Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover

Twilight rubbed her eyes wearily and tried again. "Now can you move the bright star to the left? No, not so far, and try to keep it from drifting down. I think the two nearby stars were more aligned with the horizon, can I see that? No, the bright start was not IN the nebula, just close. Yeah, all right. Let's see what the others make of it." Maud froze the image and copied it to all the others who had been present in the Tomb of Tirek for their input. In most cases, it was a courtesy. Only Twilight and Rainbow Dash ever made comments. Frustratingly, their recollections were often in conflict.

"Okay," Maud remarked, both to confirm the order and to verbalize that she had a fix. "If that's roughly correct, the origin point of the star map would be here." She turned the NavPlot so that Twilight could see it. There are... eight systems within probable error."

"And how many were also contained in the last solution of merit?"

"Two, ma'am."

Twilight sighed the same sigh she had sighed just yesterday. "If I had known, I would have brought a camera. Or a spectrometer. That would have made things so much easier," she griped, not for the first time.

Maud nodded sympathetically, not for the tenth time. "Since signal strength did not rise by the estimated amount, we may not be on a direct course for Earth. That should hurt the Changelings as much as it does us. Maybe more. Plus, they may know the direction, but they can't know the distance. We should still get there first."

Twilight grunted and gratefully moved off for her rack. She had had virtually the identical conversation with the navigator often enough that it wasn't compelling any more.

Specialist Rarity cleared her throat. Briefing the senior political and military figures of the fleet was not as nerve-wracking as before, but it still put her off. "Uh, adhering to the priorities given to us by Col Luna, we have identified two separate transmissions or 'programs' in which self-directed automata feature prominently. The first is called 'Mister ED.' In this case, 'ED' is a type of biological transport unit. It is the only one of its kind capable of speech. The man he schemes with, called 'Wilbur,' is the only pony he speaks to..."

"We should mark this 'Wilbur' as a probable Changeling infiltrator type, so that we can recognize him if we meet up with him," announced Luna.

The Special Assistant to the President of the Colonies spoke up. "We have added him to the database, Colonel. And we have alerted the fleet so that everypony can keep an eye out, in case there are any of the type here in the fleet."

Luna nodded a grim assent, and Rarity continued, "The two of them exhibit an extreme desire for secrecy. And they use complicated plans to stay covert."

President Celestia asked, "But if they are covert, how did the makers of the video find out about their activities?"

"That is not made clear, ma'am." Specialist Rarity seemed unaware of her nervous slip and went on, "Perhaps the intended viewers had background that we don't. What is clear is that the makers intend viewers to laugh at them."

Admiral Armor nooded. "Holding them up as objects of ridicule might help the authorities thwart their plans. I would like to think that the Earth government is aware of the danger the Changelings represent."

"What does E D stand for?" asked Vice President Whooves.

"Sorry?" apologized Rarity.

"It's an acronym, surely. Like DRADIS. What do the E and the D stand for?"

Rarity looked to Maud, who had viewed as much of the data as she. She shook her head. "That has not been revealed, Dr. Whooves. Again, the program may assume people already know."

Rarity resumed her presentation. "The other case of autonomous beasts that we found so far, and we still have many hours we have not decoded or evaluated, is called 'My Mother, the Car. A car is a form of ground transport, for carrying passengers and light cargo.

Luna interrupted her again. "It looks like the Changelings are trying to infiltrate the transportation network of Earth."

"Or that infiltrating the transport network is something they've been caught at," commented Armor. "There may be other infiltration attempts that the Earthers have not discovered."

After a brief pause in which none of the officers or officials made further remarks, Rarity continued, "In this program..."

Derpy whispered into the ear of Dr. Whooves. "We have nothing to do with any of this. They are deluding themselves. I must say, Benjamin, your species has a self-centered aspect that makes for amazing viewing. These programs are not by us nor are they about us." She ran her hoof up his leg under the table. "You are wasting your time in this meeting, Benjamin. And there are so many other ways we could more usefully spend your time..."

Annoyed, Whooves flicked her hoof away and demanded, "What is the purpose, then?" Noting the looks of incomprehension on the faces of his fellows, he went on, as if clarifying, "The 'confusing interludes' you mentioned. Why would a warning video about monstrous infiltrators contain interruptions in which the use of household products is demonstrated? What is the purpose? When we understand that, then, I believe, we will be able to set the programs in proper context." Nodding vigorously to underscore his agreement with his own point, he subsided.

"Again, I must emphasize that we have barely scratched the surface of the flood of incoming data. When the Chief and Specialist Rarity finish the construction of the decoder, or 'teevee,' we will be able to speed up our analysis considerably," Maud remarked cautiously.

The Ponyville representative asked thoughtfully, "What about the language?"

Mystified, Rarity asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well think about their use of language. Omitting some obvious local idioms and phrases like, 'Why you...' and 'I oughta...'..."

"Sentence fragments," put in the President. She spread her hooves. "Sorry. Once a teacher, always a teacher."

The Ponyvillian went on. "The Earthers have been separated from the rest of humanity for thousands of years, and yet they speak perfect Colonial."

President Celestia frowned. "I don't see your point. The Lords of Co-Ball gave us this language. Wouldn't they have given the same language to the thirteenth colony? That would only make sense."

"That's what I mean," insisted the Ponyvillian. "We have sound recordings going back centuries. And in the earliest ones, there is a substantial variation in pronunciation. Yet this colony, separated from ours for not just centuries but for millenia, speaks modern-form Colonial."

"The Changelings may already have reached Earth and be guiding their language, keeping it from diverging from ours," mused Armor.

"But why would they? What possible gain would that have for them?" the representative asked. She pressed her point fervidly, her pale skin radiating intensity. The only reason for such an intervention would be to prepare the Earthers to meet us."

"Who would want to do that?" asked Whooves, pondering the point himself.

"Isn't it obvious?" she countered. "It is a miracle performed by the Lords of Co-Ball for our benefit."

Silence fell for a long interval as each of them deeply considered the evidence and the implication for their own lives and for the fleet as a whole. "So say we all," whispered Celestia reverently.