Prolouge
The Equestrian Solar System, is not, in fact, as ancient scientists had once believed, geo-centric. With the invention of advanced mathematics and devices such as the telescope, this belief was quickly shattered when the many races inhabiting the planet of Equis first turned their heads to the heavenly bodies floating above to study. What they found were, after many years of scanning the night sky, and improving technology and magic, eight planets orbiting their home star, of which they had learned was just a number of many in the universe. Most had a few visible Moons, and some of the larger ones even had spectacular rings, visible to anyone with a telescope. They learned how to track their movements across the celestial plane, how to predict the passage of solar and lunar eclipses. But, as time passed, the amount of information that could be gathered from simply gazing at these tiny points of light in the sky began to dwindle, and the scientists of the world were left to speculate with the surprisingly small amount of information available to them. With the gaps in the data proving numerous, the people of the small planet were left to their imaginations and unanswered questions of what could be beyond their blue sky, questions of life, the universe, and everything. But there was one question that troubled them more than all others, one that kept the highest of minds awake at night pondering.
Are we alone?
Far beyond the orbit of the gas giant Soln, the largest and last planet in the Equestrian System named so after the shiny gold color given off by it and its rings, something flashed into existence. It was a stubby cylinder, a multitude of antennas, solar panels, and other types of scientific equipment and miscellaneous thingamabobs and doodads sticking off at strange angles covering the surface. It had been designed for practicality, not looks.
There was no indication nor response from the machine at arriving at its new location. Dormant, it drifted towards the center of the system, following the pull of the yellow star of the system known as PH-34564 to all but those who lived there.
If it had continued on its current path, the strange metallic device would have been accelerated by the massive pull of the star’s gravity, skimming so low over the sun’s surface as to fry any rudimentary electronics the craft may have contained, before spitting the husk of fried metal back into deep space from where it came, with no one but whatever divine being had created the universe knowing of its sudden appearance around this unremarkable star. But something got in the way of its journey. Namely, a very large rock.
The probe, for that’s what it was, happened to pass close enough to this large rock to be attracted by its gravity. The probe’s internal guidance computer, that had, in fact, not been dormant this entire time and had been silently taking readings and measurements of each and every planet and moon in the system as it careened towards the sun, registered this change in trajectory and made the necessary equations to predict its new path. Unfortunately, it found that it would pass right through this planet's atmosphere, and at interstellar speeds, would leave much the same effect on the probe as its former path. Fortunately, it had a heat shield.
With one last burst of static from its transmitter, the metal cylinder began to fold up all the antennas, solar panels, scientific equipment and the miscellaneous thingamabobs and doodads into the body, oriented itself in the proper position for aerobraking, before, with one final beep, entered low power mode.
“Look Princess! A shooting star!” A small purple unicorn filly shouted, pointing up at the night sky.
“Hmm, so it would seem.” The larger white alicorn said, watching the bright dot shoot across the horizon. She smiled, finding an opportunity for further learning. “Say, Twilight, what can you tell me about shooting stars?”
“Ooh! Ooh! Shooting Stars, otherwise known as meteors, are…”
It would be many years before they realized how much that meteor would change not only their lives, but the lives of every single member of two civilizations, light-years apart, who both look up into the sky and ask the ultimate question…
Are we alone in the universe?
Chapter 1: Liftoff
“Booster?”
“Go flight.”
“Retro?”
“Go flight!”
“FIDO?”
“Go flight.”
“Guidance?”
“Go flight.”
“Surgeon?”
“That's a go.”
“EECOM?”
“Go flight.”
“GNC?”
“Go!”
“TELMU?”
“Go flight.”
“Control?”
“Go flight.”
“Procedures?”
“Go.”
“INCO?”
“...Go flight.”
“FAO?”
“Ready flight.”
“Network?”
“Go!”
“Recovery?”
“Go flight.”
“Capcom?”
...
“Capcom?”
“We’re go!”
“Control, this is Tracking, we are go for launch.”
“Roger Tracking. Siderea, you are go for launch.”
“Three, Two, One, Liftoff!”
The rumble of the engines momentarily drowned out whatever Control was saying as the Mainsails reached their full thrust and the launch clamps holding the large rocket down gave way, sending the cylinder shooting up into the night sky.
“Come again Control?”
“Siderea, you're looking fine. Everything is nominal. You are go for orbital insertion, although you know the drill by now Jeb.”
“Yea, I did. Until you and your pack of crazies down at the R&D department went and made some crazy computer to puts me out of business Gene!”
I HEARD THAT MechJeb beeped at him.
“Siderea, booster sep in 20 seconds.”
“Roger Flight.”
The sudden deceleration and reacceleration that came with the separation of the SRBs would surely have rattled any first-time flier, but Jebediah Kerman was anything but. Survivor of countless space disasters, commander of over 30 missions, the first Kerbal to orbit Kerbin and set foot on both Duna and the Mun, and an all-round badass, it was an insult to say that Jeb was a professional, and it was said that nothing short of rapid catastrophic unplanned disassembly or a sudden visit by the Kraken could wipe the grin off his face. The same grin he wore through every landing, takeoff, and EVA he had ever taken part in.
This was life, he told himself. Life was shooting through the atmosphere at speed in excess of Mach 4, piercing the heavens to travel beyond the sky. This was what he lived for, the thrill of it all. The other members of his flight, however, not so much.
“You boys okay back there?” He called out to the two boys who were gripping onto the straps for dear life. He grinned. “What? They not send you on a few runs in the centrifuge? Yo Gene, what's with these greenies on my ship? This isn’t a training mission!”
IF YOU HAD ACTUALLY BEEN PAYING ATTENTION DURING THE BRIEFING, JEB, YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT, BECAUSE THIS IS AN INTERNATIONAL MISSION, THESE TWO COMPLETE THE REQUIREMENT OF MORE THAN FOUR NATIONALITIES, MechJeb beeped at him in an annoyed tone.
“So, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, I at least need to get to know your names. So, name, occupation, where you're from, quickly!”
“First stage sep, 20 seconds.”
The distinctive thunk of the first stage falling away echoed throughout the spacecraft as the first of their group began talking.
“I am Prince Radford of the Great Kerthenian Empire, ambassador to the Kerbal Union! I was born and raised in our great city of-”
“Oh god. I’ve got a stuck-up prince on my ship.” Jeb mumbled to himself as the sky outside turned from blue to black, signaling the transition from atmosphere to empty space. “Ok, ok, I get it.” He said, interrupting the Prince’s monolog. “So what about you?” He asked, turning to the last occupant of the capsule.
“My name is Danny, I'm an engineer. I grew up in-” A shudder shook the craft, silencing the crew.
Jeb glanced back at the panel in front of him. “Control, we’ve just received some shudder. Anything you can tell us?”
“Seems to just be a piece of the first stage that was stuck on burning off. Nothing to worry about.”
Jeb sighed and shook his head, before sitting through the rest of the ride in silence, as the blue sky of Kerbin slowly receded behind them.
