Starbrought

by Ethereal Cerberus

{Edited} Chapter Four - First Contact

Shields, Drakeson. Prisoner. Identification Number: One-Zero-One-Zero-One-Zero. Crime: Defiance.

Drake forced himself to take another step forward. According to the information his neural implants were receiving, his possessions had stopped moving and were together in one location. And now he was close to where they were.

However, his wounds were starting to ache. Whatever medicine he had been treated with was starting to wear off, and the slightest movement of his muscles caused intense pains to shoot through his body. At this point, the only motivation he had to keep going was the knowledge that he had canisters of biofoam amongst his possessions.

That, and the never-ending determination to escape unjustified captivity for the second time in his life.

Shields, Drakeson. Prisoner. Identification number One-Zero-One-Zero-One-Zero. Crime: Defiance.

Never again. Drake had sworn that to himself when he escaped the Alliance prison facility on Oranus V three years ago, the same day he declared himself a pirate.

He was going to reclaim his equipment and get the hell out of wherever he was even if it killed him.

’I’m not going to let myself become a prisoner again,’ Drake told himself as he took another step, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pains on his body as he did so. ’Never again. Never.’ Shining Armor ducked behind yet another pillar as Drake paused, eyes closed in intense pain. It had been like this for nearly a half hour.

The alien would only walk a couple of yards before he needed to stop and rest. The looks on its face told Shining Armor all he needed to know. This alien, whatever it was, wherever it had come from, however more advanced it might be; it was not immune to physical pain.

But, even with that knowledge, the alien’s actions confused the guardpony. If it was hurt enough to the point that it had to stop frequently due to the pain, then why did it press on like a dehydrated pony in the desert, searching for a source of water to quench his thirst?

He could have stopped the alien. All he would have to do would be to cast a shield bubble around it. With its injuries, it wouldn’t be able to resist magic very well. And yet, Shining led him continue on. It had passed the staircases to the royal bedchambers (so Princess Cadance was still safe), as well as the passages to the staff quarters and the barracks. So the alien clearly wasn’t searching for anypony. There was nothing left down this particular wing of the castle that could possibly be of any interest.

And, since there shouldn’t be anyone down this wing at this hour until the next patrol came along, there wasn’t any harm in simply following the alien from a safe distance. Far enough away to avoid detection, but close enough to intervene should the alien (by some twist of Fate) turn violent toward a pony he might happen across.

‘It was all in the name of science,’ as Shining’s younger sister would say.

Though he hadn’t been briefed on the full extent of the aliens’ injuries, Shining guessed that its left leg had been badly damaged, as he walked with a severe limp that nearly caused him to fall over on more than half a dozen occasions so far.

’Definitely a miracle that you can still walk,’ Shining said to the alien inside his mind. ’Just what are you after?’

Drake paused as he reached an intersection of side passages, doing his best to estimate which path he needed to take to get closer to his equipment. Without a proper floor plan to guide him, and only knowing which direction to walk in, Drake knew he could easily get lost. And with his injuries as bad as they were, getting lost or having to backtrack could be exceptionally bad for his health.

Ultimately, he left it up to any greater powers that may or may not exist and continued moving forward. ’Lady Luck, don’t fail me now.’ And so on he trudged, limping heavily as he went. Shining Armor carefully slipped out from behind his cover and crept along after him.

“Captain, are you sure this is the same thing from that craft?” The griffin named Iron Wing commented as he poked a talon into the creature's chest for no apparent reason. It was firm and muscular, with no visible sign or feeling of anything that would be called fat (if it even existed for this thing). “It kind of  looks like a minotaur, at least. Just, you know, without the horns. It even has the same basic shape as one in any case.”

“It is, Private Iron Wing. Besides, what kind of minotaur would have something like this, or be as strangely shaped as it?” Captain Night Skies retorted as he lifted up the creature’s muscular arms to show them the strange pulsing-red cover on its minotaur-esque hands.

None of the griffins had ever seen something like that before. It could be magic, but they had no way of knowing for certain. No, they had found something special. Something unique. And they were damn sure that they were going to keep it at all costs, no matter who or what happened to show up and take it.

“Then, Sir; if it is not a minotaur, then what in the name of Tartarus is it?” Another griffin called out in confusion, asking the question that was on all of his brother’s minds since the moment they had seen the massive dust cloud kicked up by the crash.

They all stood around in silence, waiting for someone else to answer the question that none of them dared to, simply because they had no idea how to.

Night Skies suddenly spoke up, breaking the long silence that had formed over the group of soldiers. “Alright. I don’t know about any of you, but this heat is really starting to rustle my feathers in the wrong way. So, this is what we are going to do: We are going to take this thing and its weapons back to Altai with us. From there, we'll leave it to some other chumps and have a fun time at a bar. Sound good to you messy lot?”

“Yes sir!”

“You got it!”

“Can’t we wait here and take a nap?" A lone, whiny voice called out over the agreements with Night Skies’ plan. "It’s our break and I really need a nap.”  Night Skies turned back and sighed...

’This griffin again, why didn’t I just leave him behind?’ He thought to himself as he rolled his eyes.

“Private Griffon, what do you mean ‘you need to take a nap’?” Night Skies asked as he turned towards Private Griffon,  who was leaning on a tree, which was an unusual position for a griffin to be in.

“Well... It’s been a long day of flying. And since this is the only oasis that we could find while chasing this thing, I think it’s the perfect place for a nice, long break.” Private Griffon said lazily.

“So let me get this straight,” Night Skies yelled as he stuck his face right into Griffon’s, a look of rage on his face that would have made the most stoic soldiers collapse from fright. “You would rather us wait here for you to take a nap (for who knows how long), rather than take this creature home and use its tools to give us an advantage over the Minotaurs and be able to beat them in this war?!”

“No need to get mad like that, Nighty,” Griff said sarcastically as he flew up into the air, before landing on a tree and yawning. From the looks of it, he was going to get ready to take a nap. But the moment he closed his eyes, something closed around his windpipe and brought him back down to the sandy-soil mixture.. He looked up and saw an armored paw gripped around his throat, leading straight to an absolute livid Night Skies.

“Listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a soldier!” Captain Night Skies growled as he tightened his grip on Griff’s neck until a wheezing sound escaped from his throat. “This is what’s going to happen you little runt of a hatchling: You are going shut up for the rest of this mission. Or so help me, I will break your wings myself and leave you to die in this forsaken desert!” A small hint of a pause remained before Captain Skies spoke again in a lower, more menacing tone as he tightened his talons. “Do you understand me, son?”

“Yes, Sir...” Griff managed to breath out, and he gasped as Night Skies’ claw released his throat, allowing the precious air to flow once again through the griffin’s begging lungs. He sat there gasping for a solid minute before he was able to stand up.

“You’re going to take the creature on your back as we return to Altai. I better not hear you complain even once, or else I will make good on my threats. Now, let’s get going already...” Night Skies said as he pointed towards the unconscious biped currently sitting under a tree.

“The rest of you. Take off and circle overhead. And since Private Griff thought it would be funny to act like a chick, you will all be spending your evening cleaning the barracks until it is so shiny the Queen herself would be honored to take a crap there. Now, get moving!” Night Skies roared as the other members of the squad took flight and began to follow their orders.

Griff walked over towards the unconscious creature, ignoring the looks of hatred, disappointment, and the occasional word mouthed under their beak.  He reached down and grabbed the creature with a groan of effort, before flinging it not-so-gently over his back. He stretched out his wings before taking flight into the air, and beginning the long fly home.

With a heaving sigh, the ‘thud’ of two simultaneous bodies colliding against the ground sounded off. One remained motionless, and the other was shuddering with every breath it took. A thick veil of quiet serenity fell then, which may have lasted anywhere from a few moments, to a few minutes. Finally, the animated apparatus stood groaning in a tired manner.

“God-damn, that was not pleasant,” Slayer mumbled as he used his katana to help right himself. Around him, several corpses from the beasts he fought remained scattered across the miniature battlefield. His armour was scratched, bloodied, and dented in multiple areas that seemed to be completely random.

Limping just slightly, he made his way over to the final beast that he had combated. The alpha, if its ferocity was anything to go by compared to the others. It was a strange thing, and from its build Slayer could presume it was masculine.

To describe it shortly, it was a bipedal hound-dog. Not just that one though, the entire lot was. Their fur was gray onyx, which helped to camouflage them against the rocky interior of what must’ve been their den. Some breeds were familiar from holovids, and some weren’t. In the end, Slayer didn’t care about political-correctness after having had to battle them.

As for the alpha specifically, he couldn’t get a breed on it. It looked like a mixture between a Kath Hound (digging through files revealed this to be a descendant of coyotes) that still plagued settlers on the grassland planet of Dantooine, and a bulldog. ’Strange looking bugger, but it definitely could fight,’ Slayer thought as he sheathed his blade and glanced in exhaustion at his energy supply.

There was good news, and bad news with that glance. The good, was the fact that the battle took place under a star, which provided energy to replenish the depleted source. The bad though... was that the energy exerted during the fight counterbalanced a majority of it, leaving him only with around twenty-five percent to work with.

Curiosity began flowing through him though. Slayer had not expected the beasts to be wearing some form of tattered leather armour, which seemed hastily and poorly made. It was the kind that only a lesser sapient could create, but the fact that they could made him question the sapience of other races on whatever forsaken realm he was in.

’If these dogs had sapience... then who’s to say that the hoofprints from the captors aren’t left from sapient equines?’ That possibility flitted about his conscious as Slayer began to pat down the forms and try to loot what he could. They wouldn’t be needing anything he could acquire, after all...

Unfortunately once more, what he could scrounge up was pathetic. A small vial of water (which he was wary of drinking), a semi-sharpened spearhead (which looked like a work in progress), and some leather straps were all he could ascertain from the underlying corpses. With a sigh, he placed his small stash into his pack, and looked about himself.

The earlier cyclone of sand particles had wiped away any trace of Drake’s captors. The Module proved useless in this regard, for the high-velocity winds swept away any lingering DNA, or piled fresh sand over it. And of course, due to being turned around so suddenly to get shelter, the direction he was taking also was lost to the assassin.

“Fuck. Me. Sideways,” Slayer deadpanned as he, in a fit of annoyance, kicked the lead dog’s corpse. The strength behind it wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to roll it over onto its side so that the torso faced him. That’s when he noticed something even more interesting...

From this angle, his previous assumption on the mix looked accurate. The reddened fur around the head was just like one of those damnable Kath Hounds, and the muzzle resembled the bulldogs that he saw from time to time in run-of-the-mill towns. Staring into the open and still lifeless eyes showed them to be a darkened brown, clashing against the very light-gray fur that encompassed the body. But, what caught his eye was the talisman hanging from the creature’s neck. It was a beaded necklace, and hanging in the middle, was an inscribed iron claw.

Leaning in, he undid the tied knot in the back of it, and held it up in the light. The claw was definitely natural, so the iron coating had to have been done by something with sapience... like the equines, for example. The inscription was undecipherable, nothing but strange markings in different directions and styles.

’It certainly have artistic flair, and quality craftsmanship for non-technologically advanced natives. Might as well keep it around,’ he decided as he began to slip the artifact into his bag. That is, until he paused, and reexamined the acquired piece. Gazing idly over to the alpha’s corpse, he let out a small sigh.

“If I am taking, then I can at least do this...” Slayer readjusted himself so his hand could be near the eyes of the beast, and with one fluid motion and comment, the lids were closed shut. “May peace keep you,” he murmured as he unhinged his helmet, briefly removed it to place the talisman around his neck, and sealed it into place once more.

Standing up, the metal-clad warrior rolled his shoulders. Waving away the Module, he double-checked his suit to make sure everything was stable. Since no attacks had punctured the iron shell, he set the system to Idle, so that it was ready to perform any task beyond basic vital checks and alert signals without expending higher amounts of energy.

Picking the direction where he believed he left off, he began to travel once more. As Slayer walked, some of the sacred phrases he followed echoed in his mind:

’One must succumb to the shade, and then shine under the sun, to truly save humanity from its ignorance. Honour what you take, and bow to no rules, from no states. Remember: Fate, guides all paths... to their true roles.’

Drake peered around yet another corner, doing his best to avoid leaning too far over, lest the guard standing in front of a door midway down the hall spotted him.

According to the signal his implants were receiving, his possessions were in the guarded room. That of course meant that the only thing left between him and the pain-dulling miracle that is biofoam was a single guard armed with a spear.

Not one to be discouraged, Drake tightened his grip on the crossbow he had stolen from a display case he had passed a while back. He carefully edged around the corner and aimed the weapon. While he lacked the experienced with using such a primitive ranged weapon, he knew he only needed to make enough noise to draw the attention of the guard.

He squeezed his finger around the trigger, and the crossbow fired. The bolt sailed well past its intended target (an expensive looking vase on a marble pedestal). Drake let out a groan and prepared to load another bolt.

Before he could so much as reach for another one, his first shot struck an over-sized suit of armor that had been crafted for display purposes. The armor fell apart as gravity took hold and the pieces bounced and crashed loudly against the floor, startling both the pony guard and Drake.

The guard abandoned his post and immediately took off down the hall to investigate the source of the disturbance. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Drake immediately bolted around the corner and limped/attempted to sprint to the door before the guard looked around. The sudden surge of adrenaline from knowing how close he was to completing the first part of his plan numbed his pain and helped him along.

The door swung open with almost no effort on Drake’s part, which brought a grin to the pirate’s face. ’Amateurs.’

The room couldn’t have been much more than a glorified storage closet. A few wooden crates were stacked here and there, and a trio of barrels lined one of the walls. But Drake paid little attention to those. He had his sights set on a trio of lead-lined cases. A grin spread rapidly across his face as he eagerly approached them.

Shining Armor barreled around the corner after the alien as fast as he could, only to catch a quick glimpse of the cloth it had been wearing vanish into a doorway. The guard pony that had been stationed in front of the door turned at the sound of hoofbeats reached his ears.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of Shining’s silver Sergeant’s armour, the guard snapped to attention and gave Shining a salute. “Sergeant!”

“What’s going on here?” Shining demanded.

“Investigating the source of a disturbance, Sir,” the guard replied. “Something knocked down one of the armour sets and I was trying to find out what.”

“No time for that,” Shining explained. “Come with me.”

“Sir?” The guard hesitated for a brief moment before following Shining as he backtracked toward the door to the storage room. The alien stood over three open crates that had contained the items taken from it. The front of his clothes were left open as he slowly squeezed a foamy substance out of a tube onto his wounds. The alien let out a sigh of relief and tucked away the tube before turning to face the two guardsponies.

’Need... food...’

This was a constant in the mind of Slayer, as he walked the barren wasteland that encompassed the known space that he traveled. Due to Yuri’s incompetence, food had been forgotten, and truly Slayer didn’t wish to test to see if the dog-like creatures he encountered had good meat.

He felt like this was worse than the Death Marches he saw Syndicate recruits go through, with entire regiments marching for hours upon hours without rest. At least for them, they had the bare-minimum knowledge that it would end at some point. Slayer did not. But this provided both drive and initiative to the assassin as he walked.

’I’m going to jack-slap Drake so hard for getting himself captured,’ Slayer thought as that whisper of his mind seemed to echo throughout his senses. It wasn’t like this was a noisy realm. Even the wind was barely blowing, and the only sound Slayer knew of that was occurring was his feet lightly treading the sand.

That bothered him. Because even though his steps were calculated and quick so as to avoid having the weight of the armour make a deeper indent, it was still significantly noticeable if someone was looking for tracks. The gusts of air were doing nothing to remove them, and it made him weary. He considered dragging his katana horizontally behind him to remove the markings, but it would most likely bring attention regardless of trying to deal with it or not.

Instead, Slayer’s hands hung limply to his side, with his left holding one of his Sabre Shots. He preferred the fighting style of having his katana lightened so he could swing it easily in his right hand, and either of his custom-pistols in his left. The perfect combination of melee and ranged combat capability, Slayer always thought as he ascended yet another dune in his path.

Going uphill is usually a challenge for anyone, but being hungry on top of it makes the task far worse. Slayer couldn’t maneuver up it like a slope, but rather he had to dig his toes into the actual slope due to its steep slant, and then tried to use his free hand to help him up. And of course, he couldn’t go around it for it was formed like a mini-mountain range. And that was something he couldn’t consider to go around, for time was running short.

As he awkwardly scaled the jagged pile of sand, he glanced up at the sun to confirm that it was mid-afternoon, but given a few hours would result in nightfall. And that could very well be his final hours if he couldn’t locate some form of sustenance.

’You know, I was kinda expecting to see an oasis by now,’ Slayer hoped dejectedly as he climbed. ’I’ve crossed significant distance, and from vantage points atop dunes, examined double or even triple that.’ A sigh escaped his lips.

The horizon became visible to Slayer as he reached the crest of yet another section of endless—

…

’Well, what’s this here?’ Slayer questioned to himself as he went into a prone-position slowly onto the hill. While there was the expected expanse of endless sand, there was something else. It was moving, but its distance from his position was too great, and as such he had difficulty looking at it normally.

He let out a groan of frustration under his breath. “Yet another reason why I should’ve installed HawkEyes when I had the chance,” Slayer complained lightly.

HawkEyes was an optical lens-slash-visor that mixed with current sensor technology to provide zooming features. it was of Slayer’s own design (like many of his gadgets), but he didn’t have the time to reintegrate it after it shorted out the first time. And right now, Slayer could’ve used it.

When he looked back up at the foreign object, it was to his delighted surprise that it happened to come closer into focus, enabling him to make it out to a better degree. From the looks of it, it was actually a group of... somethings. In the centre, a larger mass sat in their midst, but its purpose was unknown from this measure of space.

Quickly, Slayer watched their direction, and allowed his eyes to scan the imaginative guideline that they were heading. A dune sat a short distance away, and would be close enough to provide cover while simultaneously giving a solid picture of what those were. With this goal in mind, he quickly navigated his way down the slippery slope and trudged towards the next point.

’Whatever those are, I hope they’re edible,’ Slayer wished as he surprisingly cleared the area between the two dunes with extraordinary speed. He briefly noted this, before ceasing to care and then proceeded to go up the hill.

He had a far easier time with this one, and after reaching the summit of the mini-dune in comparison to the one he was just previously on, he laid himself out and began analysing the closer group of figures.

The most immediate noted fact was that they had four legs. This put Slayer on edge, especially upon confirmation that they were equine in nature. His focus went to the center, and it appeared to be a closed-off wagon of sorts.

’Could this be the group I’ve been looking for? Is Drake in that wagon?’

This made him curious, weary, and bloodthirsty nearly all at the same time. One thing that threw him off though, was that they were all zebras. Black-and-white striped equines, with odd-looking hairstyles. Some were simple, and hung like long flowing hair would normally do for females. And then, Slayer’s seeing some with mohawks. The change of style, but lack of gender swap baffled him.

Alert with the possibility of his acquaintance residing in the wooden construct, Slayer drew both of his Sabres and tensed his body to ambush the convoy. From the looks of it, they probably didn’t reach higher than his abdomen, and the most he saw they were armed with were long bamboo staffs.

But, Fate decided to beat him to it.

As he was about to start firing shots, the entire group stopped. Slayer saw several of their member’s heads whip about frantically, and he just barely heard some incomprehensible babble that sounded afraid. ’Could they have heard me?’

“Angalia nje!”

Slayer’s eyebrows creased in confusion at the phrase and backpedaling natives, before several holes began being made. The sand above them began pouring in, sucking up the natural element as the count of six holes formed around the caravan. Slayer watched cautiously at the angry looks that the zebras were giving the pits, before he saw a claw appear out of one of the holes.

The claw gripped the side of sand next to the hole, before a second claw came out and gripped the opposite section of the hole. With both of these in place, the entity applied force and lifted itself out.

’Oh great, more of these hounds...’

Sure enough, what emerged was a dark-brown Rottweiler, which stood nearly as tall as Slayer did. This one had the looks of an alpha, and it looked more imposing than the previous beasts he had to encounter.

Then he saw a second pair of claws coming from another hole, and saw that one pull itself out. Smaller, perhaps a Labrador that reached about to Slayer’s chin. And that was all he could care to count before several clawed their way out of the multiple tunnels.

By the end of the movement, Slayer had counted ten of the hound-esque creatures standing off against the seven zebras. Nothing happened, and for about a moment the metal-clad warrior questioned what he could do. Three of the dogs had spears, crudely made but still deadly enough. The zebras did not, putting them worse off by having no visible sharp objects.

He watched as what he presumed to be the head of the caravan stepped forward and addressed the alpha in that jumbled language Slayer was unfamiliar with. “Nyuma, wewe pepo!”

The alpha said nothing, electing instead to snarl and rush the zebras. Its underlings followed suit, and before he knew it there was a battle not more than forty yards away from his position on the hill. Staffs met spears, hooves met claws; it was an all-out expected bloodbath.

’What to do...’ Slayer questioned with concern. ’If I let the hounds win, I may lose Drake and have to fight tougher opponents with no support. There’s no way the zebras will win unless I intervene, and if I do: would it be enough to convince them to give me Drake?’

He debated with himself for a few moments, before promptly standing and holstering his right Sabre Shot. Plucking his katana, and subconsciously willing the device to compact itself to turn it into a one-handed blade, he held it to his side as he charged downhill towards the battle.

“Captain Sky, permission to speak, Sir?” Corporal Iron Wing questioned nervously as he flew up to catch up with the Captain, who was flying with a righteous vengeance to get back to Altai along with the rest of the group, and to be done with the creature.

“Permission granted, Corporal. What do you need to ask me?” Night Skies’ booming voice called out as he continued to fly at very high speeds, the griffin next to him barely able to keep up with his amazing speed that he was setting.

“Well, I think we should send some word to King Leo in Altai to let them know about our... very strange guest that will be arriving very shortly if we continue this pace, Sir.” Corporal Iron Wing said as he struggled to keep up with Skies’ flight. Fortunately for him, the captain began to slow down just enough so that the young griffin would not tire himself out too badly.

“You make a good point; I don’t know why we never thought of this before.” Night Skies joked as he slowed down a little bit more. “It would make sense for us to send someone to warn the king about our guest. Speaking of which; Private Griff!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to catch the griffin’s attention over the howling of the cold wind. Griff turned and looked towards him, but was unable to hear him. All he saw was Night opening his mouth in his general direction.

“Private Griff, can you hear me?” Night Skies roared again at the top of his lungs once more, trying to catch his attention but failing at it.

“Sir, we have been flying for quite some time. Perhaps we could take a short break?” Corporal Iron Wing shouted, trying to get his attention, which he fortunately got.

“Smart idea. We need to get some better communication going. Go back and tell the others to stop; we're gonna take a break at that cloud over there.” He pointed towards a rather large cloud over the desert. Iron Wing nodded and flew back to the heart of the main formation, passing the word around.

When everyone was safely standing on the cloud, or doing whatever, Night went over to where Griff was standing and decided now was the best time to ask some questions. And possibly grill the griffin again, if it was needed.

“How is our guest doing? Has it woken up or done anything of the alive nature?” Night asked as he looked over, noticing a slight blue tinge to what he would guess was the cheeks of it. Its eyes were closed and its breathing was short and fast, something that was never good on ground or in the sky.

“It hasn't said anything, or moved for that matter, Nighty.” Griff said as he purposely used Night’s nickname to mess with the Captain, not worrying a bit about the consequences.

Night ignored the name, knowing Griff was just trying to make him mad. He walked over behind Griff and put his talon on the creature's neck, and a stone dropped in his stomach as he felt a rapid heartbeat coming from what he guessed was its heart, or possibly hearts for that matter. But in any case, there was a very good chance that the creature would not make it if they continued to be at this altitude for anymore than they had to.  He had to get word out to Altai fast to make sure that once the thing was there, that it would live long enough for the information to be gathered from it.

And for that, he needed someone fast, and he knew just the griffin for the job. He quickly took a piece of paper out of his bag and wrote a small, quick note that would accompany his messenger and give some word of warning to the Guards there and the few scientists there.

“Private Swift Wind, I have a mission of the utmost importance for you.” Night called out into the group of resting griffins. A single, slightly smaller than the rest griffin walked out and saluted Night, respecting his senior-ranking officer.

“Yes, Sir? What do you need?” Swift said very proper and crisp like a proper soldier, eliciting a small smirk followed by a laugh from Griff. He shut up upon a murderous look from Night.

“I need you to take this letter to King Leo as fast as you possibly can and tell him Code Fifty-Six; you got that Private?” Night said in a militaristic tone.

“Yes, Sir. Ready to depart on your order!”

“What are you waiting for?! Go!” And with that, he sped off into the sky at speeds that would make the pansy pony air-team, the Wonderbolts, jealous with his speed. He then turned back to Griff, who was staring at his back with a look of pure horror.

“Griff... What’s wrong?” Night asked, the bad feeling in his stomach slowly becoming more and more heavy with the feeling of worry. He followed the younger griffin’s gaze, to stare directly into the eyes of the creature.

“Что во имя металлический зад убийцы ты!”

Shining Armor shook his head to clear it. The alien had thrown something at him and the other guard. Something that exploded in a brilliant flash of white light with a thunderous thu’um that had left his ears ringing. The world around him was still spinning violently and his vision slipped in and out of focus as he struggled to right himself.

He was vaguely aware of a hoof on his back, helping to steady him, and the sound of the other guard shouting for help. Shining shook his head again.

“Are you alright, Sir?” The guard asked, his voice muffled slightly from Shining Armor’s perspective.

“I will be,” Shining grumbled as he got to his hooves. “What in Equestria was that?”

“I have no idea, Sir,” the guard said. “But whatever that thing was, it took off toward the main corridors.”

“Notify the rest of the Guard,” Shining ordered, pressing a hoof to the side of his head in a feeble attempt to drive off his rapidly developing headache. “Tell them to be on the lookout for the creature. And get a detail stationed outside of Prince Blueblood’s chambers, and keep the brat in his room. Then, meet me outside of Princess Cadance’s bedchambers with another pegasus and unicorn. Understood?”

The Pegasus gave the Captain a swift salute. “Crystal, Sir,” he said before flaring his wings and taking off down the hall.

Shining winced as the air moved by the pegasus’ wings slapped against his face, only serving to make his rapidly growing headache worse.

But he didn’t have time to worry about his headache. The alien he and Cadance had brought back to the castle was on the move, and was wielding some kind of potentially dangerous magic. The other guards would be more than capable of handling the staff that lived in the castle while they searched for the alien. He had to make sure that Cadance would be alright.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, Shining Armor took off down the hall at a full gallop.

“Um... Nighty, what does the training manual say to do when an alien wants to talk to us? Because I’ve never read anything about it. Truthfully, I’ve never read the damn thing at all.” Griff said nervously, trying to joke about the situation at hand, but failing to.  It was not everyday you had an alien that you knew nothing about wake up on your back, and then poke you in the forehead and talk.

“Shut up Private Griff, and let me handle this. You just stand still and make sure it doesn't fall off your back. I have a feeling that it can’t exactly walk on clouds.” Night cautioned as he walked over to where the creature was laying on Griff's back. He too was slightly nervous at talking with it, for they had sort of knocked it out. Something that no creature enjoyed.

He took off the massive gold and black helmet that guarded his head and held it in his right talon, before opening his beak to attempt to communicate with it.

“My name is Captain Night Skies of the Imperial Gryphon Guard. Can you understand me?” Night said clearly and slowly, making the corresponding movements with his talons that his training had taught him to do with strange creatures. He paused, waiting for a response of some kind. The creature stared at him, looking slightly confused at the whole show that was happening around him.

“Do. You. Understand. Me?” Night repeated, this time much more slower, trying his best to make it as clear as it could possibly be. The creature blinked once again, before moving his hand and poking Night in the same spot and manner as Griff had been.

“Argh... This is going nowhere. Perhaps we should try—” He was paused by a massive rumble of thunder booming to life quite close to their position, making its presence known. The creature suddenly seized back up, a wild look appearing in its eyes.

“Whoa whoa whoa, calm down there buddy. That’s just thunder. It ain't gonna harm ya,” Griff spoke up to the surprise of Night, trying to calm the poor thing down. Another boom of thunder echoed around the darkening sky, this time slightly louder and much closer to their current position. The creature tensed up again, the fear in it’s face clearly evident and visible.

“Nighty. With all due respect, we should really get this thing out of here. I have not seen something this scared of a little bit of lighting since my little cousin,” Griff stated, this time speaking far more sternly than Night had ever heard come from the Griffon before. He may act like an idiot most of the time, but he knew when it was time to stop and leave. And this was one of them.

“As much as it pains me to say this, you are actually right about something for once Private. Everyone, prepare to move out in flight pattern Delta-Three. Now, what are we going to do about—” He paused as Griff hit the alien right in the jaw with his helmet, knocking the close-to-panicked creature out like a candle in the wind.

“Private, what in the name of Tartarus are you doing?!” Night choked out as he turned to Griff in shock of what he had just witnessed.

“Why the hell are you looking at me like that? We need to get a move on and I highly doubt that this thing would voluntarily come with us, so I chose the safe route and knocked it out. I think!” He gave a nervous glance at the now unconscious alien on his back, before relaxing. “Eeyup, it’s out like a light.”

Night facetaloned as he put his helmet back on, and taking to the sky again. “Let’s go Private; we got a storm to beat! We can worry about your punishment later!”

Griff’s heartbeat suddenly went into double time as he started at Night. “What do you mean by 'punishment?'” He managed to spit out as he carefully flew up, making sure that the alien didn't decide to suddenly take up skydiving.

“You broke three of the five rules of conduct for the army, spoke back to your commanding officer, and assaulted an alien. You could be court martialed from the army, but the thing I have in mind is far, far better for both you and me.” Night said evilly as he turned around towards the now-sweating Griff, which for a griffin was considered a hard act to accomplish.

“Wait, the last thing has to be made up!” Griff choked out as he slowly caught up to the stopped griffin formation.

“You tell me. Now get your tail-feathers up here and let's move it. I don’t like how that storm looks, and so does our guest.” And with that, Night and Griff flew off to Altai. Unknown to them, their actions would change the fate of the world forever. For good or for bad though, is still and will always be unknown.

“Come on,” Drake muttered under his breath. He slapped the small black box clutched in his hands. For a brief moment the active camouflage unit generated a light distortion field around him, effectively rendering him invisible to the naked eye. However, sharp, sudden, or quick movements on Drake’s part caused it to flicker and fade, causing the pirate captain to become partially visible.

“Work like you’re supposed to, damn it!” He smacked the box again, and this time, the field completely failed and vanished in a flash of golden light. Drake stared blankly at the camo-unit, his left eye twitching slightly. “You have got to be kidding me…”

As if that wasn’t enough, Fate chose that moment to intervene with her two cents worth. And when Fate’s a bitch, Fate’s a bitch. Drake barely had time to reconnect the now useless camo-unit to his coat when a pair of horn-headed guards rounded the corner and spotted him.

They began shouting something in their native language, and their body language, while unfamiliar to the human, clearly stated that they were not going to be friendly.

Without hesitation, Drake drew his Reaper-class pistol from its holster and fired a three-round burst of bright green plasma bolts at the guards. Even though there was enough distance from Drake that the guards could easily avoid the shots, he wasn’t aiming to kill. After all, he was dealing with an alien race that his neural-implants couldn’t identify. The last thing he would want to do would be to cause another interplanetary war between humanity and whatever these things were.

Sure enough, the guards dove into cover behind a pair of pedestals, upon which sat a pair of faintly glowing crystal orbs. Drake spun on his heel and ran in the opposite direction of the guards.

’What wouldn't I give to have an extra flash-bang on me?’ Drake asked himself as he turned down a side hallway. ’Too bad I used the last one to escape those other guards.’

Though he knew it would only get him lost even further, Drake continued his pattern of turning down the nearest hallways to him whenever he came across one for nearly ten minutes. Oddly enough, he had yet to run across any more guards. Near as he could tell, he was currently in some kind of fortress (or castle if the excessive use of marble was any indication) overlooking a dimly lit cityscape.

Drake paused as he passed a large window, overlooking a mountainside and a valley far below that seemed to stretch on for miles before meeting with the dark outline of a distant forest. About halfway across the valley were dozens of twinkling lights, the obvious signs of a nearby settlement.

However, the pirate wasn’t allowed to enjoy the view. The sound of armored steps against marble and two pairs of voices speaking in hushed tones reached his ears. Drake’s head whipped back and forth. He had no additional hallways to duck into. No doors to slip behind and no cover whatsoever down this hall, and the creatures that were trying to find him were now approaching from both directions.

Thinking quickly, Drake took his only escape route, and scrambled out of the open window. He spun as his legs met open air and grabbed hold of the windowsill as tightly as he could. He dangled there until the pain of holding on with his fingertips started to get to him. The worst part was, the two groups of guards were now standing by the open window, talking about something in their language.

When Drake finally lost his grip on the windowsill after hanging there for nearly three minutes, it wasn’t because of the throbbing pain in his fingers. Instead, it was because one of his neural-implants chose that moment to send him a signal that shocked him into letting go.

“Language Identified.”

’Wait. What?’ Drake fell from the window ledge and didn’t even have time to cry out before his back slammed against a balcony on the floor below. He lay there for a few moments groaning in pain. The biofoam may have sealed his wounds, but the pain could still flare up.

Especially when one dropped a full story onto their back.              
                                              
As he laid on the balcony, his neural-implants relayed another message to him. “Local language confirmed as Galactic Basic.”

Drake quirked an eyebrow at that. Galactic Basic hadn’t been used in almost three hundred years. Once known as English, Galactic Basic had become nearly-obsolete shortly after humanity began to interact with the other intelligent life forms in the universe.

“Adjusting language settings to match local dialect.”

Drake let out a gasp of pain as an electrical charge from one of his implants coursed through his head. And just like flicking on a switch, the pirate discovered that he could actually understand the grumblings of the guards near the window he had used for his escape.

“—telling you, it went this way!” A distinctly male voice insisted.

“And we’re telling you that you’re seeing things again, kiddo,” a female voice added. “None of the rest of us saw anything.”

“Well, look here! Maybe it jumped out of the window,” the first voice said in a desperate tone. Drake rolled up onto his feet and quickly backed toward the doors leading from the balcony back inside the building. He didn’t want to risk having one of the guards look out and see him.

Fate seemed to be on his side at the moment. He tried the door handle and fortunately enough, it wasn’t locked. He wasted no time in slipping inside and closing the door behind him. Satisfied that he was in the clear, Drake turned to survey the room, and found himself face to face with one of the locals. Unlike the golden armored guards, this creature wore nothing more than a towel around its slightly damp head. Its coat was a shade of fuchsia and it had both a horn and a set of wings.

The two of them stared at each other for a long while. The silence was almost deafening and the tension in the air could be cut by a knife. The creature seemed surprised to see Drake, and the pirate captain realized that he must seem as alien to it as it did to him. So, he naturally, if hesitantly, decided to break the ice.

“Umm. Take me to your leader?”