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// Chapter 3:  Discovered 
// Story: The Sphinxian Equine 
// by computerneek 
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Night is falling on my biological segment.  My trash bot’s track has seized up; I have driven it away from my hull prior to this failure, though, so my hull is not obstructed.  With the power demand of my processors and subspace com, I’m experiencing a daily average power gain of roughly 3 watts…  Oh well, at least it’s still positive.

But night is falling now.  I’ve spent much of the day making charcoal and tools.  I’ve spent some time cutting into the soft rock with my stone tools; while difficult, I was able to confirm that I am on top of an iron deposit.

I have not yet begun extracting iron, though, and instead have manufactured a lesser explosive to assist in excavation.  Again, I have not used it yet; I just finished manufacturing it, and night is falling.  A cold breeze is already blowing against my fur coat as I trot up the side of one of the taller trees, to a lookout I identified earlier to give me a decent view of the stars.

During the months it took to grow my body, I analyzed the images produced by my trash bot and my own sensors extensively, and have been able to identify my position in the cosmos- and approximately how many years have passed.  I have predicted the locations of innumerable stars, including those that have undoubtedly long gone dark.  I have predicted the starscape in every direction, from every known planet.

I gaze out upon the stars.  They are not familiar, nor is the starscape familiar.  Fortunately, my eyes are much like raptor eyes- and I upgraded them too, so I can see much further than I really should be able to.  I spot distant galaxies, gazing across the stars.

I process this new data, compare it with my star charts.  Analyze it, again and again, in as many different ways as I can figure.

Processing finally completes, and I find a few matching stars.  Over 99.83% of the stars I knew when I was last active seem to have died; I have finally identified the survivors, cross-referenced, and identified a spread of new stars to compare.  Given this, I’ve deduced my approximate location.

I am located approximately 2,317.83 lightyears away from my war hull…  in what appears to be a binary star system, just barely visible from my hull.  I have not been able to spot the system my hull is in from my position in this tree.

On the other hoof, I have spotted the fast-moving, bright shine of artificial satellites.  Civilian satellites- either that, or pre-stealth military satellites.

I watch them whirl past.  I took a quick glance at the local star earlier, while high in the sky; after estimations for atmospheric impedance, I was able to calculate the local solar intensity to within 0.013% accuracy.  Thus, I can estimate the size of any given orbital installation by its apparent brightness- and hopefully decide about what technology level their creators are at.

Perhaps the most interesting part is that some of the brighter ones are changing course as I watch, indicative of powered spacecraft; the smallest of these seems large for pre-interplanetary craft.  I continue to watch.

As I watch, a huge, sprawling cluster of light sources comes into view, sliding across the night sky in a steady orbit.  I count over eighty craft- mostly about the size of small interlunar craft- moving under power; a few look like short-range interplanetary craft.  The few other moving objects look to be in the size range of interstellar vessels.  One of them is so large it could well be a chem-fueled interstellar vessel!

At the heart of the cluster is a single, large one, far larger than the largest observed ship-under-power.  This one is either an intergalactic supercarrier, which would most certainly be equipped with a subspace com, or a space station.

Thus, I am definitely on a planet surrounded by an interstellar civilization.  Not one as advanced as I, likely, or I would have received a response on the subspace com from one of their creations.

The likelihood that they possess the nanotechnology I need to perform my repairs is slim, but the chance that their technology will help expedite my operations, should friendly relations arise between myself and them, is well over 99.99%.

However, there is a small hiccup:  My entire lingual database has been lost to time.  Analysis suggests this may be a problem if I encounter one or two directly, but should be solved if I am able to observe a settlement for a minute or two before making contact.  My language engine, complete with all of its parsers, remains.

A second potential problem is what form this starfaring race takes.  My creators were bipedal Terrans, often calling themselves Humanity; I was created to fight against the Melconian Empire, which was composed of Melconians…  We never did find out what they called themselves, or their homeworld.  We only called them that.

My current form is a quadrupedal pegasus, equipped with a vocal apparatus very similar to that of Terrans.  My coat and feathers are sky blue, my mane and tail are bright gold.  My proportions are such that I worry my appearance falls under the heading of ‘cute’...  which could vastly hinder any diplomatic activity.

Then, the creature I defeated earlier, while evidently non-sentient by demeanor, was hexapedal- and clearly a predator.  Thus, this world is dangerous to the squishies I was built to protect.  If these interstellar travellers are anywhere near as fragile as Terrans, they will likely see me…  and wonder what kind of threat I pose.  How I survived out in these woods, how I evolved into a brightly colored pegasus, on a world where everything I’ve seen has six legs, not four.  And the birds have only two legs, and four wings.

I have four legs, and two wings.  A combination I haven’t seen, making me unique in the entire planet’s biology.

But that is to be expected.  I made my body with a modified template…  that was originally captured on a world with a 0.73G gravity field, as different from this world’s almost-twice-as-strong field.

Thus…  there are too many variables at play.  I cannot come up with any meaningful estimate for how likely I am to be able to establish friendly relations.

I resolve to stay hidden for the time being, and descend back below the canopy before I go to sleep.  Unfortunately, while I do not need rest, my body does; fortunately, going to sleep does not hinder sensory inputs.  Fortunately, I’ll still get full tactile and auditory warning of anything on approach, even when sleeping- and with my overengineered senses, I can hear the flick of a wing from miles away.    Unfortunately, though, the gestation pod left my body in a very sleep-deprived state.

I’ve eaten well, though, so that won’t be a problem as I rest.  Additionally, I have all my supplies up in this tree with me- all my tools, charcoal, and explosive charges…  and all of it will wait for me.  I will rest as long as is necessary, though I calculate a 93.47% chance it will be interrupted by hunger.

Oh well; time is not of the essence.  It is more valuable that I am fully rested, extending maximum active duration, than that I work on my technological project.





I rise not to sate my hunger, though that need is approaching, but to observe what approaches.  I heard the faint click and pop of claws on bark, growing closer; thus, as I simultaneously rise into a crouching position and whirl to face it, I know exactly where it is.

In terms of shape, it looks to be a smaller version of the creature I killed earlier- though this creature is definitely an adult.  Its coat is a blend of cream and grey, giving it excellent natural camouflage against these trees.

It looks…  alarmed, but froze still as I turned, one claw-tipped paw- no, it looks more like a hand, complete with fully opposable thumb- inches away from the trunk.  Fear seems to touch its expression as I lock my gaze onto its slit-pupiled green eyes.

No simple camouflage can hide from a Unit of the Line.

…  is that a net of some kind, tied around its middle?

In one fluid, sudden motion, it turns away and flees, becoming a streak of cream and grey through the forest, until it disappears from view.

I relax my stance.  The chance that that was a sentient creature is 83.49%; the chance that it is affiliated with the star-faring civilization in orbit, however, is 18.31%.  The chance that the star-faring civilization is of the same race, assuming it is sentient, is down to about 23.97%; given how mobile it was, the chances that it was a member of a so-called “native indian” group unaware of technologies produced by its brethren is down at 0.37%.  Chances of an anti-technology splinter group are similarly low, at 5.31%.

Thus, I’m most likely working with two or more entire non-interconnected civilizations, one far more advanced than the other.  The less-advanced civilization has discovered me; however, given the speed that it left at, I calculate I can move approximately 23.47% faster.  Especially since I need not worry about traction, thanks to what I assume is the parts of my biology I didn’t understand, allowing a flat-hooved equine to walk casually on the underside of a tree branch.

If this lesser one chooses to resist me, I will be able to escape a few lone hunters, or even small parties- but any kind of coordinated action with significant numbers and I will be forced to fight my way out.  In any case, I may be forced to leave most of my stuff behind.

It may be valuable- 83.97% chance- for me to take some time to familiarize myself with my wings, and exactly what I can do with them, before that has a chance to occur.

I navigate to the nearest suitable food source and begin my breakfast.  It’s well past sunrise; with the day/night timings around here, if I rise and fall with the sun, I will gradually catch up on my sleep without sacrificing too much time snoozing.