Why did i get out of bed this morning? Oh right, money.
Mud. That's what it looked like. Very thin mud. It was rather unfortunate that the head of security at the complex apparently thought good coffee was a security risk. I thought, wryly that that must have been an interesting meeting, convincing the general that we couldn't make do with decent coffee.
Which brings me back to the mud, masquerading as coffee, in the cup before me. Under normal circumstances this travesty of caffeine would be a non-issue, as I had been living with it for the last several months. Unfortunately for my poor abused sleep schedule, I had been forced to oversee some experiments last night, and had only gotten three hours of sleep, or, as the joke was quickly becoming, a full military vacation.
Sitting at my table in the mess, I pondered the message I had received when I got in less than an hour ago. It was from my colleague Amand, short and to the point.. Now, for those who don't have access to high level military records, my colleague Amand Hosten, was quite simply, mad. Not the madness one finds gibbering in a white room, or the madness one finds when they stare too deeply into Nietzsches abyss, no this was the madness of a man who had no fear of the unknown. The madness that forced man to light a tree on fire, just to see if it would burn, so they could attempt to put it out with oil. Just to see if it would work.
Frankly, he scared me sometimes.
Taking a sip of my drink, I could not decide if it was mud-flavored coffee, or coffee-flavored mud. Mulling this over for a few seconds, assisted by more sips, I came to the conclusion that it was mud-flavored mud. Lifting the cup from the table I stood, and walking over to the nearest garbage bin, I threw the cup with such force that it's component Styrofoam, by all rights, should have achieved nuclear fusion.
Standing in the hall minutes later I reread the note. Scott, this is amand. I understand you have authority to oversee interdiction experiments. I need to see you at 10. I'll be in bay L-32. You know how to get there.
Well, that was worrisome. For one, how did Amand know that I have that authority? That type of information is incredibly restricted. For another, he shouldn't be messing with interdictors. Perhaps I should be the one to oversee this. At least I can probably keep him from blowing us into orbit somehow.
Oh my, I just realized that I've gone this far and failed to introduce myself. How rude. My name is Scott Richard. I am a scientist, who currently works under military contract. Working under military contract, I was shipped out to the Sand Springs Environmental Research Facility. Allegedly used to research the effects of, and how to combat, climate change, what it really is is a government think tank, for the men (and women) of science who could accidentally destroy the world.
No i'm not kidding. I shook hands with a bacterial virologist five minutes ago, know what he was working on? Fucking zombies. Seriously, this nut was trying to make the T-virus. God, I have no idea how he got that past security. Seriously, we get the go-ahead to make zombies, which is always a bad idea, but we get shot down for wanting decent coffee. Oh well, maybe they'll act smarter after their brains are eaten. God knows it would make as much sense as anything down here.
I should wash my hands.
Anyways, I'm ranting again. So me? I'm here because I know more about interdictors than most people alive. Now an interdictor, is a fascinating principle. The essential idea, though, is that if you pump enough exotic wave-forms into an area, physics just decides “fuck it” and leaves. The applications for interdictors are literally endless. The only issue, is getting the waveforms to stay in a contained area, so that they build up to the level required to interdict. Thankfully, with directed energy barriers, that became relatively easy. Directed energy barriers are simply several quarks rotating in a way so as to cancel out the observer effect. This allows these quarks to pair of with matter on one side of the barrier, and anneal with it, so it pushes itself away. It gets confusing, but that's quantum mechanics for you. Fuckin’ rabbit holes.
A short elevator ride and quick walk later, I was standing outside bay L-32. It was not the 32nd bay in its group, nor was it part of some set designated “L”. Rather it was the private testing bay of Amand Hosten, our resident lunatic. Hence the “L”. And why it was private? Well, I did say he was a lunatic.
Where the number 32 comes in there, only he knows, and he certainly hasn't told me it's significance. Stepping inside I was confronted by a towering monstrosity of scrap, odds and ends, and what appears to be a small nuclear warhead. Frankly, it looked more like an aliens junkyard, than the private lab of a government scientist.
Steeling my nerves for the inevitable weirdness I took a moment before shouting “Hey Amand! It's Scott!”
“Acht!” echoed from the depths of the bay, accompanied by a brief flash of light, and the smell of... cherries?
“Verdammten scott! Do you have any inkling of vat I am in the middle of? Do you?” He screamed in my general direction.
“No. And for purposes of deniability, I will thank you for not telling me. As to why I am here, not that you asked, I got a note from you about an experiment you wished to run, and figured that if I pawned it off on someone else, this place would be a crater by midnight.”
Upon hearing this he begins to pout, which, considering that he's a 50 something german, is slightly discomfitting.
“Oh scott, it's nothing too horrifying! I assume you saw the warhead upon walking in?”
“Uhh, yeah I did. Please tell me that thing's not live.”
Oh, nein. Of course it's not live. I'm not some lunatic, keeping a live nuke around.”
Well, that's reassuring at least.
“It's just a shell, the guts are back here, On a workbench.”
Well, that is most definitely not reassuring.
“Uhh, Amand, by 'guts' do you mean all the fun radioactive bits?”
“Vell of course! And so-”
It was at this point I turned around to leave. I could always deny any of this happening, leave early, and call in sick tomorrow. Oh, that was a good idea.
Amand of course, had to ruin it with his quick, bony hands. Snagging the collar of my lab coat, he dragged me over to his (hopefully not) radioactive workbench, talking all the while.
“Now look scott, see? All I was doing vas converting it into a minireactor. After all you never know when hendrick is going to snap and unleash his zombies on us.”
“Wait, you mean to say he finished those!?”
“Ha! Nein nein, I just vanted to see the look on your face! Although, now that I think about it, I haven't asked him for a few weeks...”
“Well, I definitely need to find my shotgun now.”
“Ach. Don't worry, they would eat him first, and I hooked up a remote hearbeat monitor to him. He doesn't know about that, by the way.”
“And I certainly won't tell him. You got my support there. Just, when he does get eaten by zombies, make sure to tell me first. Please.”
“Of course scott! Why else would I tell you about it in zhe first place? Also, your heartbeat monitor is showing increased stress levels. Please be assured I did not put one in you.”
“Uh huh.”
And now I need to remember to schedule a visit to the base doctor for some x-rays.
“Anyvays, the real reason for me creating a mini-reactor, is to power the very thing I sent you a note about! I plan to run an experiment that will interdict everything within a cubic meter. The base cannot supply such a massive cost in energy, and so I had to build an alternative power supply. Hence, zhis mini-reactor.”
“I can see why. A whole cubic meter, interdicted, is gonna be a huge power drain. You sure your mini-reactor can handle it?”
“Oh Ja. Of course. I designed and built it, after all.”
Believe it or not, hearing that he built it himself gave me some hope. Amand, while probably insane, was quite good at design, and doubly so at building things that he designed. If he said his device was capable of something, woe to the man who doubted him.
“Huh, well if you're sure, I can rustle up some cameras, and some portable barriers. Also grab some radiation shielding to be on the safe side. What? Don't look at me like that. It's the problems you don't plan for that kill you. I have faith in your designs, but precautions are always necessary.”
“Hrrm. Vell, if you insist. Can we get everything together by nine tonight?”
“Nein?” I did pick up a little german, hanging around amand. It was just to my good fortune (and eternal amusement) that the german word for “no” was pronounced similar to the english “nine”.
“Yes nine.”
“So, Nein?”
“Why are you saying it lik- oh. Nein, it shall be at nine, scott.”
Oh good. He picked up on it.
“Nein?”
“No, Nein.”
“Nein nine?”
“Nein.”
“Well if not at nine then when?”
“How about nein?”
“Nine works for me.”
:”Ah, goot. Vell, see you then.”
At this we both began to laugh uproariously. Admittedly, it wasn't the funniest joke ever, but it did have a history. Especially that time with the lab monkeys, and the noodle incident. Maybe that was why poor hendrick was trying to make zombies. Oh well, it was funny at the time.
Taking my leave I spent several hours rounding up the necessary equipment, and arranging for it to be delivered to bay L-32. When I mentioned the bay, most of the requisitions people I spoke with paled visibly. Wonder why.
After finalizing all the supplies we would need, I had a few hours in which to check on my own experiments. Heading to my personal bay in the upper levels, I had to flash my security clearance and id several times. They knew who I was of course, but with the type of stuff we in the upper levels worked on, you couldn't have too much security.
Finally reaching the comforting gloom of my personal lab, I shuffled inside, resolving to rest for several minutes. Throwing the knife switch to turn on the lights, I was not disappointed. Where Amands bay was a treasure trove of chaotic wonders, mine was an archive. Neat, organized, and above all clean.
After feeding my oil making algea, testing my piranhas for higher intelligence, examining my weapon designs before sending them off, and tending to my numerous other projects, I found myself with several hours until it was time for the experiment.
Turning to the back, I went through a small door, into my personal sanctum. While my lab was whitewashed, spartan, and professional, my sanctum was cozy. Rich carpeting, sumptuous chairs, an electric fireplace with holographic flames, and even a fake window with curtains, all combined to give the sense that one was several decades in the past, inside the drawing room of some well-to-do Englishman, and not, in fact, several hundred feet below-ground, inside a secret government research facility, where they had no decent coffee.
When the insanity of my colleagues got to be too much for me, I would retire here, to sit, and sip some of my well hidden liquors. Even my brownstone in town didn't have such amenities.
Turning to the end-table I picked up the small rectangular device there. This, was my codex, the one piece of technology I allowed inside this room. At least, the one obvious piece of technology. The flames, were after all, holograms. A personal invention of mine, it was an all in one translator, reference guide, and should the need arise, it could even display a small hologram interface, and projector. Holding over three hundred terabytes of information, it was well worthy of the title 'supercomputer'. After adding in a small alarm for 8:30, I began to browse its database, searching for something to read while I sipped my cognac. Settling upon 20'000 leagues under the sea, I began to read, and so passed several hours.
Caught up in my book and some small sandwiches I had ordered, I nearly failed to hear the alarm. At last, though, I managed to hear the ending tones of Fr Elise.
Nine already? Damn. I was just at a good part too. Ah well. I can always come back to it later.
Slipping my codex absentmindedly into my pocket, I stood, bolted the remaining sandwiches, and turned to leave my sanctum.
Walking for several minutes, I came to an elevator, went down several levels, got off on the wrong one, got back on, apologized profusely, got off at the next level, after carefully checking that it was the right one, and sauntered down to bay L-32.
Upon reaching it, I peered inside, to see amand in the midst of setting everything up. As he looked up and saw me, I waved, and he called me in. We passed the rest of the time till nine in silence, setting up the rest of the equipment, carefully activating the mini-reactor, measuring its output, ensuring our safety, until at 9:02, everything was set up for the experiment. Turning on the cameras, we explained for a moment the purpose, before without further ado, reaching over and turning on the barriers. It isn't easy to describe in full the difficulties that we had in designing the first barriers, nor how difficult it was to set up a reliable interdictor, and I cannot even begin to surmise about the fates of the few fools who jumped into an interdiction field. That said, it was remarkably easy to interdict an area at this point. The only issue, was the prodigious power prerequisites of these projects. I may have a 'thing' for alliteration.
As the interdictor charged up, the visible space within the barriers began to distort, almost as if the air was becoming opaque. In time, this stopped and everything simply... faded away. What we saw there was breathtaking.
In all previous documented experiments with interdictors, the space interdicted was kept small. Down to cubic centimeters at the most. The reason for this, I had thought, was due to power requirements.
I now realized I was wrong, for in front of me I could see stars. I knew they could not be stars, but the darkness around them, and the flickering coming from them, as well as the perceived distance, all combined to force my brain to say:
Look at the stars scott. They must be stars, for what else could they be? The glimmer, the glow, they are stars, forges of creation, smelteries of the universe. Are they not beautiful?
Turning to amand, I saw him, slack-jawed. Mustering what little speech I could, I spoke.
“You know, they can't be stars. They must be, some kind of, accretion of photons or something.”
He turned to me, about to speak, when suddenly a ticking arose from near the mini-reactor. I immediately recognized the distinctive call of the Geiger 'you will die painfully' Counter.
I began shouting.
“Amand! Activate the reactor fail-safes! Shut it down, i'll get the interdictor, and call in a radiological hazard.”
Running over to the reactor, amand immediately looked at the dials on it, before shouting back to me.
“I Don't know vhat it's doing! It appears to be surging! It's feeding power into the interdi-”
This was all I heard before a loud popping noise alerted me to our nice little barrier being breached. The interdiction field surged out, enveloping us, the reactor, the barrier devices, and the interdictor itself. In short order it surged back out, taking us and everything but the cameras with it.
The Void is not a nice place, not by virtue of being a mean place, but simply due to the fact that those concepts cannot exist there. Neither does gravity, time, space, cake, fraternities, student loans, lying, or anything else that makes up a classical explanation, definition of reality, or fun afternoon.
That said, there are a few things in the Void. Namely, little pockets of reality, known as universes. These are wonderful little places, each operating by similar yet differing rules. Some, where intelligent thought has reigned, and some where superstition and imagination have substituted. Some where people have looked out, and wondered if they were the only universe, and others where that question had been answered.
This brings us to the second thing in the Void. Floating stations, covered in a strange sheen, reflecting the non-light of the Void. These are way-stations, safe places in the utter chaos of possibility. Shielded places, where the occasional adventurer passes through, on their way to fight Sauron, or Lucifer, or whoever it should strike their fancy to fight. And of course the people who have to deal with all these idiots, the Void Patrol.
The Void Patrol is made up of over 55,842 member universes, which may seem like a lot, but is literally nothing, when compared to infinity. As such, every member is habitually overworked, every center is understaffed, and every single thing always ends up in the hands of someone who simply does not care.
Senior officer lucky strike, was the exception, unfortunately. And this meant that when he saw two humanoid figures fly out of their home universe, he started screaming. That morning, or what passed for it at least, he had already been forced to deal with some incarnation of Elvis trying to beat up Michael Coltson. Then his station had been attacked by what appeared to be “The evil emperor zerg” only for a Japanese Buzz Lightyear to show up with what appeared to be a cyborg Ichigo Kurosaki, before killing said emperor.
All in all, Lucky was quite fed up. Some days he regretted his decision to join up with the Void Patrol, this day certainly qualified as one of them.
Lucky Strike was an earth pony. From one of the myriad equine universes. His was not a universe of peace and love, however. When he was born it had just begun a massive war with the gryphon empire to the north. The assassination of Princess Cadance, Heart Of The World, at her own wedding, by the hands of a changeling, had simply caused another war to break out. He didn't pay any attention to his universe anymore. There was nothing there for him.
Green coated, with a silver mane, and destiny mark of a four leaf cover over a knife, he had seen his fair share of madness.
After being remanded out to one of the many, many, way-stations, he had been content to simply enjoy a quiet semi-retirement over a small, insignificant, command. Of course, fate had seen fit to toy with this old soldier, as day in and day out, or at least what passes for days around here, he thought, he was forced to contend with massive amounts of what could only be described as 'bullshit'.
It is rather understandable, then, that he had begun screaming when faced with yet more insanity. And, to his credit, he screamed for only a few minutes. After this time his co-commander, a rather young black haired human woman, approached him.
“Sir, the humanoids are entering range in approximately 2 minutes. Should I give the order to fire?”
“Fire the drugs. Kemmentent Rose. And schedule another appointment with the base therapist. I could hear your screaming all the way over here.”
“Of course, sir. I wanted to ask, may I man a turret?”
“You said 2 minutes, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Better start running then.”
“Th-Thank you sir!” And emitting a loud squeal of joy, she began dashing off, rose petals dancing in her wake.
After today I definitely need a break of some sort. Maybe I could visit a cybergarden. I do have some unused hours. Or I could track down some Ultra-Vodka.
Choices...
When lucky strike said to 'fire the drugs.' what he meant, was 'order the men on duty to fire amnesiatic darts at the approaching humanoids before promptly forgetting they exist, and go right back to whatever doldrums occupy your blank rocks of minds.' He had no need to say all that of course. It was implied.
The amnesiatics were necessary, simply because, when a mind is exposed to the void, it begins to change. It sees past the fabric of reality, and has little issue simply tearing the status quo asunder, and implementing whatever it could drag from it's twisted depths. Turn a castle into a swamp, turn a planet into a Dyson-sphere, or simply cause every living thing in a universe to stop living.
Unfortunately, exposure to the void also causes varying types of insanity. This, coupled with a power beyond that of a god, was a decidedly unhealthy combination. Therefore, official policy was to simply cause them to block out all memory of traveling through the void. Of course, one could move safely through the void, if one was in a shielded area, such as a ship designed for it, or a way-station.
Unluckily for Lucky, the last shipment of amnesiatic drugs, was tainted. It was not unsafe, but it was decidedly less effective. On top of this reduced effectiveness, the drug would also break down within several months. He of course, did not know this. Nor did his assistant. Nor did the corporation that made the pills. All Lucky knew was that after today, he would need to find some Ultra-Vodka and get roaring drunk.
And as his orders were carried out, and our two heroes were flung towards a distant mote of light, no-one on the station gave it a second thought.
The town of Ponyville, while appearing peaceful on the surface, was anything but. In truth if one were to tell a resident that it was peaceful they would simply laugh in your face, and direct you to the nearby Books and Branches library.
So, it is perhaps understandable, that when a crack in space appeared far above the neighboring Everfree Forest, accompanied by an earth shattering explosion, the majority of the town simply turned their collective heads, uttered a collective “meh.” and went back to their assorted trivialities.
When two streaks of light, came flying from the crack, most of those same residents simply made a mental note to speak to the unicorn mare in the library the next morning. One of those streaks, made directly for the Everfree, crashing into it with force that could only be called explosive, while the other made a rather sharp turn, and began to fly off towards distant lands. The ponies in ponyville, could not know this, but the second streak headed straight for the griffin holds to the north, where it collided with the castle wall of a local Fyrin. This Fyrin, was currently in the middle of speaking with his daughter, whom he had been forced to neglect recently, and was not impressed by the interruption, nor by the creature that pulled itself out of the rubble of his daughters bed.
And with that, the greatest period of madness to grace Equestria had begun.
Author's Note
Rewrote this chapter. My brain hurts.
