Fallout Equestria: Mothership Eta

1,268 years ago, Sopiro City, planet Nyjord, Epsilon Eridani system…

I look out from eyes that are not my own, feeling the movements of a body unfamiliar to me. I stand upright in front of a gigantic terminal screen. I'm human. Another human stands beside me, only slightly taller than me. We speak in a language I have never heard before, but I'm somehow able to understand it as if I had known it my entire life. Just like I somehow know my name is Adeline, and my companion's is Evan. And how I somehow can read the mysterious script on the screen. And somehow know the planet we're discussing is the one where I will be born over a thousand years later. I speak first.

“We are talking about the same planet, right? Phi Hydrae b? The one with the irregular rotation and the wobbling sun?”

“That’s right. We finally managed to send some probes that weren’t immediately destroyed upon system entry.”

“What? That system was like a black hole! Do you have any idea how much money was poured into figuring out what was going on there?”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know. But the fact remains, we now have multiple feeds coming back from low orbit around that planet.”

“How? How did you manage that? Evan, we’ve been sending out probes for fifteen years!”

“Honestly? Disguises. There’s an intelligence there that must have been taking out everything else we sent. But if the probe looks like a space rock, it’s not recognized as a foreign object.”

“You’ve confirmed an intelligence on the planet?”

“More than that. We’ve confirmed it -- they -- are responsible for the irregularities in the orbital mechanics.”

“That’s impossible. Nothing can move a celestial body like that.”

“And yet it moves. Here, let me show you. Keep an eye on the moon’s position.”

“...Is that a unicorn?”

“Alicorn, technically. See the wings? Now watch. The horn lights up purple, and right there, the moon shifts fifteen degrees ahead in its orbit.”

“Unbelievable. You’re sure this is accurate?”

“I’ve got over a hundred examples I could pull up for you. And just as many for the sun. Different alicorn, different target, but same effect.”

“Fuck me. I knew psi was a thing, but on this scale? It’s more like magic!”

“No argument here. Keep in mind, those are the two most powerful beings we've detected. But as far as we’ve seen, every single creature on the planet has some amount of psi. And when I say ‘some amount,’ it’s still orders of magnitude more powerful than the strongest human.”

“Incredible. They’re going to throw every award ever created at us!”

“Hmm… In that case, I may need a bigger office.”

“You got it. Shit, you’ll probably get an entire wing of the building!”

Two years later…

Same planet, same city, same humans, slightly different location. I rush breathlessly into a room where Evan stands, closely inspecting a printed report. He turns to greet me as I enter, but I speak before he can.

“Evan, you’re not going to believe this.”

“Adeline? What is it? Did they cancel the manned expedition?”

“No, that’s still going on. But we may have to expand its scope.”

“Expand the scope? Why?”

“You’ll want to sit down for this one.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how to feel. Seriously, you should take a seat. You know I was guest lecturing last week, right? And of course everyone wants me to talk about what we’re doing here. Well, one of the undergrads came up to me after the lecture. She said the pictures I showed looked an awful lot like something they had learned about in her Archaic Entertainment course.”

“Archaic Entertainment?”

“Some kind of core credit elective. I had never heard of it either. But she told me there was an entertainment program from the beginning of the 21st century that class had covered a month prior. Strikingly similar to the probe images.”

“21st century? Why are they studying that? That’s 1800 years ago! Pre-spaceflight!”

“Not quite pre-spaceflight. It was the chemical propulsion era, prior to expanding beyond the Earth system, but they were definitely post-spaceflight.”

“Either way, that’s still a ridiculously long time ago!”

“Yes. Which makes this next part even wilder. I checked out that old program, Evan, and the similarities are beyond coincidental. Everything is stylized, but the creatures, abilities, location… it’s all spot on. Even to the point of the orbital anomalies!”

“Shit… And there’s no way they could have known about our mystery planet?”

“Not a chance. There's no way their technology could have detected a planet outside their own system! And that’s not even getting into the specific details of the planet’s inhabitants!”

“Ancient psi development then?”

“That’s the only explanation that makes sense. But there’s more. There’s a surprising amount of interest in that old program. It’s been included in the Archaic Entertainment course for a number of years, and there are quite a few students -- current and former -- that have taken a liking to it. And once word got out that there’s a planned expedition to a planet that’s almost identical to their favorite program… well, the number of qualified volunteers has increased exponentially.”

“How exponentially are we talking?”

“Thousands. Tens of thousands.”

“Wow. I’m glad you had me sit down. Looks like we’ll need to pick another asteroid to convert.”

Eight months later…

Epsilon Eridani system, 10 km above Asteroid Eitri Alius. Evan and I stand in the observation room of an executive transport, gazing out at the nearly completed research vessel.

“It’s hard to believe how quickly this progressed.”

“I know what you mean, Adeline. Supervisor Ngcuka was telling me how lucky we were to find a mined-out asteroid that still had its surface mostly intact. Even so, I wasn’t expecting to leave for another year, at least! But look at it. The Bussard ramjet finished installation yesterday and equipment loading is past seventy percent. In just under a month, the Metaroido will be under way!”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate that name?”

“You have. Several times.”

“And I’m going to mention it again. Seriously, for a first-of-its-kind starship, you’d think Senator Thang would go for something more creative! But no, we need a ‘basic template that will stand the test of time.’ I wish I could take back my decision to let him name the damn thing.”

“And as you’ve noted before, he was the one who pushed its creation through Congress. We needed him. Giving him naming rights is a small price to pay.”

“But still. ‘Metal Asteroid?’ Most of it isn’t even metal!”

“It’s just a name. Don’t worry about it. We won’t even be able to see it from the inside.”

“It’s the principle, Evan. I hope all the letters fall off.”

Thirteen months later…

Phi Hydrae system, Research Vessel Metaroido, 200 km above planet Equus. Evan and I stand in a spacious room, accompanied by Chief Engineer Randall Kodjo. We take in the wreckage of what was once the Metaroido’s massive jump drive. Randall speaks first.

“As you can see, this damage goes beyond mere sabotage.”

“No kidding. I assume there’s no chance of repairing it?”

“Absolutely none. Even if we repaired the structure, the pentaquark core was vaporized. Without it, there’s no getting back into jump-space. They knew exactly what they were doing. We’re stuck here.”

“He’s right. Synthesizing pentaquarks is far beyond this ship’s capability. And Equus will need millenia of technological development before it can create exotic matter on its own. Our only option is calling for help. Maybe they can divert another Metaroido to pick us up.”

“Fucking hell. All right, I’ll head up to IT. See if Nyjord is picking up yet.”

A deep rattle shakes the room. Bits of dust fall from the ceiling. Randall puts his hand to his ear. He’s receiving a message. He shakes his head.

“Ma’am? They just took out the hangar. At least thirty dead.”

“Damn. Adeline, you better get to IT before they destroy the transmitter too.”

Three minutes later…

Communications room, level 45. I frantically tap at a touchscreen. Words appear: Sopiro University, Nyjord. There’s no image. Audio only.

“Nyjord! Are you receiving?”

“We hear you, Metaroido. Make it quick, it’s not a good time to talk.”

“Is that Pamela? I don’t care how busy it is, Pam, we’re in deep shit here! We need assistance!”

“You and the rest of the galaxy. I’ll mark you down as surviving, but that’s all I can do. You’re pretty low on our triage list.”

“Surviving? Triage? What’s going on?”

“Massive simultaneous attacks across the entirety of human space. Uprising centered around Sharatan. We’ve lost contact with three-quarters of our remote research teams. There’s a fleet battle taking place in high orbit and I need to get back to setting up a backup command center in case our side loses.”

“Pam, listen! We’re trapped here, we need you to send help!”

“Nyjord out.”

I stare at the screen for several moments before speaking quietly to myself.

“Sharatan. Didn’t think the bastards would actually do it.”

I activate my command chip and access the emergency function menu. I trigger the timed lockdown. One minute. I turn on shipwide communications. Everyone will know what is going on.

“This is Research Lead Vong. The Metaroido has been disabled by mutineers. I am initiating a total lockdown. You have forty-five seconds to reach whatever location you believe will be safe. Good luck to you.”

I log off and snap my command chip in half. Even if they reach me, it won’t do them any good. I look out the window at the extensive array of stasis pods. If the fighting continues for too long, they’ll be my salvation. Ironic that I originally argued they were unnecessary.

Five days later…

Same room, same Adeline. I'm trapped with hundreds of others in the IT section. Fighting continues, though thankfully not on these levels. The transmitter was destroyed, but we are still able to receive signals from other human worlds.

They call it the Breakdown. As the uprising spreads, fewer and fewer planets are able to communicate. After four days, there was only one voice still broadcasting. Today there are none. They planned their revolt well, even bringing agents onto the Metaroido.

The Metaroido. I hated that name. Now most of the lettering has been blasted off the ship’s surface. Only three letters remain: ETA. It’s an improvement, but not worth the price paid.

I turn to address my audience. Their eyes are begging for hope, but I have none to give.

“I can’t contact the other departments. Communication lines were severed to some, no one is left alive to answer in others. Our food stores won’t last much longer. There is no choice. We must enter the pods. The uplink system is activated, so we’ll be able to talk to each other while our bodies sleep. I’ll continue to monitor internal communications from my pod, so we’ll know when it’s safe to come out. I wish I had better news for you all, but all we can do now is survive.”

Many nods, many tears. We all disperse, each heading to our own pod. Our aging will be slowed, but not halted. It’s only temporary. The fighting will stop, and the IT department will emerge, unscathed.

More memories. The fighting continues for longer than anyone could have predicted. The barriers in the uplink system begin to break down. No one is sure where their mind ends and the others begin. Leaving the pods is impossible now. We are IT no longer. We are the Analysts.

The fighting stops. Communication is reestablished between levels. The crew has split into factions. A treaty is signed, dividing the Eta into spheres of influence. The original mission is rejected. The creatures on the planet below are now resources to be harvested. Care must be taken to prevent them from noticing; they would surely destroy the Eta if they knew it was here.

Capture quotas are established by the former security team. Guros, they call themselves. The Analysts receive two ponies per year. In exchange, we facilitate communications between the factions. This is an acceptable trade. The ponies’ bodies are not well preserved by the stasis. New minds are always valued. The pony language is learned and incorporated into the analysis.

Centuries pass. We reach the time predicted by the archaic entertainment program. The princess returns from her exile, the ancient Elements are recovered. We Analysts watch closely; the events taking place on the surface are an exact copy of what the program predicted.

Other factions rediscover the program; there are calls to bring aboard the main characters. This cannot be allowed; reality must follow the program to allow for the most complete analysis. An exception is made for the duplication episode. A few duplicates will not be missed.

Our duplicate arrives. She responds better to the stasis procedure. She is an enigma. Her mind cannot be incorporated. She predicts the future. An oracle. Valuable beyond belief.

The safeguards were insufficient. A divergence occurs. The student does not ascend. The program is no longer accurate. The divergence grows. An unanticipated war begins. Disaster.

The divergence provides an unexpected boon. A new pony-made chemical allows the duplicate’s originator to greatly amplify her prophetic powers. The chemical is applied to the oracle. It produces the same effect. More knowledge is gained. The oracle accesses the network in defiance of the consensus. Her link is removed.

The war escalates. The unthinkable happens. Millions die. Worse, an observation satellite decays and crashes into the wasteland. A terrible loss of data acquisition capability.

The crash site is remote, but precautions must be taken to prevent discovery of the Eta. Any trespassing creature is immediately brought aboard. The most recent is a brown earth pony. The one the oracle predicted. His progress will be closely followed.

But I'm not just Adeline Vong. I'm every single one of the Analysts. Both before and after we became one mind.

I'm Gene Tararo, the last Analyst to keep my mind separate as the barriers fell, feeling my fear turn to joy as I surrender my individual thoughts to the group.

I'm Audrey Tambuyong, the Sharatani outcast, who rejected my leaders' belief that we should dominate the stars in favor of exploring them, yet finding that their influence reached me even here.

I'm Frances Hagel, originally of Earth, following my boyfriend to the distant planet of Nyjord and sharing his passion for antiquities, only to be abandoned when I was chosen to join the Metaroido and he was not.

I see thousands, millions of thoughts flying by me. It seems to last an eternity, but somehow I know it’s only taken minutes. At last the barrage stops, and I’m once again alone in my own mind.