The old transport shuddered alarmingly as it dropped out of hyper-drive and re-entered normal space-time. On the flight deck, two decidedly alien looking creatures scanned their instruments and flipped switches. The one on the right looked like a bi-pedal porcine with green skin, blonde hair and three eyes arranged in a triangular fashion on his face. He had an emergency checklist propped open on his lap and he was calling out a series of instructions to his partner. The figure on the left might have looked more “human” if it had not been for his pale-white, scale-encrusted skin, large fin like ears and gills running along his neck. He wore a transparent plastic collar through which water circulated, making it possible for him to function in a standard ship’s oxygen-nitrogen environment.

“Ah found it!” the co-pilot announced, pulling a plastic tab from the page he was examining and inserting it into the flight display slot. A diagram along with accompanying data lit up the screen as the piscatorial pilot read the information aloud.

“Gravitational anomaly?” He paused and read further. “Dyson Sphere? What the hell is a Dyson Sphere?”

“It says it’s an artificial structure that encapsulates a primary star and uses it to provide light, warmth and power for lifeforms living on the inside shell of the sphere. Gawd-damn thing must be a couple million or more miles across.”

“Well, that would explain why it caused us to drop out of hyperspace. Something that big would put out one hell of an energy signature. We must have flown too close to its gravity well. That’s what I hate about trying new routes. We’re smugglers, not explorers.”

“Yeah... smugglers with twenty-eight million credits worth of goods and a time-bomb for a passenger. I don’t like illegally transporting a sentient being. There are some places that still execute kidnappers and this guy... whoop! I don’t wanna be anywhere nearby when he wakes up. He’s definitely gonna be pissed.”

The pilot checked his instruments then looked at the short-snouted co-pilot. “You sure about this sphere thing? Sensors don’t show anything out there at all except normal background static.”

“It’s in the book, so it must be true,” the porcine alien replied. “Maybe we should go active with the sensors... You know, get a good look at what’s there. Can’t really see much running on passive sensors all the time.”

“And you can’t avoid what you can’t see,” the pilot agreed reluctantly. “Alright... Give me a one minute sensor sweep, then shut down.”

The co-pilot punched a series of buttons on the console in front of him. One of the display screens shifted function and began to build a diagram of the sphere. Both crewmembers stared at the resulting image. It was a Dyson sphere alright, but like nothing that had been theorized in any text. Instead of a solid metallic shell, its outer skin was pure energy. Being energy there was no albedo, simply a sold black mass of shadow that now blocked their path. Looking at it, the pilot was certain it was as solid as it appeared to be. How this was possible, he didn’t have a clue. All he knew was they were much too close for safety.

The ship lurched as the energy field snagged the freighter and began to pull it in. The pilot’s hands flew across the controls, desperately spinning the ship and applying reverse thrusters.

“No, no, no, no, no, NO!”

“We’re too close!” the co-pilot yelled. “We don’t have enough power to compensate for our present mass. It’s pulling us in!”

“We’ve gotta lighten the ship! Dump the external cargo pods!” the pilot ordered.

The co-pilot cringed visibly.

“If we lose the cargo, the boss is gonna skin us and hang our hides on his wall,” the co-pilot warned him.

“Okay... We can slam into that energy field and go up in the biggest fireball ever seen in this sector of space, or we can stay alive long enough to maybe explain things to the boss. It’s your call.”

The co-pilot looked at their rapidly deteriorating flight path then cursed loudly as he activated the cargo pod release system. Every cargo ship had two kinds of storage systems. Internal cargo sealed in large cargo bays, and cargo pods that could be released from orbit allowing the freighter to make deliveries to a client world without having to actually touch down. The latter feature was quite popular with most smugglers. Each pod was a completely self-contained, unmanned spacecraft and could land autonomously. All of this went through the co-pilot’s mind as he watched eight of their cylindrical pods drift towards the surface of the Dyson sphere.

“That’s got it...” the pilot said, relief stretching his voice thinner than normal. “We’re free and clear of the gravity well.”

“Yeah,” the porcine co-pilot muttered. “It only cost us a cool sixteen million credits,” he said tiredly, sinking into his flight couch.

“Could be worse... maybe we can make-up some of that with our ‘reluctant passenger.’ Considering who he is, he probably has a lot of enemies out there. We might be able to auction him off to the highest bidder.”

“Yeah... about that... I wouldn’t go making too many plans.”

“And why not?”

“The computer jettisoned the cargo pods by mass...”

The pilot stared at his cohort as silence descended across the flight deck. He then sank into his own couch as he absorbed the co-pilot’s meaning.

“Ah SHIT!”

**********

Slowly tumbling end over end, the cargo pods each descended towards the energy field below. When they were less than a thousand kilometers up, something within the field detected them and a series of automated decisions were made. Moments before each cylinder would have crashed into the surface of the energy field a series of strategically placed holes opened up, allowing the pods to pass through into the sphere’s interior.

Once inside, the automatic data collection systems of the cargo pods began functioning and internal sensors began mapping the interior of the sphere. The first thing they detected was a planet located at the center of the sphere. It was blue-green with brown landmasses and white clouds scattered across its surface. Instruments measured its circumference as about 36,000 kilometers. A large moon, approximately one sixth the size of the planet orbited at a distance of some 300,000 kilometers.

The most unusual feature however was a small sun, approximately three times the size of the planet which also orbited about five million kilometers above the planet’s surface. Its surface temperature was sufficient to provide both warmth and light to the planet without threatening its existence. A number of much smaller spheres, each about 100 meters across, orbited about one million kilometers out from the interior wall of the force field. Their albedo reflected energy from the sun and they were organized in rough patterns that, were they real stars, could be described as constellations.

The sensors on the cargo pods detected faint traces of life on the larger planet so, following a pre-programed set of instructions, the cylindrical pods began a landing cycle, all of them descending towards one particular region along the southern coast of one of the larger continents.

**********

Quick Claim dumped another spade full of dirt into a large bucket, then paused, removed his hat before wiping the inside brim and then his own forehead. The amber furred earth-pony tucked the handkerchief back into a pocket on his vest before settling the hat atop his thick, brown mane. He’d been working this spot for nearly a month with little to show for it, aside from a few nuggets of pyrite and one small bag of silver dust. It would be just enough for him to resupply in Kluge Town, providing he avoided places like the saloons and gambling halls.

Maybe it was time he moved on to one of his secondary claims. Perhaps his luck might improve with a change of scene. He reached over to a nearby rock and grabbed his canteen, taking a large swig of water. It was slightly warm, thanks to the desert heat, but clean and thoroughly satisfying. He replaced the plug, then paused as he heard a loud booming sound from the sky. Tilting his hat back, he looked up and spotted what looked like a huge spike falling from the sky. It grew larger and the prospector began to realize that if it continued its plummet, it would imbed itself in the ground less than half a kilometer from his claim.

Moments before it would have slammed into the earth, a gout of flame erupted from the bottom of the spike, slowing its descent until it was hovering less than a hundred meters above the ground. Four spindly legs unfolded from the cylinder’s side and it dropped gently onto the desert sands right where he thought it would. The flame vanished. Before he could react Quick Claim heard another explosion in the sky. Gazing up, he spied a second cylindrical spike falling some distance away before it too settled noisily to the ground about four kilometers away. The process repeated itself six more times with each spike landing anywhere from three to ten kilometers from the first one.

Silence returned to the desert as the earth-pony grabbed his pack, rope, tools and canteen. He began trotting in the direction of the nearest cylinder. Approaching the object, he slowed down and began circling it carefully. It towered more than 100 meters above him and he could feel waves of heat coming off the base where he had seen the flame. The warmth quickly dissipated and as it did Quick Claim became bolder, approaching the base of the cylinder. He spotted what looked like a circular door of some kind about ten meters above the base. He stopped to examine it, then being thoroughly ensnared by his own sense of curiosity he walked toward the door.

When he was about a dozen paces out the cylinder seemed to react to his presence. A small platform extended itself just below the base of the door and a ladder unfolded reaching from the platform to the ground. A set of what appeared to be guard rails also unfolded, flanking each side of the ladder. The steps leading up were both narrow and steep, but after a quick examination the prospector figured he could negotiate them if he took it slow. At this point, most ponies would have hesitated to go any farther, especially alone. Quick Claim though was a rare breed of equine who prized seeking out and finding new things. Had he gone to college instead of the school of hard knocks he most likely would have become an archeologist or philologist instead of a prospector. It hardly mattered though. Degree or no degree he had always been a curious sort of pony, thus climbing the ladder was now his immediate goal in life.

Quick Claim unslung his pack for a moment and pulled a hoof-axe from it, sliding it into a loop on his vest. He then swung it on his back again and cinched up the straps tight. Treading carefully, the prospector climbed the ladder until he reached the platform. Next to the door he saw a small panel with three buttons on it. It reminded him of the traffic signals he’d once seen in Canterlot, so after a little thought he pushed the green one. He was rewarded with a soft hissing noise and the door slid to one side.

Peeking inside, Quick claim saw a small cylindrical chamber with another circular door at the far end. Sensing nothing dangerous about the room, he stepped across the threshold and walked toward the far door. Looking down, he spied the same type of instrument panel that was outside. This one however was on the floor. Once more he pressed the green button. There was the sound of three warning beeps and the outer door hissed closed. The prospector quickly grasped his axe handle, holding it in his right forehoof. The next thing he knew the world was suddenly tumbling sideways. What had been a floor suddenly became a wall and the wall on his left mysteriously became the floor. His tumble came to a quick stop as he face planted into the deck.

Regaining his hooves, Quick Claim saw the inner door slide open. A series of lights began to click on, one after another in a long chain, illuminating a long, narrow chamber beyond. Cautiously, the pony stuck his head through the door. He found himself staring down what looked like a hallway with cargo nets lining each side, behind which were piled what looked like crates. These crates however were not made of wood, or any material he could identify. Touching one with his hoof it felt like something made out of both metal and ceramic at the same time. Each crate also had a smaller control panel in the side with but two buttons, one red and one green.

The air inside the chamber was breathable, however it smelled stale, like the inside of a room which hadn’t been aired out for several months. At the same moment a thought occurred to the pony. Either the cylinder had fallen over on his side when the door closed, or he was actually walking up the inside wall of it as if it were completely normal. His sense of balance didn’t feel off, and he hadn’t heard the raucous noise that would have accompanied the cylinder toppling over, so he must be actually walking up the wall. He wondered what Eyesack Neighton would have thought of this development.

Quick Claim pulled free the cargo netting on one side of the chamber. He began examining the individual crates. There was some kind of writing on the side, but the prospector couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. After only a moment’s hesitation, he gently poked at the green button with his hoof. The top of the crate slid open revealing several rows of clear, hexagonal packages that contained a dark blue, metallic-looking powder. He reached in and lifted one out, staring at amazement at the powder. He decided not to open it, choosing instead to shake it gently. Within seconds the powder began to glow with a soft, reddish-gold color and the package became quite hot to the touch. Setting it down quickly, the pony backed away and watched as the powder settled and took on what he assumed was its normal blue sheen. He carefully put the package back in its crate and closes the lid.

Looking past the crate, Quick Claim saw a large rectangular tube about three meters in length and standing upright against the wall of chamber. It appeared opaque in a sparkly, frosted sort of way and was plugged into some kind of humming box with a number of different colored lights blinking along its surface. He briefly touched the opaque surface with his hoof which immediately went numb. Jerking his foreleg back he shook it until he could feel a prickling sensation in his hoof. It faded within moments and the pony decides to leave the tube alone for the time being.

Pacing slowly along the chamber, he spied yet another curiously shaped box. He pulls it free from its clamps and opens it. Inside he found a collection of metallic tubes with some kind of writing on the side. Lifting one out he looked down both ends of the tube and discovered his view was blocked by some large object inside. Holding it up, he noticed what looked like a small lever on the bottom and something that resembled both a front and rear sight, not unlike some of the muskets he’s seen used by military ponies. He shuddered slightly when he realized he had essentially been pointing the tube at himself during his cursory examination. He put it back in the crate and closed it without setting it back into its storage clamps.

“Alright... Jest one more, then Ah call it quits fer now,” the prospector muttered to no one but himself.”

Moving further up the chamber, he picked out another crate and carefully opened it. Inside he found a number of flat, circular objects about the size of his hoof. Picking one up, he examined it, staring curiously at the writing on the bottom of it while avoiding pushing the big red button on top. He tilted it up on one side, squinting at what looked like a series of either letters or numbers. Holding the object edgewise between his two front hooves while he balanced on his back ones was not the best way to maintain a firm grip. He discovered this when the object abruptly slipped free from his grasp and fell to the floor, big, red, button-side down.

There was a blinding flash and bright jagged fingers of electric plasma arced out lancing their way around the chamber. Moments later the lights went out, followed by the gravity generator. The world suddenly tilted sideways and Quick Claim found himself falling back the way he came. His front hooves scrabbled for purchase and hooked onto the cargo netting on the opposite side of the chamber bringing his fall to an abrupt halt. There was a cacophony of crashing and shattering sounds that seemed to fill the pony’s whole world as a number of crates pulled free from their locking mechanisms and tumbled down the former horizontal passageway.

The noise seemed to go on forever, but in fact lasted but a few moments as normal gravity asserted itself. Somewhere in the confusion, Quick Claim lost his hat. His ears ringing, the pony carefully reached into a vest pocket and pulled out a flexible headband that held a glowing crystal in a small, circular, tin reflector. He stretched the band across his head, then began slowly climbing down the sixty meters or so of cargo netting to the bottom. Reaching it, the prospector quickly discovered that at least half-a-dozen crates were now blocking access to the door leading out. The sight brought to mind all the different times he’d been cautioned by others that curiosity tended to kill cats... and ponies alike. Well, he mused, it was a mess... but not necessarily an insurmountable one.

Quick Claim plopped himself down on his hindquarters to think on how to proceed next. His musings however were abruptly cut off by the sound of a heavy grunt behind him. The earth-pony whirled, throwing his prospector’s light on a tall, broad-shouldered figure behind him. It stood more than two and a half meters tall on a pair of thick, metallic, didigrade legs. Its head was that of an equine with a broad, thick, white mane hanging down to a point below its shoulders, which, along with its arms were also metallic. It had on its head a band running from ear to ear with what the pony guessed was a thin, flexible horn bending backwards over its mane.

The creature nickered something in some unfathomable tongue. From the deepness of its voice Quick Claim assumed it had to be male.

“Who... or what are you?” the prospector asked as he slowly backed away until his flank bumped into an overturned crate.

The creature stared angrily at him for a moment, then closed his eyes. His horn glowed briefly. When it stopped, the figure opened his eyes again and glared down at Quick Claim. “Alright,” he said in halting, broken Equish. “Let’s try that one again. “WHO THE BLAZES ARE YOU AND WHERE THE HELL IN NEW TEXAS AM I?”

Author's Note

And off we go on another adventure. An MLP western (or since the Badlands are south of Canterlot would it be a southern) Well... no matter what it is, here's hoping you enjoy the ride.