Lucky stared down at her hooves. “You want… me to… true things? Not lies?”
“That’s what I want,” Dust said. “Whatever you tell me, I’ll listen. Doesn’t mean I’ll believe you, if it’s a pile of broken feathers and cloudless skies, but I’ll listen.” Dust was certain she’d be able to tell an honest explanation from an invention, even from a pony who could barely speak the language. She was too young to be a good liar.
“Okay.” Lucky leaned back for a second, her face deep in concentration. Of course, she always looked like that whenever she had to explain anything even a little complex, so Dust wasn’t exactly surprised. She spoke as haltingly as ever, though the gaps for concentration grew fewer and shorter with each passing phrase. “I came from far away.” She pointed out the window. “Farther than any pony has ever been. I am an explorer, representing my… ponies. They are different than you. More… advanced.”
“Advanced,” Dust repeated, flicking her wing at the box that she had briefly taken for a communication device of some kind. It was far smaller than any such device had any right to be, much smaller than the brand-new radio their factory used to receive orders from the ground. “Like that? Like that armor you were wearing?”
“Yes!” Lucky said, nodding vigorously. “But they didn’t just want… stuff. My ponies wanted friends. They sent many ponies to visit… your country. But I was first.” She tapped the side of her head with a hoof. “I am the best with words. I would come, and learn how you talk, then go back to teach them.”
Dust just stared, taking it all in. It wasn’t anything like what she had been expecting. No words of the rumored slave-pens kept by the barbaric cousins of Equestria’s own griffins. No word of the worst creatures beyond, who fed on the love of all beings. Not even mention of the legendary mountains of Nibiru, where pegasi were apparently driven from the sky by the end of magic itself.
No, the filly’s explanation was altogether stranger. And not terribly believable. Yet she spoke with complete conviction. She didn’t look away, her tone didn’t change, her scent remained confident. Could she be crazy? “But… why send a foal? If you’re a… diplomatic envoy from… the changelings, or whoever…”
Now she reacted. The pony whimpered, shaking her head. “I was supposed to be big. Making ponies is hard. I came out wrong. If I fail, my replacement won’t.”
“Oh.” The explanation hardly helped. Lucky’s language skills weren’t helping either. What did she mean by making ponies? “So, you came to… learn Eoch? That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Lucky repeated. “And do anything it would take. There are… so many of us, that my ponies can send the ones good at any job. So while I come to talk to you, others can stay behind to learn. Wasn’t supposed to be this easy.” She relaxed again. “But I’m better every day. Months, and I be good enough.”
So maybe she was a slave after all. One so totally dominated that she didn’t even know it. Lightning Dust had heard about such things, particularly from the changelings. They could manipulate a pony, pretending to be anypony they knew, tricking them into saying or doing things, or feeling things. Dust hadn’t met one of the creatures, or been close enough to their attacks on Equestria over the years.
This could be the latest. Dust would have to be careful—just because Lucky might be working for a dangerous enemy didn’t mean she was herself a bad pony. Dust refused to believe that. “Are the ones who sent you ponies?” she asked, hoping her concerns wouldn’t be too obvious.
Just as Dust had thought, Lucky wasn’t a good liar. “No,” she said. “They are… hue-mahns.” Her own language again, though just for that word. “What we call ourselves.”
“So, what did they look like? Scales, feathers, shiny black armor, two legs, or maybe—”
“Last one!” Lucky bounced up and down in her seat a few times. “Two legs, yeah!” She held up one hoof. “We have hands. Not like this, but better. Can hold things, play music, climb…”
“The minotaurs sent you,” Dust said, beginning to assemble a picture in her head. Very little was known about minotaurs from beyond Equestria, except that they were a hearty race able to survive the difficult conditions of a climate without ponies to regulate. There were no seasons there, no rain, and yet somehow, they survived.
Dust admired the resolve.
“No!” Lucky insisted, shaking her head vigorously. “At least… I don’t think so? That word… means something else.”
“One more question,” Dust said, ignoring her confusion. She didn’t want to press the filly too harshly—as tough as she’d been up until now, no child could keep up with such stress forever. “How does a pony end up so far away from Equestria? Did you never know your family, or are there ponies living out there, too?”
Lucky answered with a string of words in her own language, and her expression grew briefly frustrated. “I… not easy to explain.” Another pause. “I wasn’t always. We used magic to make me one. I’m…” She sighed. “It doesn’t go away. I’m a pony forever. The others who come will be too, unless…” more words she didn’t understand.
Dust wasn’t sure what to make of that. Could magic make a pony into something else? Not honest magic, that was for sure. Honest magic changed the sky, everypony knew that. But unicorns could do strange things. She is awkward enough for it. Tripping over her own hooves, not knowing how to fly. There was some truth in what Dust was being told, certainly.
But minotaurs don’t have unicorns. They did have magic, though it wasn’t a kind many ponies knew about. It was dark, forbidden stuff.
“I hope…” The pony sounded timid now, her voice very quiet. “I hope you will let me stay. I am… learning better with you. I want to learn… other things too.” She stretched out her wings, flexing them. “And I don’t want to go back to… where I was. It’s hard to learn Eoch without ponies to talk to.”
“You won’t.” Dust rose, crossing around the table and resting one hoof on her shoulder. “I don’t know about what you told me, but I know I’ll keep looking out for you. Until you can fend for yourself, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she responded, grinning toothily up at her.
“Good.” Dust turned to go. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to get some sleep now. Early shift at the factory.”
“Great!” Lucky’s grin was genuine, any trace of her discomfort from their conversation gone. “Yeah, sleep. Sleep is…” She yawned wide, stretching her wings as she did, and seemed to struggle to stay standing.
“Tomorrow after work, we can work on teaching you more. Flying lessons first. The ponies who sent you would approve of those, right?”
“Yeah,” Lucky said, with another wide yawn.
Dust had to help her make her way to bed. But that seemed a small price to pay in exchange for everything she’d learned.
With that done, there was only one task to do, though Lighting Dust didn’t understand that one either. After all the trouble she’d gone to in order to retrieve Lucky’s old machine, it seemed strange that the filly would want her to bring it outside and set it on the clouds behind their home, “as far from the building as possible”. She did, then washed her hooves, just like Lucky suggested. She would have to ask for an explanation when the filly got more sleep.
So now I know what Lucky thinks. What do I do about it?
Nothing rash, that was for certain. Lightning Dust’s old self would already be flying to the mayor’s office to get a telegram sent to Canterlot as quickly as possible. Even the smallest possibility this child was being honest in her story would’ve been worthy of the most extreme investigation. Dust knew nothing of politics, but she knew that being friends with advanced ponies who could change their species with magic and build radios the size of books would be the kind of friends Equestria wanted very much to make.
New Lightning Dust would have to consider things more carefully before she decided. Charcoal should be here tomorrow or the next day. Maybe he can give me advice. How would the dragons deal with a pony who thinks she’s been sent by advanced ponies on an important mission? At least she thinks her mission is exactly what I would want her to do anyway.
She could spend a day or two thinking things over, deciding exactly who she would tell about this. That pony from Canterlot couldn’t have known about this, could she? She had a translation spell… hadn’t she said something about the objects being dangerous?
She was probably lying, like ponies from Canterlot always did. Dust could deal with that in the morning too.
* * *
James pawed at the edge of the cloud, staring down into the fathomless abyss below her. The sky was so wide, the horizon apparently endless, and she couldn't even quantify the distance between herself and the ground. However badly the transmitter had been damaged in its fall from the sky, her own body would do far worse.
A stiff breeze ruffled her mane and passed by her tail, reminding her that she was naked in public. It doesn't matter. All the aliens do it. Every diplomat is going to have to get used to their social customs eventually. It was a pity she wasn't a forensic historian—one day, James would love to learn exactly what made the aliens different from her own kind in that respect. Her own biases pushed her towards considering their animal past, but she could be honest enough with herself to realize that humans had a similar history.
"Kid!" Lightning Dust's voice came from very close, sounding a little annoyed. "I said jump." She spread her own wings again, demonstrating the stance. “Just hold them rigid and let yourself drift down. As soon as we teach you how to glide, you'll be safe enough that you won't need to be afraid of falling off."
"I can't!" she insisted, her forelegs shaking. "That's two hundred meters to the clouds down there! If I fail, I'll die!" She stared over the edge again, eyes focusing only with difficulty on the large stretch of cloud below them. Lightning Dust had brought her several hundred meters above what passed for a public park in Stormshire, though once the other aliens had learned what they were doing there the little crowd of visitors dispersed and did not return. Probably they don't want to be hit by a falling pony.
"You can," Lightning Dust insisted, jostling her flank lightly, forcing her to stumble forward. Her forehooves gripped the front of the cloud desperately, but there was no longer enough ground to hold on to. She was starting to lean. Her heart pounded in her chest, probably two hundred beats per minute at least. The world was starting to spin; she was so light-headed. She very nearly vomited again.
But she didn't. "O-okay..." she squeaked, holding her wings out and locking the joints as a human might with their legs. It didn't hurt, though it seemed impossible that such strange limbs could possibly hold up her weight. It hadn't looked like enough when she saw them on the screen and it certainly didn't look like enough now that she was about to let her life depend on it.
"Listen carefully," Lightning Dust said, her voice carrying over the wind only through shouting. "Aim for the clouds! Even if you fall, they won't hurt you. The park is the thickest cloud in Stormshire, you can fall twenty meters without touching the bottom! Just hold your wings rigid and twist the ends, like we talked about. It doesn't matter if it's scary—you'll get used to it."
"Okay." She took one last deep breath, staring down into the void. Then she stepped off, pushing with her back hooves. She fell.
Air blasted past her, far more forcefully than she'd been expecting. Her wings caught it and instantly bent upward—not far enough to injure her, but further than was comfortable or optimal for gilding. Instead of directing her way down in a calm, measured way, she plummeted, gaining speed.
"EEEEEEEEEEE!" she screamed, and probably pissed herself a little as well. She'd never know—she wasn't wearing any clothes that might show it. The distance to the clouds below had seemed phenomenal when seen from above, but with her eyes watering and the air rushing past her, it was only a few seconds. James felt her heart catch the second before she struck the clouds—and they swallowed her.
Whatever pain she had been expecting hadn't come. Instead moisture and cloudy white fluff billowed about her, dissolving beneath her as she slowed. She came to a stop after only moments in the clouds, stuck still and staring up at the gap her passage had made. "Uh... hello?"
She wasn't alone long. A few seconds later there was a crash beside her, and the ground she was sunk in shook vigorously with the impact. Evidently Dust had jumped in behind her. After a few moments of struggling, James managed to catch sight of a hoof reaching for her from above, and she extended a hoof to take it. Dust hauled her bodily from the cloud, dripping wet from the moisture.
James lay on her back, legs sprawled in utter disregard of modesty. Just then she couldn't be bothered to care. "T-that... that was... that..."
"Horseapples?" Dust sat beside her, a prominent grin plastered across her face. "Yeah, wasn't the best work I've ever seen. But so far as first jumps went, well done! I didn't even have to push you!"
James was still breathing hard, and she didn't exactly feel motivated to rush. Yet after a few moments passed she sat up, meeting Dust's eyes. She was too relieved just to be alive to feel any anger, at least not right then. "I didn't do good, I failed!" She pointed back at the opening she had left. "But I'm happy to be alive."
Dust laughed. "Most fillies and colts end up crashing their first time. But I didn't have to push you! Lots of ponies need to be thrown the first time."
"Like a baby bird," James muttered, shaking out her feathers. Her wings were a little sore after her landing, mostly from the pain of such a painful impact. But it wasn't anything she expected would last. Just a mild irritation.
"Guess so, yeah." Dust shrugged her wings, then got down onto the cloud again. "Hop on. We're going again."
James didn't argue. There wasn't nearly as much reason to be afraid now that she knew the impact wasn't going to hurt her. The second time she stood on the edge of the cloud, it was only her own instincts of self-preservation she had to overcome. Jumping came far easier then. By the tenth time, she managed to reduce her speed enough that she didn't vanish into the clouds in a puff of smoke. By the time it was dark, she could jump without being afraid. It was hard to stay frightened of something she knew perfectly well wasn't going to cause her any harm. She had mastered basic gliding.
"Great start!" Dust was saying, over and over. "Gliding is the foundation for everything we do. You wouldn't know by looking, but most pegasi spend most of their time gliding. It's all about building that rhythm of when you need to fly and when you can glide—when you fly everywhere you go, you get used to it really fast."
"I did it!" James said, as they walked through the open doors to Dust's quiet home. "I can't believe I actually did it..." It was a pity she didn't have a replacement computation surface yet. She would have plenty to write about this adventure, plenty that she might forget. The Forerunner would expect her to come back with knowledge of the language they could use to fulfill their mission—it probably wouldn't expect her to come back with an intimate knowledge of alien flight as well. I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't done it.
It was going to be hard to leave this pony behind when her mission ended. She hoped she could come back and visit, once her official responsibilities were complete. But she wasn't going to rush. After all, the probe had spent hundreds or thousands of years getting here. It could afford to wait a little longer while she learned.
It had been nearly twenty-four hours now, enough time for the probe to finish fabricating her replacement gear. She could only hope the communicator’s location and her implants together would be enough for it to locate her for delivery. It won’t be the end of the world if it isn’t. Lightning Dust knows where she found me, I could just fly back there and pick them up from the probe myself.
Today had proved she had a little more practice ahead of her before she could fly on her own. A few weeks of it, if Lightning Dust’s reassurances were true.
But I probably won’t have to wait. Tomorrow we’ll get the delivery, and I’ll have my gear, and everything will be perfect.