Explosions chased the starfighter as it accelerated through the escape tunnel. They remained close on its tail the entire way, but they failed to enclose around it before it could flee and leave the tunnel behind.
I'm convinced now that the countdowns are just window dressing. It took me four seconds to reach the exit door after that behemoth was destroyed, and the self-destruct mechanism still triggered the moment I crossed that threshold. And does every one of these escapes have to involve close calls?
Vertigo One, known alternatively to his current employers as MD1032 or the Material Defender, switched on his radio to call back to base as per protocol. "PTMC HQ, this is Vertigo One. The Mercury Military Headquarters has been cleared."
-"Acknowledged."- Dravis's voice sounded a bit off to him. -"Please head to Mars Orbital Station Eta Sigma for further instructions. We have a situation."-
A situation. You don't say. Did someone go on strike because the memos weren't typed properly? The spell checker's there for a reason. "Come again, Dravis? I'm not reading you clearly."
-"Earth has been subject to strange events since you departed for the lunar mines, Material Defender. It was only while you were purging the Mercurian bases that the situation was finally ironed out. Humanity has experienced first contact."-
Well, it could be worse. I could be facing whatever was responsible for rendering the robots malevolent. I thought the workers here were supposed to be fired for watching cartoons during work hours?
MD was never one to fraternize with animals, but he knew that ponies didn't come in shades of turquoise and green. Yet, the creature that greeted him as he exited the Pyro-GX wasn't lying to his eyes. Neither was the portal that hung at the back of the hangar: he thought he'd glimpsed a larger purple specimen through it before the newcomer demanded his attention.
The creature was friendly enough for an alien, but it looked put out at being in what was to it an unknown environment. It was wearing a blue and yellow form-fitting flight uniform, had wings, and was possessed of a hairstyle that made it seem like it had tried to walk towards an industrial fan going at full blast. And it seemed vaguely military, judging by the salute it gave him when he approached. "Sir!"
Female. Voice sounds rough like a rusty can opener. Let's keep this polite for now. "Skip the pleasantries; I'm a mercenary, not a soldier. Call me Vertigo One. Or Material Defender, whichever you're more comfortable with. And your name would be?"
"Marmalade, of the Wonderbolt Reserves."
Was that spoken correctly? Shouldn't that be 'Wonderbolt of the Marmalade Preserves'? "So..."
"Yes, I know my name doesn't fit my color scheme," she cut him off sourly, ending the salute. "Shut up. I've heard that a hundred times, and it got annoying by the third."
Well, now that you mention it... "Wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to ask why they told me to meet you here. I'm not a diplomat, and I was in the middle of a mission."
Marmalade shrugged. "Your guess is probably better than mine. Maybe they want to have me a run a mission of my own, or something. Y'know, as a show of faith."
I don't think that's how diplomacy is supposed to work. "Haven't been in your military for very long?"
The pony's tail swished. MD guessed from her voice that it was meant to express irritation. "I was permitted to sign up only a week ago."
It would be a funny coincidence if their definition of "weeks" matches up with "hours", give or take a letter. "You've got a lot to learn, then. Granted I know nothing about what to do in these scenarios, but I don't think the other party's supposed to have a visiting alien fly a dangerous mission for them. That would be abusing their goodwill for personal---"
A beeping noise from the Pyro's cockpit interrupted him: someone was trying to call him, and he had a hunch as to who. "---gain," MD finished with a grimace. "Why am I not surprised?" He turned to climb back into his ship.
"This isn't what I expected of alien ships," Marmalade commented as she laid eyes upon the Pyro. "Much less bulkier, not so flying saucer-esque."
The dishware spacecraft is a universal concept. "Never met an alien race before?"
"Nope," the pony replies, gesturing at the fighter-craft. "First time I've seen anything like this. Our world doesn't have space flight. Until we discovered this universe, it was all just theories and conjecture."
This isn't very promising. More news after the break. MD tapped a flashing button, silencing the beeping. "Vertigo One."
-"Ah, Material Defender. Good to see you arrived at Eta Sigma safely."-
Dravis. Because of course. "What is it? I have to get back to work. Unless you're suddenly downplaying the threat you sent me out to stop..."
-"No, no, not at all. You see..."-
"...What?"
"WHAT?! The Princess was actually okay with this?!"
It had taken a full minute following the end of Dravis's explanation before the two of them reacted. MD was outwardly calm and inwardly furious, while Marmalade---who was perched on the edge of the cockpit---completely failed to hide her surprise.
-"It took some negotiations, including recompense to the alien government should anything go wrong and a disadvantage at the bargaining table in later meetings..."-
Translation: they're giving up money for the sake of making even more money. They're taking a huge gamble, they know it, and they don't care. And that's without going into their leaving me out of the equation.
Dravis's explanation made MD's thoughts no mind. -"...but yes. Princess Sparkle has given us the OK to give Miss Marmalade a chance. She will be, er-hem, taking the reins for our next target."-
Marmalade stammered a few times before her speech recovered. "B-but I... but... I don't know how to fly those things! What kind of heartless jerk are you?"
-"A problem easily remedied. The Material Defender can testify to their ease of use..."- Which I could, unbelievably. -"...and we have someone standing by to give you a tutorial on its controls. This really isn't as bad as you think it is, as long as you help us stop an invasion that's practically at Earth's doorstep. Good luck, Miss Marmlade. Dravis out."-
Marmalade was fuming as the transmission ended, which MD didn't miss despite his own anger. If he'd called her "Lady" Marmalade, she'd probably ask Dravis if he wanted to give it a go right before decking him. Those hooves look like they'd hurt: she's packing some good muscles beneath that flight suit.
Eventually, the pegasus calmed herself down. "I knew I should've stayed in bed this morning," she griped. She took wing and got out of the way, allowing MD to reluctantly remove his helmet and climb out of the ship. "So, is there anything I need to know about this mission? If I'm going to be doing this, I don't want to do it halfway."
I don't like this, but I don't hate her enough to get her killed, either. "Just the basics. First, there are swarms of mechanical drones in the mines, and you have to destroy them. When you do, don't stay still. Second, there should be a cell holding anywhere from two to five hostages: rescue them. Third, locate the emergency exit and the mine's power reactor in that order. Destroy the reactor, then get yourself and my ship out of there quickly before the place crashes down on your head."
Marmalade was nervous. "Mechanical drones... are you talking about robots?"
"Yes." No beating around the bush. "Also, a tip: no matter how much time is left when you reach the exit, the mine will start exploding at that point. Don't relax until you're back above the surface."
The nervousness upped its game, reaching the level of dread. "...Never mind staying in bed: I wish I'd never woken up. Is it too late to back out?"
Wonderful. It's like I'm looking in a mirror, if the mirror had eyes larger than my forehead. "I don't want to say this, but I have to anyway: yes. Yes, it is."
Marmalade sighed, both anxious and disappointed. "I guess I have no choice. I'd better get out there, then."
"Yeah. You'd better."
She flinched at MD's tone of voice. He found himself pitying her despite his mood: she'd probably expected to do... whatever it was her race did on a good day, instead of being yanked by bureaucracy into a fight she had no business being in. Recovering, she looked him in the eyes. "For what little it's worth, Material Defender, I'm really sorry about this. I'll make this up to you somehow, I promise."
If you're even still alive to do it.
MD watched as the cockpit closed and the docking clamps released the ship. He continued to keep his eyes on the Pyro as it slowly and unsteadily exited the hangar. A few minutes passed as Marmalade underwent the tutorial; the Pyro was rotating in all directions, sliding to and fro, moving back and forth, and firing a few practice shots out into empty space.
The ship stabilized and pointed at the Martian surface. Provided with instructions on where to go, the Pyro drifted towards a specific point. Its engines fired, carrying it ahead at normal speed.
MD turned away and trudged off deeper into the station to find someplace to rest, his thoughts continuing to manifest as pessimism and snark. I have issues with PTMC's business sense. They establish contact with an alien race, and then use them to cheat me out of my pay? I should have known it was too good to be true when they said that they would triple my usual compensation. Typical cash hounds.
There's only two ways this can go. One, she gets herself killed, and I get issued a replacement ship so I can continue my work. It'll probably end when the ponies' military declares war, views me as complicit, and tries to blast me out of space somehow. Or two---the less likelier of the outcomes---she proves herself a competent pilot who takes my place permanently. And if it's the latter, I lose a large chunk of money. Either way, I get the short end of the stick.
This nap isn't going to help me. I just know it.
An hour and a half later, he learned that his worries were unfounded.
The mine that he would have been tasked with destroying was witnessed blowing itself apart, and the borrowed ship returned to Eta Sigma. The shields were flickering around it, showing that they weren't far from dropping completely, but the Pyro was completely intact. The green cannon on the ventral side was a new addition, and he vowed to test it himself when he returned to work.
Following guidance from the controllers, Marmalade maneuvered the Pyro into the designated hangar. Once the docking clamps secured the ship and the engines were shut off, she wasted little time in popping the canopy, undoing her safety harness, and jumping out. A team of workers rushed over to release and tend to the hostages she had rescued.
MD met the alien at the back of the hangar. The portal that she had arrived through was gone, though he'd be told it would be active again shortly. "Hey. Got out alright, I see."
"Whew... yeah, barely. But I think I'll just leave this job to you from now on, Material Defender." Marmalade moved her goggles above her eyes. The suit's fabric, most notably on her face and near her forelegs, were darkened from sweat. "We got out alright, but some of those ugly things almost scared me clear through the glass!"
She met the Class 1 Drillers, without question. I wouldn't want them for an alarm clock. Still, I won't object to this being the only time she takes this mission. "Give yourself a little credit," MD complimented her, honestly impressed that she'd managed to escape the mine alive. "First time flying a spacecraft, remember? Being able to clear one of those mines at all is impressive, and you got the survivors out to boot."
"It helps that your ship's real easy to fly. Everything was clearly labeled, and I never lost control even once. Hate to say it, but the jerk was right." She shook her head. "The flight was dizzying, though. Nothing I couldn't handle, but still."
As a natural flier, I guess she'd have a higher tolerance for vertigo than humans. What's their race's average flight speed? "I might gripe a lot about PTMC's business practices, but there's no question that they build excellent ships. How'd you manipulate the controls using your hooves?"
"It wasn't just my hooves. It's tricky, but pegasus wings can function similarly to your hands." Marmalade unfurled her left wing and moved it about as a demonstration. "Check out an X-ray sometime if this alliance with Earth works out."
Well, if you need more proof that they're aliens, here they are. Just because they have wings doesn't mean they work the same way that birds' do. "I'll put a tab on that." A loud clang briefly caught his attention: the automated machinery had gone about restocking the Pyro's supply of concussion missiles. "Burned through the ammo?"
Marmalade's ears folded. "Sorry. I had to go through most of them just to clear the way to the reactor. Should I have just relied on the energy weapons?" she asked, worried.
"Look, don't worry about it. The mines always have plenty of replacements, and you've probably seen how the robots drop more. I'll just grab them when I go back out."
Passing footsteps told them that the rescued workers were being led elsewhere for treatment and rest. Marmalade exhaled in relief, her ears pricking up again. "That's good. ...Oh, um... quick question. Your Pyro's not that much bigger than some of our larger carriages, and it didn't look like there was room for the hostages to fit in there. So, how...?"
I was wondering if she noticed that. "It's probably for the best if you stop thinking about it, Marmalade. I gave up trying to figure it out a long time ago. If having all of this firepower doesn't make sense..." Three energy weapons plus the Vulcan cannon along with at least three different types of explosive munitions, and there's room for several more. "...then neither does anything else about this ship. Let's just say it's one of those 'bigger on the inside' deals and stop thinking about it."
"Fair deal," she quickly decided, figuring it was best to leave that conundrum be.
A wash of light and a flare of power from close by made the both of them flinch. When they'd both gotten their nerves back in line, they realized that the portal back to wherever it was the alien came from was active again. "That's my cue," Marmalade informed him. "Time for me to head back, at least for now."
"No plans to stick around?" MD quipped. "The accommodations here are five-star."
Marmalade had a good laugh at his comment, the first time she'd expressed any sort of amusement since they'd met. Several seconds passed before she recovered enough to speak. "Aah... unfortunately, no. After I was clear of the mine, Princess Twilight got in contact with me through that Dravis jerk. She wants me to escort her delegates when they visit that Collective Earth Defense group, or whatever it is they're called, so I'll be taking my leave of the PTMC." She huffed. "And I'll be happy to be away from them. I've had enough of them to last a lifetime, and I barely interacted with them."
That's the smartest move anybody can make. "Probably the last time we'll be meeting, then. I won't keep you." MD raised a closed hand within reach of her, which drew a questioning look. "I've had my reservations about you, Marmalade, but you've proven you're on the level. Here's to clear skies."
The pegasus saluted him with a wry smirk. "Good hunting, Material Defender." She hoof-bumped MD's hand---the closest they could get to a handshake. "And here's to your next paycheck."
MD was right: the two would never cross paths again. However, he would learn much later that Marmalade had kept her word: she did make it up to him.
After his return from the Tycho Brahe planetoid and subsequent conflict with the PTMC and Dravis, he received a notification of a payment being made to him from the pony princess, with an attached message name-dropping Marmalade and thanking him for treating her respectfully. The payment was nearly double that of what he had been promised by destroying the first Martian mine. Between that and the bonus he was given by the CED for helping clear away the deactivated drones, he would be set for a while.
The future's going to be a strange one with those sorts of aliens in humanity's corner, but as long as it's lucrative, I can live with it.
Author's Note
Just doing my part to fill in the gaps. Don't mind me. 
The link near the beginning of the story leads to Sunspire Records' remix of Descent 1's Lunar Outpost music.
Ko-Fi tip jar!
