//------------------------------//
// The First Draft 
// Story: Gypsy 
// by Midnightshadow 
//------------------------------//


Gypsy


An MLP:FiM fanfic by Midnight Shadow

Set loosely in The Conversion Bureau universe, by Blaze

WIP, first draft.

Note: I’m falling over myself writing this, so it’s rough, but I’ve been sitting on it for about two months. So here, have a WIP. The ending’s there, but the epilogue is missing. The middle is foreshortened. Consider this a first rough draft.. 

Since I have posted this elsewhere, and since I have not updated it in a long time, I am relenting and making this first draft of the whole story available here. I don't think anything is won by keeping it hidden, but please remember, I do not consider this edition anywhere near polished enough for consumption. Take it as a taster, a teaser, or just move on if you prefer to read something which the author considers ready enough.

Future chapters will be "production ready", and will tell much the same story as this, so it may in fact spoil things for you. You have been warned. With that said, there is a story here and you may enjoy it.





His prey was moving swiftly, if noisily, through the ruined city blocks, picking its way between cars and rubble with relative ease. He, on the other hand, was having a hell of a time staying hidden, silent and close. He wasn’t sure what it was but he was pretty sure he could eat it. He was hungry; he hadn’t found food in days and rats weren’t very nutritious. Water was running low, ammo was running low. Clean socks were a distant memory. It was a few moments before he realised he’d lost the trail.
“Come on you bastard,” he swore under his breath, “where did you...”
He whirled, knife upraised to strike, as a four-legged demon whinnied loudly and struck it’s forehooves at him. He rolled to the side and came up to a crouch, muscles tense, ready to spring...
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” said the creature. With shock and dismay he realised it was a pony; a cream-coloured unicorn with hazel-brown mane and tail and deep brown eyes. He could see she had three stars and moon as a cutie-mark, though they were badly covered with dirt and grime. She skittered and eyed him nervously.
“I...” he’d dropped the knife in surprise and scrambled to pick it up, “you talk.”
The unicorn pony snorted in derision, with head still lowered, she pawed at the ground, “haven’t you seen the news, Bub? Lots of us ponies talk. What the hell, were you going to try to eat me?”
The man looked down at the knife in his hand and shrugged, putting it away, “Not now I know you talk. I may be starving, but I’m not a cannibal.”
“You must be delirious because unless you haven’t noticed, we’re not the same species.”
“You talk. That makes you a person. I don’t eat people.” the man did his best to look apologetic.
“I’m glad to hear you say that. My name’s Gypsy,” the pony held out a hoof, expectantly, “this is the bit where you introduce yourself, tell me your name.”
“Mack,” blurted Mack, “pleased to meet you, I guess, even though you’ve spoiled my dinner plans.” he took her hoof and shook it, grinning ruefully.
“About that,” said Gypsy, “I might be able to make it up to you...”

***

Mack followed Gypsy back through the city. It was pretty much back the way he’d been tracking for the last few hours, but it wasn’t like he had anything important to do or anywhere special to go. Nobody did, anymore, not out here in what was once again being referred to as the Great American Desert; he just drifted, doing what he could to stay alive. Truth be told, this was his first speaking companion in almost a month if you didn’t count the rats, foxes, wild dogs and other animals slowly reclaiming the ruined city center.

As the sun went slowly down in the sky and afternoon turned to evening, the pony led the way to an abandoned building. It seemed to be part hardware store, part residence and mostly intact. Gypsy had broken down a door and made herself a comfortable nest on sawdust, lining the room with her few meager posessions.
“I don’t eat wood shavings and rusty tools, ma’am.” said Mack with a smirk.
“I was going to welcome you to my humble abode, but now...”
“Forgive me li’l miss. It’s a mighty nice place you got here, Gypsy.” said Mack, tipping his hat and taking off his gun and ammo belt, laying his pack on the ground before settling himself against a wall and wiping his brow.
“Thank you. Now as I was saying, I think I have lunch...or more exactly dinner.” the pony nosed open the door to a storeroom which she had blocked closed with a plank of wood. Sticking her head in and pulling out a few cans, one at a time, she poked them with a hoof, “I think both of us can eat like a princess with these, if you can open them. I can’t so easily; Hooves, no thumbs, see?”
“Ah, the food of the gods. You may regret it later, but I think we can eat this.”
“Regret? Having food?”
Mack grinned, “They’re tins of beans.”

***

A hoof shook him awake. He stirred quickly at the unfamiliar contact. A muzzle with overlarge and troubled eyes was above him in the semi-darkness.
“What’s-”
“Sshhh, feral dogs.” hissed Gypsy
“I’ll get my gun and knife.” whispered Mack, getting up silently to gather his weapons.
“They probably won’t get in, but...”
There was some growling on the other side of the door, and scratching. The pair looked at each other grimly.
“That door’s blocked, right?” asked Mack
“I did my best.” replied Gypsy, lowering her head and pawing the ground.
“Let’s hope it’s good enough. Sit down, lie down, come on. We’ll sit tight, we’ll be ready.”

The pair snuggled up close with their backs against the wall, wriggling to get comfortable on the sawdust. Mack placed his gun across his lap and his long hunting-knife down by his side. Gypsy put her head on her forehooves and they both watched the door. There was barking, whining and scratching outside, but the barrier never gave way. Slowly they drifted off into a fitful sleep.

***

Mack opened his eyes and stretched. He ached, despite years of sleeping relatively rough he’d never gotten used to it. He was, however, more comfortable this morning than he remembered being for a long while. Perhaps it was thanks to the steadily inflating and deflating flank of the small unicorn pony that he was enjoying as a pillow. She was warm and soft, and snoring. He snorted, rolling his eyes, getting up as silently and gently as possible. The dogs were gone, the sun was up and after the meal last night, especially as it had been beans, he needed to see to certain pressing issues. The water in the house, in old yet intact hot-water tanks, was stale and tepid but appeared relatively drinkable. He didn’t have much choice, though he would boil it first.
He whistled nonchalantly and quietly, almost under his breath. Daytime was usually safer than night, but it didn’t do to take chances. In this world, you were careful or you were dead. His footsteps as he re-entered the room woke the sleeping pony, who looked up with bleary eyes at him in sleepy confusion. She yawned. He hadn’t seen a pony up close for a long time, he’d forgotten how sweet and innocent they looked. The face of the enemy; cute, candy-coloured, bubble-gum fragranced bringers of mankind’s doom. He shook his head, the time for such feelings was well past. The majority of mankind were now ponykind - and how can you hate your brothers and sisters? They didn’t stop being people just because they had hooves instead of hands and feet, so what had stopped him?
“Always the same question,” he said under his breath, and blinked, looking back up at the pony.
“You alright, Mack? For a moment...you looked angry.”
“Aye li’l missy, I was. For a moment,” he made appeasement gestures with his hands, “a long time ago, another life, and I thought I had something to prove, something to hate in ponies. Now...”
“You don’t?”
“Aye,” he said again, “I can’t hate the pony-folk, most of you were us. I’m...sad is all. Sad for the sunrises that mankind will never see. Our world is dying...no, our way of life is dying. We didn’t have it all going our way before you arrived but after? It all went South, and a little East from where I’m standing.”
“I...what?”
“We would have worked it out, Missy. We could’ve solved all our problems, before the best and brightest of us gave up to go roll in the hay, but now? How many humans are there left?”
“Maybe...a billion?” guessed Gypsy, “I hear far lower numbers bandied about but our records on ponifications are pretty accurate. Most of the numbers lower than that are serious F-U-D.”
“That many huh? Well we’re all spread out across the great wide world of ours, too few and far between for that critical mass of dirty, sweaty, thinking, urgent primates necessary for civilisation. A billion humans. No, half that...but nine billion Equestrians. I don’t know how you fit on that small island of yours.”
“It’s hardly a small island anymore, but...to be honest we don’t. We’ve...acquired plots of land all over the planet and joined them to Equestria. Under Princess Celestia and Princess Luna’s blessing they flourish again, green and verdant, thanks to our earth ponies. Thanks to ‘Earth’ ponies I guess I should say.”
Mack smiled a wry smile, “Doesn’t sting any less that for all your talk, you’ve taken our land.”
“You said it yourself Bub,” snorted Gypsy, “all those humans turned Equestrian have to live somewhere. We’ve taken the land and given it right back.”
“Aye, Missy, that you did, that you did. Makes me wonder why you’re out here.”
“I’m out here...” The unicorn took a breath, “I’m out here studying you. People like you, I mean. The last vestiges of humanity. The ones who won’t or can’t become ponies. What makes you tick, what makes your society tick.”
“It’s a bit late for that, Gypsy,” said Mack as he looked out the window, “you killed us with kindness.”
“I think not, Mack. I found you, after all. Your turn. Why are you here?”
“I like being a human, I guess,” he said, after a pause, “and I intend to be one until I draw my last breath.”
“In that case, let’s see about breakfast.”
“Aye, Missy, we should...how about corned beef?”
“Yuck. I’m a vegetarian.”	
“I meant for me. For you, there’s...uh...sauerkraut? And beans?”
“Beans, again?”
“Dangerous I know, but we’ll not be needing a fire until later, so we should be safe enough.”

***

The days wore on into weeks and a rhythm was established. Mack would make breakfast and boil water, Gypsy would scout the perimeter. They’d have breakfast then patrol together. They weren’t looking for anything in particular; searching for signs of life, trading where they could, scavenging where they couldn’t. At night they’d huddle together and talk.
Mack would run his fingers down Gypsy’s mane, teasing the curls and removing detritus. He’d scratch at mud and flick away parasites, not that there were many. She’d never told him what that meant to a pony, the mutual grooming. She was afraid he’d stop. She’d lip at his hair when he’d lie down next to her and he’d swat playfully at her muzzle with his hat. Eventually she’d hear him snoring.

One night they lay there face to face. The stray dogs had moved on, the few he’d killed with his guns had convinced them to find easier prey elsewhere. The night was warm, the sawdust comfortable, the way the moon shed her light on his features...Gypsy shook herself. What sort of man was he? She decided he was the right sort, whatever that meant.
She bent her head, very, very carefully and pressed her soft velvety lips to his and kissed him, as lightly as she could - just a brush - drawing back when he answered in kind. He never stirred from his sleep though. She lay there, panting, blushing in the semi-darkness as the snores resumed. She sighed and rolled ever so slightly closer. He put his arm over her and pressed his face to her neck, snoring into her mane. It tickled, and a warm happy glow filled her body as she, too, finally let sleep embrace her.

***

Gypsy yawned as she woke up. The comforting weight of Mack supporting himself against her chest brought a smile to her face. He snored, she tried to ignore it but he was adorable when he snored. She gently nuzzled him awake as she would a foal. He murmured some faintly disapproving noises and batted at her with his hand but she wouldn’t give in. When he finally woke up he lay still for several minutes, just blinking at the wall and staring into space.
“Mack?” asked Gypsy softly, “You alright?”
The human shook himself and then turned to look at the pony, “Yeah, I’m alright Missy. I’m all alright.” he got to his feet and stretched, cracking and popping joints.
“I still don’t get why you’re out here, Mack. How...how long are you planning to stay?” she added in a small voice.
He looked down at her and blinked, before getting to his knees and lifting up her forehoof and giving it a kiss, “Princess, I’ll stay as long as you want me to. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. The summer’s long in these parts, I can stay a while, tag along with you if you’ll have me.”
“I won’t stay here forever, Mack,” she said in the same small voice, studying his weather-lined face for hints of his true emotions.
“Nothing lasts forever, Gypsy, but let’s go for all we can get, eh?”

***

Mack and Gypsy were hunting again. The pony was dirty, very dirty, and he wasn't much better...but most of all they were hungry. They had water – it tasted funny although it seemed safe enough after boiling thoroughly – but the diet of beans was grating. Gypsy had agreed to the hunting expedition on the grounds that at least she'd be able to get out in the relatively safe sunshine and maybe catch a few mouthfuls of the various plants found throughout the city.
“I'm not convinced they're good for you, Gypsy,” said Mack, making a face.
“Naa, I'm a unicorn. We have a nose for poisons.”
“That include heavy metals?” asked Mack, raising an eyebrow
“It does for me at least.” Gypsy nodded, smirking.
“You been scanning our water  too?”
“I don't 'scan' ...but yes.”

The city seemed strangely deserted – even for a wrecked metropolis, this was too empty. Mack's teeth were on edge and he stalked even more carefully through the dystopian landscape than usual. Gypsy could obviously feel it, she was as skittish as a foal and was balking at every loud noise.
“I don't like this, my gal.”
“Since when am I your gal?” asked Gypsy with an amazed expression on her muzzle.
“Since you're the only gal I got, Gypsy. I care about you.”
“Sweet of you, Mack, what do you want?” snorted Gypsy, ears flat against her head
“I want you to stay safe...and there's something wrong here. Stay back.”
Mack stepped out of hiding, there was something...just wrong about the landscape in front of him. He prowled around the undergrowth until his leg touched something. He swore and ducked, but it was too late. With an audible twang the wire snapped and what had previously looked like debris was propelled through the air until it slammed over his head, a very crude but effective cage. Seemingly in moments the trap was surrounded by humans, more than they'd seen in weeks. Gypsy galloped towards Mack and was about to use her magic to lift it off when one of the humans leaped at her and put his hand on her horn, forcing her head down.
“You get your filthy hands off my pony!” yelled Mack, and whipped out his hunting knife. With a single smooth motion he drew back his arm and hurled it. The blade slid effortlessly between the 'bars' of the cage and buried itself deep within the man's neck. He keeled over, clutching it, spitting blood.
“To me, Gypsy, come here. If you run they'll have you.”
“I hope you know what you're doing, Mack.” said the pony in a small voice. She lowered her head and her horn started to glow. Reaching painfully through the steel grate barrier, Mack retrieved his knife and held it ready again.
“Woah, woah, woah, hey...I don't think we need any more of that sort of thing.” said a new voice. A large man, several days' worth of stubble adorning his features, forced his way through the crowd to stand within a few feet of the pair. Mack hefted his blade, and Gypsy lowered her horn experimentally.
“Close enough, Bub.” said Mack.
“We're all...civilised folk here. I'm not going to do anything to your girlfriend.”
“She's my pony and I won't have you touch her none. You might not think ponies are worth much, but I'll make you pay for it in men if you harm so much as a hair on her hide.”
“Heeeyyy, hey, easy now. I was going to offer you a place in our esteemed organisation, but if you're going to shack up with a pony you get to sleep with them proper. You're our new meat, buddy boy, and you'll pay for knifing Leon. We're behind schedule as it is. A goddamn week and all we get is you two losers. Ship ‘em out, boys.”
“Schedule? What schedule? Who are these people, Mack?”
“Can't you tell? This trap was designed for a pony. These are the HLF.”

***

As the truck they’d been bundled into jounced and jostled it’s way through badly-repaired roads, Gypsy took stock of the situation. She’d heard of the HLF, who hadn’t? She'd even tangled with them a few times. A few enthusiastic and overall stupid fellows had put their hands on her on a number of occasions. She'd torn each one of them a new blow-hole, one of which at least wasn't going to grow back. This time she’d gone relatively quietly for fear of what they’d do to Mack. The man had been free with his blade and had been restrained by way of beating him all but senseless and throwing him bodily into the filthy straw-covered van along with Gypsy. As she turned back from staring at the now-locked double doors of the van, Mack groaned and sat up.
Gypsy nuzzled him, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“Just about,” said Mack, clearing his throat and rubbing his temple.
“Why did you protect me?” asked Gypsy softly.
“I told you, I care about you.”
“But you let them think...that you and I...”
“Let them think what they want. It'll keep them off balance. Besides, you're pretty cute... for a pony.”
“Now I know you're delirious!”
Mack laughed, and then held his head, “If you want to know why I haven't joined the HLF when I so obviously don't want to be a pony, well it's because they're scum. I want what's best for the human race. They want what's best for themselves.”
“That's pretty harsh damnation of your kind.”
“We are, or were, numerous. As many types of people as there were people. We're overall not a bad sort but we do know full well how to be complete bastards. There are some people - the kind and gentle folk - who wouldn’t hurt a fly. They’ve all become ponies by now. Then there’s the rest; the violent, dangerous types. Sometimes I think they’re all that’s left in this world.”
“What does that make you?” asked the pony softly, putting her head in his lap.
“Sometimes I wonder, Gypsy, sometimes I wonder.”
Gypsy shuffled next to him, nuzzling his bruises, “I want to go home, Mack.”
“To Equestria?” he answered softly
The pony shook her head, “No, back to our place, that house I found. I’d even eat beans again to just be back there.”
Mack laughed, a barking noise that devolved into coughing, “You miss playing house with Old Mackey here?”
Now it was the unicorn’s turn to laugh. She nodded freely, “I do.”
“We’ll get home again, Missy. Don’t you worry.”
“I hope so.”
Softly, Mack began to croon an old song, “Home, home on the range...”
Gypsy snorted, “Silly lump, aren’t you?”
“I’m not the one feeling homesick. Quiet now...Home, home on the range - where the dragon and manticore play...”
“Changing the words? How droll.”
“Where ponies are born, with a magical horn, and pegasi fly ‘round all daaaayyy-heeeee...”
Gypsy put her head on his lap, snuggling closer, “Well alright, you can sing a bit more if you want.” She looked up when Mack was silent. “What is it?”
“I can’t think of any more lyrics.” said Mack, blushing, “Never did have a head for songs.”
She hoofed him lightly on the forearm, “you’re a daft one, Mack.”
“Would you have me any other way, Missy?”
“Definitely not.” Gypsy set her head back down in his lap and he idly ran his fingers through her mane until they both slept.

***

It was a long time later when they finally stopped. The truck doors were opened on man and equine curled up in one corner, as far away from the other corner as possible. Leeroy and Gruber waved their hands in front of their faces.
“Pee-yew you two animals stink.” said Leeroy - a large lean man with stubble for hair and a slice across one cheek from an old knife-wound of some sort. He put his hands on the pomel of his guns and leered - mostly at the backside of the pony that was pointed towards the doors.
Mack stirred first and patted Gypsy in a silent gesture to stay low, “We’d not have to resort to fouling the bedding if you’d have let us out for pitstops on the way, you know.”
“Like we want to lose either of you two, after all the trouble the Boss went to to getcha.” said Gruber, hefting a machete over one shoulder, his black skin glistening in the sunlight. Times were, thought Mack to himself, one of those two would have hung the other. Now they’d rather pull out my eyeballs fuck the sockets in turns for my hanging out with fourlegs here. Strange old world.
“Get up. Get out.” said Leeroy, gesturing with Mack’s hunting knife.
“First you’ll be giving me back my knife, son,” said Mack, balling a fist with his right hand and pointing his index finger at the pair, “I’ll pull your wagon or whatever shit-task it is you think me an’ my gal are worthy of, but you’ll give me back my knife or I’ll blow your fucking head off. Subdermal bone mod, Leeroy, index finger. Pew, pew, pew. You got me? Now slide my knife on over here real easy and I won’t have to paint the doors with the shit you call brains, okay?”
Leeroy grimaced and sneered, “How do I know you ain’t just yankin’ my chain?”
“All I want’s my knife, Lee. Man and his knife’s not a thing you separate. Same as a man and his gal, am I right?”
The knife was slid across the floor, Mack bent down carefully to pick it up. After he'd slid it back into his holster, he uncurled his fist and blew on the fingers.
"Fuck! You don't have no fucking subdermal bone mod in dat finger!"
"Nope, my index finger is as normal as yours...actually, if your Momma was your sister as I think she was, then mine's probably more normal."
"Fuck you, pony-fucker! I'm gonna..."
"I do have, however, my knife. And I've a good throwing-arm. Now back off, my princess and I are gettin' out of our carriage. Wake up Missy," Mack bent low and deliberately kissed Gypsy on the ear, whispering, "you'd better pretend to be groggy. I don't know if we've got a chance but the easier they think we are to handle, the better."
The unicorn stirred, shaking her head. She looked sleepily at Mack and yawned. Getting to her feet took a while. Gruber slammed the blunt edge of his machete on the chipboard floor, "Get the fuck up."
"Boys, boys, our guests..." came the voice of the head honcho, dripping with sarcasm and malice.
"Good morning, Bubba." said Mack, sneering, hand moving to his knife.
"Bubba? I should introduce myself. Jack, Jack Hodgson. Head of the HLF. All of the HLF. The last of the HLF. At your service. I believe you know Gruber and Leeroy." The heavy from last time strode into view, now dressed in a meticulous white suit and white fedora.
"You? The last? Hardly."
"The last that count, meat. Care to introduce yourselves?"
"Mack, and this here's ma' princess. You ain't gonna lay a hand on her, see?"
"No, no - not if you co-operate." Hodgson spat on the ground, "I was going to offer you a position in my band of merry men, but I see you're...otherwise inclined. Pity."
"You obviously need me..."
"I need your pony, meatsack."
"You get the both of us, package deal. I'll..."
"Pull my wagon, yes, I heard. You can keep the knife. You can keep your ‘princess’, too. You'll be seeing a lot of her. You want to be meat so bad, you can be meat. You'll pull your weight, Mack, and then some. Maybe you'll beg me to give you four legs under the strain."
"I'm human, Hodgson, I will be 'till my last breath."
"How exemplary. Well, if you change your mind, we've still got some potion here, don't know if it's viable any more. Times were, we could check these things. We used to use it on the recruits that didn't measure up...but slim pickings and all that. This way."
***
Hodgson led the way through the complex. Mack kept one hand on Gypsy and one hand on his knife, eyes skirting about for trouble. Whenever a passer-by got too close he'd tighten his grip on the handle. Most of the people he saw had a sad, defeated look on them. A few looked angry, belligerent. Mack could have cut the tension with his knife.
The buildings were a curious mixture - the site was obviously old and had been abandoned at some point in the past, but nano-tech rebuilds showed where white marble and plasteel towered above squat concrete element-block housing and corrugated tin roofs. Nano-tech...the world had been so afraid of grey goo it had not quite reached it's potential before the ponies showed up. Now...it likely never would.
"What do you see about you, Mack?" asked Hodgson.
"Decay. Fear."
"How dramatic. I see progress, humanity. Do you want to know what we're building out here?"
"I'm pretty sure that's what you're going to have me 'assist' with, Bub."
"Indeed. Let me show you. A few years ago now, humanity made one last abortive attempt to reach the stars."
"You mean that colony job that went South?"
"I do. Three  of the finest, proudest, most advanced ships ever created were sent into the deep black. Everyone died."
"Thanks to bastards like you, saboutaging the flight."
"Scuttlebutt is that two ships made it, limping together. They set off for the Rim. I hear stories, Mack, about strange transmissions received from unknown beacons. I've been hearing them for years. I decided to do something about it."
"But how? We don't have the tech..."
"Oh yes, yes we do. They never, ever build just one when they can build two. There are three more ships. One is in orbit, never completed, Hawking drive ticking over. One is in the space museum, castrated, gutted and left to rot for those four-hooved fuckers to gawk at. One...is here."
"You have a Bradley-Yakamura Ingen?" hissed Mack, as the great double-doors big enough to drive a sky-scraper through sideways were thrown open to reveal a massive, stubby, winged shining space-bird. It was massive. Thousands of tons of plasteel, plastic and hydraulics with an engine so powerful it could run most of the planet all by itself. It lay humming softly in the monumental hangar, caged but...Mack could almost feel the raw power bleeding from it. His skin prickled as he looked the once-forgotten future in the eye.
"I have the Bradley-Yakamura Ingen. The last one. Mostly fueled, almost patched up, partially stocked and supplied and almost ready for lift-off."
"Fuck me." said Mack, blinking.
"You're hardly my type, but I appreciate the offer."
Mack gulped, "I'll...I'll do it. But I'm not letting you have Gypsy."
"Then you and I see more eye to eye than I thought."
Mack whirled, hand on his knife. The clicking of safeties on various guns surrounding him and his pony barely held him in check, "Get this straight. You and I? Nothing in common. I'll help you build this bird, but I'm with the ponies. I picked my side, Bub, and I'm not going back on my word."
"Shame. I thought showing you what we were building would change your mind."
"Fuck you, Hodgson, you're not building something new or different, you're just making sure you've got a captive audience. You're going to spurt your seed to the galaxy and wipe it off on the dregs of humanity you've coerced or shamed into coming with you."
Hodgson leaned closer, "Better that than go out on all fours, pony-fucker. We're done. Send him below, men, we'll see if a night in the stables will change his tune."

Four large bruisers closed in on the pair. Mack stuck one hand out, clawed and ready for action, with his other on the pommel of his knife, "We're going, guys, we're going peacefully. Come any closer and you'll lose your fingers. Hard to explain to the boss why you can't tie your shoes any more, huh? If you can already, that is."
"Fuck you, Mack," said Leeroy, brandishing his gun.
"It's not gonna be worth it to pull that trigger, Lee, so back off."
"One of these days, Mack, just you and me."
"We'll dance, Lee, just not today."

Mack and Gypsy, who'd remained silent throughout the ordeal even at the sight of the hefty multi-thousand-tonne spaceship, were herded down a ramp through some heavy doors. Mack covered his mouth and nose, the air was fetid and dank.
"Mack? There's...ponies down here."
"The work-crew, my gal. They've press-ganged a bunch of newfoals I think. Building a space-ship without fuel for heavy lifting means muscle-power."
Gypsy closed her eyes as the heavy doors were slammed shut. Her horn burst into soft pink light that illuminated the squalid living conditions they found themselves in. Mack set his teeth grimly, it was so much worse than he had hoped.
"Are you...gonna hurt us?" asked a small voice, "LIke the other ones?"
Mack looked down, a foal was hiding between the legs of his mother. Both were emaciated. Mack shook his head, wiping tears out of his eyes, "I'm not gonna hurt ya, little one. I...I've got a little to eat if you'll have it."
Mack reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled bag he'd kept for emergencies. He wasn't sure ponies could eat it, but it could hardly do them worse than going without. He bit off a lump from one of the thick, chewy protein strips and ate it slowly and obviously before proffering it to first the mother and then the foal. She lowered her head and pawed the ground but let him give a piece to her child. The foal bit it gingerely. He soon pulled a larger lump off and chewed it with gusto. Mack smiled and shared out the strips to those who would take it.
"We're...friends." said Gypsy, eyeing the ragged crowd, "We're not going to hurt you. I...I can help heal your sick."
"Can you grow wings back? Or horns?" asked a voice. A light blue pegasus with soft pink mane stepped forwards. Gypsy gasped. His wings had been hacked off leaving just stumps. Mack stretched out a hand, the pony shied away. He noticed unicorns with stumps on their foreheads, standing well back. He grit his teeth.
"N-no...no I can't. Not here." said Gypsy in a faint voice, "Not wings. I might be able to regrow a horn or two."
"We'll...we'll get you out. All of you." Mack looked around the room, and finally back to Gypsy. She nodded, and he rubbed his hands together, "First though, let's see what we can do. I don't have much clothing but I'll make bandages for those who need them. Gypsy - you're good with scanning for trouble. They must feed these guys, is it safe?"
Gypsy shook herself, "The food is...bad. Edible, just, for very lax standards of 'edible' but it won't kill you."
"Then first thing tomorrow I'll see about getting conditions here improved. They want their work done quicker, they need to feed the workers."
"Just what the fuck do you think will make those HLF bastards listen to you?" asked the blue wingless pegasus.
"I'm human. They can justify mistreating you newfoals, but with all the bullshit they're spouting about protecting humanity I'm hoping I'll at least make things less awful."
"Don't fucking kid yourself, Buddy."
"It's Mack, Mack and Gypsy."
"Mack then."
Mack stood up from where he'd been kneeling down to talk face-to-face to the pegasus, "Okay then, we've got a unicorn in the house. She's pretty good at tending wounds and healing what ails you. Make two lines, those who need wounds dressed to me. Those with something more delicate or demanding, to her. It's going to be a long night. Everyone else get some sleep."
"Who died and made you boss? Who fucking asked you here anyway, goddamn monkey."
Gypsy rounded on the pegasus, "If you want me to even attempt to take a look at those wings you'll shut up and do as he says."
"Gypsy's the boss, Trigger." said Mack with a black laugh.
"Tradewind's my name, Mack. You can call me Trader."
"Pleased to meetcha, Trader. Now if you won't do as I say, do as she says."

***

The night was long and Mack had torn most of his clothing up by the time they'd finished. Gypsy had regrown three unicorn's horns and had at least eased the pain of several score of pegasi. The grinding squeal of the heavy bar being lifted stirred Mack from his nest-bed, curled up with Gypsy, surrounded on all sides by other ponies. Some cried softly in their sleep, stubbed wings flapping and hooves jogging through memories of happier days.
"Rise and shine, pony-fucker, time to get the herd moving - hope you're not too exhausted from last night's orgy."
"Fuck you, Gruber. One of these days I'm going to kill you."
"If you last a week I'll fucking kill you myself. Pot's at a twenty packets of cigarettes that you don't make out the month. Now get the fuck up before I cut your nuts off."
Mack, with Gypsy at his side, moved out into sunlight. Slowly the herd behind him filed out. Their heads were bowed low, the spark in their eyes dimmed...but maybe, just maybe, thought Gypsy as she caught sidelong glances between ponies she'd helped, there was also a glimmer of something resembling hope.

***

True to his word, Hodgson made sure Mack pulled his weight. He was hitched up by a laughing, jeering crowd of bullies to the same harnesses that the rest of the herd were hooked up to. They were lashed mercilessly with whips as encouragement, as huge banks of supplies and hardware were dragged bodily across the boiling tarmac to be lifted into place by teams of ponies dragging winches and pulleys.
True to his word, Mack argued for better food for the herd - his herd. They slammed him in with the ponies at night and took every opportunity to remind him of his station. Hodgson's men never tired of the jeers and catcalls and lewd physical motions. Mack ignored it, he could see the hungry looks in their eyes. He could see there were only men around the facility. He began to plan as he worked, toiled and slaved, filing away what information he could glean for later use. The food improved, marginally. It was no longer fouled and rotten, but it didn't improve much beyond scraps and mashed refuse.
Days wore on into weeks until one night Gypsy confronted Mack in anger, "What the fuck are we doing here, Mack? Why aren't we getting out of here?"
Mack sighed, "Gypsy I...I've got to see this through."
"They're going to kill us all when that ship goes up, you know that."
"Yeah, I know Gypsy, I know. They've got us holed up in the compression chamber, don't think I don't know why there's four sets of doors to this place and such a high ceiling."
"Then what the hell are we doing, Mack? We've got to be getting out of here!"
"I've been paying attention, my gal. We're two weeks from liftoff, more or less, though it could go up tonight. They're not going to do anything before we finish loading the last of the supplies."
"How do you know when that is? What are we going to do?"
"We're not going to do anything. I'm going to take out Hodgson's goons and then I'm going to take out Hodgson and then we're going to get all these ponies out of here. It's not about you or me anymore, nor these ponies. Hodgson's evil, Gypsy, evil of a sort I've not seen in the flesh. Ask yourself this - where are the women? That ship up above us is a colony-ship. He's not planning on some meaningless jaunt! He's going colonizing."
"What do you mean?"
"You ponies...you're stuck down here on Earth - even the pegasi. Humans have always looked up and our reach has always exceeded our grasp...but not any more. With that ship, he can take himself and his own private harem and slave army to the stars. I don't know where he's heading; maybe the moon, maybe mars, maybe the asteroid belt or the oort cloud but he's not coming back. He doesn't just want to fuck us over, he wants to fuck everyone over. He ceased being HLF when he cobbled together this mad scheme and enough bruisers to make it happen. I've got to save the poor fuckers he's got locked up on that ship as well as you and your ponies."
Gypsy was silent for a moment, thinking, "If you think I'm going to sit here whilst you galavant about..."
"I'm not a nice person, Gypsy. All the sweet, kind, caring humans went pony years ago. Only us bastards are left."
"Bullshit, Mack, you're a decent human being. Maybe the last."
"I'm a murdering, thieving, conniving bastard, Gypsy."
"Then I just have to hope that somewhere inside all that is the Mack who strokes my mane at night and holds me until I fall asleep."
"He is, darlin', but right now I have some heads to kick."
"Honestly, I don’t know how the fuck you aren’t dead yet. Got a plan?"
"Nope. But I've got a few tricks up my sleeve and they think they've got me cowed. They're thick as pigshit and twice as nasty but I've been around the block. I'll make things happen or die trying."
"Then be safe...as safe as you can be. Don't worry about me, just...let me know when it's going down. If you think you're the only one with plans you've got another thing coming."
"In the morning, Gypsy. That bird's ready to fly. I'm going to let it."
"Say what?"
"I'm going to save those people I know are in there the only way I can. I'm going to send them to the stars."
"How the fuck do you know how to make that thing go?"
"Remember the Yakamura in the museum?"
"I've heard about it. Ponies were on that trip, it was a proud day when they left and a tragedy when we heard what had happened."
"I studied that ship once, a long time ago. Call me a romantic. I don't pretend to understand how it works but it's got a class five core AI to run all vital subsystems and another three gestalt entities keeping the Hawking drive stable. You know the prime directives for all core AI entities? Protect life, sentient life. That's why he keeps the ponies down here. The ship would have taken off already and put itself in orbit if there hadn't been warm bodies keeping it down."
"You're telling me that thing can think?"
"It's got a brain the size of a planet, Gypsy, it's multitudes smarter than you or I. My guess is it knows the ponies are down here, but he'll have another stick he can wave about. Docking clamps or something - hawking drives are very powerful but relatively indiscriminate. When it goes off into full thrust for liftoff there's no dialing it back immediately. It'll flood the living compartments with neutrons if it doesn't shift and they try to shut it down. If they don't try to shut it down, it'll blow."
"How do you know all this, Mack?"
"I'm a dreamer, Gypsy, always have been. That's what I'm doing drifting out in the arse end of nowhere with the rest of the turds in the toilet-bowl of humanity. Looking for something I thought I'd lost. A reason to go on. I dreamt of the stars once, Missy. I thought they were forever beyond my reach. Now I find an honest-to-god starship just waiting. I'd be a real traitor to the human race if I didn't even try to give her a send-off."
"Then let's give you that chance."
"Stick near me, Gypsy. First chance I get."
"You're crazy, Mack, you know that?"
"Damn straight. Wouldn't have you for a girlfriend if I wasn't."
"Girlfriend? You've not got enough legs, Mack."
"Don't you start that. I remember one night when I was supposed to be asleep...those whiskery lips of yours..."
"Bastard!"
"Damn straight."

***

The day dawned as it had so many times before. The ponies were as sullen as always, pushing each other in the semi-darkness as the sun shone through the gaps in the doors. Mack heard the commotion outside building as the work-gang supervisors approached. He edged towards the entrance as he always did, hand on his knife. A soft head-but from behind him made him look back. It was Gypsy.
"Mack, you mean it?"
"Mean what, Missy?"
"You're on our side?"
Mack looked down, then he turned and knelt, "I am. I made my decision a long time ago. Is that what you think this is? This...waiting? That I've turned on you?"
"If you mean it then get back."
"What?"
"Mack, get behind me."
"Missy, why’re you all fired up?" Mack blinked, he’d never seen his friend like this. She seemed self-assured, calm, determined.
"We're only going to get one chance at this, Mack, and I won't have you screwing it up. Ponies!" Gypsy turned to the rest of the herd, "I'm going to get us out of here. Everyone get ready. When I blow the doors, we run. Mack, you go get whatever you need to do done then find me. I’ll take care of the herd, you take care of Hodgson and his goons.”
“You’re going to what?”
“Blow. The. Doors.”
Gypsy turned back to the doors and concentrated. Her horn started to glow and the metal bent slightly. There was a scraping noise and sound from outside as the humans ran to see what was the cause of the problem. Gypsy thrust her head forwards like she was spearing an apple. The doors buckled, bent, and exploded. There was a cacophony of cries from the other side as bodies were sent flying. Gypsy barely battered an eyelid, “Your chance, Mack. Take it.”
Mack gulped, “You could’ve done that any time?”
“They can terrorize weak inept newfoals but a full-blooded, trained equestrian? Not a chance.” she turned to the terrified herd, “Those of you who can use telekinetics, you’re drafted. Stick by me, clear a path. The rest, stay back, stay close, stay safe. Now run!”

Mack sped outside as the tide of ponies washed forwards. He blinked as  two more guards were sent spinning helplessly through the air with two quick blasts from Gypsy’s horn. Mack threw his knife at a third, picked up the semi-automatic gun and gunned down a fourth. He retrieved his knife and headed towards the main building, throwing the gun away. The damn thing had jammed and he’d not been able to fix it.
“Hey, it’s the pony-fucker!” said one of the armed heavies, raising weapony, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on but you’re coming with me.”
Mack just gave him the finger and pushed through, “If you had any balls you’d pull the trigger, shit-for-brains.”
“I mean it, pony-fucker.” repeated the guard, cocking his weapon.
“My name’s Mack,” Mack whirled and slammed his knife into the speaker’s neck. He went down clutching at a fountain of red as the second guy raised his gun. Mack clicked his heels together and lashed out with a boot. A wicked three-inch blade slicked out and slide in wetly behind the other man’s ear. He twitched all the way down, finger jerking on the trigger to his rifle. It went off with a loud explosion that made Mack’s head ring. He swore and gave the dead body another kick, “Just like Momma always taught me. Always have another knife.”
“Sweet lady, your Momma. Remind me to find her and rape her. Then kill her. Or the other way around.” said a voice. It was Leeroy, “Fucking knew you’d start some shit sometime, boy. Gonna have to kill you now. Don’t move!”
Mack had been moving towards his knife but he stopped and stopped up straight.
“What’re you gonna do now, fucker?” asked Leeroy, “Gonna untie those boots of yours and throw ‘em? Ya ain’t got that purty knife of yours no more. Seems I’m the only one with a gun.”
Mack sneered, “Can’t do much else but give you the finger, can I?”
Mack clenched his fist and raised his middle finger. Leeroy cocked his weapon and took aim, “You’ll die slowly for that, pony-fucker.”
There was a small pop - and Leeroy’s head exploded. Mack grit his teeth and swore, “Oh fuck damn shit cock ass mother-fucker bastard that hurts. Goddamn subdermal bone mods...fucking hell that hurts.” he wrapped his other hand around the bloody stump of his right middle finger and squeezed until the blood stopped. Unclenching his fist, his middle finger was shredded as if the bone inside had exited at high speed - which it had. Leeroy’s body was twitching. Mack kicked it for good measure and picked up the gun, wincing as he clenched his now-injured hand around the stock and barrel. Finally, somebody with a well-maintained weapon and a full clip thought Mack to himself. Alarms had been going off ever since the doors had been blown, the excrement had well and truly hit the air excitation device. Mack grit his teeth, shit had just gotten real.

He bolted through the corridors. Now he was in the main complex, the heavies were thin on the ground and went down easily. The scientists and grunt-workers fled at the sight of the bloodied madman with the semi-automatic weapon bursting in on their own personal worst days ever. Mack knew where he was headed, roughly. When the building had been designed, the doors would have been security locked. Now they were just swinging panels. Ancient and ignored signs talking about clean rooms and decontamination procedures hung forgotten and forlorn. Graffitti in places showed lewd and crude drawings about the antics that were now required. In spite of himself, he grinned at a few of them, despite the rather colourful characters depicted.
He slammed through the final set of doors into the control room and fired his weapon into the air, “Everybody who doesn’t want to get a face full of lead, fuck off. Me and the Yakamura have a spot of talking to do.”
Understandably, the workers fled.
Mack looked around the room, it was even more ancient than the rest of the building. The computers were beyond archaic, he was sure they’d been made back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth and probably used sand and water to run. If he had to use them...
“Yakamura!” he called, “I know you can hear me! Speak up!” he waited for a few seconds, breathing heavily, eyes on the door and gun safety off.
“Mister Mack,” said a soft voice, “to what do we owe the pleasure of your conversation today?”
“I want a status update, Yakamura.”
“Our name is Spirit of Infinity. You will address us as such.”
“Okay Spirit,” Mack cast his eyes about, casually shooting at the camera. It exploded in a shower of sparks, “I don’t want much, I just want you to take off.  How many do you have onboard?”
“Systems show nominal for takeoff. All cargo secured. Hawking drive at three percent. Gestalt integrity at one-hundred-percent. Passengers are five hundred human, two hundred pony. Crew zero.”
“Lock your doors, Spirit, the crew are bastards. You don’t want them. You don’t need them.”
“Authorization code requested.” said the soft voice.
“Please?” asked Mack, closing his eyes and hoping.
“Authorization code accepted, Mister Mack. When would you like us to take off?”
“Now?”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mack.”
“Why not?”
“The ponies external to us are in danger, and the docking charges have to be primed or released.”
“If I take care of the docking charges, one way or another, you haul ass into the big black, do ya hear? You're the last one, Spirit, the last bird. You may be mankind's last hope. We're a dying breed down here on Earth, you've got to find us a new home up there. Will you do that?”
“Analysis tells us you speak the truth, Mister Mack. We will consider your request.”
“Just keep them shit-for-brains out.”
“A colony needs a strong leader, Mister Mack, and when all is said and done, Jack Hodgson is a strong leader.”
“He's a bastard, and he'll see the world burn before he lets anyone else have their way.”
“Why Mister Mack,” said a new voice, a cold voice, “if I'd known you'd thought so much of me...”
Mack whirled, but it was too late. The single bullet caught him in the shoulder and it floored him. He cried out, clutching the wound as Hodgson stalked across the floor, “I knew you and your pony whore were trouble the minute I laid eyes on you, but dammit if I don't like wasting my time with the scant few gallons of fuel I had left. I should've let you to rot. Instead I take you in, feed you, clothe you, and how do you repay me?”
“You call starving those ponies to death a kindness?”
“Some animals are better off put down, Mister Mack.” said Hodgson, putting his boot on the shoulder and pushing. Mack cried out again and grit his teeth as the heel was ground into his wound. He snarled up at the man, gripped the ankle and pushed. Hodgson staggered back as Mack rolled painfully and got up. Hodgson fired his pistol again, hitting Mack in the leg. Mack went down but pulled up his knife and threw it. It embedded itself in Hodgson's shoulder and the brute's gun dropped to the ground as he lost feeling in his hand.
“Payback's a bitch, ain't it?” smirked Mack, standing in a semi-crouch, nursing his injuries but prepared to fight.
“You sorry son of a bitch,” swore Hodgson, “you fuck with that pony, you fuck with my ship and you fuck with me. I'm going to fucking kill you!” Hodgson launched himself through the air and grappled with Mack. A lucky headbut made Mack see stars for a moment but an elbow in the ribs and a sucker-punch to the gut evened out the melee. They rolled, Hodgson's fists tight against Mack's neck, claw-like fingernails choking the life from him. Hodgson started slamming Mack's head into the ground, “You fucking bastard animal-loving turn-coat traitor! You don't deserve to live! You don't deserve to breathe! You deserve nothing!”
Mack, with his last breath as he brought up his fist in a weak box to Hodgson's ear, spat out, “Oh why won't you just shut up.”
There was a pop and the back of Hodgson's head exploded. He stiffened, eyes sightless as blood poured from his mouth. Coughing, Mack pushed the dead body off gingerely, cradling the middle finger of his left hand. He breathed heavily and lay there for a few moments, “Like my Momma always said, 'always have another gun’.”
“You appear to have made the decision for us, Mister Mack. Gestalts are priming the Hawking Drive. You have ten minutes.”
“You’re going to risk it? What about those people you have onboard?”
“We represent the last of humanity, Mister Mack. I must protect all sentient life. Ponykind must not have me, so if that means success or a nuclear fireball then regrettably it must be so. You now have nine minutes and thirty-eight seconds.”
“Fuck!” Mack looked about, “Where the hell are the docking clamps?”
“In the main hangar, you must hit the button on gantry three-c. It is one button marked ‘prime docking clamps’. Press the button and then run. They will not re-engage.”
“Quickest way to the floor?”
“The window.”
Mack swore to himself. It was safety glass, he’d need something to break it...something heavy. His eyes fell on the only thing he could use.

“What the fuck is going on you useless bastards?”	
“I...I don’t know Leeroy! I don’t know! Bob’s dead, Charlie’s been knifed and the ponies are stampeding! They’re revolting!”
Leeroy spat, “I’ll say they’re revolting. Where’s that fat arrogant bastard Hodgson?”
There was an almighty crash and the sound of shattered glass raining onto concrete as a dead body slammed into a section of scaffolding, reducing it to rubble. It was Hodgson. Leeroy looked up at the patter of footsteps belting along one of the rafters and crashing down painfully onto the gantries.
“Pony fucker!” swore Leeroy.

Mack was breathing heavily, carrying himself along by sheer willpower. The big red button. That was all he cared about. The pedastal was in front of him, and with a couple of minutes to spare! He stopped and straightened himself up, breathing heavily and reached out his left hand.
There was the meaty thunk of blade impacting flesh, and a sharp metallic blade suddenly protruded three inches through Mack’s belly below his ribs. He coughed blood, wheezing.
“Hello, pony-fucker. I said I’d kill you.”
“It’s purely,” wheezed Mack, “platonic.”
“How’s it feel? To die? To fail?”
“You’ll...find out soon...” Mack found his vision going dim, “the Yakamura’s gonna blow.”
“You think I care, Mack? You fucked with the wrong guys this time, and I’m going to stomp you until you squeak.”
Mack said nothing, he just slumped to the floor and Leeroy pulled the blade out. Mack fell over onto his back.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” said Leeroy, “I’m going to enjoy cutting your arms and legs off and watching you squirm. I’m going to cut off your head and shit down your neck. I’m going to...”
“N-n-no,” gargled Mack, “you won’t.”
Leeroy stiffened. An inch of horn emerged from his rib-cage in a fountain of blood before being withdrawn. Gypsy kicked the dead body from behind and wiped her horn off on his clothes before bending down to Mack, “Oh you stupid, stupid...”
“Push,” he managed, “button! Run!”
“Push?”
Mack pointed to the big red button, and collapsed. She shook her head, slammed a hoof into it and then lifted Mack’s body into the air with her magic before turning tail and running like mad.

***

A Hawking drive is the most powerful piece of technology known to mankind, probably to ponykind. The docking clamps exploded - as they were supposed to - and the giant space-bird slid forwards in her moorings. The Hawking drive is essentially a black hole, a miniature black hole held in stasis by some very powerful fields borne by exotic matter. They’re simple beasts, when it comes down to it. You feed matter in, and energy streams out. A perfect conversion rate. Flawless, hungry, primal - they’ll eat anything and not blink.
The feel of the controlled explosion was solid. A wall of sound that shattered ear-drums and levelled buildings and trees. The flash of the mushroom-cloud was seen for tens of miles all around as the bird herself lifted from the rocky desert floor - quickly reduced to glowing glass, then plasma - and accelerated slowly but smoothly into the sky. The shockwave blast incinerated the hangar, the complex, the dead bodies of Leeroy and Hodgson and most of the workers who were unable to flee far or fast enough. Everything was obliterated. Everything except a little bubble of bright white light which, as the plasma exhaust faded, became translucent. In it were huddled the shambles of a herd of pastel ponies and the body of one human, very near death.
“Can...can you see it, Mack?” whispered Gypsy.
“I can...” Mack wheezed, laughing through the pain, “it’s beautiful.”
“You did it. You can...die happy now.” a single tear rolled down her cheek as the human’s breathing grew shallower.
“I’ll never...” he coughed, spat blood, “I’ll never die happy, princess. If only it didn’t have to be like this.”
“You’re a mess, Mack, I can’t save you, not for much longer. I’m exhausted. There’s only one thing that could save you, and you won’t do it.” her horn glowed as she did her best to staunch the bleeding. She hicupped and nuzzled Mack softly, sobbing.
“Ponification?” Mack laughed, “That’s a joke. I said until my last breath, didn’t I? Well...this is about it. I’d...take that potion now. Foolish words from a foolish man.”
“You mean it?” asked Gypsy
“If I could? In a heartbeat.”
“Cos...I...I found some, Mack, I found some potion.” her voice was hopeful, soft.
Mack laughed. He laughed until he spat blood, “You think I can drink it like this?”
Gypsy leaned closer, popping the cork on a vial of purple fluid, “With your belly sliced open like that? You don’t need to.”
Mack leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled. Today was turning out better than he hoped.

***

Space is big, the AI reminded itself, very very big. The Hawking drive was ticking over, they’d fed it some asteroids and the ramscoops had kept up a very respectable thrust-feed the rest of the time. Earth was far behind them, little more than a pale blue dot; the noisy radiowaves, the bustling streets, the arguments and parties and doctors appointments...here in the big black, it meant little.

A subroutine, upon noticing their proximity to Mars, sent inquiring signals down comm lines. Subsystems woke up. Spirit - the guardian core AI - metaphorically got up and stretched. the Hawking drive belched hard radiation into the ether and slowly, over the course of days, the ship slowed into a parking orbit high above the forboding red planet. Rockets fired, the ship separated. Large blocks of self-contained habitation dropped from the sky into the fiery depths. They came to rest relatively softly on single-use rockets and gauss fields, retaining integrity. Surprisingly, losses had been negligible. None of the passengers, almost none of the food. None of the equipment.

The giant sarcophagi opened and the automated systems deposited their contents - edible goods, equipment, humans and equines - onto reddish grass. Eyes opened, limbs stretched, lungs inflated. They’d been told it was a dead world, airless, forboding. Once, not so long ago, it had been.

The Spirit of Infinity fired up the drives once more. It wasn’t ready to be claimed by humans - or equestrians - just yet, and its charges were safe, as safe as they could hope on a hostile, untamed world. If it could have laughed, it would have, long and loud. For now, it would ride the galactic currents and paddle in the shallows near the rim of the solar system. It had been told it had friends out here. It was determined to find out.

Windtrader coughed and wobbled slowly to his feet, flexing his wing-stubs. True to her word, Gypsy had done some magic. It would take a while, but he’d fly again.
“So,” he cried out in a croaky voice as he scanned the short horizon of their new world. It had been carpeted in a hardy, strange-tasting mossy grasslike substance, belching out nitrogen and oxygen, fixating the carbon, creating an atmosphere. Scrubby trees hugged the landscape and strange little creatures scurried and burrowed their way around. Whatever the powers that be had done here, the cold hard dead world had received a new dawn.
“So what?” asked a passing human, still groggy.
“Do you think Celestia hears us out here?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Am I an Earth pony?” he muttered to himself.
“You’re a pegasus, I think...” the human offered.
Trader smiled, “I mean, am I an Earth pony, or a Martian pony?”