With sleep, there were strange dreams. They were different from dreams in space in the same way dreams in space were different from dreams on Earth—in subtle ways, the way the world became vivid and strange instead of quiet and empty or fearful and distressing. Except here, there was a sense of external influence. Of something attempting to reach within them, or an external source to them. In every dream, although he could not remember the contents, Kirk saw the moon in the sky, always watching but always so very distant.
Then, as if on cue, he awoke just as the train was pulling into the station. He sat up suddenly, just in time to watch Rainbow Dash—who was also sleeping—continue to sleep as her inertia carried her off her seat, onto the floor, and under the next one.
Spock, seated across from him and looking absolutely absurd in a miniature, pony-sized seat, had apparently been staring at him.
“I am surprised, Captain, that you are able to sleep under these conditions.”
“Well to be honest I haven’t gotten much sleep lately.”
“Yes, I had assumed so. And neither has this planet’s goddess and autocratic ruler, who is at present attempting to convince her civilization to engage in a critical diplomatic engagement. Due to your actions which are admittedly contrary to all reasonable procedures for diplomatic content.”
“Spock, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were mad at me.”
“I am a Vulcan, Captain. We are utterly incapable of anger. Only careful, logical analysis.”
“Wake up,” said Lyra, passing by and slapping Rainbow Dash on the rump. “We’re here. Now I’m finally going to prove to to all these yokels that hoomins are unequivocally REAL...teehee.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Little bit of evil laughter sneaked out there.”
“We are here because we are on a critical investigative mission.”
“Sure why not. Investigating the most trusted company in all of Equestria that Celestia herself funds. That seems reasonable.”
Rainbow Dash groaned and sat up, hitting her head on the underestimate of the seat and groaning. “Who put me under here? What do I look like, a personal item? I’m an officer in the Space Force for Celestia’s sake.” She sat up, flexing her wing and then nearly crying out as she tried to flex the other one, which barely responded. “Ow,” she said. Then she looked disappointing. “Dang, did I miss the candystriper?”
“Candystripers are in hospitals. It’s just concessions here.”
“Well that doesn’t exactly answer the question, now does it?”
Rainbow Dash continued to grumble as she joined the other ponies exiting the train. Kirk and Spock also stood up, having to duck to fit through the small space.
“You know, Spock, I’ve never actually rode a train before. They were extremely common on Earth for four hundred years. Trains just like this. Steam engines, rails, passenger cars...”
“A pity you slept through it, then.”
“Come on, Spock, you can’t tell me you don’t like trains. Everyone likes trains.”
“On Vulcan, there is no equivalent means of transportation. The noise is far to disruptive. The smallness is also inefficient.”
“The ones on Earth were human-sized. Except the ones that weren’t. Those ones were smaller.”
“That statement provides great clarity on the nature of these vehicles, Captain.”
Kirk had at least a partial intention of enjoying the pony world while he had the chance. To travel their world and gain new experiences and insights about both their world as a whole and their culture. Still, he found he could not enjoy it completely. Although the Princess had given him direct permission to explore as he saw fit, he felt as though he was betraying her trust. Of course, he was also aware that he might be uncovering something critical that she was not aware of—or, conversely, uncovering something that she already knew all-too-well and wanted to keep hidden.
In effect, he rather liked her as a person. But he most certainly did not trust her. Not completely.
He found himself exiting the train onto a quaint train platform, a neat and clean example of one that looked as though it had been plucked out directly out of Earth’s nineteenth century and shrunk to about half-scale. Not in the sense he was familiar with from the films of his youth, though; the architecture was most certainly not reminiscent of the American West. Rather, with its thatched roof and halftimbring, it looked vaguely Germanic, as if he had gotten off the train into an isolated mountain village in Austria.
“So this is where you’re from?”
“Me?” Lyra looked up at him. “No, I was born in Canterlot when this place was still part of the Everfree.”
“And I’ve never been here in my life,” added Rainbow Dash, trying to stretch. “Because why the heck would I come to Ponyville?” She paused. “Although...I think Flutters lives around here somewhere, maybe? I haven’t talked to her since I joined the Program, though. I think she dropped out of flight school. Probably literally. She probably doesn’t even remember me.”
“This town appears quaint and peaceful,” noted Spock. “And I do appreciate this change of pace from our normal away-missions, Captain. Considering they mostly end up on empty, barren planets with various monsters, or with us being captured, and always with an exchange of phaser-fire.”
“We don’t have time for peacefulness,” sighed Kirk. “Lyra, we need to find a pony named Rarity. Do you know who that is?”
“Of course I know who Rarity is. Everypony knows who Rarity is.”
“Why?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m an alien, remember? So I’m not exactly familiar with pony culture.”
“One, you’re not an alien, you’re a hoomin, there’s a difference. Two, obviously. Three, remember to grab it as hard as you can and shake it a little.”
“What?”
“She’s a famous fashion designer,” said Rainbow Dash, looking out over the crowd and at the small town in the distance, connected to the station by a neat dirt road. “Very famous. Very rich. Very prissy. Voted ‘Best Pony’ three years in a row in Pony Magazine. Which is real impressive considering she just makes dresses.”
“Just dresses? Sweet Celestia you’re a tomcolt, if you put me in a Rarity Original I’d have every mare in this town crawling up my dress to nuzzle my chest floof!”
Kirk frowned. “You have floof?”
“Why? Want to touch it? I bet its softer than the Princess’s.”
“Probably. She has no body fur at all. Totally smooth. She’s like a giant hairless cat.”
Everyone present shuddered, except Spock; his equivalent response was to look at Kirk, dissapointed.
“Not a vision I needed to have.” Rainbow Dash started trotting toward the city. “Come on, Lyra. You’re the only one who knows where we’re going.”
“Then why are you going first?”
“Because you’re being slow and I’m so boooored...”
Kirk and Spock looked at each other, and followed. Lyra, the only one who knew the way, trailed behind them.
The town was in all aspects idyllic. To a degree as to be strangely disturbing, at least to a human. The colors were vibrant, with various shades of pastels everywhere, and the buildings had ornate and still vaguely Germanic architecture at every turn. The grass was brilliant green, and flowers bloomed everywhere. In the far distance were mountains and stunning cliffs, one of which contained the city of Canterlot, overlooking Celestia’s domain. The town was filled with cheerful colorful ponies going about their day, each of them a bright and pleasant color with a pleasant scent that meshed perfectly with the overall piney-fresh scent of the village.
The ponies did not even react negatively to the presence of hideous aliens in their midst. Although they obviously were slightly wary, they still maintained their cheerful smiles in the name of harmonious tolerance of all species.
It was also apparent that Lyra had very little idea of where, exactly, she was going. Or, rather, she was apparently trying to take the most circuitous route, standing in front of them with her head held proud that her insane theories of hoomin-astronauts had finally been validated. Ostensibly. Her absurd theories about parallel universes and the Great Gate were of course still nebulous and surely false, but this did not seem to concern her especially much.
In fact, it was Kirk who eventually discerned where they needed to go, mainly because M’Ress, being a Caitian, was taller than most ponies and consequently quite visible. Not taller than Celestia, of course; Celestia and Luna were fall taller than the other ponies. Kirk actually wondered if that was how they chose their leaders, by height.
Kirk broke off from the group and approached her, pausing when he drew closer, largely out of surprise.
“Lieutenant,” he said.
“Captain,” she said, looking up.
“What...are you wearing?”
M’Ress looked down at herself. She was wearing a pleasantly colored sundress and a hat. “A dress, apparently. It is well-ventilated and makes me feel pretty.”
“Why?”
“Because I stress-dress when I’m stressed,” snapped a unicorn standing beside her, who was passing a large golden coin to a smiling pony in exchange for a bouquet of flowers.
She was, in fact, a white unicorn, wearing a coat and glasses, her head covered with a kerchief. Apparently a disguise. Or what would have been a disguise had the entire population of the town having been in the nude, with her the only one wearing any substantial amount of clothing short of Rainbow Dash in her armor.
“I hope you’re happy. Making a mare wait is so very RUDE.”
“We can summon you your standard uniform,” suggested Spock, arriving silently from behind Kirk. “Federation requirements demand that all women are constantly dressed appropriately with approved-length miniskirts.”
“Miniskirts? What is this, the sixties? Or is this one of your perverse hybrid fantasies?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Hybrid. That’s what you are, isn’t it? I know who you are. Sarek’s middle-child.” She looked up at Kirk, dropping her glasses to reveal a pair of utterly massive blue eyes. “And you, I don’t know. Another Starfleet stooge, I’m sure, but at this point I’ll take whatever help I can get.” She paused, wincing for a moment. “But there’s no need to be rude,” she said, her Mid-Atlantic accent growing significantly stronger. She looked past Kirk and saw Lyra and Rainbow Dash approaching, and she groaned loudly.
“What?”
“You see, Starfleet, when I had suggested you come, it had been with the implication of ‘alone’. Perhaps I ought to have been more clear, although I had assumed a Captain in Starfleet would at least have some level of subtlety to his understanding.”
“That was an unwise assumption,” noted Spock.
“Is it necessarily a problem?” asked M’Ress.
Rarity sighed. “No. But it makes the situation much more difficult.”
“Wow,” said Lyra, approaching. “You’re Rarity. Really Rarity. I’m--”
“I know who you are, Lyra. You’ve lived here for ten years now. I went to school with your late wife, to the extent that a sixth-grade education can truly be called ‘schooling’.” She pointed at Rainbow Dash, who was approaching more slowly. “Her, though, I don’t know. Such color, and such a sour expression.”
“Well forgive me if I’ve never really be interested in frilly, fru-fru dresses.”
“Well yes, clearly, considering your apparent utter lack of appreciation for fashion. But you are a problem. Because I am mostly sure I can’t trust the Equestrian military.”
“Then don’t. But if there’s a danger to the kingdom, it’s my job to fix it. Or I could arrest you right here.”
“You don’t have the authority.”
“Try me.”
Rarity’s horn lit, and the plasmatic glow surrounded Rainbow Dash’s artificial wing, torquing it just slightly. Rainbow Dash cried out in pain, dropping to the ground.
“Hey! Stop that!”
M’Ress put her hand on the back of Rarity’s head. “We do not have time for this.”
“No,” said Rarity. “We do not.” She pushed past them. “You will want to follow me. I suggest the ponies stay but Shiboline is not wrong. I really don’t care about arguing with any of you. There is simply too much work to be done.”
Kirk looked at M’Ress.
“‘Shiboline’?”
“It is my first name, Captain.”
“Yes, Lieutenant, I know that. Just how close are you exactly to this pony?”
“I have substantial doubts that she is, in fact, a pony. But she made me a dress, and her shampoo has made my fur silky and smooth. I suggest you hear what she has to say.”
Rainbow Dash picked herself off the ground and brushed herself off despite the humiliation and lingering pain in her wing. Or, rather, in the connection between it and her spine where wires met nerves and bolts met bone. It had only been a slight twist. Not enough to damage it. Or, rather, herself. The wing itself was essentially indestructible.
She followed the others, hanging back, but as she did, she heard something coming out of a dark alley. Or an alley dark by Ponyville standards, which was actually quite well lit. Rainbow Dash sighed, fully prepared to boop a snoot. Traumatically.
Instead, she heard a high voice calling her name.
“Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash! Oh wow, it’s really you!”
“Huh?” Rainbow Dash found herself facing a small orangish filly who seemed roughly on the verge of violent, messy self-explosion from severe overexcitement. She was in fact bouncing. “Do I know you?”
“No, of course not, but I’m your number one fan! I’m president of the Ponyville chapter of your fan club, which I founded, and I’m also the treasurer, and the only member! I can’t—I don’t know how you are even—you smell so nice—what are you even doing in Ponyville?!”
“Official military business.” She gestured to the others. “The aliens wanted a tour. So I’m on foalsitting duty I guess.”
The tiny squeaky pony’s eyes widened in awe, and she seemed on the verge of collapse. “They have you watching the aliens? That’s SO COOL!”
“I...um...yeah. It is pretty cool. I’m pretty cool. I...guess.”
“Cool? COOL? You’re a dang hero, Rainbow Dash! The GREATEST HERO! And you’re...well, you’re my hero.” She held out a pad. “Can I have your autograph?”
Rainbow Dash, flattered, accepted, signing a tattered notebook. The Pegasus looked like she was about to faint.
“Do you have a name, kid?”
“Scootaloo. I’m Scootaloo.”
“Sure. Nice to know somepony cares, I guess.”
“Why wouldn’t anypony care?”
Rainbow Dash blinked. “Why would they?” She held out her wing. “I’m washed up. You know that.”
“No way, it’s really cool! I mean, it’s metal, but that’s fine, I mean—you inspired me so much! I even applied to join the earth-pony division of the airforce. They said I was too young, but I might be able to get into junior officer training--”
“Take my advice, kid, don’t bother. Just enjoy flying on your own wings. It’s something you can take for granted way to easily.”
“But I can’t fly.”
Rainbow Dash, who had been turning away, looked back suddenly, not sure if she had heard correctly. “What?”
Scootaloo fluttered her tiny, useless wings. “I can’t fly. I got sick when I was a foal and the joints never developed. The only way I’ll ever get in the air is in an airplane. But that doesn’t matter, because I’ll still be flying, just like you!”
Rainbow Dash was silent for a moment, not quite sure of the emotion she was feeling. “Yeah. Yeah, you do that, kid.” She forced herself to smile, and took the notebook back. She wrote something else on the bottom.
“What is that?”
“My contact in Canterlot. I’ll write you a recommendation when you’re old enough. It won’t be long. I don’t like writing. But hey, I’m a hero, right? My word must be worth something. I guess it's all I've got left.”
The tiny filly seemed dumbfounded, but before she could respond, Rainbow Dash turned away. In part to hide the tears. She had the oddest feeling that she had just passed a past version of her own self—or perhaps a mirror of what she should have been.
Rarity headed for the edge of town, to where the path left the boundaries of Ponyville and led into the swamps. It was one of several roads leading out of the town, but one of the least used ones. The largest of them led to District 51, built deep in the western reaches of the Everfree, and one led outward to the network of dirt paths that connected it to other towns and other places. This one, though, went nowhere, and it never had. Just into the southern swamps, eventually fading to a mixture of bubbling, soupy mud and small mossy hillocks, some of which were more lively than others. The only being that lived out that way was the greatly-feared zebra Zecora, and her house was far from where Rarity wanted to go.
The aliens followed readily. Only the Caitian seemed to be perceptive of the danger, but had at least the courage to pretend to ignore it. The Vulcan, if he had instincts, suppressed them, although it was apparent that the very concept of a wet and soggy forest was profoundly disagreeable to him. The two ponies of course understood, Lyra especially. She had lived in Ponyville long enough to understand what the Everfree meant, or at least to know what she had been told it meant. The other, the attractive one, was less concerned, but the exact reason was concerning. Rarity recognized the expression in her eyes. She had seen it on countless thousands of faces, and no matter the species or time period, it was always the same. It usually ended up turning to surprise right before death took them.
The human, though, was a mystery. Or perhaps the simplest of all of them. Humans were definitely simple. They were either arrogant or stupid or both. He did not fear the forest either because he had no idea what was in it, or, if he did, had the assumption that he could easily wrestle a full-grown rockadile bare-chested and lubricated. A thought which Rarity found especially titillation, but only until it was corrected. She had, in a sense, met enough humans to know that they were the most dangerous species of all, and that the ultimate proof of Vulcan foolishness had been to ever allow them off their irradiated and decaying planet.
She also had a sense that the human was staring at her rump. This was annoying but of course understandable. She was quite aware of the excellence of her own figure. She was, after all, Rarity.
When she actually reached the border of the forest, though, the ponies stopped. The human, although stupid, was perceptive. He noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s...the Everfree,” said Lyra, as if that were the only explanation required.
“I don’t know,” said Rainbow Dash, ironically articulating the sentiment far further than the mare who actually (ostensibly) possessed a doctorate. “It’s like...I don’t like it.”
“Ponies instinctively fear disorder,” explained Rarity, who had already entered the shade of the strange, dark trees. “Any form of chaos. Trees that weren’t planted, that grow on their own, animals that aren’t in zoos or kept as pets. This forest is even outside the weather control scheme.”
“So it’s...a forest,” suggested Kirk.
“Yes. It is like how your kind are deathly afraid of spiders.”
M’Ress frowned, looking at Kirk. “Humans fear spiders?”
“You don’t?”
“Of course not. As children we chase them. Then eat them. Except the legs. We do not ever eat the legs.”
“That’s somewhat disgusting.”
“This from a species that can ingest a water-melon without vomiting for three days.”
“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash, confused. “There’s watermelon? When did we have watermelon? How did I miss that?”
Rarity groaned. “We need to go in the swamp. The ponies can stay if they wish. Should stay, to be frank.” She then chose to ignore any further protest and marched into the dappled shade of the over-nutriated mud-trees that surrounded Ponyville.
Kirk followed, because of course he did. “So why aren’t you afraid, then?”
“What would possibly be the point of that?”
“To avoid getting eaten?”
“I haven’t been eaten yet, nor do I intend to be.” She paused. “Although that’s only technically a lie, I suppose.”
“Really? How’d you get out?”
“I didn’t. You wouldn’t really understand though.”
“Try me.”
“I’d really rather not.”
Rarity accelerated to a trot. Kirk looked behind him, seeing that Spock looked profoundly displeased, M’Ress was apparently looking for spiders, and the two ponies had apparently overcome their instinctive fear and followed them in. Which he supposed was a good sign.
The path led deeper and deeper, until it appeared to not even be a path at all. Except that all the while, Rarity led, seeming to know exactly where she was going as she dexterously maneuvered herself over hillocks and over brooks, streams, and puddles, all without staining her clothing in the slightest. M’Ress was likely dexterous. Rainbow Dash was not, instead more often than not sinking up to her tip in mud. Lyra stayed dry, though, if only because she had managed to get herself carried by Kirk.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Rarity sighed. “Once again. I could explain it to you, but I can guarantee that you’re not familiar with the landscape enough for the answer to give you the barest hint of meaning.”
Lyra nuzzled closer to Kirk. “Squeeze me harder, hoomin.”
Kirk promptly dropped her onto a mossy hillock. She bounced, and a pair of eyes on long stalks emerged from the hillock as it attempted to migrate somewhere else. Lyra, apparently disturbed by this but not to the extent that she would jump in the mud, had apparently decided that this was her life now and had elected to ride the creature in the general direction of where she was supposed to go.
“How will I even know when I’m there?” asked Rainbow Dash, barely able to keep her face above the muck.
“Because I will have stopped walking, and you will have stopped whining.” Rarity reached into the mud with her telekinesis and once again extricated Rainbow Dash. “And you’re a Pegasus. Why not just fly?”
Rainbow Dash waggled her dead wing. “Can’t.”
“How pitiful. Perhaps if part of you is made of steel, you should perhaps avoid falling into water deeper than yourself?”
“How am I supposed to know how deep it is unless I’m in it?”
“It’s a swamp, dearie. It is much, much deeper than you are.”
“Oh please, now you’re calling ME the shallow one?”
Rarity frowned and then dropped the Pegasus back in the water before crossing a small, rotting wooden bridge over a shallow ravine.
Kirk looked back at Spock, in the process noticing an unusual number of yellow eyes looking out at him from every hollow and hole in the trees, rocks, and bushes.
“Having fun, Spock?”
“Not at all, Captain. I am a Vulcan, we do not ‘fun’. However I am distinctly intrigued by the presence of the flora and occasional fauna present in this area. I believe I was stung by a bee. It was most edifying.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”
“I am a Vulcan, Captain. The answer to your question should be self-evident.”
Kirk did not entirely hear and certainly did not comprehend what Spock had said. Instead, something moving in the brush had caught his attention.
“Captain?”
“Rarity,” he said. “Since you’re an expert in this bog--”
“Swamp, darling. A bog is flat and acidic.”
“Are there any large predators here?”
Rainbow Dash and Lyra looked suddenly nervous.
“Yes,” said M’Ress. “I am right here.”
Rarity chuckled. “Well considering that Equestrian society has become increasingly organized, the rate of demise by predation has markedly dropped. Although do note that we evolved as a pray species. Considering that the extent of our weapons development is dull spears and unsharpened swords, there is not terribly much we can do about being eaten, is there?”
“Apart from the telekinesis.”
“Our magic. Yes, for unicorns. Although usually we do not bother to live in areas where dangerous beasts are present. Our magic gives us that luxury at least.”
“Miss, you have not answered the question.”
Kirk saw another flash of motion in the forest. Something that moved through the underbrush with total silence. Something large and the color of wood, but that moved on four legs.
“No. I have not. Because I do not wish to frighten you, darlings. With the fact that this area is well-known to be a breeding ground for timberwolves.”
Rainbow Dash and Lyra both stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. “Wait, what?”
Kirk did not have the context to understand. His vision of “timberwolf” was the earth-sort, which had of course been hunted to extinction along with every wild carnivore larger than a housecat. Such a wolf would obviously be a threat, and he immediately started thinking of a way they could fight wolves and whether or not he would need to remove his shirt—when one of them emerged from the treeline and he immediately knew that he had been horribly mistaken. He had completely and utterly failed to accommodate for the Equestrian love of descriptive puns.
It was enormous. Far larger than a wolf, or a horse, or any Earth predator born past the second-to-last ice age. It was also apparently made of wood. Logs, hundreds of them, wrapped together and bound by moss and twigs into a vast beast in the shape of a wolf.
Rainbow Dash and Lyra cried out, grabbing each other and screaming, while M’Ress hissed and immediately ascended a nearby tree. Spock remained totally impassive. Strangely, though, so did Rarity, even as four more wolves emerged from the forest and circled. Then, before Kirk could stop them, they charged.
Rarity was nearest to them. It lowered its head, opening its jaw, and charging her.
“Rarity, look out--”
The wolf promptly swallowed her up—except that Rarity did not move. The wolf simply passed through her, its surface distorting and fizzling with scan-lines and pixilation as it emerged through her. The others howled, and continued to attack. One came at Kirk, and he put up his arms. He could have sworn he felt the wind—but it passed right through him. There was not even anything to feel.
“What—what? WHAT?”
“Holograms.” Rarity looked back and rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” She gestured to the projectors in the trees, one of which was on the very branch that M’Ress was standing on, her entire body of fur poofed outward to make her seem larger. It emitted a slight glimmering light as it traced the wolves through the environment. “Part of a Klingon prototype, actually. A sort of holo-chamber, intended for lethal training practice. Although of course at this range I can’t ever get the hard-light system to work quite right.” She sighed. "And the colors, the saturation just doesn't match the lighting the way I wish it would..."
Rarity made a gesture and the wolves immediately sat down, wagging their tails.
“Why do you even have this?”
“Security darling. Ponies are deathly afraid of Timberwolves. This keeps them away.”
“From what?”
Rarity did not answer. Instead, she walked past a thinner area of tall trees that seemed to glow with delicate fungal light. Despite their height, many of the trees were thin. As if they had grown in recently.
In the center of this pleasant, quiet grove sat a large hill, covered in moss and vines and all manner of swampish mold—but not a single tree. Kirk watched as Rarity stopped, brushing the vines off an object beside the hill. A flat, gray stone, carved with strange letters.
She paused for a moment, then smiled and placed the bouquet of flowers at the base of the stone. Then she lit her horn and with her telekinesis pushed away the vines on the surface of the hill—revealing a rusted bulkhead behind them.
“That’s a ship,” said Kirk, suddenly realizing why the hill looked so strange to him. Why it looked to even, artificial even.
“It is my ship, yes.” The access panel for the door had been torn off, leaving only broken wires, but the interior button apparently remained. Rarity tilted her head, concentrating for a moment, and the internal button engaged, causing the door locks to disengage and for the bulkhead to pull itself sideways with a hiss.
“Inside, please,” she said. “You’re letting the humidity in. Also wipe your feet and/or hooves, I HATE having mud on my nice floors.”
Rarity entered first, the lights tripping on and flickering as they did so. This revealed that the ship was much larger than Kirk had previously expected. From the angle of the floors, it was apparent that it was not on a flat surface; in fact, it was mostly buried in the swamp.
“The cloaking system was damaged in the impact, I’m afraid, but I still have a working Class-IV signal dampener. With the reactor barely active it’s virtually invisible. That combined with Starfleet incompetence is no doubt why you didn’t notice its signature.”
Rarity trotted off through the metallic hallway. Indeed, the floors were nice, but the hallways were definitely not pony in design. They were far larger, to the point where Kirk even had an additional foot of space over him, and the technology present was.
“This is a Cardassian-built ship,” noted M’Ress, somewhat in awe. “Although the Cardassians do not use dampeners.”
“I’ve had it modified substantially. For all the good it does half-sunk in the mud I suppose.” A door hissed open and Rarity passed through into a large domed room. A large, circular bridge that was surely buried beneath the ground. “The Cardassians are almost as unpleasant as humans but I find their ship design so fascinating. That it’s the one thing they don’t spare expense for. Isn’t that a strange thing, but poetic, in a way?”
M’Ress paused, looking at the bridge and the various computer consoles. Some were lit, some were dark, and a few were badly damaged. In the dim light, Rarity’s eyes reflected a silver glow.
“How do you know this?” she demanded. “ Who are you? Why do you have this ship?”
“Because she’s a Trill.”
Rarity turned sharply to Kirk. She smiled. With her eyes still reflecting, it was a disturbing sight. “You are far more perceptive than I had suspected. However, unfortunately as ignorant as that hideous green uniform suggests.”
“I am a Starfleet officer--”
“Yes. I know. And you all have the WORST uniforms. A Trill is a being from Trill. They are humanoid, with the most adorable mottling. What you are referring to is a Trill symbiote, which is a very different species. I am a pony. I am Rarity. I am also a symbiote.”
“That was the grave outside. It’s your grave, isn’t it?”
Rarity sighed, and stepped forward, maintain her smile but also an air of either grave sadness or substantial aggression. “You would not, and could not, know what it feels like. To have your host mortally wounded. The surprise, the shock, and then the fear. The terrible, terrible fear. Then hearing it...hearing as a part of you that you love so, so dearly fades and ends.” She grimaced. “Then you’re alone, all alone, and you feel it. The suffocation. The organs that keep you alive shutting down. The knowledge that you’re next...and you’ll be all alone.”
“I’m sorry,” said M’Ress.
“Why? There was nothing you could have done about it.” She gestured to the ship around her. “My ship crashed here about fifteen years ago now. I don’t know what I hit. Some sort of tachyon wave. It came out of nowhere and fried half the forward computer. It tore the right wing off.” She paused, looking desperately forlorn. “My host was critically injured in the impact. But I was uninjured. His body protected me but I...I could not...help him.” She looked up at Kirk and took a deep breath, regaining her composure and using a kerchief to blot her tears so her makeup did not smudge. “This pony was still a filly then. I was a filly, then. She--I--had been examining the caverns near here for rare gemstones when she saw the impact. She came to help.” She chuckled humorlessly. “Although I have no idea how exactly I intended to do that...”
“And she...you...”
“She found me. Outside the ship. In the last moments of my host. I...he...was able to give myself the instructions.”
“How? This planet has barely nineteenth-century technology, there’s no way they could perform an implantation procedure.”
“We...didn’t do it that way. I was dying. I needed to hurry.”
“But then?”
“Captain,” said Spock, “although my understanding of symbiote biology is admittedly somewhat lacking on the granular details, it is apparent that the symbiotes did not always implant themselves surgically. Otherwise the species could not possibly have evolved its relationship to the humanoid Trill.” He paused. “However, the process as it most likely existed in ancient times is nearly impossible. The organ necessary is largely vestigial. And, even with it intact, the process was so painful and carried such high risk to both host and symbiote that even primitive, ancient surgery without anesthetic was preferable over the natural process.”
Kirk felt somewhat ill. “You...didn’t...”
“It is possible for a symbiotic to enter through the digestive system. To tear its way through and enter the body that way. And I explained this. To me. I explained the pain. I explained the risk. And I explained that I was dying...but that I was prepared for that. And of course I accepted.” Rarity laughed. “Because how could I refuse? When I have something to give that another needs so utterly...” She paused. “And I...she didn’t even make a peep. It must have hurt her so much, but she didn’t even cry out. She...” She shook her head. “I have never before witnessed such an expression of pure generosity. To me. To a bastard like me.” She chuckled, then looked Kirk in the eye. “Do you know what I was, Captain Kirk? Before I was Rarity?”
“No.”
“Yes you do. My name is Ioic.”
Kirk’s expression became much more severe. “I don’t know that name.”
“You’re lying. Because I’ve had many names over many centuries. Do you know what I was, Kirk? I was a pirate. A dirty, filthy pirate. I did nothing but steal and hurt people of every race and every species. And not even for money. I’m a symbiote. It was for the EXPERIENCE. And then I come here, dying, and ready to die, and this innocent, beautiful creature gives everything she had to give me new life. And by some miracle, she is more compatible than any Trill could ever hope to be.”
“Is that why you didn’t leave?”
“Yes. And no. I didn’t leave because I have seen this planet. Through her eyes. How...how very beautiful it is. And I found that we...that I...share a common interest.” She smiled. This time it seemed genuine. “Whatever you say about me, you can never say I didn’t know how to make an entrance. Always stunning. Always dramatic. Always dressed to make an impression as I stole their loot and booty alike. But Rarity has far more creativity than Ioic ever did. So I whisper in her ear. Memories. Images. I give her inspiration and tell her of the grand world, and from it, she builds the most stunning clothing I have ever witnessed.”
“At the party,” said Kirk. “Those dresses...”
“Her creations. Our creations. My creations. I am Rarity. I am a beautiful, fashionable pony. I make dresses, the very best of them.”
She suddenly trotted away toward one of the computers. “Although needless to say, ponies adore dresses almost as much as I do. As such I have become fabulously wealthy. I have branches in Manehattan, Canterlot—I even have a storefront in the Imperial Hive free-trade district because somepony has to teach the damn changelings how to dress properly--”
“And?”
Rarity paused. “And what?”
“And why are we here?”
Rarity’s expression grew serious. “Because. I adore this planet. And I understand the mind of a pony better than most. Better than you ever could. And I know that there are things that...that Rarity as a pony cannot see. That I keep hidden from myself, locked away, because of the fragility of this world, you see. In multiple senses. I know what’s out there, and what it means. So I have dedicated myself to protecting this world. In my spare time.” She huffed. “Which formerly did not mean much, until your absolutely hideous ship came into orbit.”
She activated a screen, then gestured for the others to gather around. Kirk walked up to it, and although it was written in a different language, he understood at least the gist of it.
“What is this?”
“A warp signal. My ship’s passive sensors still work. I track everything. About ten years ago, this signal appeared near the planet. Then, within a year, Equestria went from self-drawn carts to lunar rockets.”
“You think there was an incursion.”
“No. I guarantee it.”
“And are you sure it wasn’t you?”
“Darling, please. I make dresses.”
“With alien designs.”
“With alien inspiration. But I have done everything in my power to keep this ship secret, and it has remained that way for the duration.”
“That is logical,” added Spock. “From what we have observed concerning the Equestrian prototype, their architecture appears very different from any known alien vessel, including this one.”
“But if it appears different, Spock, then whose technology helped make it?”
“I do not yet have the information necessary to draw that conclusion.”
Kirk looked down at Rarity, who looked up at him. “Our sensors have picked up a cloaked Klingon warbird in orbit around the planet.”
“That’s impossible,” said Rarity.
“I assure you. I trust my crew. And they know what they saw.”
“It is literally impossible.” Rarity switched the screen to a system of records. “There has been no record of warp signatures in the past ten years. Not until this one, which is yours.”
“If it was cloaked--”
“A cloaked ship still leaves a warp trail, if you know how to look. Which is why the cloak is basically useless at speed. Any pirate can tell you that. It’s for ambushes, not free passage.”
“It’s not moving.”
“No, but it had to get there somehow. And I would have seen it. There are no warp-capable ships in orbit apart from yours.”
“And the prototype.”
A strange look crossed Rarity’s face. “That...that’s right.”
“You must have picked that up too?”
She looked at her records. “No,” she admitted. “It must have been too small. The passive sensors aren’t perfect, and the field is much, much weaker. But it’s a moot point, because I would surely have seen an entire warbird.”
“We can’t guarantee that.”
Rarity sighed. “No. I don’t think we can. I just don’t want to think about it.” She stepped back from the console and walked to another. “My primary concern right now is District 51.”
“Mine too,” said Kirk. “M’Ress, what did you find there?”
“Nothing of importance,” she admitted. “We had both infiltrated simultaneously. We did not get close to the center of the facility. But it is apparent that Flim and Flam are working for Twilight Sparkle, a unicorn.”
“Celestia mentioned her. More than once.”
Rarity sat down in a listing captain’s chair. “And that is exactly the problem.”
“What?”
“Are you aware of Celestia’s record with students? The last one attempted a coup and was banished to an unknown hell-dimension. Those prior have been utterly erased from history. But they are prone to attempting to grasp power beyond their station. Twilight, I believe, is not different. Unless.”
“Unless what?” asked M’Ress.
“Unless Celestia already knows,” sighed Kirk.
Rarity nodded. “And there you see my dilemma.”
“What do you mean ‘dilemma’?” snapped Rainbow Dash, stepping forward and promptly tripping over a stair designed for Cardassian-length legs. She righted herself and glared at Rarity. “What do you mean by what you mean, dress-girl?”
Rarity sighed. “And this is exactly why I had no intention of informing a military officer of my findings. Because the Equestrian Royal Guard is almost as idiotic as Starfleet.”
“Excuse me. I’m in the Space Force, so your track record is already bad from the start line. And I can guarantee Celestia has nothing to do with this. She’s basically our mom. She would never do anything to hurt Equestria or hurt anypony at all, I’m sure of it!”
“Then clearly you’ve never asked why, exactly, her sister lives on the moon with the lunar bombards faced toward us.”
“But I’m sure of it! I feel it in my gut! Whatever happening, Celestia doesn’t know!”
“Then what about Twilight Sparkle? Have you ever met her?”
Rainbow Dash faulted. “Well, no...”
“Of course not. Nopony has since the day she left for the Division. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust Celestia. And I don’t trust YOU.”
“Then who do you trust? Other than the alien living in your guts?”
Rarity glared at her. Her horn flickered, then a screen activated on the far wall. The primary viewscreen used for communication and observing space as it passed. It was perfectly cleaned, but cracked, the pixels dead on one corner where the impact with the planet had damaged it. It displayed a tower made of some unknown type of dark bricks. It was devoid of windows, and the architecture oddly threatening and devoid of any of the finesse and ornamentation of normal pony buildings.
“What is that?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“I know,” said M’Ress. “I saw it. Looming, as towers are apt to do. It is in the center of District 51.”
“Indeed. This is the central research tower. Where I was attempting to get and, given different circumstances, I surely would have gotten. As well as you with some effort. It is the center of the company. The only ones who enter and exit are Flim and Flam. Twilight Sparkle lives inside, as well as others.”
“Others?”
“Very powerful wizards. Recruited from all over Equestria.” Rarity threw down a stack of photos on a broken console. They spilled out of their manila folder. An image of a gray child, a golden stallion with a messy beard, a yellow mare posing with a blue one, and many others.
Kirk frowned. “But you said only Flim and Flam come out.”
“I know.”
He nodded. “And the tower?”
“I have no idea what’s in it. My sensors can’t penetrate the surface. It is either plated in pure dimeritium or, more likely, protected by a dampening field. One much stronger than my own. The only thing I could ever detect is this.”
A layout of complex mathematical diagrams appeared overlayed to the image in diagram form. Rainbow Dash approached it, tilting her head in confusion.
“What is this? Did you spill alphabet soup on the picture? Except these aren’t even real letters—oop!”
She was promptly picked up by Spock and moved to the side as he approached the computer screen, staring up at it, his face illuminated by the violet light. Although superficially impassive, as always, Kirk recognized that his Vulcan facade had produced the tiniest of cracks. The only thing that could truly make Spock show the barest of excitement had appeared before him: fancy mathematics.
“Fascinating...” he whispered.
“I admittedly do not have quite have the background to understand it,” sighed Rarity. “Considering my sixth-grade education. And also considering a four-hundred-year-old pirate grafted into my neural architecture. Perhaps you might make sense of it.”
“It’s a spell,” said Lyra, looking at it from a distance and causing everyone present to jump as they had forgotten she was even there. “I can see that at least. I remember it...a little. It’s...Equestrian, but somehow...wrong. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“This is a quantum resonance signature,” said Spock. He began tapping the screen, moving the variables around and setting up some of the equations into a more formal systematic style. “Quantum signatures are notoriously difficult to shield against since it is impossible to compensate for something that can exist in manifold quantum states. Although what exactly could produce a signal with this many alternating states...this level of power, so to speak...is a most intriguing scientific conundrum.”
He resolved part of it. Kirk saw it out of the corner of his eye, thinking it looked familiar. A system of figures, something similar to:
“.... . .|.. .|.. ||| | .|. .. .|.. .|.. .|. .| .|. .. | |.||”
What that meant, though, he did not have time to discern.
“Do you think it’s alien, Spock?”
Spock paused for a moment. “I cannot discern that from the quantum signature alone, as I am unfamiliar with the extent of the technology which these ponies refer to as ‘magic’. Its extent may exceed in some fields our understand of the world through a mechanical sense. However, the presence of a dampening field suggests the strong possibility of alien technology being used to create it.” He turned slowly. “And the presence of a dampening field implies, logically, that they are attempting to keep something hidden.”
Kirk once again nodded. He faced Rarity. “And it has something to do with the dilithium, doesn’t it?”
Rarity burst out laughing, causing Kirk great confusion. “The dilithium? The DILITHIUM? Captain, do you really not understand how deep this situation truly is? How far this all goes? The dilithium is an irrelevant waste resource compared to what it contains.”
“I don’t understand. Have you even seen it? I've never seen so much dilithium in my life--”
Rarity dropped out of her chair and walked to another screen. She pressed a sequence of controls on its console, then slapped it to get the screen to boot. It flickered to life, and by the time it did, Spock had already gotten as close to it as possible. Which was a good thing, because the diagram present was far beyond Kirk’s understanding of theoretical physics.
“That...doesn’t help.”
“Yes,” said Spock. “Yes it does.”
Rarity pressed another set of buttons, and an image appeared on the screen. Of a vibrating gray sphere. “This. This is what truly matters. The resource of actual value on this planet. It exists intercalated in the dilithium crystals because they’re the only inorganic material capable of containing it. Which is likely why it exists nowhere else in this universe.”
“What is it, though? You’re taking a long time to answer the question.”
“A supermassive, metastable subatomic particle, Captain. One capable of existing in a biased quantum stage, oscillating between and unifying the primary universal fields of matter and yet capable of interacting as if it were a hadronic atom.”
“In English, Spock?”
“I was speaking English, Captain. You simply lack the capacity to understand my admittedly simple description.”
“It is a unique substance,” said Rarity. “Unique to this planet, at least. When energized with, say, an electric or magnetic field, it causes either a gravity bias or quantum stepping. Essentially creating a minuscule warp field.” She reached behind her with her telekinesis and lifted a battered wrench, rotating it through the air toward Kirk. She smiled. “Unicorns are not a genetic phenomenon. We are an adaptive metabolic phenomena, a result of massive in-utero exposure to this substance. Our very bones intercolate it, as the dilithium does. Our ‘magic’, our telekinesis…it relies on the presence of this substance from our environment. The more we have, the more powerful we can be.”
“Like Celestia.”
Rarity shook her head. “She is not even a pony. Not anymore. A thin skin over something...terrible. Something I have no desire to understand. But powerful unicorns, like Twilight Sparkle, well, with enough of this they do virtually anything. Teleport. Reconfigure matter at will. Pull entire starships out of orbit.” She paused. “Or, in the right hands, it could be used to build weapons of untold devastating power. Enough to snuff out a star in an instant, or wipe entire planets off the star-charts in an instant. Considering that it behaves like matter but is in fact a single, unique particle, I have started referring to it as ‘Element Zero’.”
“And you think this is what they’re after? What they’re mining, why they’re here?”
“Captain, do not think that in the slightest. I am one hundred percent sure of it. And Flim, Flam, and Twilight Sparkle are at the very heart of it all.”