Exceptional

        “More tea, your majesty?”

        “Why yes, thank you Mr. Pennyhoof” Celestia’s voice was like the most beautiful of music, as per usual, as she sat in the royal dining room enjoying her tea. Luna sat across from her, sipping on her own piping hot beverage. The royal sisters were enjoying a rare moment when neither of them was busy with their duties, to instead simply sit quietly and enjoy each other’s company, and the peaceful atmosphere that came from a day they knew would not herald something big, massive, nor world-shatteringly important that would force them to rethink everything they thought they knew about the multiverse. Mr. Pennyhoof, Celestia’s royal butler, stood at the ready beside the table, a tray floating in his telekinetic aura, atop which stood several teapots, sugar, honey, stirrers, tea spoons, and any other tea-related accessory one would ever need for tea (including many that the average, non-tea-butler-trained observer would never have guessed was related to tea).

        “So sister, I was speaking to the ambassador from Mino-” Celestia began speaking after taking a sip from her refilled cup, but a green flame suddenly flew through the window and stopped in front of her face, before coalescing into a rolled up scroll with an audible ‘pop’.

        “A letter from Twilight?” asked Luna, taking a sip from her own tea.

        “It would appear so” Celestia responded sounding somewhat on edge.

        “Something the matter sister?”

        “Oh...um, no, I just hope Twilight is alright after that trip to the Everfree” Celestia unrolled the scroll and took a sip from her cup, but after reading the first few words, she immediately spat the recently-imbibed tea out in shock…..and directly into Mr. Pennyhoof’s face by accident.

        “Hhmmggngh….shall I go fetch a tea-towel, your highness?” Pennyhoof’s solemn, dignified demeanor didn’t falter in the slightest, besides the grunt, even though the tea was scaldingly hot. Alicorns could stand a lot higher temperatures than normal ponies, afterall.

        “....Uh….” was Celestia’s only response, her smile having completely evaporated as she read the letter, instead being replaced by a complete numbness brought about by massive shock.

        “What is it sister? Is Twilight alright?” asked Luna, concern etched upon her features. Celestia responded by levitating the letter over to Luna. Of course Luna made the same mistake of taking a sip of tea before reading.

        “Hhhmmgmmhmhghg” again Pennyhoof received an impromptu scalding tea bath, and again not even a single crack appeared on his stoic features. “If you will excuse me, your majesties” Pennyhoof quietly and with dignity made his way out of the room, the royal sisters too shocked to even acknowledge his departure. As he left, his stride unfaltering, he quietly closed the door with a soft ‘click’.

        The cry of “OH DEAR HEAVENS!!!! IT BURNS!!!!!” was heard, but neither sister even moved. Both sat staring at the letter, now resting on the table between them. Luna was the first to break the silence.

        “W-what do you think it means, sister? C-could it be….real?”

        “Twilight has never lied to me before” Celestia responded, still rather unnerved, as she reread the letter to make sure she didn’t miss anything. “But whatever it means, we must go to Ponyville at once.”

        “I know you’re white, but do you have to act so….super white?”

        Phil looked up mid-bite from the breaded chicken on a kaiser bun he held in his hands, a thick glob of mayonnaise falling to the paper plate beneath it on the table. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Phil placed the chicken sandwich back on the plate, and turned to the the one who had addressed him. “What do you mean, Sanchez?”

        “I’m Ramirez! I thought you’d at least be able to tell us apart with our helmets off!”

        “You’re twins!! For god’s sake cut me some slack! You’re not the one with the concussion!”

        Currently, there were three of them sitting in the landing shuttle’s ‘rec’ room, really the only room in the shuttle besides the cockpit, the officer’s cabin, and the infirmary/restroom. The two marines, Sanchez and Ramirez, sat across from Phil behind a metal table, still in uniform but unarmoured, whilst Phil was wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts underneath a grey bathrobe. The shuttle’s medical droid had insisted that he undergo a complete physical analysis, which at first Phil had complied with, that is until it told him to undress completely, at which point he had hit the manual override switch and had settled for the much lower-tech but still effective ‘tissue paper shoved up the nose’ technique. Statin wasn’t with them, he was instead informing the Admiral via commlink what had transpired on the planet’s surface.

        “Yeah, but don’t you have super amazing healing powers or something?” said the ‘real’ Sanchez. Phil swore they were just screwing with him.

        “First off, they’re not powers. I just have advanced regenerative capabilities based solely on the rapid cellular mitosis caused by my altered genetic structure. There’s nothing magical about it” Phil said rather annoyed.

        “You understand any o’ that, bro?” said one brother to the other.

        “Nah, but it’s still creepy as fuck.”

        “I’m sitting right here!!”

        “Anyways, what I was saying doc was you got that thing slathered in enough mayonnaise to choke a Reaganist! And they gotta eat that stuff for their religion!”

        “So?! I like mayonnaise! Just because I don’t conform to all stereotypes doesn’t mean I can’t conform to some of them” Phil responded bitterly, clearly unamused. He had dealt with ignorant ‘normals’ before, and these two idiots were no where near the worst, but they were definitely some of the most annoying. The entire exploration fleet consisted of 137 vessels, with a total population of roughly 43 million, and of all the multitudes of humans the captain and admiral could have chosen, they chose these two thick-headed, intolerant, snobbish, pea-brained, self-absorbed, obnoxious cun-

“HE DID WHAT?!?!?!?!?”

        …...and all of a sudden Phil’s mood got a lot worse.

“PHILLIP!! GET YOUR MUTATED, ALBINO ASS IN HERE!!!!”

        “Com-ing~!” Phil said in a mock sing-song tone. Standing up with a grimace, Phil began to head towards the officer’s cabin, but then gave the two marines a ‘touch my sandwich and die’ look before leaving. Taking one look at his death glare, the marines shifted back in their seats and avoided the sandwich as if it carried some horrible, virulent contagion.

        Upon entering the cabin, Phil was greeted with the sight of Statin standing by a table and chair, rubbing his sore temples, while being projected from the ship’s computer was a rectangular screen of holographic energy, upon which was plastered an image of the admiral. A very, very angry admiral. Judging from the colour and look of his face, he was most certainly not happy. Phil knew that by all medical logic, steam should’ve been shooting out of his ears.

        “Howdy admiral, how was your morn-”

        “Phillip” the admiral said in a low, menacing voice. “Sit. Now.”

        “I prefer to stan-”

        “Sit.” Doing as he was told for once, Phil took the seat behind the table next to Statin.

        “Now, tell me, Phillip” the admiral began, his tone conveying pleasant conversation, but in truth held a barely contained rage threatening to boil over. “You’re a very smart man. I’ve had people tell me you’re a smart man. I’ve seen that you’re a smart man. So tell me, in all honesty, how stupid are you!!! You disobeyed a direct, fucking order, from both me and yourself no less. Ever since we left Sol your attitude has been nothing but a constant irritation, your very presence a blow to morale. I am surprised with myself that I even gave you that damn job! And I-!”

        “I earned this job on my own merit!” Phil ground out, any humor he had felt at the situation having completely evaporated. The admiral was not impressed.

“You are only here because your father made me promise that I’d take care of you, and I may have neglected that promise for most of your life, but it says more to my own stupidity that I’d suddenly take it seriously now with something so important. If your father was still alive to see you now-”

Phil slammed his hands down on the table so hard they left fist-shaped dents in the metal. Standing up with a low, menacing, and decidedly inhuman growl issuing from his throat, Phil gazed directly into the admiral’s eyes, an eerie, determined fire blazing in those jaundiced orbs. Every muscle on his body was taught, his lips turned up in a snarl, his entire countenance evoking the feeling of primal, untamed savagery, barely-restrained and feral.

“All my LIFE I’ve heard people talk about the great ‘Jonathan Ackerman’. Hero of the Second Arcadian War. One of the most decorated soldiers in the whole of recent UNA history. I’ve also heard about how horribly disappointed he’d be if he had lived to see what a hideous freak his son turned into. I’ve been berated, scorned and spat upon for bringing shame to the Ackerman lineage. Well let me tell you something, Joe! My parents chose for me to be like this, because they thought that the life of a freak is better than no life at all! My parents wouldn’t be ashamed, they’d be proud! Proud at what I’ve achieved with the hand I’ve been dealt. At the age of twenty-five I have two Phds, three master’s degrees, speak twentythree languages, and just single-handedly opened up relations with the first alien race ever encountered by humanity! I am not a freak, I am fucking EXCEPTIONAL!!”

        After that outburst, silence reigned throughout the entire shuttle. With the anger slowly ebbing out of him, Phil slumped back into the chair, not meeting anyone’s gaze, instead staring at his hands. Statin appeared shocked, and maybe a little frightened. The doctor was known to have quite a temper, it was an enduring stereotype about people like him, but he had never seen him like that, filled with so much righteous anger that it looked as if he was ready to tear the admiral’s throat out with his bare teeth. Yes Phil could be unpredictable, eccentric, downright insane at times, and had just been shown to be more than a little terrifying, but Statin knew he really was good at his job, and always meant to do the right thing, whether it was a good idea or not. He had the sort of old world honour that was deserving of respect yet garnered far too little. With Phil’s words still ringing in his head, Statin thought that someone had to stand up for the guy, god knows no one really had his whole life. With a pang of mixed sadness and guilt, Statin realized that out of the fleet’s 43 million crew, he was really the closest thing Phil had to a friend.

        “Was it really necessary to bring up his father, Joseph?” Statin spoke to the admiral with a familiarity reserved only for long-time friends and colleagues. “With everything the poor sap has been through, his mother, that goddamned dick of a grandfather, that really was below the belt.”

        “Don’t talk as if I’m not here” Phil didn’t sound angry, more tired, as if that outburst had drained him of whatever energy he ran on.

        “In my professional opinion, no one in the whole fleet could’ve handled that situation better than Phil. He saved the life of what turned out to be a high-ranking member of their royalty, and managed to arrange a meeting with their leadership. If anything this turned out better than if we had studied them and just dropped out of the sky to say hello.”

        The admiral’s look of anger was slowly fading, being replaced with concern. “Phillip…” he said slowly, almost like a parent speaking to their child. “Have...have you been taking your medication?”

        “Of course I’ve been taking my fucking medication!” Phil said with a filthy look at the admiral, before sighing and running his hands over his face.

        “Well, we may have to look into upping the dosage” the admiral’s concern was rather surprising for Phil. Of course he had been concerned for Phil’s well being before, after that…...ugliness three and a half years ago, but since then he had reverted to the attitude that he was more a burden than anything else. Phil would’ve scoffed at the fact that he seemed to care now after turning a blind eye to Jessica’s constant needling during every staff meeting, but he was too tired to think more about anything to do with that bitch. She had caused him so much pain and anguish, and she got to walk around like she owned the place while he was the crazy freak who everybody avoided.

        “Well” the admiral said after a moment of thought. “I suppose it can’t be helped now. What happened in the forest, not your medication, I mean. You said noon tomorrow, correct? I need to make the arrangements. But I’ll be back in twenty minutes, and I want you to tell me every single detail you noticed about these…..’ponies’, no matter how inconsequential! Understood?” The two men nodded.

“Good. Admiral A-”

“Just…..just go….” Phil cut him off. “No need for formalities, admiral.” The admiral looked slightly perturbed, but just let it slide. He couldn’t exactly blame Phil for not liking to be reminded, no matter how insulting it was. With a press of a button on his side, the screen displaying the admiral vanished, replaced by one showing a simple message of ‘transmission ended’. Conversation over, Statin turned towards the exit.

“I need a drink” he said tiredly.

        “Yes, go do that” Statin didn’t respond to Phil’s statement, simply pressing the door control and left, leaving Phil alone in the room. Releasing a long breath, Phil looked down at his hands, examining them. They were somewhat gangly and frail-looking, his pale skin turning to a ghastly white when he clenched his knuckles, with long, slender fingers tipped with nails that tapered to a small point. Despite the frailty of their appearance, those hands could snap steel, and those fingernails more akin to iron-hard claws.

‘Perfect for tearing flesh’ Phil thought grimly to himself.

        Just now, he had felt it again. That rage, burning through his soul like an unholy conflagration. It was lucky the admiral hadn’t been in the room. He had wanted so badly to pin the bastard to the ground, to crush his bones and rend his flesh, to rip his arms from their sockets and beat him with them, to wipe that look of disappointment off his face and replace it with one of horror and pain, and most of all to feel his warm blood ooze between his fingers.

Human blood, so similar to that which flowed through Phil’s veins, and yet, so fundamentally different. Thinking on it, it brought up unpleasant and wholly recent memories.

‘Oh god, what happened in that forest….’

        Those creatures, those ‘timber worgs’, they were intelligent, sapient, and yet he had butchered them. All with a smile on his face. Phil shivered. The violence, the carnage, it made his blood sing. He was born for it.

‘Maybe mom and dad shouldhave let me die….’

        No. He wasn’t like this. It was this place, this planet, it was…..doing something to him. But he could control it, his will was strong. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out.

        He had a meeting to prepare for.