.
I had woken up early, Mars time.
Now I fold the quilt up towards the side; before I slide my feet off of the bed, sitting up comfortably on the smooth surface of my bed. The bed-linen is a mate black, with a smooth surface.
The pillow and quit are both crystal-clear, squishy Silicone just as the quilt covering my body for the night.
With a soft squeaking thud my feet hit the floor, as I raise to my full height as I stand up beside my bed.
I stand still, as I scan the somewhat unfamiliar room in which I had just slept the entire night; before I turn to the wardrobe, walking the few steps over and open the doors wide.
I am looking into the wardrobe, for the very first time; examining the options I have available, for the day. This is the first time I see this wardrobe, and its content; because it is my first day here, even if I had known of the design and what I should be expecting to see within what is now my wardrobe here for the duration of my stay.
“These are what I had been expecting..” I mumble to myself; “no last minute changes!” I conclude.
Now I pull my gloves of right and left, slipping them onto the floor, under my daytime wear; before I repeat the process, slipping out of my stockings. Comfortable as they may have been, but these are for when I am in bed at night; not for the daytime, outside my home.
With the gloves and panties resting on the floor, waiting to be cleaned for use; I slip the top up over my head; leaving it onto the top of the pile, where it belongs. From here, I slide my panties down, stepping out of them right and left; elegantly kicking them up, only to placing them on the top of the pile of my now used nighttime wear. My pajamas effectively shed, in favour of what I am to wear for the day. Black is for nighttime, pajamas; while white is for daytime, casual or official work time, during the day.
While there may be a chance of emergency, demanding of the clock work, but I had signed up for the daytime, light hours work. Someone else may tend to work, the rest of the day. Besides, my line of work does not require work around the clock or during the dark hours of night.
During the night, is when you are prone to make mistakes; leading to ruined work or worse, causing a life-threatening emergency or even a base-wide catastrophe. I can not afford that responsibility.
I had chosen to be an archaeologist and geologist with piloting on the side, in order to avoid being up late. Just as my choice takes me away from security, emergency and command, of course.
Emergency and command may have given a larger allowance, just as the command would have meant more prestige and authority; but I want the freedom of my selected work outside. Even if this may come with its own risks.
While I can handle a measure of risks, mostly planned; I do not thrive upon it, thus avoiding stepping into it more than I actually have to. There had been a risk, in going here; I had known it, willingly accepting the chance of the adventure of a lifetime.
However, now my risk is paying off; taking me to a place, well outside the norm.
Since I had disrobed completely, now is the time to dress up for the day and the work ahead.
I start with a pair of semi-glossy white panties, stepping into them right and left; pulling them all the way up, only to afford them a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice in order to achieve the ever so elusive perfect fit. A girl can strive for comfort.
Now I pick up a matching top, pulling it down over my head. With a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice I settle for the desired comfort.
I pick up a pair of full-length and form-fitting toe-stockings; stepping into them right and left, only to afford them a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.
With the stockings on, I stand tall; selecting a pair of matching white gloves. I enjoy the smooth, white surface closest to my skin.
The next selection is a pair of full-length pants. I slowly step into the light blue garment, right and left; feeling it slide into place and stretch just enough to hug my form.
There is a matching blouse. I select the first one, slipping my hands through the sleeves and button it up from the first to the last button just under my chin.
“There, quite chique!” I proclaim; “or Cawaii, as some may claim!” I conclude, as I am giggling to myself.
I could have left the dorm, as I am dressed; yet I choose to select a glossy black skirt, stepping into it right and left. Only to pull it the rest of the way up; before I afford it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice. Of course, the skirt does have no pockets; but it just adds a special flair, I could not refuse. I enjoy the knee-length ultra-tight skirt stretching as I walk.
Why? Don't ask me, I just do. Maybe it is just me, but it is who I am and what I like.
It is my choices taking me here, even if my efforts qualified me to go.
I have no regrets, I do not regret coming here. Though I guess I still have regrets, but none of them are part of where I am or how I came to be here.
Hay, I am a Human; not a robot or anything as boring as that. Humans are prone to make mistakes. Humans are also known for making mistakes, and sometimes these mistakes lead you to regrets.
As a woman, I know regrets only too well. Nothing to it.
I work to overcome these regrets, just as I work to avoid them when possible.
Why does a shirt have a pocket, when a blouse does not? I have no idea, but it still bothers me on occasion. I am denied the pocket; since I currently wear the blouse, now.
I had found the solution, in the form of a highly effeminate vest jacket I have in my hands before me. It is matching my skirt, while completing my ensemble.
Black, glossy, smooth and comfortingly tight over my chest. Well, maybe it is for the best; my blouse did not have the pocket, because then I could not wear this vest jacket. Now, could I?
No. Exactly the point.
Slipping the vest jacket on is easy.
I notice how it barely contains either my breasts, or my belly button. It had been designed to be effeminate, not to cover my body. Besides, it is a vest jacket. Not a frock or something like that. Then again, why would I like to wear one of these? Just for the pocket?
No time for applying make up, but I can live without it.
Though my hair is hanging behind my back, in the form of a very long and tight braid; almost like the tail of a cat.
Just as I had finished dressing up for the day, my Companion enters the room.
She can open the door by herself. Or it is opened for her, in order to make the effect; by the same system, as the one maintaining her for me. How convenient, either way.
“Good Morning, Miss!” she exclaims, in a warm greeting.
“Good Morning!” I respond, in turn.
“A very fetching Ensemble, if I can say so!” she now offers; “But now it is time for breakfast; since you have finished dressing up, for the day!” she concludes.
“Yes, I guess it is..” I respond; “lead the way, please!” I continue.
“But of course!” she responds, as she turns back towards the door.
“I was right, she can open the door all by herself!” I ponder, giggling quietly to myself.
She pretends not to notice, as she is leading me through my apartment.
The doors swish up in a haste, before we pass; only for the doors to close behind us, as we had cleared the threshold. So simple, so mundane; one can't even be bothered to contemplate it, as if it had never even happened in the first place.
I only stop to pick up a bottle of Sparkle Cola, my personal favourite. I open it, then take a sip on my way. One sip, followed by another.. And another, and another. Before I realize it; the bottle is empty..
My companion is leading me down the hall, only to stop by a pair of sliding doors at the end.. With practiced ease, she is opening the door to the lift; only to be greeted by another girl named Ellie, as we step inside. The doors slide shut behind us automatically.
“Greetings, I am Ellie – the Waitress!” she is presenting herself.
“Greetings, Ellie; and a very good morning to you too!” I respond.
“Up to the breakfast lounge?” she inquires, as the lifts is ascending towards my destination.
“Yes, thank you!” I nod in confirmation.
“Just a moment, Miss; your breakfast is served..” she responds; “Bon Appetit!” she then adds.
The doors slide up before us and I spill out with my Companion in tow.
“See you, when I return...” I exclaim, before the doors slide shut behind us and we continue to enjoy the breakfast.
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I continue out the door, as I have finished my breakfast.
Of course, there are no escalators on the base; they just could not be made to conform to the safety protocols, so we did not get any of them.
The elevator takes us a few levels up, before we step out.
“Maybe the Elevator is as good as an Air Lock?” I ponder.
I take the hall to the shuttle bay, where my craft is awaiting me; ready and prepared for my flight, before I had even had the time to request it. Around here; the shuttles are all prepared for flight, at all times. Refueling and maintenance will be performed as soon as the shuttle enters the bay. Why wait? What's the point of delaying?
When the shuttle is required, it has to be ready for takeoff on an instants notice.
While Mars has an Atmosphere, it is not serviceable. As a matter of fact, it is worse than if it had not been there. It is a risk, a danger waiting to claim you or anyone at a moment's notice.
The only good with this atmosphere, is that it supports flight: fixed wing or lighter-then-air.
Other than that, we could as well have ditched it out the nearest air-lock. If only that had been an option; which it is not, of course.
I take to the right, as we approach a T-intersection; there are no doors to close, but they could be closed if and when required. The next door is on the left, taking me to the air-lock; leading me into the shuttle bay, where I am heading.
I open the door to the airlock, closely followed by my Companion; the door closes behind us, where I step into the side-room and slip into my suit. It is air-tight, pressurized and resistant to anything Mars could throw at me.
Once in the suit, I exit the small side room; approaching the air-lock, before I am pushing the button I hold both the handles, right and left; while the air is sucked out.
I feel the familiar buzzing vibration in my gloved hands; causing me to let go of the handles.
As the doors slide up before me, the air is already equalized.
Now I step out, closely followed by my companion; walking over to my designated shuttle, only for the doors to slide shut behind us.
Once I reach the shuttle, I open the door and step in with my Companion in tow, only for the door to slide shut behind us. A second, inner door slams shut behind the sliding doors.
Vacuum only steels the air inside the shuttle, while the dust could corrode the interior to destroy sensitive equipment without even letting on.
The air inside the bay is sucked out, then equalized; before the doors open before us and the take-off ramp is extended.
I claim the Pilot's seat, knowing my Companion takes the Co. Pilot's position on my left side. With the stick in my right hand, I engage the rest of the controls with my free left hand.
She is reading the check-list as I prepare for take-off. Once I have gone through the pre-take-off procedures, the shuttle wakes up and hurls towards the exit.
For the low Mars gravity, I don't have to accelerate quite as much as would have been required for Earth's 1G.
Mars gravity is nothing to sneeze at, it gives me a direction.
Unfortunately, the Mars I had arrived at does not support a magnetic compass. Instead; it had been replaced with a GPS navigation system supported by the local satellites, stations and other stable radio-signals located in the Mars-system. At least, it is enough to navigate by and aids in localizing locations on the map.
Had I been ground-bound, this is all I would have had; only now in the air, I can use the computerized recognition system and match my location on the map of the surface of the planet below me. If one fails, I still have the other system aiding me.
I make a tight turn, away from the cliff-side before me and the looming mount Olympus on the other side and raise to a greater altitude.
Once I have cleared all obstacles in the area, I can start to navigate more independently.
I make a ninety degree turn to my right, initiating the grid search pattern; recording the surface as I am observing the surface of the planet under me.
Not much to see in the red sand of Mars, or so one could think. Most everything had already been photographed by several satellites sent to the rusty planet.
However, the features in these images is not what I am looking for. This is but an initial survey, where I can familiarize myself with my position. As thoroughly as we had been prepared, it can never be the same as being there in person. To see it close up, with the instantaneous reactions one only have in close proximity. The controls of the satellites took far too long to react.
While I have ample experience of flying the shuttle, I could never get the feeling of what it is like in Mars atmosphere.
I had been instructed to avoid Mars' storms, and I certainly do not intend to challenge the weather out here now.
The seconds and minutes are ticking by, almost unnoticed.
I had expected no communication, but all of a sudden, I pick up a signal; almost as if another shuttle had crashed on the surface. While I knew I am alone out here, I could not afford to ignore the signal, had I wanted to. I have a record of the location of all ships, landers and satellites on, and near the planet mapped out as detailed as our latest surveys could permit; this signal is not from any of these.
We do have several more shuttles on stand-by, but I am alone. If we have another pilot authorized to fly or not, but the signal is still there.
I make all the routine checks, verifying that the systems are operating within parameters..
“Bleep, beep; bleep, beep..” I hear over the speakers and on my headset's ear-phones..
Once I had confirmed that my equipment was not faulty, I localized the origin of the signal I am picking up; its origin is on the surface of mars, but a good distance away.
“Alpha One to base, Alpha One to base.. I have identified a radio signal of unknown, possibly alien origin!” I report.
“Base to Alpha One, Base to Alpha One; copy..” a distinctly feminine voice responds.
“Sending co-ordinates, frequencies and field strength.. now!” I offer.
“Message received!” the voice confirms.
“May I investigate?” I inquire.
“Confirmed, investigation is authorized; proceed with caution!” the voice concludes.
Watching the rusty red surface of the planet below me, had not been overly entertaining; but it was only my secondary position here, in any case. My primary reason to take up piloting had been for me to be able to get to the site myself; without the need to wait for a designated Pilot or Driver, in case the site was close enough to the base itself.
Right now, the choice is paying dividends. I will not have to wait for the pilot to sign on with the station, in order to go out on explorations and digs. Though I may need additional hands, assisting me on occasion.
Of course, there will be a Pilot soon enough; but maybe they had elected to forgo the designated pilot on the first selection, based on my choice here. If so, I don't particularly mind it.
Now I merely follow the beacon, I had detected; taking me further and further away from the base station, towards the site from which it is hailing.
Surprisingly, the beacon is new; even if the site may prove to be much older than I had even dared to dream.
As I approach my destination, there is a blue tint to the surface; indicating the shield dome surrounding a fairly small building on the surface.
On closer inspection; I can see a rectangular surface, indicating a pure metal surface.
“Alpha One to Base, Alpha One to Base!” I start; “I have just reached the location of the Beacon I identified!” I declare
“Base to Alpha One, Base to Alpha One!” she responds; “Report!” she then instructs me.
“I have detected what appears to be a blue tint surrounding the location, indicating a shield of unknown origin!” I put forth; “There is a small building, and what I take for a designated landing pad most likely of Alien origin!” I continue.
“Elaborate; what are the features of the structures, you identified?” she now inquires.
“The structure resembles a hanger of some sort!” I suggest; ”I can not give any further details on the proposed shield!” I continue; “The second structure appears to be a landing pad, similar to that of a Hangar ship of War-Time Navel era!” I conclude.
“Confirm!” the voice intones.
“Transferring Telemetry and Image over to Base!” I respond, as I am initiating the transfer.
“Confirmed..” she intones; “transfer received!” she then concludes.
I continue; descending towards the designated location, I had identified.
My shuttle dutifully takes me down to the location I had selected; soon placing me onto the platform, I had assumed to be a landing pad.
The shield, if it is indeed what it is, presents no issue; permitting me to pass through, unhindered.
“Nitrogen/Oxygen atmosphere!” my Companion intones; “Eighty percent Nitrogen and twenty percent Oxygen, at one bar of pressure; no impurities detected!” she then elaborates.
“So; I have a safely breathable atmosphere, outside?” I inquire.
“At least, the atmosphere itself is quite harmless; no Radiation outside the visual spectrum detected, this should be perfectly safe!” she responds.
“While promising, I will still wear my suit!” I put forth.
After touchdown, I go through the regular airlock protocol; slipping into the suit, before I exit the shuttle.
While I was going through the protocol, with my Companion in tow; the pad was descending down to the bottom floor. While there is supposedly a breathable atmosphere outside; the doors had slide shut above us.
I even here a pair of door slamming shut behind the sliding doors.
Once outside, I feel the reassuring effect of my magnetic boots; the Mars gravity is after all not quite enough, for safe and comfortable movement for an Earth-born.
There is the distinct lack of a klaxon going off, blaring in the large room.
At first, I can only see smooth floor underfoot as well as the walls surrounding me.
“Strange!” I ponder, but hold my tongue for now.
Not so much that I expect anyone to listen in on my channel, or understanding what I say if they were. Then again, who knows; what if they were, and took offense.
After a while, I locate a door. I slowly walk up to the door I had just identified. My companion follows me, closely; scanning the room, for anything and everything.
“Just an empty, and possibly abandoned hangar!” she suggests.
“Yes, most likely!” I respond.
I reflexively extend my right hand, pressing the palm of my hand onto what appears to be a plaque controlling the door; only for the door to slide up, as I am spreading my fingers.
Cautiously, I step in into the room behind the door; only for the door to slide shut quietly, as my Companion had cleared the threshold.
If it had been the pressure, the heat or the movement as I spread my fingers; but the action seemingly controls the door to open before me. Was I assuming too much? The reaction may have been instinctual, reflexive; but it is what I am used to, and the plaque was the only mechanism to open the door I could find. At least, at first glance.
Was I accepted, or trapped? I have no idea, but prefer to assume the former.
I find three new doors; one on each wall, leading me further into the complex in which I had entered.
“Should I take the right, left or center door?” I ponder.
“Try the right and left doors, first!” my Companion suggests.
I choose the door to the right. While I had seen the same mechanism by the side of each door, on the right; assuming they were intended to open the door, I do remain fairly cautious. Not because I had seen any signs, warranting the reaction; but I have seen far too many horror movies to stay oblivious of the danger, potentially hidden behind each door.
Of course, I should take the right and Left option in order first; before continuing my exploration further down the rabid rabbit-hole, shouldn't I?
The concept is standard doctrine, in exploration; it is how I am raised, so far as I understand. Granted, my understanding and experience is limited. But still. Who am I to challenge it, without anything to go on?
The chosen door, on my right eagerly slides up; just as any and every door before had.
With little to nothing to go by; I assume I can relay on what I had been taught, ignoring the lack of evidence for or against. All I have, are the blank walls; nothing indicating where I am going, or who constructed what I have before me.
Strangely enough, the mechanism responsible to open and close the door had proven to be compatible with the form of my gloved, human hands. Convenient, I'd admit.
Behind the door I had just opened, I find a short hall; with nothing but an identical door at the opposite end leading to who knows what.
As I step in, my Companion follows me in; only for the door to slide shut behind her, closing us into the small space. The walls are smoothly carved rock; of a type I had never encountered before, thus have no experience of. No metal here, just the smoothly polished rock.
However, there is an identical plaque on the side of the door before me. Just as I do have one behind me, by the door that had just closed behind us. While I am oblivious of this detail, it will prove very convenient soon enough.
While I remain fairly cautious, I still open the door before me; stepping into the room, with my Companion in tow. Shouldn't I?
In surprise, I see purple Chrystal floor, walls and ceiling surrounding me in the room.
As unexpected as the Amethyst walls may have been; what comes as an utter shock, is what I am faced by on the other side of the room. I see, what I can only describe as three Cryo-Tubes.
The tube on the right and left are dark, unlit; but the one in the center is humming eagerly. On the right of the tube, I can see the access panel, lit up; indicating activity, and an occupant contained within.
I ignore the two unoccupied tubes, in favour of the one active and occupied one in the middle. I will just have to leave this discovery in the hands of more qualified people, educated and experienced with technical equipment.
“Twilight Sparkle” reads the name of the occupant.
“Strange name!” I ponder; “Who could she possibly be? I mumble to myself.
“She is clearly not of Human origin, and she is not born on Earth!” my Companion puts forth.
As I look through the glass covering the tube, I can see a purple form inside; clearly Equine in appearance, but with what could only be taken for a horn on her forehead. Furthermore; her eyes are disproportionately large, just as her muzzle is equally small.
“Do I dare to open it?” I inquire.
“Do we have a choice?” my Companion inquires.
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“No!” I respond; as I am initiating the tube with the touch of the index-finger, of my right hand.
“How dangerous could she possibly be?” I put forth.
“You never know!” my Companion points out; “We don't even know in which state she was, as she was placed in here!” she continues.
“She looks so peaceful..” I suggest; “you did take a picture?” I continue.
Not that she had a camera, but she does not need one.
“Consider the event recorded!” she announces.
Not that she would not have recorded everything, already; every last detail, she would ever see, hear or feel.
She had already sent the records to the shuttle. At least, the shuttle has the records; no matter what becomes of me, or if I may ever leave the facility within which I now stand.
“I could stand here, right here; just watching her like this, all day!” I proclaim.
“Yes, you could!” she responds, with a giggle; “She is so peaceful...” she continues.
At first, nothing had happened.
The internal light, illuminating the peaceful form of the Pony named Twilight.
This scene could not last, can not last forever; we had broken the seal, initiating her revival. The retrieval of the person, held tightly within the stasis field of the Cryo-tube.
There is a noise. A sound. It's a beeping, identical to that of a Heart Rhythem monitor one may encounter at the Hospital. How ominous! Yet, nothing happens, everything is still.
The noise grows louder, faster. There is another noise, as if a breather or breathing aid had been aiding in her revival.
While she had been still, she had been far too still even for a lifeless form.
With the rhythm implied, one could see her chest rising and falling; just as one could sense the beating of her heart, even if it is not recognized as a Human heart. Yet, a heart is a heart.
While the sound of the monitor continues to monitor her health; the sound of her breathing slowly change from that of an aide, to that of a person actively taking her breaths. For a moment, maybe as long as a minute; there is a hint of wheezing, laboured breathing.
The moment passes, then everything returns to the still state; though she is clearly alive, almost as if she had just been asleep.
For how long had she been sleeping? Who knows.
A perceived chill pulses out from the core of the cryogenic tube, the pulse only noticeable for a brief moment; then it is gone, and the room starts to feel warm.
Once the pulse had passed, its effect had ebbed out; her form starts to take on more saturation, her colours going brighter and deeper.
“When I stand here, observing her; it almost feels, as if I had been watching my daughter!” I now mouth.
“At least, this is not the morgue..” she responds; “there is still a chance, she may wake up to greet us!” she then concludes.
No, this is indeed not the Morgue..” I conceed; “feels more as if she had been in an incubator!” I suggest.
“In that case; where is your husband, I can't see him in the room!” she concludes, almost as if in gest.
“At least; my Daughter seems to be well, even if she doesn't resemble me very much!” I put forth.
“Since we already agreed on her name, we don't need to consider what to call her..” she opines.
“Twilight...” I breathe, as I continue to watch her waking up.
Her breathing and heart rate has stabilized; all her vital signs are within expected parameters, no cause for concerns.
Her eyes flicker, as if she is recognizing my voice; or possibly, her own name.
Well, why shouldn't she recognize her own name? What could possibly have lead to her being placed here, not remembering her own name?
Just as this is not the Morgue, it is not the Trauma Ward either.
Actually; this is not part of any Hospital, of any kind.
Maybe, just maybe; this is the Cryogenic chamber, like in the films.
Our little Twilight Sparkle is about to wake up. She had just returned to the land of the living; entering the time and space, where I could greet her together with my companion.
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Author's Note
A New Day
