Chapter One: Of Storm Clouds
The year is 2058. For the past seven years, Earth, Humanity’s home, has been at constant war with an undefeatable menace: the Friedrich Singularity. A descendent bubble universe of our own; very different, but very alike as well, has pierced the weakened veil of space-time around the Singularity, and latched onto the greatest gravity well closest to its emergence: Earth. For seven years, the alliance between the inhabitants of both universes have worked together in order to ensure the survival of both worlds, and all sentient beings that live upon them. One such effort, a last ditch, sure effort in the wake of the new threat was devised:
Conversion.
Within the parallel universe, there existed a particle; a particle that was very uncommon in our universe, but existed within every single atom in its counterpart. The particle was unpredictable, uncontrollable, and immensely strange.
The Thaumaton proved to be the only reason the inhabitants of Earth were unable to survive within the bubble universe.
The barrier between worlds was, of course, not impenetrable. While the man was unable to cross over, the Equestrian was. The dominant species of the planet, the Equestrians, was a race of small equine creatures that thrived upon the Thaumatically abundant world. They had evolved into Thaumatically proficient beings, capable of manipulating the very atoms of an object on a subatomic level.
The Pegasi were capable of atmospheric manipulation, able to bend the skies to their will in order to produce better growing seasons for the terrestrial lands. Unable to fly without Thaumatic assistance, their wings are useless without the abundance of ambient Thaumatic Energy.
The Unicorns were able to control particles right down to the subatomic level, able to manipulate objects, teleport, and utilize any number of abilities. Without Thaumatic Energy, Unicorns are still able to do these things, but with greater effort, as they are drawing upon their own supply of Thaumatic Energy, normally stored in Thaumatic Batteries.
Earth Ponies are capable of terrestrial manipulation, as they are able to channel high quantities of Thaumatic Energy into plants in order to inspire growth and development. Earth Ponies, with the assistance of Thaumatic Batteries, are able to utilize their abilities on Earth, but normally refrain from doing so due to the damage it may cause to Earth crops.
Meeting shortly after the emergence, an alliance was formed between the two species, and the race to find a better future for Humanity was on. Almost immediately, an idea was proposed: If Human anatomy was tolerant to Thaumatic Energy, then there wouldn’t be a problem. By altering Human DNA, we could successfully withstand the Thaumatically charged universe across the barrier. However, there was a problem. If you change something about one thing, something else is bound to change as well. By successfully altering one portion of Human DNA, another, even larger section of it became incompatible with the rest.
The solution to this problem was not taken lightly. Instead of converting Human DNA into modified Human DNA, Human DNA could be completely rearranged into that of an Equestrian’s. With Equestrian DNA based off of our own, the chance of the procedure’s success doubled. By imbuing Nano-machines with Thaumatic Batteries, the process could become extremely efficient.
However, in the early days, conversion was risky business. The potion formula wasn’t yet perfected, and conversion often meant the possibility of rejection, and frequent mental trauma, which is very common to this day. This revolutionary technology wasn’t received well at first, but throughout the coming years, the technology improved, and a majority of society came to accept the norm.
Conversion, though, was only the first solution to be formed in the wake of such a catastrophic event.
On January first, 2058, mankind was about to witness the birth of the greatest scientific advancement of all time, and a new hope for the future. However, nothing ever goes truly as planned.
The tall, dark haired man pondered the skyline with his ruthless, appraising gaze. He was a man of the future; an innovator, and would stop at nothing to shape the world in his visage. He’d already done it, in fact. He opened the door to the final frontier, gave sight to the blind, created artificial minds, and built an empire worthy of gods… but there was much that he dreamed of, still.
“We’re on the brink of something revolutionary, Walter; something that will reinvent the way we’ve perceived reality for the past seven years.” Another, considerably older man drifted out of the shadows of the large polished office, joining his protégé, and colleague.
“You’re treading in dangerous waters here, friend. This technology… it’s far beyond anything the world has ever seen. It’s far beyond anything that I’ve ever dreamed possible. I’ve watched as you’ve built this company; this empire of yours, from day one. And never have I imagined that it would become this: Humanity’s last greatest hope. Our future rests in the hands of you, my student.” The younger of the two men spun lightly on his heel, and stalked away from the entrancing vista of the city abroad.
“The future of Humanity has been in my lap ever since the Singularity appeared. The future is everyone’s responsibility, just as it is mine… some just have more influence over it than others. I’m very guilty of changing history, just look around. Everyone has the potential to turn history in one direction or another, but few men have the power to do it at the drop of a hat. If I give them this…” A hologram blipped into existence over the heads of the two scientists and friends, “It will do just that, and undoubtedly, the true history and nature of the device will inevitably reach the ears of the public before we intend, and when it does… only fate knows.”
“You know of what will come of all this, don’t you? There are so many who believe that conversion is the only path; the only way to save themselves from the coming storm. The PER will surely stop at nothing to ensure that this technology, and all of its secrets, are destroyed without a single trace. They’ve grown much since their inception, and I daresay that they have achieved technology far beyond what the public perceives. However, it only exists in order to benefit their own supposed ‘innocuous’ cause. I doubt they even know what they’re doing. In this, they will undoubtedly fail to reason that this is truly mankind’s last stand, and our chance to repair our mistakes will simply slip away.” The older of the two men spoke as he gazed down upon the city below, his weary, pale eyes casting a ghostly, forlorn reflection on the Chromiglass.
“The PER is only half of the problem. Even before this mess, back when it all began, we had to deal with the Terra Unum. Remember all that nonsense about how, by leaving Earth, and colonizing Mars, that we were defying god, and the laws of nature? They knew, then, that we were on this path; they knew that we would get here eventually, and the technology would be created to do… well, this.” He gestured again to the hologram, which was currently displaying a diagram of the machine, and how it worked, “They’re almost nonexistent to the masses, now: disorganized and scattered religious terrorists under the new banners of the HLF and PER. But you and I know better. They’re waiting for the day when we reveal this, and when we do, they’ll strike. Hard. And when they do, we’ll have to be ready. The world will have to be ready… but they won’t be. I don’t think Humanity has ever really known what ‘prepared’ actually means…” The man finally collapsed into his exotic leather desk chair. He was getting old, now. He didn’t like admitting it, but he had come to accept it. He had always been perturbed of getting old when he was younger, like everyone, but for him, it wasn’t for the typical reasons.
“We will have to be prepared, even though we can never truly be. I believe that the people have seen enough of this world that it will be a welcome change. I have faith in the majority, but there will always be those who disagree with this. It’s unavoidable. Some have accepted their fate; they will live out their lives in the greatest degree that the universe wills them, and when their ultimate fate comes to bear, they will fall. In the coming days, son, the people of Earth will have another choice to make. Instead of two, they will have three. The first: to wait out the approaching barrier, and when it is upon them, they go to their grave. The second: choose to accept a new life and body in a new world that is as foreign to us as it is to them; to relinquish their own Humanity in order to save their spirits. But in the coming storm, a third choice will arise, my boy: We may choose to flee our struggling world in order to find an existence among the constellations. Humanity has dreamed of the day we will truly leave the surly bonds of our solar system, and explore our universe. That day has come, my friend, and you are its herald.” The older man had since shifted to the center of the younger man's office, and was now speaking directly to him. However, the younger once again rose to his feet, and strode towards the window once again, admiring the view of the city constructed from the spark that he once ignited.
“We’ve been playing God for half a century. Controlled evolution, artificial intelligence, flash-cloning, nano-robotics... And now, we have the very stars themselves within our grasp. These people are only contradicting themselves. To explore, it’s Human nature! We’re just reaching the next step in our natural evolution. These extremists... they have no idea... It's as if they're saying that our discovery of fire was in defiance of God!” The younger man, frustrated, scratched the back of his head vigorously. The older man stood beside him now, and he, too, gazed out at the orange tinted dusk of the city skyline.
“Humanity is, as it always will be, unwilling to change. When new religions in the history of ancient man have arisen, they've always been ridiculed. A similar fate met the introduction of practical science. Every innovation, new idea, or solution invented has always been met with strife. We are unwilling to change, but over time, we come to accept it. We must accept it.” The younger man sighed.
“You’re right, Walter. They cannot stop us.” He set his gaze upon the New Roanoke Spaceport in the distance, and watched as a cruiser ascended into the frigid, fading dusk. As it rose, a glint of the waning sunlight bounced off of its hull, and seemed to illuminate the face of its creator; founder of Martin Industries, and the father of modern space travel.
“They cannot stop the future.”
_____
Chelsea tugged at the collar of her obnoxiously encroaching sweater. About two hours ago, she wouldn’t have parted with it for the world, being mid-winter. However, now it felt as if she’d been locked in a sauna while wearing the heaviest winter clothes in existence. She was practically alone backstage; well, relatively speaking, that is. Several other scientists and security guards littered the room, but most kept to themselves, or in their VIP conversation circles. She lifted her head from her tablet, and allowed herself a slight smirk, “nothing ever changes,” she whispered to herself.
A quick glance down at the time on her portable computer only worsened her anxiety. San Francisco was the last place she wanted to be right now. She wanted to get home so she could finally finish that paper, and see a movie with Toby, like they’d planned three nights ago. Moreover, she wanted to sleep in her own bed again. She knew that she’d probably have to sleep in the VTOL tonight, due to the fact that home was approximately 3,700 kilometers away. Nevertheless, if she had to sleep in the dark, cramped, and noisy passenger area of a VTOL, it was worth it to her just to finally get home.
Over the past five days, she and her party of Martin Industries scientists had travelled to Detroit, New York City, Berlin, Singapore, and now San Francisco. Every year since 2031, the corporation has felt it necessary to present their findings and innovations every year in the form of an expo. However, to Chelsea, it was just the same exact thing every year. Sure, new things were being introduced all time, but it was just the same process being repeated over and over again. She missed her lab.
After several more agonizing minutes of anxiously tapping her foot and staring at the time, the blaring noise of thousands of cheering humans, and possibly ponies, reached Chelsea’s trained ears. Less than a minute later, the room was filled with at least twenty-five more scientists and security guards, along with a few company executives. Standing now, she searched the crowd for the familiar head of what she and so many others called, “Tennant hair”. Finally she found him, his tall, lanky stature paired with his iconic hairstyle made him fairly easy to spot.
“So, how’d it go?” Chelsea stood expectantly before Toby, and cocked a smile.
“I need a drink…” They both shared a camaraderie chuckle as they strayed from the mass of gathered scientists. Chelsea was guessing they’d now be leaving within the hour, or hoping they would be, rather. Their VTOL was waiting for them on the Helipad, but they’d have to wait for five other groups to board their own separate crafts. Her dad was riding with she and Toby, and it was hard telling how long he’d take in there. Regardless, Chelsea could already feel the relief of finally being home.
“The media’s getting restless. Apparently being told to wait for the New Roanoke expo to hear the Space Division speak just isn’t enough. Every division has had something to show for; especially biotech and… well, kitchen appliances. ”
“That’s how it is every year, Toby. I wonder if Eric ever guessed that Martin Industries would end up becoming the world’s leader in Nano-weaved dish towels.” That made him smile, and that was all that she needed from him. He hated doing all of this just as much as her, even more so.
“Yeah, but… I’m worried. Very worried,” They both came to a long, dimly lit hallway leading to the helipads. Toby, seemingly exhausted, collapsed onto one of the conveniently placed benches along the walls, “The other guys aren’t that bad, but the leads, security, and the execs are off the walls. Especially security. Any sudden movements, and I bet they’d pull their gun and shoot, regardless of importance. Haven’t you noticed how your dad’s been acting lately?”
“Sure, I mean, he’s been a bit jumpy lately, so what? These conventions always make him nervous.” Toby sighed, and contorted his face in frustration.
“Yeah, I know, but they know something we don’t, Chell, and it’s not making me feel very safe in the slightest.” He slumped over and curled his fingers together in thought, like a scientist working their way through data; a very accurate description. Chelsea leaned over and wrapped her arm around him,
“Don’t worry Tob, I'm sure, if it's anything at all, it's just something minor. You know how security can get. Remember when Greg brought that pocket knife into the lab? They sealed off the entire floor, including the five above and below it, searched everyone six times over, and took him into custody?"
"Yeah, but there was also an HLF threat that day. They had a reason to be cautious, Chell." Toby glanced at her worriedly, and then returned to his pondering. Sighing, Chelsea leaned back on the bench, exhausted. Though she was determined that they were safe, she couldn't help but realize that Toby's observations were, indeed, correct. She'd taken note of the heightened security several times over the past few days, but hadn't taken much suspicion in it. This was close to normal; there were so many that would give their right arm for just the smallest tidbit of dirt on Martin Industries, and tight security was required at all times, and on all fronts. Before she could ponder the situation further, a tall, sharply dressed man approached the two of them.
"All set?" Chelsea, understanding her father's sudden presence, was, to say the least, a bit shocked. He was the kind of man who would never shut up, and for him to not chat with the others post-event seemed like a crime against the laws of the universe. Nevertheless, she was more than a bit relieved at the sight of him.
"You mean, you're not going to talk with your science buddies for another five straight hours?" He gave a weak smile and laugh, rather uncharacteristic of him. Leaning on the orange tinted window behind him, he lifted his gnarled, worn hands to his face, and vigorously rubbed his red, burning eyes.
"Not this time. Martin's called us all back to HQ early on important business." He crossed his arms, "That's what they told us, but I know it's security's doing. I keep telling them that there's nothing to worry about, but they seem rapt with insisting otherwise." Toby rose from his seat, and stalked over to him.
"So there is a threat? Shouldn't we know about it?" Toby glared at him, fists clenched. My dad regarded him with little apprehension though, and sighed in his direction.
"There's nothing. Just the guards getting riled up over something some idiot said in the break room, most likely. We haven't had any problems with security in months, and we're not having any now. Just be happy that we're leaving early. I sure am." He began to pull an electronic cigarette out of his pocket, but decided against it. He'd been trying to stop, but was inevitably failing. Sighing at his urge to smoke, Chelsea lifted herself from the bench as well.
"Come on, they're probably waiting for us on the helipad. The others will be here soon, and then we'll finally get out of here." Walking down the dimly lit hallway, they found their way outside to the cold, rainy dusk of San Francisco. The dual rotors of the UH-122, or Vulture, as it was commonly called, were already spinning idly, the pilot obviously anxious for take-off. Her father banged three times on the exterior shell, and the large sliding doors vaulted open, revealing a figure in a familiar grey and cyan flight suit who ushered them in.
The passenger area of the VTOL was cramped and dark, but still oddly comfortable. Knowing the fact that she was finally done with the pining eyes of the public made her feel all the better. Sitting down opposite from each other, her father sat closer to the cockpit, while she and Toby opted for the more spacious rear. A small holoscreen on the wall was currently switched to the news, where a rather prim woman was relaying current events.
"More news from the Martin Expo heading your way. We now go to Jared Williams on the convention floor. Jared?"
"Hello again Trish. You can definitely say that the tension here has grown in anticipation of the New Roanoke Expo, where Martin Industries is said to reveal, quote on quote, "the most revolutionary technology the world has ever seen". Many are suspecting a new variant of the standard issue Datapad, but others aren't so sure. Some say that Martin Industries has finally found a way to halt the barrier, or even completely repair the Friedrich Singularity. Regardless, the atmosphere here is completely ecstatic. Back to you, Trish."
"Thank you Jared. Next Saturday will be a memorable day, that's for sure. Be sure to check out our web page for more information on this year's Martin Expo."
As the Vulture began its takeoff, Chelsea sighed, and slouched back in her seat. To her right, Toby was already half asleep, lids fighting to stay open. She chuckled lightly to herself, We'll all need sleep for tomorrow. With the Martin-Graham Translight Engine being revealed on Saturday, they didn't have much time to prepare, and that meant many late nights spent in her lab were ahead. Perfect.
Day-to-day Work seemed better than hauling herself across the world to repeat the same exact speech over and over again, and then receiving the same questions... over and over again. In a week, she'd have to do a variant of it all, but she was anxious for it all to be over. Surely, she'd have a lot of work ahead of her in the coming weeks, but for now, she was very content with the way the world was going to change.
Chelsea, finally succumbing to the comforting whir of the turbines, began to find it hard to keep her eyes open for any longer. Before sleep took her, she took one last glance at her dad, staring forlornly out of the small bay windows.
For a second, she believed that a tear could be seen budding from his bloodshot eyes. However, sleep had already taken hold by the time her mind had even begun to process it.
________
"Chell! Chelsea! Wake up!" With a start, Chelsea bolted from her seat, and was immediately thrown to the floor as the entire craft shook. Toby grabbed her hand, helping her up in spite of the violently erratic movements of the Vulture.
"What's going on?!" Another violent rattle sent them both flying into a wall.
"We're under attack, I tried to tell them-"
"Mayday, mayday! Foxtrot-Echo-Echo Zero-Zero-Four going down! Brace for impact!" Out of nowhere, her father quickly shoved them both into a seat, hit the safety panel, and large padded harnesses came down over them. However, before he could find his way back to a seat, a loud bang rocked the Vulture as it struck the Earth, and her father was tossed about the passenger bay, knocking him unconscious.
"Dad!!" she screamed helplessly. Being locked beneath the emergency harnesses, she could only watch as her father was thrown about the cabin like a rag doll. Closing her eyes, the crash seemed to last forever; the endless quaking beneath them, forever sliding, without coming to rest. Finally, though, after what seemed like a lifetime and a half, the Vulture came to a very abrupt halt that rocked the entire vehicle up on its nose, and then back down again. Slowly opening her eyes, she could see that the entire cabin was filled with dense black smoke, her father hidden somewhere under it. Beside her, Toby was coughing manically, desperately trying to escape the harnesses, but ultimately failing.
Coughing harshly, she hurriedly searched for a way to unlock the safety measure now turned death trap. Remembering that a safety release switch was beneath the seat, she quickly began to search for it. However, with the harnesses restricting her torso, her plan was ultimately rendered obsolete.
"Who *cough* designed these things?!" Panicking, she frantically began to search for alternatives as the smoke oozed into the cabin. Quickly remembering the keypad that her dad used, she located it. However, it was far from her reach. All of the sudden, Chelsea began to feel very odd. Looking around the passenger bay of the Vulture, illuminated by red, pulsating emergency lights that just barely persevered through the thick smoke, she set her eyes on Toby, his form now limp, and his eyes clinched shut. She brought her hands up to shake him awake, but only ended up lightly nudging him with her numb fist. Dizzy and drained, Chelsea fought to keep her eyes open, her thoughts unable to process what was happening anymore. Finally, she allowed the seemingly innocuous sleep to gently take her.
However, just as suffocation had taken hold on Chelsea, the bay door of the Vulture screeched open wildly, as if some powerful wild animal was in desperate need of prey. Three distinct figures cast themselves into the thick blackness, two distinctly Human, and one Pony. Clad in sterile, white combat armor with purple highlights, the three figures radiated through the smoke, as if beacons in the darkness. The Pony frantically came to the aid of the injured man strewn about the floor, and encased him in an ethereal, shimmering glow, as if the properties of the universe itself were being redesigned, and lifted him gently into the air, quickly carrying him through the smoke.
The other two men swiftly came to the aid of the man and woman encased behind heavy duty safety harnesses, one of them brutally punching the release switch. Before the two could slump to the ground, the men caught them in midair, tossing them over their shoulders as if they were playthings.
Outside in the evening Colorado Mountain air, nature was not the only thing currently hanging in the atmosphere. The distinct scent of burning Hydrogen fuel from several crashed Vultures filled the angled nose of the middle-aged man currently standing before three unconscious Humans. His formal dress easily distinguished him from his accomplices, who were all currently clad in militaristic gear. Frankly, he didn't particularly enjoy using militaristic means in order to reach his goals, but it was often a necessity in a world such as this. It was often that he wished that conversion could solve any and all the problems that he faced, but that simply wasn't the case.
"Secure him. Check his vitals, we need him alive, of course. A shame we couldn't speak face to face after all these years, but it should suffice. Run a scan on the others as well." As Zachary Graham was levitated away by another Unicorn, the man finally approached the two other unconscious humans, who were indeed breathing, albeit labored. The young auburn haired man was tall and lanky, a frown gracing his lips. The man felt like he had seen this one before, but couldn't pinpoint it. As his eyes drifted to the girl, his heart seemed to skip a beat.
"No..." Kneeling down to her, he studied her face with a kind of forlorn enthusiasm. That red hair is unforgettable. As he reached out to touch her hands, he quickly thought better of it, and retracted them. With one more solid moment of hesitation, he finally stood up, his eyes unblinking.
"Your call, sir?" He barely even heard the question through the countless vivid memories pouring through his head. Finally, he blinked, and turned to face the soldier, his visor a bright orange.
"O-Oh, yes. They are non-essential, and you know the drill... However, I need two different variants of serum. For this one," he gestured to the man lying on the ground, "and the others, E-78a will do. But... for her," He gestured to the woman, "Secure her, and give her E-78d..."
"If I may, sir, ask as to why?" The well-dressed gentleman grinned, and began to stride back to his unmarked VTOL, its turbines already spinning.
"A favor for a friend. Or perhaps a bargaining chip. We'll see what it becomes." As he climbed into his private VTOL, the door silently slid shut, and it soon disappeared into the night. In the valley below him, a serum dispersal array was hastily being set up around the perimeter of the five crashed Martin Industries Vultures. However, unlike the classic dispersal procedures that the Ponification for Earth's Rebirth organization normally followed, this had one exception. As soon as the red haired Chelsea Graham was secure inside of one of the many state of the art VTOLs the PER utilized, the entire valley exploded in a purple haze, coating everything and everyone in its proximity.
Within the medical bay of a PER VTOL, a Human donned in a white and red jumpsuit was idly pumping a thick purple substance directly in Chelsea's bloodstream. Once the area had been deemed safe for non-hazmat suited Humans, Chelsea was quickly carried back to her previous position, lying next to Toby.
"Will they be okay?" A white armored pony inquired to a Human that was currently boarding the VTOL once again.
"They'll be fine. Their facility in Denver isn't far away, and I guarantee you that this place will be swarming within ten minutes. We got out just in time." As the remainder of the unmarked PER craft fled the scene, a stark, unnerving silence fell over the mountain valley.
The tall, suited man once again found himself pondering the world beyond his organized, but chaotic office. He'd been doing this a lot lately, especially on late nights such as this. This time, however, his reasoning behind doing so relied solely upon the disturbing, but, to an extent, expected news he had just received from his Head of Security.
"Serena, patch me through to Denver." His voice had a distinct edge to it; not that it didn't normally, but regardless, one could tell that something urgent was prying at his vast and experienced mind. Not more than a moment later, the face of a man that he once called his best friend was plastered onto the entirety of his expansive office window. Before the other, visibly anxious man on the window could speak, Martin instead voiced his own immediate concerns.
"Carpenter, what the hell just happened out there?" Martin was visibly boiling with frustration and anger. Carpenter stuttered, attempting to discover the correct words in reply.
"Five of our birds were just shot down over a 10 kilometer radius, south of Greys Peak. Five scientists... including Dr. Zachary Wyatt Graham, are missing. The rest are either dead, as a result of impact, and those who survived were found, albeit converted. Notably among the converted were Veronica Langsley, Friedrich Adler, Tobias Sanders, and Chelsea Graham. The converts are also unconscious, leading my team to believe that a special serum was used: E-78a. They won't be waking up for another 24 hours." He felt a reassuring feeling flow through him at the fact that many of his top scientists and friends were safe, regardless of species. It was far too late in this crisis to care about what species his scientists were, as long as they were still breathing. However, that feeling was quickly and effectively overwhelmed by the fact that his lead scientist, Zachary Graham, had been captured by what was turning out to be, most definitely, the PER. Turning away from Carpenter, he decided that lingering on the subject was not of his priorities.
"Were any others affected by what I'm assuming was a PER assault?" For a stark moment, absolute silence pervaded the sleek office that the man spent the majority of his time in. All of the sudden, the gruff voice of the man on the screen once again berated his ears.
"The town of Keystone, sir. Over half of the population was affected. ConSec's taking care of it." Sighing, the tall, dark haired man shut his eyes.
"Have the converts brought back to HQ. As for the deceased... follow protocol."
"Yes, sir." As the call ended, the window once again beheld the entrancing view of New Roanoke. Martin tiredly ambled over to his desk, and eased himself into it. Rubbing his very slightly wrinkled face with his tired hands, he leaned back in his exotic chair, and closed his eyes.
________
Chelsea was having a dream of a sort. It was that type of dream; not exactly what one would consider a dream, but not far from it either. She wasn't asleep, but she wasn't yet awake. Her mind wandered from topic to pointless topic, only aware of herself lying in bed. For all her oblivious mind knew, she was at home in her warm bed, sleeping in on a Sunday morning, as much of herself that she'd ever be. She dreamed, or thought about being a kid again, playing in a park she was familiar with, yet unfamiliar with, at a school somewhere that could be described in the exact same way. She dreamed about being in college again, sitting in a familiar, yet unfamiliar class that she loved.
Finally, she dreamed that she was lying in her bed, sleeping in on a weekend. However, it didn't take long for her semi-conscious mind to discern sub-conscious thought from reality. Her eyes felt heavy, as if her individual eyelids both weighed more than ten pounds. Her ears felt ultra-sensitive, yet somehow retained the feeling of being filled with water. Chelsea could feel her heartbeat everywhere in her body, coupled with an uncomfortable shallow breathing that she couldn't help. Without opening her eyes, she reluctantly shifted in the soft, warm bed.
Chelsea's entire body felt... strange, to say the least. The feeling was comparable to waking up after a long nap; groggy and drowsy, coupled with an odd ache that encased her body, and forbade her from movement.
She almost whimpered at how dry her mouth was. It felt like she hadn't had anything to drink in weeks, and it was as if someone had dumped a bucket of cinnamon in her mouth. Even her tongue felt numb and achy, just like the rest of her. The lust for water overwhelmed her body's instructions to stay put, and with much effort, she was finally able to open her eyes. However, as soon as she did so, her brain was assaulted by the unfamiliar visual stimuli, and forced them shut again in order to recuperate. Groaning at her body's inability to cooperate, she once again attempted to pry her eyes open with an invisible crowbar.
With one final effort, she fought to keep her eyes from closing again. Before she could investigate her surroundings, something immediately hit Chelsea as relatively strange. After opening her eyes again, the first thing she could see was a picture of her mom on the dresser across from her bed. Normally, without her contacts the image would be extremely blurry. However, at the moment, the image was crystal clear. What? She knew that she wasn't wearing her contacts. She couldn't have been. She'd been without her contacts for days, not having time to pick them up due to the conventions. She'd resorted to wearing her glasses for the past five days, and she was positive that she didn't go to sleep with them on. Befuddled, she slowly lifted her hand up to feel for her glasses.
As her supposed hand touched the side of her face, her brow furrowed due to the multitude of strange sensations assaulting her brain. Her immediate reaction and proceeding conclusion was that she had slept on her hand long enough to damage her nerves. However, that conclusion, and all of her hopes of this being another normal morning were effectively washed away at the sight of what she believed was her hand.
Four inches away from her nose, which, at this point, was not where she thought it was, dangled a small, flat, pale-yellow appendage. Deep in the chaotic center of her brain, the cogs began turning opposite of each other, and the pistons struggled to operate in unison. She knew what the appendage was called, but didn't want to acknowledge it. Rather, she couldn't acknowledge it in her present state. Without removing her fixed eyes from the vexing appendage, she began to raise her other hand to attention as well. To her horror, she once again beheld a strange, flat, pale-yellow... hoof.
Panicking, she frantically and awkwardly kicked her blanket off, revealing the small form of a pale-yellow equine with a brilliant red-orange tail. Chelsea only stared; her eyes wide in shock, disbelief, and... regret. What did she regret? Her once calm, yet shallow and groggy breathing had sped to an almost inhuman pace, and she began to feel lightheaded. In a mad rush to get out of bed, she only worsened her situation as she awkwardly thrashed about, throwing her self off of the bed, dragging the bedsheets with her.
Landing in a lumpy, thrashing tangle of blankets, Chelsea futilely wrestled with the encroaching bedding, attempting to free herself. Her breathing was now short and ragged; her heartbeat reaching impossible speeds. As she struggled to comprehend the current events, Chelsea ultimately found her vision fading, and her useless thrashing slowly coming to a rest. Before her eyes finally closed, she began to retrieve faint memories of the smoke filled cabin of the Vulture.
________
"Will she be okay?" An auburn haired woman inquired.
"She'll be fine. It was shock induced; just a stress faint, nothing serious." The nurse was currently standing over Chelsea, her bedsheets repaired and her diminutive Pony body tucked beneath.
"No, I mean... will she be okay?" The woman frowned; a sorrowful, yet hopeful and reserved show of emotion. The nurse turned away from the Pony resting in the bed, and faced the woman, her fingers interlocked.
"Well, Forced Conversion is extremely traumatic for most, and on numerous occasions, victims are often hospitalized. But, for those who receive the best care and support almost always make a recovery, and are back to themselves in no time," The nurse pulled the woman into an embrace, "Jen, I promise you that she'll be okay. It will take time and effort, but there isn't any reason that she can't make a full recovery." Her tablet pinged, and she released the woman from the friendly gesture, "I've got other patients that need me back in the medical ward, but if you need me, don't hesitate to call me. She'll be waking up soon, most likely extremely thirsty and disoriented, therefore, I'd recommend that you should be here when she does. She'll need her mom."
"Thank you, Kasey. You're a good friend." Standing by the door now, the nurse bowed her head to the woman, and then proceeded to exit the room. However, she abruptly halted, and spun on her heel to face the woman once more, "And Jen... we'll bring him home. Trust me. If Martin is anything, he's persistent, and he will stop at nothing until your husband is home safe." The nurse shot Jennifer Graham one last encouraging smile, which she replied to with a curt nod.
Turning back to her daughter, she inched closer to the unconscious Chelsea with thin, cautious steps. Tears budding from her eyes, she lingered there at her bedside for several crisp minutes, thinking to herself, and acknowledging the world around her. Then, she lifted an unstable, quaking hand. She thought for a long moment, but then, overcoming the strangeness of it all, reached over, and gently placed her hand on the Pony's back. Her own hand was ice cold, but the warmth of the pony, her daughter, radiated, and the sudden emotional influence it had on Jennifer prevented her from even thinking of pulling away.
Tears streaming from her eyes, she stood there in the omnipotent, but fragile silence, only the diminutive breaths of the pony before her invading the clarity of the moment. However small, and insignificant her breaths were to the world, in that moment, they meant everything and beyond to the mother of Chelsea Graham. She couldn't find the words to describe it; even her thoughts themselves were unable to decipher the true meaning behind her emotions. But that didn't matter. Not to her.
Sniffling and wiping her soaking eyes and cheeks with her free hand, she remained standing, her other hand firmly rooted to the peaceful sleeping pony in the bed.
________
Chelsea had a headache. That was the first thing worth taking note of. Slowly and carefully opening her eyes, due to the abundance of morning rays of sunlight she immediately noticed gracing her room, she carefully examined the world around her.
"Ch-Chell?" Her mom's voice. Why was her mom in her room? Not wishing to move her head, mostly because it felt as if someone had replaced her brain with a hunk of steel, she instead swiveled her eyes toward her mother, who was standing over her expectantly.
"M-Mom? What are y-you doing here?" Her voice was weak and strained, a light cough following her words. Her mouth was unbelievably dry, and her entire body was aching from her lack of hydration, "I... I need water..." Taking her hand off her back, which Chelsea didn't know was there, she disappeared for a brief moment, and returned with a foam cup, a straw poking out of the top. She began to reach up and grab it, but her mom quickly grabbed her hand, which was still under the covers, and stopped her from doing so. Giving her mother a questionable glare, she coughed,
"What?" There was an unwavering uneasy emotion pervading the stagnant room. Chelsea was unusually warm, as if someone had cocooned her in an airtight, thick fuzzy blanket. When she moved her hand, it felt labored, like her muscles refused to move.
"Let me do it. Don't move." Her mom offered a visibly forced smile, and shoved the drink into her daughters face.
"But I..." Before she could speak another word, the straw was forcibly shoved in between her lips. Although it didn't take long, Chelsea considered not drinking the substance, but the pondering of her mom's suspicious behavior was easily overridden by her need to drink. In an instant, her grogginess all but vanished, and her senses were reinvigorated by the introduction of water to her body. Before she knew it, her straw was making the telltale sound that signaled the end of her supply of precious water.
However, before she let go of the straw, she noticed something very... indescribable. She couldn't exactly understand it, but her mouth felt... odd. Bigger, somehow, yet smaller. She didn't know. Allowing her mom to regain possession of the cup, she began to return to the fridge.
"No, I'm okay now, mom," She didn't heed her instructions, though. Refilling the cup with more water, she glanced back at Chelsea with a blank expression,
"You need water, Chelly, okay?" Her mind swirled, and for the first time, she began to reopen closed passageways in her brain. She noticed something... peculiar. It was strange and foreign, but at the same time, she felt as if she had experienced the same phenomenon once before. Everything was crystal clear. Not only were her eyes impossibly strong, but all of her other senses were assaulting her with a barrage of noises, smells, and the taste in her mouth was incredibly wretched. One thing, she noticed, that didn't reflect her other senses, was touch. It felt like she was lying on a thin, furry carpet, but it was almost as if the carpet was attached... to her. Befuddled, she pushed her self upwards in the bed with her hands. However, when she attempted to grasp the bed sheets, a strange pain, like small needles penetrating her fingers, radiated up her arm.
"Honey, stop!" Chelsea's eyes went wide as her mother dropped the cup of water, sending it everywhere, and grabbed her shoulders in a vice grip.
"What's wrong?! What did I do?" Her heart beating through her chest, Chelsea currently feared for her life. Above her, her mother stood, pinning Chelsea to the bed as if the fate of the universe depended on it. After what seemed like minutes, her face softened, and Chelsea could feel the pressure on her shoulders being lifted. Her mother, with tears in her eyes, turned away from her daughter, an expression of fear glued to Chelsea's familiar, yet unfamiliar face.
"I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I mean, it's not like you won't find out eventually, right? Just... For right now, don't move, sweety." Chelsea didn't know what to think. What was going on? What did her mom mean by that? Was she in an... accident? And then, all of the sudden, a sharp pain shot through her skull, forcing her eyes to close, and her body to spasm. Digging her face into her pillow, she tried to block out any light that tried to penetrate the fortresses that were her eyelids, and harm her further.
"Chell? Chellsea!?"
"What's going on?!"
"We're under attack, I tried to tell them-"
"Mayday, mayday! Foxtrot-Echo-Echo Zero-Zero-Four going down! Brace for impact!"
The pain slowly receding, she gazed up at her panicked mother with a worried, but serious glare.
"What happened? On the way back, from San Francisco, what happened?" Her mom, frowning slightly, sighed and sat down on the chair next to her bed. Interlocking her slightly wrinkled fingers, she gazed at Chelsea with mournful, but increasingly trying, green eyes.
"Just outside of Denver, in Colorado, the convoy was attacked by insurrectionist forces. Your Vulture went down, just like the others, but you, and Toby, were relatively okay. You passed out from smoke inhalation, is all..." Chelsea settled into her pillow, and proceeded to stare blankly at the ceiling. She would've been able to contemplate the weighty situation, but a strange sensation on both sides of her head prevented her from it. On both sides of the top of her head... it felt like she had pigtails almost, but at odd angles, and it was as if she had nerves in them. How could she have nerves in her pigtails? Why did she have her hair in pigtails on the top of her head in the first place? Frustrated, she huffed, and attempted to draw her mind away from the strange phenomenon. Focusing back on her mother, who was eying her daughter with an odd skepticism she couldn't rightly place, Chelsea's face softened.
"So... Toby's okay, then? What about dad?" Her mother tensed, and turned her gaze towards her interlocked fingers, gripping her hands tightly. Her breath shuttering slightly, she looked up at Chelsea with a forlorn expression which bored itself into her very heart.
"Well, Honey... we... we didn't find him at the crash site. It was you, Toby, and one of the pilots. Your dad wasn't with you." Chelsea gazed at her mother with a blank, unwavering stare. Leaning forward, her mother placed her hand on what felt like her arm.
"Wh-What? What happened to him?" She croaked. Beginning to realize the implications of her mother's words, she could feel her throat tightening, her head being pressed together by two unseen forces, and the beginnings of tears forming around her eyes. She could remember, albeit vaguely, her father being violently tossed about the cabin of the Vulture, and she was sure of the outcome. The trauma he likely received pared with smoke inhalation formed a dreadful image in Chelsea's fragile mind.
"Now, sweetie, we aren't sure, but... your dad's GPL implant is still transmitting, I've been told. But... the signal is being scrambled, and they can't locate him." Chelsea sniffled, tears streaming out of her eyes.
"He's dead. I know it." Her mother seemed to recoil at that, not expecting her daughter's reaction to be so straight forward.
"Chelsea, we would've found his body. Only one of the five Vultures that went down exploded, and yours wasn't one of them. It wasn't just a blind attack... It couldn't have been..." Pausing for breath, she continued, "Sweetie, he's alive. I know he is. We'll find him, and everything's going to be okay, alright? Chelsea, honey, listen to me. Chel...sea?" In that single moment, Chelsea Rebecca Graham's entire life was flipped upon its head. Her mother gaped in shock at what she was witnessing before her.
Chelsea was currently granting loft to a dainty, recently tear stained, pale-yellow hoof mere centimeters from her now large, inhuman, brown eyes. Her tears fading now, she only stared in what could've only been described as confusion at the unexplainable appendage she was currently gawking at. Without even noticing she was doing it, she slowly lifted her right arm in front of her, staring in befuddled bemusement at the strange phenomena taking place before her eyes. Memories of her brief time awake not so long ago were now returning to her, however, it didn't detract the amount of shock she was experiencing at the moment.
"MOM!?" Her voice rose in a panicked crescendo. Her mom, acting quickly, bolted to her feet in order to restrain her erratic daughter.
"Chelsea! CHELSEA!!! You're okay! Everything's alright! Just settle down, okay, sweetie?"
"WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?! WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Chelsea, sobbing now, was hysteric.
"Honey, the insurrectionists that attacked your team; it was the PER. Of those who survived the assault, all were ponified. Including Toby, and you." Chelsea only stared at her mother through a teary veil, dreading the words being delivered to her strange new ears. Now more aware of her form, the touch of her mother's hand on her furry foreleg felt all the more strange, and alien, forcing her to shiver slightly at her comforting touch, "I'm sorry, Chelly," Her mom was shedding a tear of her own, "I'm so sorry."
Wanting nothing of the world, Chelsea turned her unfamiliar head away from her distressed mother, and dug her muzzle into her pillow, tears soaking the soft fabric.
________
"What's on your mind, son?" Walter Verga slowly eased himself into the chair, his old bones and muscles working vigorously to keep the fragile scientist from losing his balance. It was currently mid-morning, but the windows of the office were tinted an opaque black. Reaching for the control panel on the desk before him, he cautiously dragged his finger across the touch screen, the windows returning to their clear state, morning rays of sunlight shining through.
Martin, facing the large wall-mounted holoscreen on the wall behind his desk, sighed, and turned to face the old man sitting across from him.
"What's on my mind? The fact that you now apparently have authorized access to my window controls." Martin glared at Verga with an expression of disdain, which soon transformed into a hearty grin. The two friends shared a guffaw.
"Well my friend, at least you still retain a sense of optimism in spite of all this." Walter reclined in his chair, interlocking his fingers in his lap.
"I have to. It's all I've ever done. In a crisis, you cannot let such hope or optimism go to waste, or you might just allow yourself to fall to those who oppose you," rotating his chair to face the screen once again, he gestured to the words and pictures being displayed, "I am not sure what to do, friend... Five of our top facilities: Detroit, Boston, Singapore, Shanghai, and Berlin have been attacked in the last 24 hours, and I expect many more to come." Walter seemed taken aback by this, and stuttered,
"W-Well surely we're able to protect ourselves? How extensive have the attacks been? Surely a ragtag group of mercenarie-"
"We've lost communication with all five facilities," Martin leaned forward, into the face of Walter Verga, "Our security systems are some, if not the strongest Humanity has to offer. A group of ragtag mercenaries would die before they reached the front door!" Rising to his feet, Martin maneuvered himself over to his large office window, and paced back and forth on the polished marble floor, "The attack on the convoy last night was only a precursor to what was to come next. This isn't just the PER, this isn't the HLF, dammit, I doubt even the Home Front would be able to orchestrate an attack on this scale."
Walter shambled to his feet, and took hold of his oaken cane, "Ah, but it is the PER. It is also the Home Front. And, even though it would seem unlikely, the infamous Humanist organization may be part of this as well." He took his place beside the troubled man, who was currently gazing down upon the city below. "At the end of the world, people will do anything to preserve themselves." Verga looked at Martin with utmost solemnity, and placed his wrinkled hand on his shoulder.
"I learned something when I was very young, Eric. Something that puts me at ease during times such as these. You know this concept well, but sometimes I think you just simply get caught up in all of the troubles of the world to recall it. Do you know what I speak of, my friend?" Walter grinned at Martin heartily, which he returned with his own smirk of realization.
"Everything always works out the way it's supposed to in the end."
