Humanity!
In all the universes, in all realities, nowhere else is such a diverse, lovely, terrifying, wonderful species!
Take this shard of reality: humanity emerges from a war to contact aliens, overcomes terrible adversity and eventually leads a federation of allied races to prosperity! Lovely!
In this one: Humans lead a terrible space empire… but they also lead a rebellion against said empire! And there are magical space monks with laser swords! Marvelous, just marvelous!
So many possibilities! Like frenzied forked lightning their potential pierces the fabric of the multiverse. Is it any wonder that they are my favorite?
But…
There is always a but.
If there are highest highs of peace and prosperity, there must be a low.
The waves and ebbs of balance ensure that there must be a dark to every light.
Look upon one of the worst: The distant dark future of a galaxy burned by fire and salted by blood. A galaxy with no friendly federation, only xenophobia and distrust. Humanity spread to the stars in an uncountable multitude and beat their existence onto planets like a blacksmith at a forge, opposed always by the dark laughter of thirsting gods.
Look closer: A planet whose existence is dedicated to war, dedicated to stand against an insane evil. A planet who now dies: its enemy successful in breaching the weapons and armor built into its very mantle.
Closer still: A fleeing flotilla of half-wrecked transports and warships. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, they run. Each vessel packed to the tip-top with injured and terrified survivors. They are pursued by the those that killed their planet, a people so full of hate and cruelty that they cannot stand the existence of even a single survivor.
Lets look at a survivor…
This one! Thirteen years old, a little banged up, but look at his mind! Focused! Faithful! Still hopeful after all of this!
I love humanity.
Its to bad he's going to die in a few days when the transport he is on has an engine failure and falls under the guns of the enemy fleet. His last thought will be of his God as fire rushes to consume him.
It'll be quick I suppose…
Ah, we can't have that, can we?
Perfect little mote of a human! A little push and we can slide him up and down the sideways cracks of the universe from here to there, now to then or even from zwang to kwang! That’s not a good choice though, humans don’t take to partial demi-existence that well.
There he goes! He's going up! From the grimmest darkness to…
Wait for it…
Oooh, he's going WAY up there!
Right into…!
This will be exciting!
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His name is Bann Thire.
He is wrapped in the twilight half-sleep where someone knows they should wake up, but they really don’t want to. All the lumps and bumps of his scratchy bunk seemed to have found their way to places that were comfortable, and the warm sun on his closed eyes felt wonderful.
Something was wrong, but it was far away right now.
He tried to scratch his nose and lightning pain shot up his arm.
Hissing, he shot upright, clutching his right arm with his left. Bandaged and wrapped tight against his body, he cursed himself and his arm for forgetting that it had been broken. As the pain subsided, he began to realize the myriad problems with his current situation.
One: He wasn't in his bed.
Two: He was under a clear blue sky with a warm yellow sun shining down upon his face and a gentle breeze brushing his matted hair out of his eyes.
Three: He was sitting on a rough dirt path green grass to his right and left. Carefully spaced trees laden with red fruit lined the path and the rolling hills surrounding it.
Carefully, restraining his panic, he stood, pressing off the warm dirt with his good hand. Eyes wide and unbelieving, he turned in a slow circle, taking in the picturesque surroundings. Considering that when he had gone to sleep, he had been crammed into a dim cargo bay that had been hastily retrofitted to carry a seething mass of thousands of fleeing soldiers and refugees, it was a lot to take in.
Remembering his training, he began to take stock of his assets.
His clothing was dirt stained, but considering that he had been wearing the same uniform for over a week now, it didn’t bear mentioning. His equipment was carefully placed next to his feet where he had left it when settling down into his cot last night: medpack (mostly empty now), flak helmet, knife and rifle with clips. His boots were scuffed but serviceable, and the rest of his kit seemed to be there: grooming kit, ration case and a cluster of other sundries all carefully packed away in pouches.
Fumbling with his left hand, he placed his helmet on his head and clipped it under his chin. Next was the rest: medpack belted, knife sheathed at his waist, two dark green frag grenades, and last, his weapon. A Kantrael pattern M36 lasgun, its boxy casing painted in the same olive drab as his uniform. Capable of sustained automatic fire it was the staple of human guardsmen the galaxy over and was the most important part of his kit. Carefully, with the due reverence it deserved, he slung the weapon strap over his shoulder, letting his uninjured arm rest on its stock. In minutes the rest of his gear was ready to go and he was left with what to do next.
He tried to remember the foreign world contact protocols from his first days in the White Shields, but most of it didn’t apply. He didn’t have a re-breather or mask, he didn’t have instructions from an apothecary to follow or unit directives to obey.
He recalled the scarred twisted face of his education officer as the man went over the protocols years ago, standing ramrod straight with the rest of the boys and girls in his class as the tall adult in his black storm coat had bawled at them:
"Always remember that you are a soldier in His army! If you cannot find a friendly unit to linkup with, if you cannot locate or contact your superiors, it is your duty to find the enemy and engage him! Your life is the coin of the Imperium and it must be spent against the enemy!"
Bann tapped the comm-bead in his helmet, but got no noise. Either it was damaged or it couldn’t find any signals. Working carefully, he adjusted the flak armor protecting his knees, elbows and the large vest protecting his chest and back. Situated and collected, he began to walk, picking a direction at random.
This world, whatever it was, was pleasant enough. Clear sky, cool breeze, normal gravity. Small brightly plumaged birds flitted in the branches of the fruit trees and, after some cautious observation, didn’t seem to be dangerous. The gently rolling hills seemed to go on for some distance, but he didn’t see any workers or machines tending the many trees. In fact, no distant spires or building marred the horizon at all. Wherever he was, it wasn’t a human planet.
The fruit trees were the worst. He studied one carefully, its branches laden with strange red fruit the size of his fist. They smelled wonderful, remining him of the dessert spread they gave with bread during the Feast of the Emperors Ascension. Carefully, he twisted one off of its stem and studied it closely. Red, smooth and enticing.
Mouth watering, his body begged for him to take a bite. He had been on emergency rations for so long he had began to forget what taste tasted like. All his training screamed the opposite, recalling warnings about poisons, sickness and a host of other disasters that could occur from eating alien food.
Sighing, he put the strange red thing into an empty pouch. Trying to assuage his stomach, he unwrapped a protein cube and popped it in his mouth, wrinkling his nose as it sucked the moisture out of his mouth and began to soften. Chewing hard, he worked the flavourless wad as he walked on, letting the slow acting food-replacement dissolve.
For hours he walked, his training allowing his lean form to keep moving. As step followed step and nothing attacked him, he began to take more of the environment in. He noticed more animals: small furry brown things with big bushy tails scampering from branch to branch or along the ground. Larger ground animals with droopy long ears and little ball-tails hopped about. More and more birds, each more colorful than the last, filled the air with musical chirps and trills.
Maybe I am dead.
The thought stopped him in his tracks.
This place… it was more peaceful and calm that anything he could imagine. It did resemble the paradise that the priests and ecclesiarches had said awaited the loyal and dutiful, but it was so quiet. None of his ancestors waited for him. His Emperor wasn’t waiting for him.
Was it because they had lost? Their world destroyed by the Great Enemy? Was he dead and left to wander this place alone?
The thoughts raced. He felt himself panicking. He let out a sudden cry and collapsed against the knotty trunk of a tree. All the stress of the past months and the alien unfamiliarity of his surroundings rendering the young man helpless. He felt his cheeks grow wet as he buried his face in his arm, trying desperately to control himself. His shoulders shook as wracking sobs burst forth. His weapon fell with a quiet clatter to the hand packed dirt path.
He sat there for sometime, remembering the voices of his friends and wondering if he would every hear them again. He knew that many of them were dead, and he had no idea how many of them had made it to the transports. Grief wracked him for a while before he felt empty. Like a wave receding, he began to get control of himself. He felt empty, and was angry at himself.
"Here I am, a Cadian. One of humanities finest, blubbering like a baby in the creche." He thought as he pulled himself to his feet. He murmured an apology to his weapon as he slung it back over his shoulder and stopped dead as his eyes centered on the road.
There was a creature there.
Quadruped, bright red. Large eyes on a long face.
His brain hadn’t even finished processing the alien in front of him before he swung his rifle around in a one handed grip and squeezed the trigger.
Click.
He stepped back, letting the rifle swing loose and drew his knife, bringing it up in a defensive grip.
The thing just stood there, looking confused.
After a moment, Bann let the knife drop to his side. He felt like an idiot. Some random animal wanders up and he tries to shoot it, fails, then challenges it to a knife fight. Genius.
He examined the alien closer. It was covered in a shockingly red coat of thin fur. It did have four legs, but no feet. Only hard nail looking stubs. It had a long body and a thick hairy tail that was flicking slightly from side to side. A long neck was topped by a long square face with two clear green eyes, beneath which were clusters of pale freckles. A mass of hair stretching from the top of its head to the base of its neck topped the strange animal which shared a brilliant orange hue with its tail.
It looked kind of like a horse. The ancient Terran animal representing power and strength that emblazoned the sides of many armored vehicles and regimental banners, but he had never seen an actual live example. This one looked small. From what he understood a horse should tower over him, whereas this one came up to the middle of his chest.
Sheathing his knife, he squatted down to eye level with the red animal. It didn’t look hostile, its feet things, hooves, he remembered they were called, didn’t have claws or anything dangerous he could see. It wasn’t bearing its teeth or hissing or making any kind of hostile gesture.
"How you doing, buddy?" He said in a calm voice. Maybe it could be tamed?
"Uh… good. How 'bout you?" It replied in a surprisingly deep voice, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Bann blinked. Then screamed in surprise.
"Ahhhh!" He yelled, falling onto his backside.
"Ahhhhhh!" Yelled the red mini-horse, jumping back away from him. "What is wrong wit' you, waving a knife around and screaming at people?!" It said angrily, face set in a surprisingly emotive frown.
"You… you can talk!" Bann said accusingly from the dirt.
"Eeeyup, I can. And so can you 'parently." It took a few cautious steps towards him. "Uh… what exactly are you, friend?" It asked, eyes roving over Banns prostrate form.
"I'm… I'm a man. A human man."
"A hue-man-man?" It frowned "Never heard of nothing like that."
Bann stood and brushed the dirt off his bottom, never taking his eyes off of the red horse.
"Well… now you have." Bann didn’t know what to say. He had never spoken with an alien before. Everything he had read and been taught had extolled the nightmarish nature of "The Alien", that every other species existed to challenge humanities right to exist. For a "slavering xenos monster", it was surprisingly calm and well spoken "What are you?"
The alien looked him up and down again before replying "I'm a pony." he said slowly "Names' Mcintosh. Friends call be 'Big Mac'."
It took a slow step forward, still eyeing Bann cautiously. Its afraid of me. He realized. That was odd. He had never considered that before.
Big Mac took another step, bringing him within arms reach of the human. Slowly, he raised a foreleg and pointed it at Bann.
Bann stared at the offered hoof, then at Big Mac. When he didn’t move to respond, Big Mac wiggled his hoof slightly. Bann hesitantly reached out, took the offered hoof and gave it a few quick pumps, trying to shake hands with the pony.
After he let go, Big Mac stared at his hoof then put it back on the ground.
"Eeeeh. Close enough."
He turned to go and Bann followed him. They walked down the path together, both trying to sneak glances at each other.
"So… Hue-man-man… what brings you to Sweet Apple Acres?"
"My name is Bann. My species is human. Just human." he emphasized the word slowly "And I have no idea what brought me here. I just… woke up and walked."
"Whelp, if you walked, you've been on the road a looooong time. Like I said: never seen a human before. You, uh, look kinda like a shaved diamond dog, if you don’t mind me sayin'."
Bann had no idea what that was. They walked in silence for a few minutes more, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Checking out the strange creature, Bann noticed it had a tattoo of one of the red fruit, cut into segments, on its rear right flank.
How the hell would hooves work a tattoo gun? He thought to himself. Right. Like that’s the weirdest thing about this… xeno.
"Sweet Apple Acres, huh? You grow these red fruit here?" Bann gestured to a nearby tree.
"Eeyup. Best apples this side of Canterlot." There was a pause "You never seen apples before?" confusion colored the ponies voice.
"Uh. No. I don’t think so."
Big Mac stopped and stared at him in disbelief.
"You must be joking."
"I'm not."
"Well, you hafta' try one then." Big Mac said with hesitation, obviously still not believing him. He backed up towards the nearest tree and gave it a measured kick with his back leg. A pair of apples dropped to the ground with muffled thumps. Big Mac gestures to them with his muzzle.
"Go ahead."
Bann carefully picked up the first. Like the others, it was smooth and bright red, with areas mottled with lighter shades. The smell was amazing. A lifetime of indoctrinated fear of the unknown swam in his head. He tried to choke down the instinctual fear that if he bit into the 'apple' he would die a terrible death.
Big Mac stared at the human in confusion, not understanding the concern on his face. He could see the emotions warring in Bann, but stayed quiet, letting the strange creature work it out for himself.
Bann forced down his fear of the unknown and bit into the offered fruit. Under the red skin was a firm, crisp white flesh. For a moment, he couldn’t place the taste, it was so foreign to him… but quickly a smile broke out. He hurriedly took another bite, then another, the juice dripping down his chin.
"Hits show good!" He exclaimed happily through a mouth of apple, before swallowing. "Its so good!" he clarified.
Good didn’t even begin to cover it. It did taste vaguely like his favorite feast day dessert spread, but in the same way a blown kiss from fifty feet away was similar to a full kiss on the lips from someone you loved. It was, without compare, the best thing he had ever tasted. Barely pausing to breathe, he chewed more and more of the first apple, consuming it down to the core then eating that as well, savouring even the bitterness of the seeds. Before Big Mac's bemused eyes, the human quickly only held a short green stem between his teeth. He looked at the pony, an eyebrow raised, and Big Mac shook his head. Bann spat out the small stem and picked up the other apple. He considered it for a moment, then jammed it into his pouch, adding it to the one he picked up awhile back.
Two for later. He thought.
Big Mac was smiling at him broadly.
"Anypony who eats apples like that has to be a good one."
They walked together for another few minutes, Bann spending most of it licking his lips and hands clean. Over the next hill was a simple, two wheeled wagon parked under a tree with three baskets in its back full of apples. With a surprisingly dextrous move, Big Mac slid under the harness attached to the two guides in the front and settled it over his shoulders.
He started pulling the wagon effortlessly down the path, glancing again at Bann to make sure he followed.
"We'll get you back to the farm. Figure out what to do with ya, check out your arm and such…"
The red pony had taken a dozen steps before he realized the human wasn’t following him anymore. Turning his neck, he looked quizzically at the human. Bann had stopped and was starting at Big Mac, his face blank and expression unreadable.
Without saying a word, Bann knelt and pulled his langun over his knee. Whispering quietly to his weapon, he said the required words, while, one handed, he ejected the power cell.
"Machine Spirit, forgive my actions. Soon you will be whole again."
Bringing the cell up to his face, he squinted at the small indicator on the inside: empty. Fumbling, he slid the photo-cell open on the top of the metal case and slid the small metal cell into the slot on the side of his helmet. Moving quickly, his motions practiced despite his bandaged arm, he slid a second energy cell out of a pouch and repeated the steps, sliding the solar charging cell open and sliding it into the other retaining slot on his helmet. He met Big Macs eyes for a moment, face still blank and not reacting to the red ponies concerned stare, before he took one of his remaining grenades and slid it into the band across his chest.
His hands itched to draw his knife and hook it into the bayonet lugs on the front of his rifle, but he doubted that Big Mac would miss the obvious hostility in the action. The friendly ponies face was creased with a frown.
"Everything, uh, okay over there?"
Banns face was set in a cold, blank look. For all the red aliens friendliness and comradery, it was still a xenos. An outsider. He may have been put off his normal human suspicion by his surroundings and by the trauma of the war for Cadia, but Big Mac was taking him to a farm, a group location. There had to be more ponies there. He might be walking into a trap.
Bann gave the pony a smile, the warmth of it never reaching his violet eyes.
"Yeah. Lets go."