Not many people can say they've seen their home planet from outside. Those who truly do get the opportunity to truly begin reaching their hooves around just how small they truly are train their entire lives for the moment, eyes vigilantly trained on the stars since birth, and probably have a dumb space related name like Apogee. Fine Tune fit none of that criteria. He had dropped out of high school after a year, made the absolutely flawless choice of joining the Canterlot Royal Guard, and had one of the best names he could think of.
And yet, at the end of the day, here he was watching the planet he had spent his whole life on turn hundreds of thousands of miles above him. He wasn't very impressed, if he was being honest.
A soft swear drew his attention once again to the hideous creature he currently bunked the rock with, a two-legged blue thing resembling a minotaur with wings, a horn, and the head of a respectable pony instead of a mindless, oppressed cow. So far she had been the only creature he had run into up here, only adding to his sneaking suspicion that space was nowhere near as cool as it was cracked up to be. He blamed sun propaganda.
As he ruminated on the bias of those who possibly came from space if the conspiracy was to be believed, the featherless biped unceremoniously dropped a hitherto unnoticed large navy green duffel bag on the ground, kicking up a cloud of grey dust. Crouching over it, she rustled some jimmies around for a while before pulling out a small white ball and a blunt weapon, which was disappointingly revealed to be a golf club. Delicately placing the ball on a small green stick built for it, before backing up a good distance and looking over her angle.
Out of nowhere, she spoke up.
"How long's your sentence, 24601?"
Fine Tune recoiled a little in surprise, but quickly decided it would be rude to not reply. "Um, a month I think. If you don't mind me asking, how did you get up here?"
"Same way everyone gets up here, my guy. Celly sent me." She nonchalantly swung her club exaggeratedly around her as she swung, making Fine appreciative of the fact that she stood a good distance from him.
"She's gotten a lot lazier with it once she realized people weren't dying up here. Nowadays she'll just send people for any, heh, any reason under the sun. Doubt she even knows why people are surviving."
"It is one of my first questions."
"Simple. I don't let them." The blue minotaur delicately fell to her chest, peering at the ball as if it were my dick a really small thing, as if the luggage she had just dropped wasn't suddenly the most questionable thing up here.
"H... How..."
She got a little to close to the ball, knocking it off with her muzzle and snorting in a very annoyed tone of nose.
"I used to be Snowglobe Flank's sister. Did some pretty screwed up things. Got sent here. However, the spell was pretty experimental. I really doubt she had any clue what she was doing, much like most of the major decisions she makes in her life."
"I'm... Sorry?"
"Eh. I'm 800 years past it by now. Anyway, I don't really know what she expected, but I certainly wasn't just sitting around up here, twiddling thaums until she ungrounded me. Instead, some vital part of my being, my soul or something, was bound to the moon. For all I know my body is still rotting back on Equus, so by all legal technicalities, I am the moon."
Fine started trying to wrap her head around this, but decided it was a silly thing to try and do. Would probably give her a tumor or something. "So... Am I also the moon for a month?"
She snorted. "Ha! Nope. Only me. I guess the spell got ironed out or something, because I've never had to share this vessel with any minor annoyance to the throne."
"So... Who am I speaking to?"
"Still me buddy. I just created a magic vessel for me to talk to people with. Same with these little trinkets. My real body is still the moon. You're technically sitting on my face right now."
Fine quickly stood up. Her moonmate bit her lip with a face that thousands of impact font subtitles could be stapled to and reset the ball.
"So, this is life for me now. I do appreciate the random ponies she keeps sending up, insane guys on death row aren't much fun to talk to."
"This is all you do. Play fake golf on the moon?"
"Yeah. I don't know man. I've tried a bunch of things, mostly with form. I was even a guy for a few decades. Didn't really get the hype. I thought anthro might suit me a little better, but I'm not feeling it. I'll probably change when you leave." She picked her club up and turned to Fine Tune, smiling and waving it like John Hammond.
"Welcome to the moon! It's overrated. Hope you enjoy."
With this last bit of pessimism, she finally swung her club. It connected beautifully, sending the ball flying at speeds previously unknown to equinity.
It never came back down.
She shrugged. "Don't know what I expected."