“Captain’s log, Acting Commanding Officer Uhura recording. The captain and first officer, along with ship’s doctor and several security personnel have beamed down to the forbidden planet Equus to…”
She flicked the recording off for a moment, considering her phrasing carefully. Sometimes, Jim’s motives were more transparent than others. Then, turning the recording back on, she resumed speaking.
“…investigate the strange phenomenon which has damaged the Enterprise. Thus far, while we have been able to maintain orbit around the strange planet, both warp drive and higher speeds of impulse power remain impossible due to damage sustained by the system’s strange behavior.
“We have gotten no word from the away team since their beaming down, though the crew is in high spirits regardless. After all, both he and they have certainly been through far worse. Additionally, it remains that the Enterprise has the best crew in the Federation. And, like them, I have every reason to be confident in our captain’s abilities.”
Eyes narrowing, Uhura completed her entry, fingers flexing slightly such that her nails momentarily resembled claws.
“That being said, in accordance to recent Starfleet regulations, if word is not received soon I will be exercising my discretion as commanding officer and activating the ship’s secret weapon to secure and retrieve our captain.
“The years in space may have increased the crew’s optimism in such matters, but I find that my own patience dealing with bizarre planets taking hostages... has just about run out.”
“Great. So where the hell are we now?”
Doctor McCoy’s dry inquiry met, at first, with no answer. The three men – himself, Captain Kirk, and Mister Spock – had found themselves immediately in a small cell-like room after leaving the Enterprise. The walls, floor, and ceiling seemed to have been carved from a single piece of stone, the door from a single piece of steel.
“And besides that,” Kirk pointed out, patting at his belt, “Where are our weapons? Our communicators?”
“And let’s not forget the security team,” McCoy pointed out. “Poor bastards.”
“Fascinating,” Mister Spock observed. “Our ship’s transporter beam would seem to have been redirected somehow, without any indication of this registering on the ship’s instruments, at least at the time. Furthermore, whoever did this would seem to have the control necessary to redirect not only the security team but also our equipment to another location, all while we were in transit.”
Kirk spoke as he continued examining their prison. “Spock, what kind of technology would be required to accomplish this?”
“Besides the numerous instances in which this or something similar has happened before in our travels?”
The Vulcan considered for a moment, then answered.
“Unknown.”
“Well, I’ve still got my tricorder,” McCoy observed, “And you’ve got yours. So let’s see what we can find out about this place.”
“Gentlemen, I think that question may well be answered for us,” Kirk said. “Look.”
He pointed to the area next to the room’s single door, where a series of arcane-looking marks had been carved into the wall.
But as the trio watched, the carvings writhed and changed, becoming…
“English!” McCoy marveled. “The marks are turning into English, Jim!”
“And yet, to me they are in Vulcan,” Spock observed. “Fascinating.”
“‘Dear unexpected guests,’” McCoy read, “‘Thank you for your interest in our beautiful kingdom of Equestria. We take great pride in our land and our ponies—’ wait, ponies?”
Shrugging, he ploughed ahead, “‘…and our ponies, and the peace we have established and maintained for so many years.’”
Kirk picked up the narrative. “‘However, in recent centuries, it has come to our attention that unannounced teleportation into our lands can be indicative of anything ranging from potential new friends to the beginning of an invasion, to simply a fledgling mage who is incompetent at teleportation. No offense intended if you are the latter.’”
“‘Therefore, we have provided this facility for your diversion until we can arrange to meet and greet you properly,’” Spock read on. “‘Please be assured that we are aware of your presence, and that preparations are being made. We also eagerly look forward to meeting all of you. So, please, try not to eat each other, no matter how hungry you may get while waiting.’”
He considered the last line of script with upraised eyebrow, while his companions’ eyes widened.
“Eat each other?!?” McCoy shouted.
“Fascinating,” Spock said.
“Just how long are we supposed to stay here?” Kirk wondered.
“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy swore, whirling on him, “what the hell kind of savage purgatory have you landed us in now?”
The sun shone down cheerily onto Ponyville High School that morning. Birds sang happily as they flew from branch to branch, and autumn leaves danced gaily along the breeze. Everything was exactly as it should have been.
Well, almost everything.
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had, in fact, been late to class, zipping past the gate of the building’s ornamental stone wall and screeching to a halt just before the building’s main portal. Then, quickly opening the door, they had ducked inside and slammed it shut behind themselves. The wind Scoots had generated in her run had immediately cascaded a variety of leaves, branches, and other debris against the glass double doors, both girls wincing as it did.
Fortunately, the glass had held.
Unfortunately, they could see where, further down the hall, the door to their classroom was closing.
Realizing that a graceful entrance was now impossible, they’d galloped down the corridor like mad, Sweetie Belle giving a cry of, ”Wait!”
And then, something wondrous had happened.
The teacher had stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her, and held up a gentle hoof, smiling.
“Let’s take a moment to gather ourselves, girls,” she’d said kindly. “You don’t want to make this your first impression in class, do you?”
Now, they were in front of the class, no longer quite out of breath and with manes and tails freshly combed, being introduced to their classmates for the first time.
“Class, we have two new students today,” Miss Cheerilee announced. “They’re new to Ponyville, and to our school, as well. So let’s please try to help them feel welcome, and to fit in.”
Turning to her new students, she added, “Girls, perhaps you would like to introduce yourselves?”
“I’m called Scootaloo,” the pegasus said with a polite bow. “And I’m very happy to meet you all.”
“And my name is Sweetie Belle,” her unicorn companion said with the same bow. “We’re both looking forward to our sophomore year here at Ponyville High, and hopefully graduating from here, as well.”
A young stallion with a pale gold mane raised a hoof. “Where did you go to school before? Bowing at introduction is kinda old-fashioned.”
“Now, Sunny Daze,” Cheerilee reprimanded gently.
The two new students exchanged glances.
“That’s alright, Miss Cheerilee, we don’t mind,” Scootaloo assured her.
“We were homeschooled together,” Sweetie Belle said to the class.
Miss Cheerilee blinked. “Oh. Are you sisters?”
“Cousins,” Scootaloo supplied.
“Well, basically,” Sweetie Belle added.
The two of them exchanged another glance, then turned back to their teacher.
“It’s complicated,” they said in unison.
Miss Cheerilee rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Yes, I’m sure it is. In the meantime, perhaps you’ll find some seats…?”
One of the other young mares in the class stood. Her perfectly manicured hooves and the silk bow in her hair, not to mention her elegant coiffure and exquisite coat announced her as a member of one of Equestria’s elite families.
“Miss? If y’don’t mind, they could sit next to me,” she offered, in a perfect aristocratic drawl. “Ah could show them the ropes.”
As her eyes drank in Sweetie Belle’s figure, glistening lightly with sweat, then her eyes and her purple-white mane, the young mare sighed to herself, thinking, Yes, all of the ropes. An’ also the whips, an’ the chains, an’ the…
Miss Cheerilee blinked. “Oh. Well. That’s certainly thoughtful of you, Apple Bloom. Girls, please take your seats next to her, and we’ll begin our first lesson.”
It was just after school when the bully came after Sweetie Belle.
Both Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had been daydreaming in class, but Scoots had been the one who had been caught. Further, she had insisted on taking her punishment alone, ‘like any other schoolfilly would.’ Sweetie had considered this a bit of an extreme measure, but the other filly would brook no argument.
So, while her pegasus cousin was cleaning up the classroom for her detention, Sweetie Belle had elected to explore the schoolyards a bit.
Meanwhile, Scootaloo stacked the desks in one corner to make the sweeping easier, sighing as she did. The novelty of detention had worn off after about two minutes. Lifting Ms. Cheerilee’s desk in her left hoof so she could sweep up the dust bunnies with her right, she reflected that she should have at least let Sweetie Belle stay and keep her company. This was so dreary. Honestly, how did other schoolfoals deal with such hardships?
But unbeknownst to either filly was the way in which they had played perfectly into the hooves of Scootaloo’s Machiavellian nemesis. Granted, this was partially because Scootaloo didn’t even know she had one of those, and partially because even if she had, she would have been far more concerned about her detention anyway.
But most of all, they were unaware of such manipulations due to their very manipulative nature. And events such as after-school detentions played perfectly into their enemy’s brilliant design.
Even as Ms. Cheerilee had reprimanded Scootaloo for her lack of focus, the young pegasus’ cheeks burning with embarrassment, Apple Bloom’s eyes had narrowed in satisfaction.
An after-school detention, she had thought. That fits perfectly into mah brilliant design.
Now, the elegant earth pony sipped her tea in the honor students’ lounge, waiting for the perfect moment to make her appearance.
Snails will frighten Sweetie Belle with his greater size an’ violent gestures, she thought to herself, contented. An’ then, when her fear is at its height, Ah will swoop in an’ save the day.
An’ then… Sweetie Belle will be mine.
It was a simple plan. But in Apple Bloom’s experience, the simple plans were often the most effective.
Step one: have Snails terrify Sweetie Belle.
Step Two: rescue an’ comfort Sweetie Belle.
Step Three: begin romantic relationship with Sweetie Belle.
Even with a halfwit like Snails in charge of Step One, nothing could go…
Apple Bloom stopped in mid-sip, frowning. Ah might want to reassess that, she thought. This is Snails, after all.
With a look of mild distaste, she put down her teacup. Perhaps she should start moseying in that general direction, just in case.
Meanwhile, on the empty path that wound its way around Ponyville High, was a small, sunny clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides. And in that clearing, Snails was becoming more and more frustrated by the second.
It wasn’t that he was really a bully at heart. Far from it. For all that his growth spurt had struck him with a vengeance when it had finally arrived – putting him head and withers over any adult pony he’d ever seen – he just wasn’t interested in hurting anypony. And weighing in at well over three hundred pounds, most of it muscle, it wasn’t like he generally had to anyway.
And besides, he knew what it was like to be picked on.
And it wasn’t as if he had anything against the white unicorn before him, either. She seemed okay. Better than okay, in fact. She and her cousin had both seemed pretty nice in class, and they were smart, besides.
It was just that, well, Sweetie Belle was determinedly missing the point of the entire encounter.
“Sooooo… just to make sure I’ve got this,” she was saying. “You’re going to pummel me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“A lot.”
“Right.”
She tilted her head as she studied him. “Until I cry. Or, if I don’t cry, until I’m unconscious.”
Snails hesitated. He hadn’t really thought about the matter in that much detail, and neither option sounded particularly appealing. But he certainly didn’t want to admit that to her.
Nor did he want to volunteer that the whole ‘bullying’ part of the transaction was staged, to help make Apple Bloom’s ‘brilliant design come to fruition,’ whatever that meant.
Apple Bloom always made his head hurt when she talked like that, so some time ago he’d just developed a habit of tuning her out and nodding a lot whenever she started explaining things.
But this time, he was getting the feeling that he might have missed out on something important. Something that would have clued him in on how to handle it when the new filly in class reacted to his being all intimidating and stuff with detached curiosity instead of fear. He was pretty sure that part wasn’t helpful to Apple Bloom’s design thingy at all.
So, after some thought, he settled for, “I guess.”
Which, as soon as he said it, he had to admit to himself didn’t sound very intimidating at all.
Sweetie Belle looked him up and down. “You’re really not very good at this, are you?”
Snails considered his options.
On the one hoof: no, he really wasn’t very good at this.
On the other hoof: if he messed this up, Apple Bloom was sure to explain things to him again.
He frowned. He really didn’t think he could deal with two Apple explanations in the same day. He could just imagine her with that look she gave when she was displeased, launching into another of her sarcastic, twenty-bit word tirades.
Ugh. His head hurt just thinking about it.
Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, had been continuing to observe Snails’ expression, watching it darken as he continued to frown, apparently finalizing his choice. This time, when he stepped forward, she took an involuntary step back. His eyes were hard when he spoke again.
“You’ll get better.”
Scootaloo had the dust bunnies just about dealt with when she heard the scream. Tossing aside the large desk, she zipped as fast as she could towards the sound.
When Apple Bloom heard the scream, she began to canter, allowing herself a brief smile of self-satisfaction. Then, she heard a second scream. It sounded higher, more desperate.
Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. Snails hadn’t actually hurt her, had he?
Panicking, heart pounding, Apple Bloom broke into a full gallop.
Sweetie Belle was on the ground, Snails towering over her, when he heard something. Something very fast, coming his way.
Snails had just enough time to turn, wide-eyed, and to hold up a hoof with an ineffectual “Wait…!”
Then, impact.
He’d often wondered, as a colt, what a buckball felt like.
“Are you okay?”
Sweetie Belle sighed as she accepted Scootaloo’s offered hoof, and let her cousin help her up.
“Yeah,” she muttered.
“What happened?”
Sweetie Belle spoke as she brushed herself off. “It’s actually kind of embarrassing. He came towards me, and when I stepped back, I tripped. I don’t think he was really going to try to beat me up—”
Scootaloo gaped. “Beat you up?!?”
Oh, dear, Sweetie Belle thought. Poor Snails.
But out loud, she said, “Now, Scootaloo, I need you to stay calm…”
Scootaloo glared skyward. “I let him off too easy!”
“…no, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else going on, here…”
Still staring upwards, Scootaloo growled, “You have to come down sometime.”
“…and, you know, now that I think of it, I get the impression we’d both kinda been set up.”
That got Scootaloo’s attention, and she glanced back at Sweetie Belle with a frown. “What do you mean?”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “I don’t know. The whole situation was weird. I don’t think he was really a bad guy, though.”
Scootaloo spared the sky one last scowl before focusing fully onto her cousin.
“Well, whatever,” she said grudgingly. “You’re alright. I guess that’s all that really matters.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not like I was in any real danger.”
Scootaloo snorted.
Sweetie Belle nudged her playfully. “So. Want to walk home together? Schoolfillies do that too, you know.”
The pegasus smiled, relaxing a little. “Sure, why not?”
As they trotted off together, Scootaloo added in a hopeful tone, “You know, it’s getting dark out. Maybe we’ll find some muggers on the way home. Schoolfillies get mugged sometimes, right?”
Sweetie Belle laughed. “You should be so lucky.”
Apple Bloom arrived at the predetermined spot, only to find it empty. No Sweetie Belle, no Snails… nothing.
That was very odd. And disappointing. And, more than just a wee tad vexing.
Hmph! she thought as she glanced about in irritation. Honestly, that colt had one job…!
Then, she heard something. Something very fast, coming her way.
Was it a comet? Or, wait… somepony screaming, perhaps?
She had just enough time to glance up with huge eyes and ears laid flat, realize that it might be both, and scramble like mad out of harm’s way.
Then, impact.
MEANWHILE, SHORTLY AFTERWARDS IN A PLACE THAT IS ELSE…
“Oh, Luuuunnnaaaaaaa…”
The lump under the covers contracted slightly, giving forth a slight moan.
Celestia’s eyes narrowed in sinister calculation.
“Sister, dear, the sun has set and the moon must ri-iiise,” she sing-songed innocently.
“Hmmmmmmff,” the lump managed.
“And I know you would never disappoint your loyal subjects with a late moonrise…” the white mare went on.
“Up late,” came the muffled reply. “You do it.”
The narrowed eyes gave way to an expression of evil glee. Celestia had never sung opera, having always been more of a writer than a performer. But she felt certain her own oversized lungs would be up to the task. And the Royal Voice was not a talent one lost with disuse.
Slowly, carefully, the Princess of Day crept upon her hapless prey.
Slowly, the lump under the royal bedding loosened slightly, the alicorn beneath it relaxing into deeper slumber.
A few moments later, the lump began to daintily snore.
Celestia took in a long, silent breath. Then, with great precision and care, she began to sing, dainty as any oliphant, dulcet as any heffalump:
“ON TOP OF SPA-GEHHHHHHT-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…!”
“Aaaaaaaaack!”
Luna flew straight upwards, all six limbs splayed and eyes bulging like eggplants.
“ALL COVERED WITH CHEEEEEEEEEESE, I LOST MY POOOR MEEEEEEEAT-BAHHHHHHLLL…!”
“Mercy!” Luna cried. “In the name of all you hold dear, MERCY!”
Celestia considered her sister, clinging upside-down to the ceiling like a cat beset by a super-speed rodent in a sombrero. Then, she smiled.
“Then beseech me in thine own name, sister, for none are more dear to me than thee and ours.”
Luna slumped a little, falling back onto the bed with a fwomph!
“Tis unfair, giving me feels right after such a stunt,” she grumbled. Still, she was smiling when she rose.
“Will you be attending dinner tonight?” Celestia asked her as they stepped onto the balcony. “The girls might be here, and I think we will have guests, as well.”
“I might be held up if there are major dream troubles, but I should be able to. Why, who are the guests?”
Celestia shrugged. “Off-worlders, no idea who. I wasn’t going to interrogate them before feasting. Why, do you think I should?”
Luna considered this, then smiled again. “No, let’s wait and see. That way, it will be like opening a present.”
Celestia nodded, sharing her smile. “My thoughts, as well.”
“Guard!” Kirk cried. “Guard! Come quickly!”
A feminine voice answered, “Just a second, I’m on my way!”
A moment later, a pleasant-looking pegasus mare with a grey coat and golden eyes bustled around the corner. Within seconds, she was fumbling with the keys to the cell door.
“There’s something wrong with our friend,” Kirk said, pointing to the lump of blankets in a corner.
“Oh, oh dear,” she fretted, entering quickly.
Then, stopping abruptly, she whirled to face where Spock stood behind the door.
“Now, see here,” she said sternly, “have you been eating him?”
Spock paused in mid-ambush, eyebrow upraised.
“What? No, no, nothing like that,” Kirk assured her kindly as he approached. “It’s just that he’s sick.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” she said. “I was just on my way to let you know that dinner’s ready. But if he’s sick, your friend might not be able to join us.”
“Fascinating,” said Spock.
Hands now clasped behind his back, he observed the mare more closely. “That would seem to genuinely be her primary concern.”
Meanwhile, in the corner, the pile of bedding slumped slightly.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” McCoy muttered from beneath it.
“I’m sorry, there may have been a misunderstanding,” Kirk said. “We thought we were prisoners.”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” she said with a beautiful smile.
Then, she rolled her wandering eyes, adding, “Well, okay, the door was locked, but only as a precaution. Sorry about that. Anyway, I do hope you’ve brought your appetites. Princess Celestia’s eager to meet all of you, and she’s arranged a special feast for the occasion.
“And before you ask,” she smiled with an upraised hoof, “no, you aren’t on the menu.”
“So, we were never in any danger,” Kirk said.
“Of course not. And you’ll be especially safe in the princess’ presence, of course. Well, now that the pool party is over. And oh, look,” she added happily, “your friend’s feeling better, too.”
“It’s a miracle,” McCoy grumbled, kicking off the last of the blankets.
“Hungry?” she asked him.
McCoy stood, brushing himself off. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“I apologize,” Kirk said.
“Indeed, we all do,” Spock added with a slight bow.
“Yeah,” McCoy agreed, nodding.
“Oh, that’s okay,” the pegasus assured them all. “Sometimes the translation spell gets a little wonky, so misunderstandings are bound to happen.”
Kirk blinked, genuinely intrigued. “Translation… spell?”
“Oh, great,” McCoy muttered. “It’s one of those planets.”
Sparing his friend an amused glance, Kirk turned his full attention to the pony before him.
“I’m Captain James T. Kirk, of the starship Enterprise,” he said with his most charming smile. “These are my First Science Officer and Second-in-Command, Mister Spock; and Ship’s Doctor and First Curmudgeon, Doctor McCoy.”
McCoy rolled his eyes, and the mare giggled.
“Well, I’m Ditzy Doo,” she smiled, extending her hoof. “And I’ll be your diplomatic contact and guidepony. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
Taking her hoof, Kirk bowed in a reverance, eliciting another giggle.
“Of course you are,” he smiled.
Soon afterwards, the four of them were winding their way through the ornately carved stone corridors, ascending occasional flights of stairs as they did.
While Kirk and Ditzy ranged ahead, chatting happily, McCoy gestured to his Vulcan friend.
“Spock,” McCoy whispered, “does it seem to you like our Beloved Captain is rather at home here?”
Spock gave the barest hint of a shrug.
“I would say no more than usual,” he replied. “The captain has located and begun emotionally bonding with a female native to this world, however temporarily. That is hardly noteworthy.”
“I’m not arguing that, Spock. But my point is, in order for this planet to be in quarantine, somebody’s had to have been here before. And with a ‘special feast’ being prepared in our honour, that somebody may have been associated with the Enterprise!”
“I do not believe that I understand your concern, Doctor. All of this would seem to be self-evident.”
“My point is what if, sixteen years ago – Jim being Jim – he fell into bed with the queen of this place?”
Spock considered this. “It would not be completely out of character,” he admitted.
“And it wouldn’t be ‘completely out of character’ if there were a few hard feelings after he left,” McCoy pointed out. “You know what he’s like… picture what he must have been like back then! Not to mention there’s been no sign that our weapons will be returned, either.
“So I’m just saying, maybe you should keep those Vulcan ears peeled for any sign of trouble.”
McCoy knew he had erred as soon as Spock frowned.
“I fail to see how peeled ears would would be of assistance--” the Vulcan began.
McCoy cut him off with an impatient gesture.
“Dammit, I’m just saying, stay alert! Remember, we don’t know what’ll happen if the queen – or one of her retinue, or even all of her retinue – recognizes him on sight.”
“What kind of tool would you recommend to peel ears, Doctor?” Spock wondered idly.
McCoy ignored him, refusing to be baited further.
“Or if this ‘princess’ who wants to meet us so badly ends up being his long-estranged daughter,” he went on. “Or… well, whatever.”
“Ah,” Spock nodded in sudden understanding. “You are thinking of the Thudpucker Twins on Beryllium Nine.”
“Exactly! Spock, we barely escaped with our lives!”
“You exaggerate, Doctor. They only wanted our thumbs and eyebrows as mementos.”
McCoy made an exasperated noise. “That’s not the…!”
Then he sighed, and tried again. “Look, my point is, we need to be ready for anything.”
Then, a new thought occurring to him, McCoy added, “Unless, of course, you’ve read something in the Starfleet files on this place that I don’t know about?”
But the Vulcan shook his head. “Even if I had such information at my disposal, Starfleet regulations are quite clear. Such data could only be provided under specific circumstances, all of which are unmistakably enumerated. Neither damage to the ship resulting from our violating this planet’s quarantine, nor our being upon its surface, are among them.”
“Well, that’s just ducky.”
“Indeed.”
“Still,” mused the old surgeon, “if Jim’s in mortal danger, at least we’ll be there to bail him out.”
The Vulcan nodded. “Of course.”
“And if he’s not in mortal danger,” McCoy concluded with a serene smile, “well, we can always just let the chips fall where they may.”