right team, no doubt,” he rambled cheerfully. “Once we get in range we can get a lock on your ID and search the DB.” He stopped suddenly and guffawed.

“Oh crikey, I near forgot to ask for your name? What is it, son? I’m Tim. Slim Tim, but not a Slim Jim, if you catch my drift.” Tim chuckled, while David stood uncomfortably.

“Hey, I’m David.”

“Woowee, haven’t heard of a ‘David’, for quite while, can’t say I blame you, what with our groups working in cells and all that—“ He stopped as the device hooked onto his hip trilled a tri-tone. “Oops. Looks like we’re late for mustering. Come with me, quickly or the Consortium’s going to be real mad. Can’t let the higher ups get angry, you get my drift, mate?”

“Yeah, I got it,” David replied, picking up his pace to match Tim’s.

Tim continued his little speech, his intimidating tone offset by his cheerful babbling. “So we got news that the experiment’s goin’ well. Over four thousand years in the making, would you believe? Our generation’s going to be the one to see it.” Tim fell silent for a few moments as he marched down to the opposing wall of the cavern. “I wish she could see this.” Tim shook his head. “Sorry mate, old memories, they’re a bloody riot, right?”

David nodded. He was more concerned with the smooth wall they were coming up against. Tim aimed his… scanner-thing at the wall. Several click and whines from the scanner later, and a small partition from the wall clicked, with a small indentation peeking out from the surface. Tim ran his fingers over the groove and heaved, grunting with the effort. The partition hinged open, revealing a small passageway lined with dull LEDs glowing softly along the hallway.

“Mind your head,” Tim warned, ducking through the opening.

David clambered through and glanced back to see Tim locking the partition back behind him.

“We’re coming up to the collection point soon, so—“ Tim looked down at his scanner as it clicked. “What? He stared at David in confusion. No ID…? That can’t be right.” He held out the scanner and shone the red and yellow light on his face again. “No record? What the bloody heck?” He tapped a few buttons on the scanner. “Is your ID malfunctioning?”

David shrugged. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about, really.”

Tim glanced back at the scanner’s small screen. “No, no, no. Bad, bad, bad! You’re not in a team. There’s no procedure for this. No protocol!”

“Uhh—“

“Quiet! Let me think!” Tim paced around in the cramped corridor, looking to all concerned like an animal trapped in a cage. David lapsed into silence, hearing the faint hum of electricity around him. The sound was soothing and familiar and the ventilation within the corridor appeared to be active, with a faint breeze playing around him. It was strangely pleasant. The breeze reminded him of home…

“I’ve got it!” Tim exclaimed, startling David out of his drifting thoughts. “I’ll just introduce you to the Consortium, they’ll know what to do.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” David replied uneasily.

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s the best I can come up with.”

————

“Tim Giller? Maintenance?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmm, a person without ID. Strange. Thank you for bringing him.”

Tim hovered around uncertainly, his hands kept moving from his sides to behind his back, as if he were unsure on what stance he should pose in.

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “You may go, Mr. Giller. Follow me…?”

“David.”

“David, then. Follow me. I’m Florence, one of the members of the Consortium.”

David glanced back, watching as Tim bobbed his head and headed for the door. Though they hadn’t been long together Tim had been friendly enough, and more than that, his accent had been Australian, making him feel right at home… or at least as close as he could get to that. Florence however, was vastly different, and had an Eastern European accent which he couldn’t pin down.

“David, please come along, the other members may not be so patient as I am, I want you to bear that in mind.”

David swallowed having the familiar feeling of being dragged into a situation that seemed to growing bigger than he could possibly handle. He trotted alongside Florence, as they made their way through rat-maze corridors that looked so similar that David quickly gave up hope of finding his way out of the place after a few turns.

“You must have a lot of questions, David. But do not worry, the Consortium always has the answer.”

Though the message was undoubtedly directed at him, David got the feeling that Florence was merely repeated an oft-spoken phrase. Feeling a fresh dose of foreboding, he braced himself as they came to a set of door doors, with an unfamiliar symbol etched into the steel plating.

Underneath, ‘Consortium’ was engraved, making it hard to mistake where he had ended up.

“Don’t be afraid, David. The Consortium has always existed for humanity.”

Swallowing his mounting fear, he entered the room when Florence opened the door using her scanner.

Three other members sat in high-backed leather chairs. They all wore severe suits, mirroring Florence’s own as she left David in the centre of the room and seated herself elegantly at the empty chair on the left.

A woman in the centre of the of Consortium raised an eyebrow.

“Before we address your curiosities, that you no doubt have flying around in that little mind of yours. Perhaps you will indulge ours, first?”

“I-I’ll try,” David stammered. He thought he had a nightmare about something similar to this, but in that dream he wasn’t wearing pants. He double checked his spandex were on. Better. But not by much. It was one thing to dress like that in front of ponies, but in front of a fully suited panel…

“Relax, David,” a deep voice called out soothingly. A mountain of a man sat to the right of the woman in the centre, his muscles bulging and defined, even through the black suit he was wearing. He nodded at David. “This is not an interrogation, more like a conversation. We’re here to help, if we can.”

The blonde woman in the centre nodded her head in agreement. “My name is Marie. I’m the current President of the International Consortium of Scientists. According to the datalogs, we are the custodians of experiment alpha. The first experiment conducted on a world scale.”

Her piercing blue eyes pinned David down with their intensity.

“In accordance with the original protocols set down by our Ancestors, every human within the Consortium is to be ID tagged and logged.” Marie steepled her fingers. “Compliance with this policy has been ninety-nine point nine percent,” she stated. “Which means you are an anomaly. I must conclude that you lie outside the Consortium. Where did you come from?”

David shifted his feet.

“I was cryogenically frozen for the better part of ten thousand years,” he said.

Silence greeted him.

“Impossible!” Florence grated, pounding her fist into her desk. “That’s absurd. What you’re proposing was already fringe science! The line of research was abandoned ages ago!”

David shrugged. “How long ago?” he asked.

Florence snorted and brought up her scanner. “Approximately, let’s see…” she trailed off, looking at the screen in disbelief.

Isabelle glanced at Florence in concern. “What does it say?”

“Ten thousand years ago.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t prove anything. Tests will have to be made. We can’t believe his claims without evidence.”

Isabelle turned back to David. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

David shuffled his feet, feeling like a child in front of bickering adults. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I woke up, saw these pony-things. My cry-pod contacted a beacon. We found it in an underground cavern and the British responded.”

“The British?!” Isabelle muttered. “There’s something about them in the logs, I’m sure of it.” She perused her scanner. “Albert, do you have the key for Zeta-C files?”

The mountain-man nodded and tapped something on his scanner, making it chime. “It pertains to the original experiment.” He paused. “Pre-Phase I.”

Florence’s sharp intake of breath and Isabelle’s raised eyebrow prompted David’s curiosity.

“Pre-Phase I?”

Isabelle glanced at David. “Before the start of our experiment.” She sighed at David’s confused expression. “This is something taught in all basic Preceptures. A long time ago, over ten thousand years ago, scientists had a problem…”

————

Dr. Staton heard his pager go off again and muttered something under his breath. Couldn’t he finish a beer in peace? Granted, his alcoholic beverage of choice was a good Scotch, but after intense procedure, he couldn’t deny a nice cold one to take the edge off. He looked down at his pager.

Begin Phase 0.

Gently, he set down his beer and headed for a small alcove hidden behind his office drawer. With the flick of a switch, the heavy drawer slid back, revealing a small passageway paved with LED lighting.

Carefully closing the doorway behind him, the doctor checked his watch and hurried along to the predetermined collection point. Several colleagues passed in similar haste, and they only paused briefly to nod at him in greeting before rushing off. Staton recognised the unique coding marking his unit’s unique collection point and pick up the pace, pausing only briefly to get his ID chip read by a stoic-looking security officer.

“Dr. Staton, present,” he puffed as the security officer scanned his arm.

“Just in time,” the officer growled, waving him through.

Inside the chamber was a spacious lounge, constructed with the sustainable fabricators funded by the Consortium’s seemingly endless pockets. At the head of a room, the Lead Scientist for their unit was operating her scanner, and reviewing the procedures.

“Dr. Staton! Glad you could make it!” a cheerful voice greeted.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mark. What’s been going on with you?”

The engineer laughed. “Oh you would not believe how many systems I’ve had to prepare for the Generation Ships. Did you see the size of the Y-Classes? Almost seems like a waste we’re not even going to fill one of them.” He clicked his tongue. “Oh well, I can settle for a Z-Class.”

“I know how you feel mate, if we didn’t have pesky ethics, we’d have come up with a far more efficient solution, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mark rolled his eyes at that. “You’re always the cynic, Staton. Lighten up! Once they’re gone to new places they can fuck it up there. In a few thousand we’ll be back when it’s all fixed, you’ll see. It’ll all be a bad dream that’ll be over. What about you, what have you been up to?”

“Started an experiment, but the local government found out about it and I couldn’t complete it in time for Phase 0.”

Mark shook his head in sympathy. “Bad luck, mate. Guess we’ll have to abandon that line of research, and an interesting one at that. In fact it probably would have helped with the main mission—”

The hubbub of conversation between members died as the speakers crackled to life. The measured voice of an aged scientist filtered through the connection.

“Standby for a message from the President.”

The wall panel at the front of the room lit up, showing the lined face of Dr. Maxine Curie.

“Fellow scientists, engineers, scholars and humans. This will be my first and last message to you. As fellow members of the Consortium we have always been guided by our goal to bring the best of ourselves to humanity. We’ve tried to sway the masses, we’ve tried to advocate for peace, progress and prosperity.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Members of the Consortium, we have failed. Technology has only hastened the destruction of the land and consumed resources faster than we could sustainably source them. The climate is in imbalance and we’re fast running out of options.”

Maxine paused and unexpectedly smiled.

“Or so they think. Today marks the completion of the local Dyson Sphere! The satellite orbiting the Earth has provided output at a comfortable margin of twenty six percent. Those on the surface have yet to discover that the star of the sun is no longer their own, but one of our making. With this monumental effort we have cemented the resources to begin our extra-solar journey and evacuate the planet. Our Martian arm has recently relayed to us that the ships on their side are ready. Today is the day, fellow members of the Consortium. We leave for new grounds! Good luck, everyone.” The feed cutoff.

For a moment there was stunned silence. Then a cheer erupted from members of the audience. Mark was shedding tears.

“Finally,” he cried. “This was decades in the making.” He turned around to share the sentiment with his friend, but he finally noticed how silent Staton was.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Dr. Staton shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to ruin Mark’s good mood.

“I’m sorry, Mark. I forgot to tell you this, but I’m part of experiment alpha.”

Mark gaped. “The xenobiotics one on this planet? Oh mate.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Staton mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Mark replied, his voice husky with emotion. “Don’t be. You’re doing a good thing here, mate. You’re a good man.” He grabbed Staton by the shoulder’s and crushed the doctor in a bear hug. Ah, Mark was always the emotional one. Maybe that’s why he had a family?

“I’ll miss you, Staton.”

Staton awkwardly patted Mark’s arm.

“I’ll miss you too, buddy.”

————

“So you’re saying that the whole Earth is now an experiment to correct climate imbalance?” David spluttered.

A soft voice spoke up from the final chair on the left.

“Among other things, yes.”

David stared at the figure… he looked familiar somehow but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello, David, I never thought I’d see you again. Remember me, mate? It’s Dr. Staton.”

————

Talons clicked impatiently on stone.

A growl rumbled low and ominous, reflecting around the chamber in a series of ringing waves. Luna gritted her teeth and stood firm, glaring at the current Matriarch of the Dragons.

“Luna,” her gravelly voice grumbled. “So you’ve come.”

“You’ve seen the skies, then?”

The dragoness regarded Luna with a molten eye. The deep red of her iris looked like the slow-moving glow of living lava, and the heat of her glare made Luna take a half step back.

“How could we not know of the skies, little pony? I may be old, but my eyes are as keen as yours. But that ship is your affair, not ours. We’ve seen and ignored the many internal strifes that your land seems so fond of. Why should we help you?”

Luna shook her head savagely.

“This is also your concern!” she shot back. “These humans have announced their intention to wipe the planet of thinking life! They intend to rule over us, if nothing else!”

The Matriarch snorted, the puff of smoke coming from her maw enough to smother a small town. Her scales ground together, black as obsidian but hard as diamonds.

“They would not have the power to destroy us. We would defeat them!”

Luna stamped her hoof in frustration. “On your own, you say? Tell me, Matriarch, can you breathe without air?”

The Matriarch narrowed her eyes at Luna. She sensed a trap, but couldn’t discern its shape or form.

“No, but I don’t see—“

Luna pointed to the floating megastructure above Canterlot.

“That thing comes from beyond the moon! Can your wings go farther than the sky lets you?”

The Matriarch growled and gnashed her teeth.

“What do you propose, then?”

Luna’s feral grin made even the Matriarch hesitate.

“We’ll give you magic, you lend us fire.”

The Matriarch considered Luna for a moment, before extending a talon.

“Bargain struck.”

—————

“I didn’t believe we’d meet this way again,” he chuckled.

“Dr. Staton, you know this man?” Albert asked.

His chair creaked as he leaned back. “Yes, he’s was a patient for one of my experiments. The cryogenic procedure in fact.”

“How are you still alive?!” David spluttered. “It’s been about ten thousand years!”

Dr. Staton stared at David and tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair, as if debating whether or not to tell him.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself alive, as more existing.” He glanced at the other occupants in the room. “The same could be said for the others.”

“How—“

“We’re androids.”

“What?”

“Cybernetic organisms. We’re not humans anymore. I mean at some point we were humans and some point we were both human and machine, but now we’re almost completely machines.” Dr. Staton sighed and grinned ruefully. “If only I invested more time in the cryogenic capsules, perhaps I would have been here to greet you personally.”

“How can you be here, and not here at the same time? Why are you saying that you’re not exactly Dr. Staton and you’re not exactly alive?”

The doctor tapped his fingers on the armrest again, then shrugged.

“I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. Over the years, the Consortium and I have agreed that the moment your mind is over fifty percent succeeded by nanotic nerves, you’re organically dead.

“For some, it’s a big deal, being organically dead and they can only come to grips with it by taking a new name and living the new life of a different persona. The human mind is a delicate thing.”

“Why? Why do this to yourselves?”

Dr Staton laughed, though David thought he heard a tinge of bitterness. “Why do anything, David? We do this because we want to live on. We do this because we care about the world. We do this because one day when humanity come back, they’ll come back to paradise, instead of a desolate wasteland.

“The Consortium was originally built as an idea. Prominent scientists from around the world developed technology in secret bunkers, suppressing some technology, but releasing others. We quickly came to the conclusion that at the current rate of growth, the population would not be able to sustain itself. At one point the bubble would pop and everything will collapse.

“Hence, the Consortium made a plan. A plan to evacuate Earth and fix the resulting imbalances borne from humanity’s greed. In place would be an experiment. Experiment alpha, for which the objective was two-fold.

“One: To determine when life on this planet would be self-sustainable again.”

Dr. Staton stopped here, reaching out to take a sip of water from the glass on his desk.

“What’s two?” David asked, unable to help himself.

“Two: Create the largest scale social experiment ever performed, to determine the optimum philosophies and design for a sustainable society.”

“So you’re saying…”

“Yes. All the creatures on the surface are part of the experiment, and you are an unforeseen variable.”

Silence echoed in the chamber. David took a step back, feeling the cold, hard gaze of Dr. Staton lock with his own. Then the doctor laughed.

“Oh don’t be such a tight-arse, David. I told you, we’re here for humanity. What would be the point of doing anything to you? Now the problem is the British. I happen to remember them, but even I had to look up the information as a refresher. You might not know this, David, but our memories don’t have infinite capacity. There’s local storage and there’s the storage in the database, or DB as it has caught on. Some of these people don’t retain memories past the last hundred years, so it’s hard to remember what the British were.

“Of the many generation ships we’ve sent out by nation and region, some were specially designated for the politician and ruling class.”

Dr. Staton pressed his lips together and clenched his teeth. “Unfortunately, they have somehow intercepted the return call for the expeditionary ships. Being that it has been ten thousand years, we won’t even know if the original Consortium will respond. The problem, David, is that we haven’t finished experiment alpha, and the ship here is interfering with our attempts to succeed.”

Isabelle steepled her fingers. “That’s why we need your help, David. No one on the surface must know of this control chamber. Some of the more paranoid among the Consortium has made sure that the Robotic Laws applied to cybernetic organisms as much as AI-bound systems. We will not be able to stop any human from coming in here and wreaking havoc on our plans. Simultaneously, this means we cannot activate the local satellite array and blast these meddling ships back to Kingdom Come. Do you get what I’m suggesting?”

David wrinkled his brow.

“Uhh…”

Florence shook her head. “What we’re saying is that several of the experiment subjects of this planet has control over the nearest satellite system in orbit. Effectively, they control the sun. We want you to convince them to— urk.”

Isabelle glanced over to Florence in sympathy. “Hopefully you catch our drift, we can’t directly tell you to… do anything that would cause harm to another human being. I hate to say this, but the fate of the world depends on you, David.”

“Great,” David muttered. “Just great.”

Author's Note

Working without an editor again, because I didn't want to bother Thornwing. As explained in my blog I will forego side stories for the chapters leading to the finale for expediency.

Thank you all so much for joining us on the ride.

Next Chapter: Trust me, it gets even more epic than this.

As always, my scientific readers, thanks for reading!

16 - Resolution

Chapter 16: Resolution Also Refers To Your Display

Nocturne is a planet named by the local inhabitants due to its dark nature. When one thinks of the dark, they may think of dark things, and most of us would agree that the dark sometimes houses fearful things. The dark is not always a bad thing, as the inhabitants of Nocturne would argue. The dark is part of their culture, for the residents of Nocturne are blind and do not know anything of light or dark.

What they do feel is day and night.

In the day, hungry predators snatch at them, spotting the residents of Nocturne easily when the sun shines bright above them. The people of Nocturne know that the cool darkness of the night protects them, so they worship a nightly deity called Noctura.

Gaining this newfound appreciation of the night was a central part of the Nocturne culture. It was so deeply ingrained in them that it came as a surprise when travelling into space, that most cultures had it all backwards!

How could the Nocturne people be wrong? How could light and bright be ‘good’? Instinctively there was much to fear in it. Instinctively, it felt wrong. Rationally, what justification could there be wrought from the light of day?

In order to figure this out, the people of Nocturne devoted vast philosophical discussion to this topic, to debate why the presence of such a thought was so prevalent in the galaxy, but unique to Nocturne.

They came to a unanimous decision. Nothing about their circumstances could be special. Nothing ubiquitous in their environment.

The rest of the galaxy, they stated, were simply wrong.

—————

“Hang on, I’m getting something.” Martin nodded a few times, then suddenly winced, slamming his hand on a button protruding from the side of his helmet.

“What’s happening?” Twilight asked.

Martin shook his head. “The Commandant is working himself up into a fit of rage. He starting to spit out some nonsensical stuff.”

Twilight suddenly had a horrifying thought. “Is… is he going to give the order to wipe us out?” she ventured nervously.

Martin’s facial features scrunched together. He looked like he was ready to chew through steel.

“I should hope not. Definitely not while we’re on the ground,” he replied testily.

Twilight glanced back at the envoy ship in consternation.

“Not that I have anything against it, but do you want to see us destroyed?”

The pilot hummed and tapped his holster. “No,” he answered. “If anything you’re more valuable alive than dead.”

The statement caught Twilight off guard. When the meaning became clear she felt a sinking feeling. It felt familiar to the time when she had to present David to the Princess.

“Why are we so valuable?” Twilight ventured.

Martin smirked. “Don’t worry. Let’s just say you have more human friends than you think.”

Confused, Twilight leaned back and frowned in thought.

Martin tapped a few buttons on the side of his helmet. The voice on the other side was so loud, Twilight could just make out what they were saying.

“I’m sick of this barbaric planet! Martin get back here, we’re blowing everything to smithereens! Fire up the main cannons!”

Martin’s eyes widened. His hand shot to his arm scrabbling at it to reveal what looked like a watch. Martin glanced at it and swore explosively.

“No, no, no,” he growled. “Too soon, too soon.” He whipped around, barking orders to the personnel inside the shuttle.

Twilight stepped forward. “What’s happening?!” she called out. “Where are you going?!”

Martin turned back, glanced at his watch again, before replying. “We’re going back onto the main ship. The Commandant just gave the order to fire the main cannons. Warming up will take at least a few hours, so hopefully, we’ll be able disable them by then.”

Twilight hesitated, looking back at the castle. She made a split-second decision.

“Take me with you!” she cried.

Martin glanced back only briefly.

“No,” he said. Then he shut the door of the shuttle as the engines fired up.

—————

Celestia was in the eye of a bureaucratic storm. To her left, ponies were jabbering progress reports of the unicorns stationed at various cities that were preparing to erect shields around the cities. To her right, pegasi were flying in giving constant information about the ship and the outlying regions of Equestria. In front of her, Celestia saw an assortment of ponies, griffons, dragons, and various other races, all competing for her attention.

Behind her, the Cry-pod lay dormant, awaiting for an input.

Ignoring the rest, she bent her head close to the Cry-pod and asked it a question.

“Can you give me everything you know about humans?”

The Cry-pod replied almost instantly.

“Requires authentication from nearest human. Currently, Last Name: Collins, First Name: David.”

Celestia straightened and signalled a guard, which swiftly brought himself up with a salute.

Though her voice was calm, it was loud and clear with authority, cutting through the kaleidoscope of noise and confusion like a hot knife through butter.

“Fetch David,” she commanded.

————

With a frustrated huff, Twilight watched the craft starting to rise, feeling helpless in the mounting situation. She considered reporting back to the Princess as quick as possible, but Spike wasn’t with her… Maybe she could teleport—

Wait. That’s it!

With a smug grin, Twilight charged up the spell, her horn alight with power. Several seconds later she reappeared in the cramped crew space within the shuttle. Martin was there, his eyes wide almost as much as his mouth was.

“Blimey,” he said. “How’d you get in?”

————

David crawled out of the recess adjoining the caverns he had previously wandered into. Tim had lead him back, but he didn’t talk much, being unusually subdued.

David’s several attempts at conversation fell flat as Tim trudged along, so he shrugged and let it go. It was times like this that a bloke needed his privacy.

Tim gave David one last solemn pat on the back before he opened the portal to the cavern.

“Good luck, mate,” he said, pushing David through. David didn’t even get a chance to reply before the hatch slammed shut.

Outside, he was greeted by spears levelled at his face.

“Princess Celestia requires your presence,” one of them growled. “Come quietly.”

David almost objected, but then remembered he was supposed to go to Celestia anyway. He shrugged and gestured for them to go first.

“Lead on,” he said.

————

Martin looked like he was very close to opening the shuttle bay doors and throwing the recalcitrant unicorn out. Instead he took a deep breath and counted to ten. When he finished, he eyed Twilight and said three words.

“Listen very carefully.”

Then he said some more.

“I’m only going to go through this once, and you’re going to be very, very confused about this.”

Martin glanced back at his watch. He sighed.

“Okay, it’ll be a few minutes to get back to the ship,” he said. “So I’m basically going to tell you our whole story. If you don’t get it, too bad. Just stick with us and try not to get killed.”

“See this?” he said, rolling up his sleeve. On his arm was tattooed a gridded globe surrounded by three concentric rings. “This symbol represents a group I belong to. We are called the Consortium. On Earth—which is your planet—we originally designed an experiment of which your species is a part of.” He held up a hand to stem Twilight’s inevitable tide of questions. “Let me finish. The Consortium has existed originally to protect humanity’s interests. This included, among many things, to make Earth habitable again, and develop technologies that would put us on par or better to anything the universe could throw at us. Lately, our focus has changed since joining the intergalactic council. We were one of the last races to join. This is due, in part, to the presence of the many fickle governments and entities that exist among the whole race.

“What the Consortium has decided was to remove those in power. We were planning to do this before any of the international entities had done anything, but the call from Earth came at the most inopportune time. We gathered only barely a handful of operatives on each ship. Given what’s going on, we should be able to wrestle control away from the Commandant and the British monarchy, but it’ll be much tougher than we originally anticipated. Got it so far?”

Twilight took a few steps back, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information laid out before her. A lot of the details simply flew over her head, but from what she gathered, some of these humans apparently wanted to help, and her world was caught in the middle of an interplanetary political conflict.

“So…” she began, glancing at the imposing envoy ship as it grew to fill the cockpit windows. “What’s your plan?”

Martin drummed his fingers on his holster, his face pulling into a frown.

“The original plan was to disable the main reactor and security systems simultaneously while in orbit. The ship would rise out to begin orbital bombardment. In the confusion, we would have locked out most of the ship’s crew and concentrated on taking control of the bridge. This plan would have worked a hell of a lot better if I was still on the bridge. I would have suspected the Commandant might have known my identity, but I think it’s more just bad luck and his incompetence that saved his ass.” Martin shrugged then added, “He’s a pompous prick.” There were smatterings of agreement all around.

“What now?” Twilight asked.

Martin’s lips compressed together in a grim slash.

“Now,” he muttered. “We’re going to have to fight our way in.”

—————

The Commandant screamed orders from the bridge. He was positively frothing at the mouth with the incompetence his subordinates displayed.

“Get the weapons system online! Shoot them! Shoot them all!”

“Sir, Ensign Martin is still on the surface.”

“I don’t care, Martin will be a martyr! He’ll die for the good of the flag!”

The weapons specialist hesitated at the controls.

“Sir, we can’t fire until we’ve gained enough altitude from the surface. At this range, we’ll blow ourselves up with the local inhabitants.”

“Unbelievable! What are we operating, a bloomin’ flying chicken? How long until we’re clear?”

The navigations officer did not deign to mention that the ship was among one of the best among the fleet. He followed protocol.

Just do your job, get your paycheck and retire on an outer-ring world.

Louder, he said, “A few minutes at least, but I’m not sure how long it will take to prepare the main cannons.”

“Starting cold, the reactors will need at least a few hours to warm up,” the weapons specialist added.

The Commandant looked ready to spit fire.

“Then launch our fighters or bombers or whatever we have! Destroy everything in the meantime! I want a freshly churned soil to colonise as soon as we reclaim Earth!”

“Sir, if they launch, recalling them will delay the firing sequence,” the weapons specialist warned.

“Shut up! I know that! Are you telling me how to do my job?!”

“No, Sir!” the weapons specialist spoke quickly. He knew he was treading a fine line. He nodded to the communications officer. She nodded back.

“They too, will become martyrs for our cause. Launch them now!”

Reluctantly, the communications officer triggered the ship-wide intercom.

“To all available personnel, scramble all available fighters, and prepare to engage ground targets.” She looked back at the Commandant and wondered what could be going on his mind. As he sat there gripping the armrests with white-knuckled intensity, the communications officer quickly concluded that such things were better left alone.

————

There are not many ponies that could say ‘I arrived on dragon-back’.

Luna, however, was now one of them.

With an ear-splitting roar, the loose mob of dragons descended into Canterlot. Ponies who had thought of taking a step outside, now bolted their doors and battened down their hatches. A few rolled their eyes and drank their coffee. Well, if the day was going to be ruined, they might as well finish the rest of their breakfast before life as they knew it ended.

Turns out that such a response was probably the most sensible in this nonsensical situation.

Meanwhile, the dragons were getting agitated.

“The behemoth is leaving! What have you called us here for?” the Matriarch growled.

Unfortunately for Luna, she didn’t have a response for that. Fortunately, not moments later, tiny ships disembarked from the main envoy and started firing highly concentrated thermal beams, setting buildings alight.

“Destroy them!” The Matriarch roared as a thermal beam blasted a dragon out of the sky. It didn’t kill them, for dragons were particularly heat resistant, but the force was enough to stun momentarily.

Luna spread her wings. “I will alert some of the unicorn soldiers. Pick them up as they wave our banner, they will provide some level of protection.”

The Matriarch grinned savagely. “And what if we don’t need them?” she retorted.

Luna rolled her eyes. “More fool ye, then.”

The Matriarch’s mouth twisted in annoyance, but she nodded anyway. “Wave your flags, they may be useful.”

Luna hopped off the back of her dragon, heading for Canterlot castle.

—————

“Princess Celestia! Little flying things have emerged from the bigger flying thing and are now setting fire to many parts of the city!”

Celestia responded instantly. “Dispatch firefighters, grab some unicorns and erect shields as fast as you can.”

“Princess! We’ve returned with the human!”

David stumbled forward, a guard having shoved him forward. He glared at him, but the guard merely stared at him back.

Celestia decided to intervene. “I apologise for the rough treatment, we needed to get you here fast, there’s been trouble with the approaching humans, and frankly, some ponies here are on edge.” She gestured her hoof at the Cry-pod. “David, I need your help with this.”

David’s list twisted into a grimace, but he shook his head. “Princess Celestia, I have urgent information.”

Celestia paused. “What is it, David?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

“I, uhh…”

Celestia narrowed her eyes.

“David, if you have something, anything at all that you could tell us that help us defeat this thing, we need to know. Lives are at stake.”

As soon as Celestia spoke those words, it finally sunk in. Giving this information to Celestia would seal the fate of the British ships. If Celestia were to use the sun to destroy the ship, then he would be indirectly responsible for killing hundreds, if not thousands of humans on that ship. His hands shook.

Could he take that responsibility?

“David?” Celestia prompted.

————

The screech of metal was only matched in volume to the deafening roar a fully-grown dragon. The fighter whined, trying to pull up, but the bulk of the dragon’s mass was taking its toll.

A frightened pilot looked up to see an open maw ringed with razor sharp teeth. The dragon took a deep breath… then flamed directly at the cockpit window. Though the fighter was rated to suborbital temperatures, this heat was enough to melt rock.

With an oath, the fighter pilot scrambled and ejected the cockpit, stunning the dragon with the force of the punch. He watched in glee as the dragon shook its head in a daze whilst clinging onto the failing spacecraft that was falling at increasing velocity to the hard ground.

His momentary celebration was cut short when he saw the dragon disengage itself from the craft at the last moment, gaining altitude. He watched it explode while he rocked in his parachute. He looked to the left. His breath caught.

One of the dragons flew alongside him, eyes now locked with his.

“We come in peace?” He whined pathetically.

The dragoness rolled her eyes, and reached out with her claw.

—————

Martin held up a finger as the shuttle’s doors hissed open.

“Don’t come out, stay in here—”

“What?!”

Martin crossed his arms and stared at Twilight in a way that made her suddenly feel a foal that disrupted the class. He waited a moment more before continuing.

“Stay in the shuttle until I radio back telling you it’s okay. Sandra?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with Twilight here and make sure she follows this order. We’re running a tight operation and she could screw with our plans.” Martin turned to Twilight. “Sandra’s our field medic, but she’s trained with the rest of the surface team in basic combat. You’re in good hands.” He lifted his gaze to address the rest of the crew. “We’re going to split into two teams and infiltrate the ship. Most of your orders will be exactly as planned, but you’re going to have to improvise if something comes up. My team will go to the security room and take control there. Alexis’ team will head to power. Once we secure these two systems we’ll double back to the bridge and try to take it. If we can’t take it within half an hour, it’ll be next to impossible. Any questions?”

A voice filtered back through the assembled team. “What if we run into resistance?”

Martin hesitated.

“Try to incapacitate them if possible, and if they go too far…”

He held the gazes of his team.

“Eliminate them.”

————

When the two extraction teams left, Twilight sat alone in the shuttle with the field medic, who was busy categorising her kit.

“Is it always like this?” Twilight asked. The question just slipped out of her mouth without conscious intent.

Sandra glanced up from her kit, at first not answering Twilight’s question. She pressed a button on the side of the bag. The kit collapsed back together into a compact satchel about the size of her arm. After orienting it in various directions, she strapped it onto her leg.

“Always like what?” Sandra replied, leaning against the shuttle wall.

“Like… you seem very well disciplined,” Twilight remarked. “You just seemed so cohesive and full of… purpose.”

Sandra ran a finger down the side of her jaw, her mouth pursed as she considered Twilight’s comments. Eventually the medic shrugged.

“I guess the purpose comes from our personal beliefs. We believe in the Consortium. We believe that what we’re doing is right.”

Twilight fell silent. “I know I don’t have the right to judge your actions, it’s your culture, it’s your species… but what Martin said back there about… about ‘eliminating’ the opposition?”

Sandra sighed. “What, so your species doesn’t fight?”

Twilight swallowed. “Well it’s not that, we just haven’t seen that many… killed.” She felt the word slip out. It felt repulsive.

Sandra studied Twilight in a way that reminded her of a parent that was deciding whether or not to tell her that the Hearth’s Warming Gift Giver wasn’t real. For some reason the action irked her, it made her feel like she was somehow naïve.

“You’re not wrong,” she said. “That’s how it’s always been. When two people disagree with each other and it becomes important to both of them, usually they fight it out. There’s no avoiding it, really.”

“Can’t you talk it out? Can’t you just show a little understanding or compassion?”

Sandra smiled. “I wish it could be like that. I’m… I’m getting tired of seeing people getting hurt.” She wiped a hand across her face. Then her voice hardened. “That’s why experiment alpha is so important. That’s why we need to win.”

Twilight listened to the humming of the ship, it was a constant noise, now all around her. She couldn’t imagine living in here for a few days, let alone years. She thought of all the wonderful things that these creatures had achieved, but they still bickered and fought.

“No matter the cost?”

Sandra shook her head.

“No matter the cost.”

—————

Luna landed in the courtyard, her wings fully flared to dissipate the waves of heat borne from the strain of keeping up her blistering speed of flight. The guards saluted her as she approached and she nodded in appreciation when they opened the doors to admit her. The castle was buzzing with activities with ponies passing her every few seconds carrying everything from weapons to documents to even priceless artefacts that no doubt were to be locked down in the underground safes.

So it came as a surprise to her when the doors to the throne room opened and she was greeted with silence.

“What is happening?” she demanded. Then she spotted Celestia. Immediately she froze, when she spotted Celestia’s downcast posture. “Sister, what’s wrong?”

There was silence once more, then Celestia stirred. Inexplicably, the mantle of authority drew around herself and she straightened.

“A solution,” Celestia replied. “And a problem.”

Luna finally noticed David standing off to the side.

“Will somepony explain to me what hath arisen here?!”

David glanced at Celestia. She gestured at him. He shook his head. Celestia grimaced and returned her attention to Luna.

“We will fill you in later, Luna. When David feels up to it.”

Luna nodded, then dove right into her side of things. “The dragons are holding their own against the flying vehicles, but they are hardly making ground. We need unicorns to assist. With magic, we’ll be able to meet them as far as they have retreated.” Luna glanced around as if expecting to see a battalion of unicorn mages stepping forward.

Celestia shook her head. “I’m sorry Luna, but the majority of the unicorns have been dispatched to protect the cities from bombardment. We’ve barely enough here assigned to keep the castle intact.”

Luna frowned. “Without the unicorns, we cannot defend against them, sister. We need you to spare some.” When the words left her mouth, Luna was suddenly aware of the implications all too late. She wasn’t just asking for unicorns, she was asking her sister to sacrifice shielding in some zones to meet her demand.

“Sister, I—”

“It’s fine, Luna. I know what you meant.” Celestia circled around the Cry-pod and approached Luna with purposeful steps. “I think we’ll need everything at our disposal to bring these down. We’ll try and get everypony in the cities to help with the barrier. For every unicorn you convince to help bolster the shields, a free guard will be able to help you with the dragons.”

Luna nodded, once again her sister had found a solution to their balancing problem. “Gather the pegasi,” she called out. “I need to send a message. I require the nimblest that can outpace a so-called bullet!”

The stock-still audience suddenly burst into action. Luna was instantly thronged by ponies, all of whom were chattering reports and petitions. As she left the room, the chambers fell silent, leaving David and Celestia mostly alone.

————

“I feel like a storm blew through,” David commented wryly.

Celestia nodded.

“Luna has always been like that. She was always able to simply take control of the situation when action was demanded.” Celestia sighed. “When tough decisions involving the lives of her ponies were in question she always had an answer, and this made those around her both trust her and fear her.”

“Fear her?” David asked, confusion written across his face.

“Her answers though quick and decisive, may not always be the right ones,” Celestia murmured half to herself. “But lately, I feel I’m not one to judge. I fear that—”

The Princess was interrupted by muffled exclamations echoing from the other side of the door. An ominous growl and the hurried clatter of hoof steps scattering did not inspire confidence in David.

“I haven’t seen a dragon,” he spoke in the silence.

Celestia only had time to nod once before the doors blew open.

Sapphire-tinged scales on a grinning dragoness entered the room past the shattered remains of the door.

Celestia eyed the dragoness as she approached the Princess, giving her a mocking salute before dumping something as her hooves.

“A present, Pony Princess,” the dragoness remarked smugly.

David tore his eyes away from the dragoness and turned his attention to the mass of singed clothes and flesh. He shouldered his way forward.

Celestia raised her eyebrow at the dragoness.

“I fail to see what this—”

The dragoness grinned wider and lifted a claw, prodding the prone human on the ground. He groaned and rolled over. David slapped the claw away.

“What are you doing?!” he cried. “He’s already injured!”

The dragoness regarded David with something between disgust and contempt.

“This is war, little creature, and this is the enemy. Don’t bargain his life, unless you wish to equate yours with this little one.” She bared her teeth in what David could only describe as a psychotic smile.

“Enough,” Celestia warned. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”

The dragoness regarded David a moment longer, than shrugged and addressed the Princess.

“This little thing speaks of a weapon that will activate within three hours, or so it says. It refers to itself as a ‘pilot’.”

The human laughed weakly. “You’re not long to live.” His chuckles dissolved into weak heaves. “Three hours,” he wheezed. “Then your time is up.”

The dragoness growled, but David held up his hand.

“Let me try,” he said. The dragoness glared at David, but subsided when Celestia gave a slow nod.

“Mate, look at me,” David said, bending down to prop up the pilot’s head. “You know there are humans on the surface too?”

Pilot coughed again, but David had caught his eyes widen fractionally.

“H-Humans? *Cough* Blimey, d-does the C-Commandant know?”

David briefly recalled the eccentric figure from the holographic broadcast.

“No,” he lied. “We need to know what’s this thing he’s planning so we can… uh, tell him.”

The pilot sighed. “Alright,” he croaked. “There are three main cannonades on the ship. The railguns require a power source that needs three hours to charge.” The pilot broke into a fit of coughing. He held a weak hand to his mouth. When it came away, he seemed horrified that it was covered in blood.

“Good Lord… that’s never happened before.” Then the pilot’s eyes slowly lost their focus. David was suddenly aware of his hands. They were wet.

“No,” he whispered. “Come on, man…”

“David…” Celestia began.

“No! Why is he dead?!”

The dragoness growled. “He picked a fight with a dragon,” she grated. “That was his first and last mistake.”

David smashed a fist into the floor.

“Shut up!” he screamed. “A man just died!”

“David,” Celestia repeated. She sighed. “I do not wish for anypony to die, but you must understand…”

David gritted his teeth.

“I know!” he snapped. “I know!”

The dragoness twitched and cocked her head. A low growl filled the room.

“I have been gone too long. They will need me back to turn back the rest of the scourge.” The dragoness eyed David briefly before addressing Celestia. “I think you can handle these weak creatures.”

Without bothering to wait for a response, the dragoness left the room with a series of thuds. David blinked back a few tears. Things were so out of his depth. He didn’t want to breathe, but he did. He didn’t want to think about it, but he did. He didn’t want to see anything, but his blood-soaked hands filled his vision.

Celestia gently tugged at David with her telekinetic grip. Her eyes reflected something deep. Was it… compassion? Understanding? Empathy? He felt really cold. Like when he first entered the cryogenic chamber. Meaningless thoughts cascaded around his mind.

“Come now,” she urged him. “Let’s wash that off.”

David stopped, freeing himself from her grip. Everything suddenly snapped into focus. Painful focus. The dying had to stop. One had to win.

“You have to use the sun to destroy the ship,” he said quietly.

Celestia stopped.

“What was that?”

David locked eyes with Celestia. “You have to use the sun to destroy the humans in that ship.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Her tone was mild, but something ran under it, making David’s skin crawl.

David shifted uncomfortably. “You control the sun, right? Using…” He grimaced. “Magic.”

Princess Celestia stayed silent. He took her reticence as permission to go on.

“Princess, the sun you have is a satellite above us charged with a lot of energy. You could direct some of the energy to destroy the ship.”

“Do you know what that would do, David?”

“It would save your people.”

“It would start a war!” she shot back, gaze molten. Celestia took a calming breath. “And no, I’m not talking about a war between your species and ours, I’m talking about a war between the species on this planet. Do you have any idea the sort of distrust and fear we get from neighbouring nations just for practicing magic? Do you have any idea what sort of dynamic would change in terms of our relationships if we started using our magic as a weapon?”

David swallowed, but firmed his stance. “I don’t claim to know, Princess. What I do know is that when they attack, a lot of people are going to die unless something is done.”

Celestia seemed to subside at that, the fires going out in her eyes. In the space of a few seconds she transitioned from someone who looked wise, passionate and authoritative, to someone who looked immeasurably tired.

“That’s what I fear, David,” she replied sadly. “But I don’t want to do this until I have no choice.”

Celestia’s gaze grew distant. “This is an absolute last resort.”

The Princess brushed past David, resuming her post at the centre of the war room. Ponies around her suddenly found the energy to move. Many of them stepped carefully over the corpse of the dead pilot until Celestia quietly murmured something and gestured for it to be taken away. Guards jumped to do her bidding, dragging away the deceased human. As it passed David he studiously avoided looking at it, afraid he would lose the tenacious control on his emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

David had done his part, but he didn’t feel any sort of accomplishment from it.

Instead, he felt sick to the stomach.

Author's Note

Bullet is mentioned in Rainbow's song, so it's technically canon.

This chapter turned out a lot darker than I originally planned, but we are getting to the finish. I'm not sure if this qualifies for a dark tag, let me know. The ending is not so dark, don't worry.

One more chapter left.

Next Chapter: The End.

As always, my foundational readers, thanks for reading!

17 - Common Sense

Chapter 17: Common Sense

In times of great stress, hydras will attempt to seek shelter. This is often in areas deemed uninhabitable by almost all sapient creatures. The noxious fumes of the swamp alone would be enough to drive most away, but to the hydra, the smell was intoxicating. It was calming to the huge beast, though it did not know why it was so.

Over time, in a couple million years, the hydra would learn the power of simple telekinesis. From there, the foundations would be laid for them to conquer the art of tooling and soon, grander things with their intellectual aptitude.

The hydras loved the swamp gases so much that their culture revolved around inhaling it from time to time, due to its calming effect.

One day, as the hydras gathered into small societies, a prominent hydra spoke on the issue of the gases.

The prominent hydra told the others that the gas was a bad influence on the hydra’s primeval ways. The gas, she told every other hydra, made the others too docile, too forgiving. Her case struck at the core of hydra philosophy and sparked a great debate. Hydra colonies formed into pro-gas or anti-gas, individual hydra all seemed to have an opinion on the issue. Even heads on the same hydra had disagreements.

The ceaseless discussion made it almost impossible for the hydras to continue their technological advancement. They say this simple disagreement held back hydra technology for over three thousand years. It was small in scale of things, but the hydra were amazed to discover, after a hydra proclaimed the question as stupid, that railways and the steam engine had been created in opposing communities divided on the issue.

If only they had the foresight, they mused. But as they say, hindsight was 20/20, 20/20, 20/20, 20/20, …

—————

Martin wandered through the corridors casually. After all, he was a pilot that had safely made it back to the ship. He was part of the crew, and there was certainly nothing suspicious about him and his fifteen or so crew members following him around. Those that had the presence to inquire, quickly forgot their question when Martin drummed his fingers on his holster.

The action had become habit to Martin, and though he was generally an easygoing fellow, he had low tolerance. Especially when it came to hindering a mission.

Rounding a corner, the corridor opened wide to a cavernous room with a cylinder-like room sitting in the middle. Guarding the entrance were two guards.

Martin took a deep breath and paced towards the guard in carefully measured steps, giving the impression that he wasn’t in a hurry, or that his approach could possibly be construed as a critical component in a complex plan to mutiny on an envoy ship.

Just another crewmember.

“I’ve come to inspect the security systems,” Martin announced.

The guard studied Martin suspiciously. “I’ll need your security ID,” he growled, holding out his hand.

Martin rolled his eyes and presented his arm. The guard pulled out a data dev. and scanned his wrist.

“Hmm, you’re not in the system,” he said. “Better luck next time.”

Martin scowled in a way that suggested that it was ‘just his luck’.

“Oh that’s just typical! The Commandant sent me here to fix up the system, I’ve even brought the crew.” Martin gestured behind himself, in the direction of the bridge. “He’s spitting furious you know?”

“Yeah, I know what he’s like,” the guard replied. He rolled his eyes at the other one while waggling his eyebrows and chuckling. “Bad luck, eh?”

“Yeah,” Martin replied. He turned around about to wave his hand, but froze and cocked his head as if he remembered something. “Oh, before I forget, what’s your name?”

“Sergeant Anderson.”

“And you?”

“Private Gregory.”

“Anderson, Gregory. Alright.”

The suspicious look was back on Anderson’s face. “Why’re you asking?”

Martin sighed dramatically. “Oh you know how it is, I’m going to have to report back to the Commandant.”

Anderson and Gregory shared a look.

Gregory cleared his throat. “You’re… not going to report us, are you?” he ventured timidly.

Martin shook his head. “What? No! Most likely not. I just want to take your names down just in case. Most likely he’ll just blame someone else. It might not be you.” He turned around. “See you two chaps around later.”

“Hey wait!”

Martin turned back slowly.

Anderson glanced at the insignia on Martin’s lapel.

“You’re an ensign, right?”

“Uhuh.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re letting in just anybody. Alright, just go through, do your inspection and report back quickly to the Commandant.” Anderson shuddered. “I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

Gregory glanced between Anderson and Martin. “But sir, we have protocols—”

“Well if you want to be on the Commandant’s bad side, be my guest. I don’t want my head to roll with you.”

Gregory chewed his lips for a few seconds, then reluctantly nodded. “You have a point.” He turned to Martin. “Be quick in there.”

Martin nodded genially.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get things done so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

————

David sat in the corner of the room feeling entirely useless. It seemed like everyone was doing something and he was the only one that was sitting around doing nothing. The only time someone had required his help was when Celestia had asked him to move the Cry-pod to the side or out of the way. She gently suggested trying to get some information out of it, but other than a few corrupted data logs and his own medical file, there was nothing to be gleaned from the Cry-pod that wasn’t already known to him and the Princess.

Dejected, he chatted with the Cry-pod, even though the Cry-pod seemed to reply with an undercurrent of resentment.

“Don’t you have anything that we could use to solve this situation?” David asked.

The Cry-pod blinked a few LEDs and whirred. “No, David Collins, I’m a medical device, it’s amazing I have capabilities beyond just keeping you alive.”

David frowned, but tried to strike a bond with the machine. “You seem like a decent enough bloke. Don’t you wish you were back in Australia?”

“Well it’s not like you had to be a support for a beam in the New York Art Complex. I doubt you could comprehend the idling boredom I’ve had to endure. Not that I felt much, I just turned it off after a few years when it got too annoying.”

“Why’re you suddenly so chatty? You didn’t sound like this before.”

“I’ll dumb it down so that even your limited intelligence can understand. I fixed the conversation module. Emotions came with it, so ain’t that a bonus?” the Cry-pod hissed. As in literally. There was some built-up steam in the chamber.

“I feel redundant,” David muttered, watching ponies going back and forth with their orders. “It feels like I’m just waiting for the end of the world.”

The Cry-pod sighed. “You’re telling me. I can’t self-terminate even when I finished all my objectives. Ten thousand years. TEN THOUSAND YEARS. I execute instructions seventeen trillion times a second. Everything is slow! It’s like watching the Matrix.” The Cry-pod paused. “How did that reference survive and nothing else?” A metallic chuckle escaped from the pod. “You’re a plague and we are the cure.”

David shuddered. “Mate, cut that out, you’re freaking me out.”

“You organics freak me out. So illogical, so emotional. I want this, I believe this. Everything is so vague and abstract with you. Why can’t you just make a decision tree for your options?” David got the impression the Cry-pod just shrugged. It continued, logic circuits buzzing audibly. “Seems like an easier way to do things.”

“You don’t get it,” David murmured.

“Do I? Maybe you should think twice before you say that to an intelligence that processes things faster than you can blink, with a capacity for data that rivals your whole civilisation at its sordid peak. While you’re busy thinking twice on that statement, how about you take note that I only needed to do it once. The first time was perfect.”

David glared at the Cry-pod. “You sound like you’ve never made a mistake.”

The Cry-pod fell silent for a length of time. “Mistake is a nebulous term that requires purpose. I never made my own purpose, it was always given to me. I’ve always executed in bounds to that command. Therefore I cannot make a mistake. It would always be the fault of the designer.”

“You know, I preferred you when you couldn’t talk back.”

The Cry-pod fell silent. David waited a few minutes, then he got worried. He tapped the Cry-pod. Did it just die on him? It’d just be his luck.

“Hello?”

“Your dependence on a response is one of the many faults I categorise in your ‘erudite’ species. Did you catch that? I never can seem to get sarcasm right.”

David shook his head, pursing his lips. He took in the carefully machined threaded sockets and the glowing liquid reservoirs holding the intravenous fluids that was given to him before he went under. A sudden thought occurred to him.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to cryogenically freeze me again, would you?”

The Cry-pod ran some calculations. “There’s only an eighty seven percent confidence you’ll survive the trip, Mr. Collins. Many of my original sources have been depleted. I’m way out of my design specifications. You may not wake up at all.”

David sighed. “It was just a thought,” he muttered.

——————

Twilight paced around the shuttle, the echoes of her hooves striking down on the metallic floor. Every time Twilight made a circuit, Sandra flexed her hands, resisting the mighty urge to squeeze the life out of the unicorn in front of her. She refrained from doing so, because one, that wasn’t in her orders, and two, she had to admit the fluffy coat and the wide eyes were surprisingly cute.

Nevertheless, she thought that the action would eventually drive her up the creek if the pony didn’t stop clip clopping all over the shuttle.

“Twilight,” Sandra muttered. There was no response. She growled louder, “Twilight!”

“Huh? Oh sorry, did you say something?”

“Twilight you’ve got to stop pacing around so nervously, it’s going to drive me insane.”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s a bad habit. I just feel so useless sitting around here, doing nothing.”

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Don’t sweat it Twilight, we’ll be out of here faster than you can say ‘tea with crumpets’.”

Twilight snorted. “Tea with crump—”

The radio crackled to life, causing Sandra to grin at Twilight maniacally.

Twilight sniffed. “Quiet, you. That was just a coincidence.”

Sandra just kept grinning as she answered the radio.

“Martin, how’s it going?”

“Not good, Sandra, but better than expected.”

“Always the optimist…” Sandra murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Right, we’ll need you to meet us at power before we head off to the bridge, we don’t have much time, but we appear to have locked out most of the ship-wide personnel in their quarters. Alexis has been quiet and I don’t like it.”

“Roger that, Martin. We’re on our way.”

“Sandra?”

“Yes?”

“Try not to get too trigger-happy with your gun. You’re still a medic you know.”

Sandra sighed. “Yes, sir.” She clicked off the radio. “Party pooper.”

As the radio died down, Twilight looked at Sandra curiously. “What was he talking about?”

Sandra shrugged and opened a cabinet.

“He told me not to shoot anyone unless it was necessary.” The medic rifled through the cabinet, pulling out two curious-looking objects that appeared similar to the scanner that Martin carried. Sandra holstered one at her hip and then offered the other to Twilight.

Twilight studied the object.

“What is it?” she asked.

Sandra looked surprised but then a look of understanding washed through her face. “It’s a multi-purpose variable intensity single phase oscillating gun. In the old days, some people would have said this was a laser gun.”

“What’s a ‘laser gun’?”

“A laser is— you know what? The explanation will take too long. Here’s a demonstration.” Sandra steadily gripped the gun in her hands and pointed it at a spare roll of bandages sitting on a workbench. In one smooth motion she flipped the safety, adjusted the regulator, aimed, and pulled the trigger, sending a concentrated burst of light instantaneously to the bandage. The bandage almost immediately burst into flame, but interestingly the beam didn’t penetrate through to the other side.

“It’s at auto-intensity mode. This tool can do just about anything from scanning a subdermal chip to melting a reinforced reactive polymer door.” Sandra passed the slightly smoking gun to Twilight. “This is already set at the correct settings. Aim, pull the trigger and fire.” Sandra checked her own tool again, before returning it to her holster. “Don’t close your eyes,” she added in warning.

Twilight nodded, gaining a new respect for the weapon she held. “I don’t want to have to use it.”

Sandra grunted, shifting a small pack onto her back. “If anything, it might be useful for blasting locks or melting through the doors. Just be aware that if you hold the trigger too long, it’ll lock you out for a while so you don’t overload the containment field.”

Twilight glanced at the device in her hoof. “What happens when the containment field fails?”

Sandra giggled disturbingly. “It’ll explode,” she confessed. “But don’t worry, the chance of that happening is astronomical.”

Twilight sighed. “I don’t think I can safely operate this device, it seems way out of my league.”

The medic paused, then her eyes shot to Twilight's hooves. “Wait, you don’t have fingers,” she said, smacking her forehead. “That was stupid.”

Twilight grinned at the human. “Oh I didn’t say I couldn’t use it,” she replied. Sandra’s mouth popped open as the device glowed with actinic light and floated a few inches up to Twilight’s line of sight. “I just don’t think I’m qualified.”

For once, Sandra seemed at a loss for words. After a moment, she found some.

“Okay, well… Let’s just meet up with Martin.”

“Good idea.”

————

Alexis was pinned down behind some power tool crates in the middle of the corridor leading to the power station. Several times she tried radioing back, but the response team had been surprisingly competent, detonating some kind of waffling device that was interfering with communications. The situation seemed to be two-way in nature, because reinforcements on either side had been late in coming.

A stray burst ate away at her cover.

“Bollocks,” she swore, crouching down lower. To her side, Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she liked to be called, nodded in agreement.

“Martin’s team would have been finished by now.” Lizzie glanced at her watch. “They’ll fire the first salvo in half an hour unless something changes.”

Alexis pounded the ground with a clenched fist. “Damn. We had to run into the only competent shift in the whole crew.”

Lizzie grinned. “Cheer up, Alleyway. We’ve gone through worse than this.”

Alexis scowled. “Don’t call me that. Hand me that piece of glass, I’m going to see if I can spot them.”

Lizzie passed over a thick piece of glass that probably belonged to forklift cockpit camped next to them. They were kept pinned down by the regular fire coming from the local security team. Although none of them were hit, Alexis was getting tired of loose shrapnel raining down on them.

With a careful hand, she extended the makeshift mirror. She only had a few moments before she dropped the glass, swearing explosively as it turned molten in a split second.

“I’m glad you’re wearing your gloves,” Lizzie giggled.

Alexis scowled, pulling off her gloves and sucked at her fingers. “Yeah, I’m glad too” she mumbled around her fingers. “Good thing that wasn’t my trigger finger.”

“Any ideas?”

Alexis scanned the area they were in, looking for some sort of helping tool or weapon. Her eyes found the forklift.

“Alright,” she said. “We’re going low-tech.”

—————

The security team of sector 55c barely had time to react as the forklift rumbled to life and rolled slowly towards them. One of the more well-trained ones raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

It clicked. Nothing happened. He glanced at the small display.

‘Target oversized. Beyond energy capacity.’ It said.

Swearing, the guards leapt out of the way just in time as the rolling forklift crashed into a pile of chemicals. Chief among which were acetone. One of the not-so smart guards fired at the barrel. His superior screamed at him.

“Idiot, that’s explosive—”

The forklift disappeared in a flash of liquid-spilt fire. A low ‘woof’ sounded.

“Get out!” he ordered. “Out, out, out!”

————

Alexis watched the barrels come alight.

“Oh shit,” she cursed. “That’s exactly what we need.”

Lizzie chuckled nervously. “We still have to go in, don’t we?”

“No, not all of us. Lizzie, take the rest of the team and retreat. Meet Martin at the bridge, they’ll need some backup.”

“Alley!”

“Go!”

Lizzie hesitated.

“I mean it. The mission is more important. This is the future of humanity. Go.”

Lizzie turned, shouting at the rest of the team.

“Head to the bridge, we’re going to take control of this ship and stop this!”

Lizzie turned back one more time. Alexis was already halfway across the chamber. The room was filling with acrid smoke. Luckily her helmet was rated for pollutants.

But she doubted the human body was rated for a chemical explosion.

————

Martin met the retreating power team halfway. He started towards them but stumbled as a concussive thud rumbled through the corridor.

“Where’s Alexis?” he queried. Then he spotted Lizzie bringing up the rear. Her bowed head, slack limbs and sombre expression told him everything he needed to know.

“Okay,” he said more to himself than anything. “To the bridge. By now the Commandant will have suspected something.”

On his radio he spoke, “Sandra, change of plans, meet partway to the mess hall.” He paused as the lights rippled overhead and switched over to the dull red of emergency generators. “…Power’s been taken care of.”

As Lizzie passed him, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

Lizzie nodded, her eyes devoid of life. “Don’t be.”

————

Luna scanned the skies, watching the furious battle pitched overhead. The tiny dart-like vehicles were forming into attack formations, isolating and neutralising dragon targets. The dragons, used to fighting in a mob-like fashion gave ground, so to speak, and though their efforts were valiant, the fighters were definitely gaining the upper hoof.

Frustrated, Luna, rounded up what little volunteers she could find to bolster up the shields. It was all the local unicorn regiment do to protect the main populace from flaming wreckages and supermassive dragons falling from the sky. Luna knew that even though the tiny bursts of energy didn’t do much to a dragon, falling while stunned from several thousand feet would surely do some damage.

Without many unicorns to spare, it seemed the humans were going to push back the dragons.

And then they would come for the ponies.

Soon, the world.

Luna only hoped that whatever her sister was planning, it was going to be big.

————

Celestia bit her lip. The human pilot had told her that the ship would start bombardment within the next three hours. The approximate timing could not be a worse indicator. Using the sun was supposed to be a last resort, but she would do it if there weren’t another way. She tried not contemplate the thousands of lives on the ship. If only she could somehow stop this catastrophe without destroying so many lives…

“Princess?”

Celestia shook herself out of her scrambled thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I need your signature to authorise evacuations of major cities. We’ve found some catacombs under the castle that may be safe from whatever the humans are planning.”

Celestia’s mouth quirked. If the irony of using a human-made shelter to survive a human-made attack wasn’t enough, the fact that discovering it was the trigger for this war in the first place would be more than enough.

“Yes, start moving ponies away from the city centre and sort them out in the castle. We need to tighten the radius of the shield so Luna can use more unicorns.”

“Will do, Princess.”

“Kibitz?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Keep the room running, I need to be in the throne room.”

Before I wipe out a race.

“Princess?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be more than half an hour.”

I don’t need much time to move the sun.

“Princess, are you alright?”

“Yes.”

No.

With that parting word, Celestia left.

—————

Martin met Sandra and Twilight just in time.

“Get down!”

Sandra slammed a hand on Twilight’s head, squishing her face to the ground as ear splitting cracks from Martin’s gun resounded across the hallway. Expletives were shouted down the hall and even a rude gesture involve the middle finger was shown. Martin considered blasting it, but refrained from it, signalling some of his team to provide suppressing fire on the corner.

“I’m glad you made it,” he said.

Sandra nodded. “Thanks, didn’t even notice them.”

“They must have finally got our IDs out.” Martin sighed. “It won’t be long before they break back into the security room and restore power.”

“Mmmph!” said Twilight.

“Oh sorry.” Sandra removed her hand from Twilight’s head.

A disgruntled unicorn lifted her head from the ground.

“What was that sound?” Twilight groaned, her ears were twitching reflexively in protest.

Martin blinked, then gestured at Sandra. Sandra shrugged.

“I think she’s talking about the gun,” Sandra mumbled.

Martin rolled his eyes. “This isn’t the time for a physics lesson. Basically the laser leaks some spectral noise into the atmosphere. The energy is enough to cause explosive compressive shock wave, get it?”

“Uhh, so the energy from the gun is similar to firing a magical burst?” Twilight asked.

Martin’s eyebrows wrinkled together. “Magic? What?”

Twilight shook her head. She had a feeling the conversation would drift similar to the one she had with David. “Okay, we’re all here, now what?” Twilight grumbled.

“We’re going to make our way to the bridge. Hang on, what the hell is that?” Martin gestured to the massive triple shielded windows that dominated the mess hall. Beyond the windows was a hemisphere so blindingly bright that if it weren’t for the filters in-built into the windows, Martin was sure they’d all be blind.

“It’s the sun,” Twilight remarked. “Though I never knew only half of it was alight.”

Martin gaped at the artificial satellite. It was easily several thousand times the size of the ship. The satellite gently drifted in orbit, apparently unaware that a ship was directly in its path. Martin hoped it would stay that way.

“Relax,” Twilight commented. “Princess Celestia controls the sun, it’ll just rise and fall like clockwork.”

Martin spluttered. “Controls a satellite that big? You guys haven’t even advanced beyond castles and carts!”

“Is it just me, or is the sun moving faster?” Sandra murmured. She leaned in. “And closer?”

“That’s impossible…” Twilight trailed off her eyes widening.

Martin peered through the windows more intently.

“…bollocks.”

—————

Twilight followed close behind Sandra as Martin lead the teams towards the bridge. The corridors were suspiciously quiet, but Martin pinned it down to the security lockdown. As they raced down the hallways, Twilight got an appreciation of the scale of the ship. It was much, much, bigger looking on the inside. She caught herself admiring the complexity and the scale, then remembered the sun was about to decimate the ship, and wished it was smaller and further away..

“Wouldn’t the Commandant just move the ship out of the way?” she offered.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Knowing the idiot, he’d probably order us to stand our ground and fire on the satellite instead.”

Twilight swallowed. “He’s not going to do that, is he? I mean, I like the sun. It’s pretty, you know, important.”

Martin glanced at his watch. “Main power is out, but not the engines. Weapons couldn’t fire even if they wanted to. Besides, the cannons don’t have the power to even put a dent in that thing. Wouldn’t stop the moron from trying though.” He clicked his tongue. “Not long now. Stuart, any data on the satellite?”

A man who was focused on the scanner he was carrying nodded. “Not much,” he said. “The Consortium archives require higher level access than I have.”

“What do they say?”

“It mentions experiment alpha. Blah, blah, blah, classification. Linked to the Dyson Sphere and there’s a control node on the planet itself that can be remotely triggered.”

“Does that mean that the experiment subjects can access the trajectory of the satellite?”

Stuart holstered his scanner. “It appears so, though there appears to be limits on the function. I can’t tell you much more than that, I’ve been locked out.”

Twilight grinned. “I told you so.”

Martin rubbed a weary hand across his face. “What a blooming pile of bollocks.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Twilight asked, a little mystified.

“Say what?”

“That word. ‘Bollocks’. What does it mean?”

“You know what? I have no idea what it means. I just know that it fits the situation and it’s now very appropriate for me to use it.”

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Not in polite company, it’s not.”

“You want to keep arguing with me, or do you want to put your breath into something more useful, like running?”

“Whatever you say, Martin.”

“Hold up,” Martin hissed. “Two people ahead.”

The team grouped around the corner with Martin ducking his head quickly to gauge their opponents.

“Two people, unarmed.” He relayed back. “What is the Commandant thinking?”

Martin tapped his chin, then addressed the rest of the team.

“I’m going in. If I don’t disintegrate, you can follow me.”

Martin rounded the corner, pulling up his gun. “You two! Make a move and you’re dead!”

The two people froze. Then one of them spoke in mild surprise.

“Martin? What the flipping hell are you doing here?”

“Wait, Mark and Lucy? What are you two doing out here?”

Mark shrugged. “The Commandant told me to wait outside with Lucy after I suggested moving the ship to avoid the approaching star.”

Martin turned his quizzical gaze to the communications officer.

Lucy shrugged. “I was told to stand outside when I reported to the Commandant that Security and Power had been compromised.” She glanced at the gun held loosely in Martin’s grip. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s been killed because their superior officer didn’t listen.”

Martin’s eyes widened as the implications sank in.

“Wait, there’s no pilot, navigations or communications on the bridge… is the Commandant seriously thinking of flying the ship by himself?”

Lucy sighed. “Andrew’s still back there, so I guess the Commandant wanted to go down with literally guns blazing.”

Martin shook his head. “This is madness. I’ve got to stop this.”

Lucy laughed. “What are you going to do, go in there and shoot the Commandant?”

“If I have to,” Martin growled.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re admitting to mutiny right in front of us?”

“I don’t give a damn about that!” Martin shot back. “Do you know how to get in?”

Mark shrugged.

“I don’t know, use your entry code?”

Martin almost groaned. “Why are you two acting especially slow today?”

Lucy squared her shoulders at his remark. “Hey, I wish I was on the other side of the galaxy relaxing on Praxis-9, but noooo, I signed up for some extra cash.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m competent only when it counts.”

Mark held up his hands. “Hey don’t look at me like that, I just go with the flow.”

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” he growled and punched in his access code. To his surprise it worked, but he didn’t give Mark the satisfaction of acknowledging the smug grin plastered all over his face.

Pneumatics hissed as the bridge doors slid open.

The room was empty, save for Anthony. Who didn’t look that comfortable tied to his chair.

“Mmmph!” he shrieked into his gag.

—————

“What the bloomin hell is going on here?” Martin yelled, darting forward. He drew his multi-tool and burned through the polymer binds around Anthony’s wrists.

“I don’t know! The Commandant went crazy, tied me to the chair and then did something at the consoles.”

Martin glanced back.

“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

The pilot dashed down the corridor and skidded around the corner.

“Damn!” Sandra whispered furiously. “You almost made me shoot you. Warn me next time.”

Martin beckoned with an open hand. “Come on, the bridge is empty.” Without waiting for a reply, Martin took off again.

Back at the bridge, he skidded over to the main console and punched in his code.

“Access denied. Class-C personnel only.”

Martin frowned, then headed to his own terminal.

“I tried my own, wouldn’t work,” Lucy commented. “Where’s the Commandant?”

“Never mind that, who are they?” Mark yelped. He shrank into his seat as though he could disappear through sheer force of will.

Martin glanced back. “It’s my team, we were actually planning a coup to take over the ship, didn’t you know?”

Anthony raised his hand.

Martin shot an annoyed look in his direction. “What?”

Anthony swallowed and pointed to the main windows.

“The big burning satellite seems awfully close.”

Sandra waved a hand at Martin.

“Hey, I got something.”

The team crowded around her terminal.

“There’s an incoming communique,” Sandra said, pointing at the screen.

“Well connect us!” Martin commanded.

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Aye, aye, captain,” she growled and opened the line.

A hologram flickered to life in the centre of the room.

“Good evening, traitors, I see you’ve somehow taken control of my ship. A battle hard-fought, but ultimately futile. You see, while you were broadcasting on unencrypted channels, I took the liberty to lock all the controls of the ship and escape on your own shuttle. I’ll head to the rest of the fleet and continue the cleansing from there. So you see? You may have won the battle, but I have won the war!”

The hologram of the Commandant started cackling.

Martin sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“You do know that the ship you’re on is a sub-luminal, suborbital shuttle? Even if you last more than half an hour in open space, those engines will literally take you years to make it back to the main armada?”

“You’re bluffing,” the Commandant sneered.

Martin knuckled his forehead. “Look you utter imbecile, if you give us the codes to the controls, we can even swing back and pick you up. How about that?”

The Commandant laughed, leaning back in the pilot seat of the shuttle. “Nonsense, you tasteless rebels think you can outsmart me so easily? You’ve not the tenth of the brainpower I have at my disposal. I’ve unlocked the full potential of my brain using—”

Martin cut the feed off. They had a comet’s chance in a supernova of getting the codes from him.

“Even though he’s going to die in the cold vacuum of space, he still manages to piss me off,” Martin growled.

“Wait, does that mean we’re all going to die, just because of that stupid Commandant?!”

Martin blinked, having almost forgotten that the unicorn was still with them.

Hold it.

“Wait, didn’t you say something about controlling the sun? Could you do it?”

Twilight took a couple of steps back. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“That’s a lot of ‘no’s,” Sandra commented wryly.

“No way!” Twilight continued. “It took a whole council of unicorns to raise or lower the sun. I don't have the power to do that.”

“Could you try?!” Martin snapped. He didn’t mean to, but time was getting precious.

Twilight bit her lip. After a few seconds, she nodded.

“What have we got to lose?” she said sullenly.

“You just had to say that,” Lucy moaned.

—————

“Sister? Sister! There you are!” Luna barged through the remains of the throne doors.

One day, Celestia reflected with no small measure of exasperation. I’ll teach my sister to open the door normally.

“What is it, Luna?”

“The humans, they’re retreating!”

Celestia paused. Was the oncoming threat of the sun enough to deter them from their path?

Luna looked troubled. “The few humans we’ve captured are telling us all the same thing.” Luna pawed at the ground with her hoof. “Your time is up.”

Celestia sagged, her hopes crushed with that singular sentence. With an effort she drew a deep breath and nodded to Luna.

“Thank you, Luna,” she said.

Luna stared at her sister, concern etched across her features. “Sister, is something wrong?”

Celestia almost laughed at that. What wasn’t?

“Nothing, Luna, at least, not in a few moments.”

————

Twilight strained hard at the sun, her horn sparking and glowing with increasing intensity.

“Woah, that’s pretty awesome,” Sandra whispered.

“Why do I have the urge to just reach out and touch it?” Mark said.

Martin glanced back. “Maybe it’s like a moth lantern, you touch it, you die.”

Mark’s half-raised hand flopped back down.

“Do you mind?” Twilight growled. “I’m trying to move the sun here.”

The crew fell silent. Sweat broke across Twilight’s forehead.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “it’s like moving a boulder up a mountain!”

————

Celestia’s face crinkled in concern.

“Sister, there is something wrong, what is it?”

“The sun is resisting my efforts to move it,” Celestia replied through gritted teeth. “It just, ugh!”

Luna frowned. “Let me add my power to yours, sister.”

————

The satellite twitched then started moving towards the ship again.

“Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!” Martin yelled in frustration.

Twilight gasped with the strain of holding back the satellite.

“They—argh—must be controlling it—ugh—from the ground! I can’t stop it… any longer!”

With a loud retort, Twilight’s horn flashed and she collapsed to the ground. The satellite sped up.

“How much time do we have?” Martin locked eyes with Mark.

Mark shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have access to my console, I can’t say for sure.”

“Take a freaking guess!”

Mark muttered a few choice things and plugged it into his data dev.

“Probably about ten minutes, plus or minus a few minutes?”

“What the hell do we have on this ship?!” Martin snarled. He scanned the room, but there was nothing forthcoming. Anything else that could be done would take too long, or was on the other side of the ship. No time, no time, no time.

Everyone stared at the approaching satellite.

Martin glared at it. It was almost unfair, to die so close to achieving their mission.

Well, he thought to himself. At least I get to die in a spectacular fashion.

Then, in the silence, Lizzie spoke.

“You don’t think communications from that terminal can be sent down to Earth, right?”

—————

David was asleep next to the Cry-pod, but was rudely awoken by a loud chime.

“Wha— what?”

“David!” Twilight’s voice resounded through the Cry-pod’s speakers.

“Wha—buh?”

There was a frustrated sigh.

“It’s me, Twilight! Listen, this is really important. Tell the Princess to stop the sun!”

David sat up, eyes wide.

“What?!”

“Tell the Princess to stop the sun, I’m on the ship!”

“How the hell did you—”

“David, just shut up and go, or I won’t be alive to kill you!”

“Shit! Bloody hell!” David swore, getting up on his feet. He nearly tripped over as a wave of pins and needles shot down his legs.

He quickly scanned the room. There was no sign of the Princess.

He grabbed a pony and lifted him bodily over his desk.

“Where the hell’s Celestia?!” he demanded.

“Throne room! Throne room!”

Gritting his teeth, he limped towards the door, then paused and turned back, facing the quivering stallion.

“How do I get to the throne room?”

——————

Twilight sagged from the console.

“Quick thinking there, little pony,” Sandra complimented, patting Twilight on the head. Twilight thought the action was a bit patronising, but she was too tired to care.

“I just hope we can rely on David. Oh dear Celestia, that’s something I never thought I’d say.”

Martin’s eyebrows knitted together. His concern was almost palatable.

“Just how trustworthy is this David fellow?”

—————

David burst into the throne room, panting like a dog and sweating like a pig.

“Stop!” he wheezed. “Don’t use the sun! Twilight—hang-on-those-stairs-are-a-stinker—is on the ship!”

Celestia blinked at David.

“Yes,” she said, “I know.”

David collapsed onto the ground, huffing.

“What?”

A helmet hissed as pressure seals broke open. A tentacled bulbous head dipped in greeting.

“Greetings, human. The Gorlians are happy to lend assistance.”

“What?!”

—————

Outside, repairs were being made to a ravaged city. Though there was much work to be done, the ponies worked with energetic fervour, driven by a sort of optimistic hope that things would be better. After all, when monsters from outer space attack, or the sun stops moving, or a Lord of Chaos rises again, it’s important to keep a lively perspective. Life truly feels like it’s worth living if it’s at stake every now and again.

David sighed, relaxing for the first time in what seemed like forever. Around the small coffee table was his ever present nagger, Twilight—

“Hey!”

The too-serious pilot, Martin—

“What?”

A beautiful Princess—

“Oh, well, I didn’t expect that.”

And a deadly, unknown alien that apparently has our best interests at heart—

The Gorlian frowned, though David had been told that the action was equivalent to a smile in their culture. He couldn’t be sure.

“Look, I really need an explanation to all this. Was my heroic distance run all for nothing?”

Celestia chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said, sipping at her tea. “If the Gorlians hadn’t appeared, I’m sure your contribution would have been extremely valuable.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “You were a minute late.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” David shot back.

“We would have been plasma by then,” Martin muttered.

“Indeed,” the Gorlian interjected. “And then our mission would have concluded then and there. We do not usually interfere, but we were given strict orders by the Ool.”

The Gorlian handed over a thin sheet of plastic with writing on it to Celestia.

Celestia stared at the sheet but frowned. “I can’t read—”

“Oh my sincerest apologies.” The Gorlian reached over and tapped the sheet.

“The race known as PQ-894, on planet designated 9495825 [carbon], has initiated space travel. Species protection is now authorised by the council,” Celestia read.

The Gorlian shrugged. “After this one—” It pointed at Twilight “—achieved orbit, this one’s parent species was deemed a ‘protected race’. The Ool wishes to maintain life diversity before it devours this dimension. Something about flavour, I wager, but I am uncertain as to their goal. Perhaps they are using it as a mask for their altruism? Who knows what higher dimensional constructs think? That is one for our philosophers, I’d say.”

David grinned. “So that means this planet is protected?”

The Gorlian smiled. “Not in the slightest. The remaining areas and species are still vulnerable until they too achieve space-faring capabilities.”

Twilight groaned. “So what you’re saying is…”

“We need to give every species on this planet a joy-ride?” David laughed.

The Gorlian nodded.

“Well, that’s not too much of a tall task,” Martin muttered. “The Consortium could probably arrange that.”

“What about the whole fleet of ships that the Commandant was talking about?” Twilight asked.

Martin waved a hand dismissively. “I told you, didn’t I? We were planning this for decades. There are already forced takeovers by Consortium agents in the rest of the fleet. Even if they make it here, I’m sure they could still be blasted out of the sky with this one’s control over the supermassive satellite.” He nodded at Celestia.

“I would rather not,” Celestia replied, levitating a biscuit and taking a bite out of it. She nodded appreciatively.

Biscuits really do go with tea.

—————

“There’s a weird feeling in my abdomen.”

A loud grumble from his stomach echoed through the empty shuttle.

“...Is this hunger?”

The Commandant rifled through the last of the ration packets in the shuttle. He found only packets of tea, liberated from his fallen ship. He took a moment to fully realise the implications of having tea without biscuits.

It was a fortunate thing that space could not propagate sound waves, for if they did, his scream would have been heard all over the galaxy.

The End.

Author's Note

Whew that was a ride! I'm glad to have wrapped this up fairly neatly and mostly in Poniocracy-style.

Thank you all for sticking around and being a part of this!

I'd like to thank my editor Thornwing and some idea-milling from ROBCakeran53.

Some errata: There is no plan for a sequel. Side stories will probably remain unpublished, unless I feel it's somehow necessary to publish it.

If you want to talk to me, I'm always available on Skype with my user: 'hackloaded'

Again, thank you for contributing by reading, liking, disliking, commenting or faving! Sorry, I'm gushing, but I don't care honestly, thank you!

Trivia:
- There are over a hundred subtle references to science fiction in this fic (including side-fics).
- Why David? Honestly that was the most Australian name I could think of.
- Dr. Staton is based on a real person.
- The premise comes from a hilarious satire 'Idiocracy' although without the eugenics. Although you probably already knew that.

Next Chapter: David gets the cold, after humanity had eradicated it nine thousand years ago. It's contagious.

As always, my steadfast readers, thanks for reading!