Cosmic Breed

He wiped the sweat from his brow, astonished at how thick that substances was. It was comparable to eome embalming fluid mixed with anti-inflammatory gel. Thankfully, he didn't have to sweat anymore and the mana flowers were all tended to. None of the shrubs were overgrown and not a fern or rose bush lay out of place. And as he set his shears beside the pliers, trowel and watering tin, he let loose a low, gutteral breath.

So yard work, utterly usurping the throne of Earth's dominant species and preparing for contact. There was... an immense work load towering over him.

When he pondered the rewards for completing his mission, however, he couldn't afford not to smile. Someday, they would all understand why. And when they did, their hybrid children wouldn't be born incapable or frail; they'd be soldiers and warriors and praetorians. Just as he strolled along the courtyard, he was subject to an obnoxious summons.

"Fluttershy...! Fluttershy?! Hey, Shutterfly! Where are those flowers you were supposed to get...!"

The tone was... raspy. Scratchy at the end of every word. Her voice brought fond memories of a place down south; one where tropical jungles and lethal wildlife blanketed the land in darwinism. There, he'd learned many things, but, perhaps the most important lesson was: be silent and keep cool under pressure.

So, like the ambassador he was, he sat quietly on a nearby bench. They would show him no harm. And even if they did, they'd be flooded with sodium just after. Waiting for contact entailed odd, jarring noises that he couldn't even begin to decipher. Something akin to cannon fire, an extended squeaking noise, some devil with shrill enthusiasm and the previous scratchy voice perked his interest.

"So I said: why would you sit on a cake?" The pink one posed, just around the curner and finally visible.

"I don't know; that is weird. I mean if you have french cream on an ice cream crumble then what's the point, you know?"

To his surprise, they froze on sight. What an odd species. Haven't they ever seen a man, or a human host before. He couldn't find a proper way to greet them, so he settled for a smile and a single wave over. He had trouble discerning what they were. They were equines with avian qualities and even traits of predatory species. Their widspread eyes were not atypical of dominant species, or apex predators in general. And their typically stocky frame was no exception from the list of advantageous traits of a long-lived race.

There they darted eyes betwixt him and one another. The rainbow pegasus buckled in her legs and struck her friend on the shoulder. For what good it could accomplish, he did his best to understand their frantic whispers.

"Pinkie...!"

"Ow! What!"

"Is that what I think it is?!"

"What- Oh you mean like Her?"

"Yes! What the hell is that thing doing here!"

"You think I know...! I can't believe we're having this conversation right now."

"Me neither... So how about you run away and I distract it?"

They clapped hooves and cheered in that same, amusing volume of barely audible speech, but so distinct a sound that it couldn't be ignored. And when the one called Pinkey sped around the corner, only to peak her head out in dangerous curiousity. He broke into a grin. Although he didn't mind, something puzzling happened. For whatever reason, that cyan horse unit grew hot red.

Maybe it was the same reason the canary yellow one started blushing. But for her, he hadn't the possibility of an idea. So he stood, stretching his limbs and aching comfortably in his arms. Yard work, or manual labor of any kind, was a blessing for the vessel.

Assuring that maybe their species was an alien breed or some form of recent settler, he raised his left arm high and positioned his right arm straight to the side. When Pin Ki caught the barest glimpse of it, she asked to borrow a fone(?) from her whispermate and scrambled off into the bushes.

A simple teacup admonished the surrounding air with steam. He rubbed the back of his head in both humility and apology. There was no way he was touching that. But, kneeling just enough to reach the china itself, he dipped his head forward and gulped it down with his pharyngeal jaws. The elongated neck of his extra oral component fascinated his newest friend, they being a lavender horse with a horn.

"How did you know he was an extra terrestrial, Pinkie...? Did he happen to leave any blatant clues, or was it just your Pinkie sense this time?" Twilight inquired, shielding her snout with a clipboard.

"Well, uh... I would say his gesture- yeah, that's what tipped me off. That's the one people are supposed to do when they meet an E.T. So when I saw him using it, I knew he wasn't from around here."

Rainbow scoffed and blew the hair from her eyes.

"Or, you know, because he's on two legs and doesn't look like anything in Equestria."

Whence that callousness grew, it drew a glare from the lavender one. She scribbled an amalgamation of hasty sketches and illegible chicken scratch, stealing glances at her guest whenever convenient. The others were perplexed to no exaggerated degree. The only other mare in the room with the slightest understanding of alien life was Pinkie. And that was due to a not-so-public infatuation with fictitious storytelling.

Rainbow Dash endured the awkward stints of silence by drowning out the machine noise and mouse clicks.

Instead of listening to that dribble, she perchanced a new Daring Do novel titled 'Daring Do and the Madman's Lexicon For The Weird and Cosmic.' She clicked her tongue against her teeth and chuckled. Sounded like an egghead book, but anything by A.K Yearling was an undeniable feast for the imagination. And as she read on about eldritch beings in the looming nothing over the skies of Equestria, she giggled and muffled her lips as the story progressed into a plot of world domination by ancient precursor aliens.

"So, Mr..." Twilight began, scratching her head and fixing her spectacles.

The breed unit curled his lips skyward. After she asked, he closed his fingers and motioned his hand back and forth with his left palm beneath it. Being the scholar she was, his host quickly understood and brought him a full notepad of yellow, line-heavy paper. And with it, a ballpoint pen with silver components.

There, in the ever free meadow of precarious assumptions and half-realized paranoia, he swam through his own libraries of the unknown. He, a guest in their shining and geodetic abode, scribed the most appropriate variations of what could be considered double talk, or, in the language of his odd system's people, 'yumreasa haekuu.'

'You are my kind host

and i am your guest Brood Drone

Unit 679.

you inquire so

about the nature of we

the old martian kin.

i just cant wait to

learn you and your people

im yours as youre mine.'