STS Manticore

The hard clicks of stilettos echoed off the concrete hallway. Stella was on the rampage. Not only did she have several high ranking diplomats on speed dial, all of which were waiting next to their own personal red phones, waiting to hear the worst, already planning on end of the world procedures, but she also had a personal chip on her shoulder for not being the first one notified that there was any news to be had about the matter. Touch pad in hand, she marched into the interrogation room of the worlds single most secret and secure holding facilities, more than a mile under ground.

After a quick retina scan, voice verification and badge flash, the sliding doors opened with an electric- fooosh.

The room, like the corridor was simple. A single light hung from the ceiling, illuminating the center of the room. One wall held a single way window, and two chairs sat by a table made of the same light, but sturdy, compound. Stella wasted no time in pulling up her own chair, laying her touch pad on the table, and sitting, her hands folded expectantly, looking at the shadowy side of the room.

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.” Her words were crisp, and held no tone of thankfulness.

“I figure you should know the emergency had passed.” The occupant on the other side of the table replied.

Stella touched a few things on the pad. “This is Stella Conwell, head of the Planetary Security and Threat Assessment Department. I am Joined by...?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Steam. Steam Haze.”

“Steam Haze.” Stella continued, as if the name was common, though she did pause, adding. “That's a...Unique name.”

The creature on the other side of the table, just out of view of the limited light, leaned in. His skin was black, red hair hanging loosely around his neck, and bangs swept to the side. A black, misshapen, short horn stood proudly on his forehead. His eyes, red irises slit only by thin black pupils regared her with amusement. His attire, from what the Head of the Planetary Security and Threat Assessment Department could see, was odd, as if he had come out of the 1800s.

Steam Haze pulled out a pack of cigarets out of his shirt pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes.” Stella replied. She hated dealing with aliens. Ponies and fur balls were tolerable, but these, 'Changlings' were a whole new mess altogether.

“Thought I'd ask.” He replied, pulling one out and lighting it with a slight glow of his horn before taking a deep pull, blowing out a cloud of smoke, letting it waif into the air conditioned room.

Stella chose not to argue. She had more pressing questions on her mind. “We're here to hear the accounts about the Great Calamity.”

Steam withdrew back out of the light, only being lit by the orange tip of his smoldering cigaret. “You really want to hear about that. You want to know how a mixed match bunch of humans, Ponies, a Fox and Changling managed to save the galaxy right from under your nose, eh?” He paused to give a light chuckle. “Well, that's a long story.”

“I'm her to learn the truth.” Stella sniffed stiffly.

The Changling leaned forward so far that he was nose to nose with the human, studying her eyes intently. “Since when did a high official like you, who is tasked with keeping your little world functioning as if there is no other life out there but your own, keeping people in the dark about what's really going on out there, care about the truth?” He kept her gaze for thirty seconds, until she blinked.

“I tell the people what they need to know.” She replied stoically, skirting the damning question.

Steam sat back again. “Ah, what do I care? So, you want a nice bedtime story?” He took a long pull on burning paper and leaves before exhaling slowly. “Let me start from the beginning then.”