Celestia sealed the scroll and placed it on her desk.

With a heavy sigh, she looked to the sleeping human form, tossing and turning on the bed. Even now, her thoughts were twisted. It had taken a few hours, but soon it had all come together from the human’s own logs and what Celestia could glean from her soulglow and the evidence left behind.

The plight of humanity pulled at her heart. So many lost, so many hungry and scared, waiting to die wherever they were. So many in darkness that was, dare she say it, all but eternal. If even half of the things suggested in the logs and by her own feelings were true… what hell she had seen and lived in.

Did that excuse her actions? Celestia was not sure. It certainly helped to explain them. With her limited ability to touch the minds of mortals, she had found a frightening amount of chaotic fragility. It had reminded her of a tower, one that might come crumbling down in an instant around her ears if a single brick were nudged slightly out of place.

What would she do? What could she do, rather, was the question.

It was not her world, and there was much she did not understand. Not to mention the obvious dangers of her own magic in contact with these creatures without proper protection. Food and medicine did not end war. Cynically, she thought they might even prolong it, giving mindless belligerents more energy to kill. She could not let their warring and their danger spill into her beloved world. At the same time, the thought of leaving them to die alone in the dark did not sit right.

She regarded the human still with quiet intensity.

Fluttershy and Zecora had been found safely by her guards, confused and worried for their friend. Twilight had written two letters already, beside herself with worry. Celestia had tried to relieve her of the burden of guilt--no, her report had not caused harm to the huntress in anyway. If anything, it was Twilight’s report that had saved her life. But Celestia did not mention that.

What a contradiction, the mare… woman. The woman who slept on her own bed, bathed by her servants. Luna had come to see her and said very little. Celestia had been blessed by Luna’s quiet comfort, and that had really been enough.

But what a contradiction. Savior of ponies she hardly knew, yet willing to slaughter her own kind. Such shame, and yet she had seemed so filled with… was it hatred? Perhaps. The whole thing left Celestia feeling a little ill and surprisingly shaken. Because it was not every day she found herself confronted with such a mess of information to make momentous decisions based upon. She had two dead and a single addled murderess to judge an entire world upon. She had the confession and the pleas of a young lady who seemed earnest, kindhearted, and sincere and the sleeping huntress who dealt death with deception.

She could not judge the justice of the Pioneer’s motivations. She did not know this other Earth, and she did not know humanity, not in the present time. An overreaction? Maybe. The right choice? She did not want to say yes.

But she was Celestia, and she understood necessity.

Save or ignore? Save or destroy, because she had little doubt that to ignore would be to destroy. Come with open hooves or to bring order by the scepter? Neither, probably. The dread that accompanied the thought of a colony of Samanthas was not unlike the agony of the thought of them all like she had been in the ancient vault.

Celestia crossed over and sat beside the bed.

She softly moved a bit of the human’s strange artificially red mane from her face. Save, destroy, ignore. Bring order or offer succor.

Celestia stared. Intensely. And she judged humanity by its broken remains.

Author's Note

I want to say that I owe a great debt to two stories: Project Sunflower and Arrow 18 Mission Logs. I enjoyed both stories immensely.

But I found that I was... not sure I bought a united human front. I felt at times that their depictions of humanity were far too bright and far too optimistic. Mine is perhaps far too pessimistic here. If you're curious, the setting of Sam's world is the same as that of Samantha Calhoun, of a novel I completed a year ago or so called Absolution. Yes, it's a human version of the story in my gallery. Space Sam lives about 60+ years ahead of Pioneer Sam. Eventually, things do get better. Much better. But not for a long time.

I was also heavily inspired by C. S. Lewis' space trilogy (mostly Perelandra and Out of the Silent Planet) and Konrad's Heart of Darkness. Lewis' massive middle finger to British Imperialism is far less dark, and Konrad is one of the most brilliant writers basically ever.

Thanks for reading along. See y'all around.