//------------------------------//
// 4. We Come in Peace 
// Story: The Dark Side of The Sun 
// by Nopony of note 
//------------------------------//

	The sun was getting low in the sky by the time Max decided to return to the Birdie. It had been a very interesting hike, and Max’s observations were ground-breaking to say the least. The trees here seemed to have the same basic structure as the trees on Earth, as did most of the other flowers, bushes, and shrubs he had seen. There weren’t any plants that mirrored specific species on Earth, but there were some definite similarities that would get biologists back home very excited. He hadn’t seen any animals during his first jaunt, but Max was confident that there were some out there. He just hoped he would see creatures that wouldn’t try to eat him.

But even without seeing animals it was a very satisfying day. He took air samples, water samples, soil samples, plant samples, and samples of just about everything else he came across. Max had already sealed each of his samples in sterile airtight containers, and when he brought them onto the Birdie, and gave each its due diligence in organization and storage. After the labeling and storing was done, he looked up to one of the windows to see that the sun had set and the moon was out. It seemed rather sudden to the astronaut, especially since it was barely twilight when Max brought his samples back aboard the Birdie.

He sealed away the last sample in a small drawer behind the computer chair and exited the landing craft into the moonlit night. Tonight Max wanted to do something he hadn’t done in a very long time. It wasn’t part of his mission because the planet was essentially getting the same view of the stars Earth would get in six months’ time, but it was Max’s opinion that a real astronaut would not have even dreamed of passing up the opportunity to gaze at the night sky from another planet.

He found a nice flat spot in the grass, and lay on his back, marveling at the vast expanse of space above him. After a few minutes of picking out different stars, galaxies, planets, and constellations, his mind began to wander, drifting back to memories of a time when he didn’t have to stargaze by himself. He thought of the last person to be his companion for this particular hobby, and just as an image of her face formed in his mind, Max’s eyes slowly and unwittingly drifted closed.
                
The horrific sight of his wing-girl being shot down hadn’t even registered in Max’s mind before another, much closer explosion sounded somewhere behind him, rocking his plane much more violently than before. The plane lurched and shuddered, and a dark haze blurred his vision. Soon the shaking subsided and gave way to disorienting spinning.As white and blue spun around him outside so fast he could barely distinguish between the two, Max fought the stick in a vain attempt to wrestle his quickly disintegrating fighter under some semblance of control. Conversely, every move he made seemed to jerk the plane even farther out of his control.

          When black smoke began to leak into the cockpit and obscure his vision even more, Max knew there was only one option left. Warning alarms and frantic radio calls of his allies still blared in his helmet speakers, but by now they only told him something he already knew. He had to get the hell out of the plane.        

        Max abandoned the controls and reached for the yellow lever between his legs. When he pulled it, his world literally exploded. The transparent canopy of his cockpit was blown off the plane by several small explosive charges, and then several small rockets stored underneath Max’s seat ignited. His rear end and back were smashed painfully into the seat as they shot Max up and away from twisted, burning wreckage that had once been his fighter.

His eyes were closed, but Max could feel himself tumbling helplessly as he fell away from what remained of the jet. The howling and deafening wind bucked and spun him and his seat like a feather in a hurricane. After what felt like an eternity of the nauseating fall, the parachute deployed, the seat fell away, and the merciless assault on his senses ended as quickly as it began.

Max dared to open his eyes and was greeted by the infinite blue dome of the sky. Off in the distance he could see the rest of the strike force speed away, putting as much distance as they could between them and the enemy missile launchers. Max was glad to see this, and hoped they would make it home safely. Next, he twisted around as much as he could while dangling perilously from a parachute to try and spot Michelle, whom he hoped had just gone through a similar ordeal. As traumatic as the ejection process was, it was preferable to being stuck in a burning multi-thousand-pound mass of fiberglass, metal, and jet fuel hurtling towards the ground at hundreds of miles per hour.

At last, Max spotted another parachute some distance below him. It was difficult to see against the white clouds, but it was there. And that meant Michelle was alive. Max unhooked his mask and inhaled the cold, thin air one finds at fifteen thousand feet above sea level, then let it out in a sigh. Realizing he had a decent amount of time before he touched down, Max decided to sit back and enjoy the view. He thought back to one of his instructors in flight school, and the piece of advice that instructor had given him regarding getting shot down over enemy territory; “Enjoy the peaceful ride down. Because the instant your boot touches dirt, you’ll be fighting the whole damn war all by yourself.”

So that’s what Max did. He tried not to think about the enemies he would face on the ground or how long he would have to survive before friendly forces could rescue him. He tried to think about nothing and simply relax. Unfortunately, it was a futile attempt. Max’s mind wasn’t occupied with the coming struggle of getting home, but his thoughts kept wandering to a certain female pilot about a thousand feet below him. As the downed aviator drifted slowly downwards, he silently hoped and prayed with all his might that Michelle would make it out alive.

Eventually, the ground came into view. The rocky desert loomed up to him as he descended, and Michelle’s parachute was still visible roughly a thousand feet below him. Beyond that, Max could also make out the unmistakable dust cloud in the distance that could only mean one thing: the Iranians were on their way. He estimated they would be three or four miles away by the time he landed, and that gave him at the most five minutes to make himself scarce.

Much to his dismay, Max found himself drifting farther away from Michelle as he got closer to the ground. By the time the bottom of his boots hit the rocky desert surface, he was on the opposite side of a large hill. The pilot wasted no time in getting out of the harnesses and made straight for the spot where he had seen his friend land. Max knew that the Iranians would be on top of Michelle in minutes, and out here, in the middle of a desert, there were precious few places to hide. He clambered up the side of the hill, going as fast as his arms and legs would carry him.

Max began to crawl on his stomach as he approached the peak of the hill, not wanting to expose himself to enemies with long-range rifles. That move turned out to smart in a way that he didn’t expect, because when he peeked over the hill, he was treated to the sight of Michelle, still in all of her flight gear, on her knees, hands raised above her head, and surrounded by at least ten Iranian soldiers all shouting at her in Persian. One soldier in particular, whom Max supposed to be officer in charge of the group, stepped forward and drew a pistol, pointing it at the American pilot’s chest. He was shouting over all the other men, but no more coherently.

Silently, Max drew his pistol. There were seventeen bullets in the magazine; plenty for him to take out every man threatening his friend. Grasping the handle with both hands, he leveled the gun at the officer, and took careful aim at his back.

Less than one hundred feet separated Max from the group of Iranians. At that distance, it would be a turkey shoot. Max’s marksmanship with a handgun was infallible. He never missed anything he aimed at, and he could easily drop half the soldiers before they even knew he was there. Max slowly let out his breath and prepared to pull the trigger, but at the last second something made him hesitate.

        Michelle looked directly at him, her icy blue eyes peering at her superior officer and friend through the stray wisps of blonde hair that made their way out from inside her helmet in all the commotion. The gaze said one thing, and to Max, it was unmistakable. Give 'em hell.

Michelle’s expression turned to one of fiery defiance and she fixed the offending stare directly on the man with a gun pointed at her chest. There was a sharp CRACK of a pistol shot, but it didn’t come from Max’s gun. Time slowed to a crawl and everything else in the world suddenly lost its importance. Maxwell O’Hara could only watch in horror as Michelle Hawkins, his squadmate, loyal follower, and best friend, fell backwards and came to rest at the feet of the Iranian officer that killed her in cold blood.

At that moment in time, Max stopped caring about anything except killing every enemy he saw. The only thing present in his mind was the pressure not to miss. He aimed again, and pulled the trigger. With a satisfying BOOM, the bullet leapt from the gun barrel and buried itself in the officer’s back, knocking him flat on his face. No expression crossed his hard features as he leveled his gun at the closest soldier and fired twice, putting a bullet through each lung.

A few of the soldiers began to search for the source of the shots and managed to turn the source of the gunshots, but doing so only made them a priority target. Any man that so much as tried look at the enraged pilot only received a bullet or two in the chest for his efforts, and the slow ones that didn’t have the chance to turn around just received theirs in the back. Eleven seconds and fifteen bullets were all it took, and every last one of them was either dead or mere seconds from death.

The sound of helicopters came from the direction of the American air base, signaling an imminent rescue. Max left his hiding place and solemnly walked out to the spot where the officer had fallen, and rolled him onto his back with a harsh kick. The fatally wounded officer stirred and groaned in agony before opening his eyes slightly and looking at the man whose best friend he had shot. He had just enough time to stare down the barrel of the American’s gun before Max pulled the trigger one last time.

                The punishing desert heat gave way to brisk night air and the blinding sun was replaced with soft moonlight, but the sudden change in scenery didn’t have much of an effect on the raw instincts of a trained soldier. Max shot up from the ground into a sitting position and his .45 pistol leapt into his hand. In a single, practiced, and near instantaneous movement, Max pulled back the hammer on his weapon and leveled it in the direction of the figure in front of him.

But he didn’t see the speckled tan uniform of an enemy soldier. He didn’t even see a human being. The being standing in front of him didn’t even stand on two legs. Rather, it was a quadruped of some sort that was only about four feet tall, a soft minty green in color, and-

“GAAAAAAHHH!!!”

Before Max could focus enough to get a good look at the head or any of its finer features, the creature emitted a terrified shriek and leapt away from him, scampering back into the forest.

He sat there for a few seconds, trying to mentally organize the past few seconds of his memory. There was the desert, the one-sided firefight, the enemy officer, and then there was night, the grass, the trees, the moonlight, and the strange four-legged creature…

“Oh, no,” Max hissed under his breath as his mind cleared enough to remember where he was and what he was doing. The mission, the spaceflight, the planet, the landing, the forest, and just about every other detail of the past six months came flooding back, and the fight in the desert was categorized as a dream.

The astronaut looked at his hand, still pointing the gun at the spot where the odd creature had stood only seconds before. He pulled his hand back, and put the weapon back in its leather holster and set it back down on the grass. At that moment, the realization struck that, thanks to him, the first interaction human kind had with an animal from another planet was pointing a gun at it in the middle of the night. Max groaned and put his head in his hands. How’s that for interplanetary diplomacy?

Upon lifting his head to look at the spot where the animal was, he noticed something remained in its place. Max had to lean forward squint to make out what it was in the moonlight, but it appeared to be a small set of saddlebags, not unlike what horse riders would sling across the backs of their horses on extended trips. Furthermore, the cloth that saddlebags were made of looked to be a similar hue to the creature’s pale greenish color, and the image of shape that resembled a golden lyre was emblazoned on one of the flaps above the buckle.

                The astronaut’s heart sank as he realized that the creature he had scared away wasn’t just an animal in the forest, but a form of sentient life, quite possibly this planet’s equivalent to a person. And in what was probably the worst imaginable display of mankind’s newfound goodwill towards all other life in the universe, the first thing he did was try to kill it.

Max slowly stood up from the soft grass he had been sleeping on, and picked up the bags, inspecting them closer. Then, a slight rustle in the bush through which the creature jumped caught his attention. He looked over at the bush curiously, put the bags down, and peered into the darkness.  Is it still here? He thought.

“Hello?” Max called out cautiously. “Is anyone there?”

It felt strange speaking out loud to something other than a camera or computer. Max hadn’t spoken to another living person in months, and now he was speaking plain English to a creature that had literally one chance in trillions of actually understanding anything he could say or do. Still, it was better than pointing a gun at it.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he continued in what he thought to be a soothing manner, hoping it would respond in some way to the sounds he was making. It was a little late, but as Max slowly approached the bush, he suddenly wished he had at least kept his gun with him, even if he didn’t want point it at anything again just yet. Step by cautious step, he inched closer. And sure enough, the creature carefully poked its head out to look at him.

When he saw it, Max had to stop and stare. The creature’s body was still in the bush, but now that its head was visible, Max couldn’t help but be awed. It appeared to be similar to a small horse, a pony perhaps, but it had virtually nothing in common with ponies on Earth besides the basic form. Its eyes were disproportionately big compared to the rest of its face, which was made up of a short, round muzzle, tall pointed ears, and a white and green mane. The eyes were nothing like the beady orbs sticking out the sides of a normal horse’s long face, but rather, they looked almost human, with their visible whites, golden irises, and the way they locked onto him.

The whole thing was almost cartoonish in its appearance, with the pastel-green coat and the surprisingly adorable face. It was just so… cute. It appeared as if speaking to it calmed the creature down somewhat. The expression on its face wasn’t one of terror, but one of relief. Of course, Max had no idea if the facial expressions of the four-legged creature meant the same things as they would on humans. For all he knew, it could be ready to kill him and eat him in the next few seconds.

                “It’s okay,” he said slowly in what he hoped was a soothing tone, despite his confusion. “I’m not going to hurt you. Everything’s fine, you can come out of there now.” He knelt down on one knee to reduce his size as much as he could, and lessen any intimidation the difference in size might have conveyed.

“Oh, alright. Being in the forest at night is getting to me I guess,” it said.

Max froze. Did that thing just talk to me in…?  Was that English? Its voice sounded like a young woman’s, and its mouth moved just like a human’s, forming English words. Max could only stare blankly at the animal in front of him, blinking every few seconds.

“Sorry for screaming at you,” it continued, sheepishly stepping out of the bush, revealing its full quadrupedal form. The moonlight illuminated its mint-green coat and caused the large golden eyes to sparkle slightly. “But it’s kinda creepy out, and I’m kinda lost.”

Max was fluent in three languages: English, German, and Italian. He was well versed in all the elements of a spoken language, and how they worked. What boggled his mind was that what this pastel-green pony-type creature from a different planet was saying matched every single element of conversational English. Max had only time to think What the hell? before it spoke again.

 	“At first I thought you were going to eat me or something,” it went on, oblivious to the fact that every sound she made just jammed more and more gears inside Max’s head. “But when I heard you talking to me like that and I thought, ‘No, he sounds nice. He’s not going to eat me.’"

She paused, or at least Max could only assume it was a female talking to him based on the pitch of her voice, and seemed to contemplate her last statement. “You’re not going to eat me, are you?” she asked cautiously.

It took a few seconds for Max to realize that it had asked him a question, and a few more seconds to realize that that a response was required of him. The creature seemed to respond positively to what he said before, so it was a logical assumption that voice inflection and tone was understood, but for all Max knew, just shaking his head to the creature’s question could mean an emphatic ‘yes’.

That was why there was an extensive procedure worked out by teams of communication specialists that called for weeks, or even months of careful, distant observation before attempting to any kind of contact. A friendly gesture mistaken for a hostile one could potentially get him killed and ruin chances for any diplomatic interaction between Earth and this new planet for the foreseeable future.

“Are you?” The creature repeated her question, with a little more caution injected into her voice. At this, Max realized the official plan had effectively gone out the window. He had to quit staring blankly at the stupidly adorable creature sitting in front of him and say something.

“Uh… N- No,” he stammered. “I’m not going to eat you.”

“Oh, okay!” Its worried expression faded away, and it sat down on its haunches. “I’m Lyra. What’s your name?”
              
"Um, I’m…Max.”

“Hi, Max. What are you anyway, and what’s that thing over there? Is it yours?”

“Ummm…” Max didn’t really know how to explain himself. There was an official plan to explain his background and mission to another intelligent race once the communication barrier had been overcome, but by now the plan was effectively shot to pieces, and he was flying by the seat of his pants, so to speak. The only option was to simply dismiss the linguistic mystery until later, and just come up with something.

“I’m a…uh, a human,” he began. “And yes, that thing over there is mine. It’s my, um… it’s where I live right now.” As soon as Max said the words, he was instantly disappointed with himself. Here he was, the best humanity had to offer, during his first interaction with a new intelligent race, and that was the best he could come up with?

No, keep it simple, he thought to himself. Until you know what this thing is, don’t tell her everything.

The more important question was, why was she so calm? Did she know he was coming? Did strange creatures just appear all the time here? Obviously she knew something Max did not.

“So you’re a human!” The green quadruped whose name was apparently Lyra seemed delighted with this piece of information, and her face lit up with understanding. The expression quickly faded, and she asked, “What’s a human?”

“Um, well a human is… uh, you’re looking at one, I guess. We stand upright, walk on two legs, and we have hands and fingers…” Max trailed off, straining to come up with other ways to compare a human to whatever this thing was.

The communication specialists had also written scripts and special presentations to summarize everything about humanity long before Max had even left Earth, but he still had yet to actually read over them, and the fact that he was thoroughly weirded out by the pony-looking talking alien in front of him meant Max wasn’t mentally equipped to explain very much at that point. The only way out was to ask her a question of his own. “What are you, exactly?”

“Me?” Lyra seemed taken aback, as if Max should have known what she was all along. “I’m a unicorn.” She raised one of her forelegs in a way that would have been anatomically impossible for any four-legged creature from Earth and gestured to her forehead. “Didn’t you see the horn?”

 	Max looked again, and sure enough, a short, pale green horn the same color as her coat was protruding through her mane. At this, the bewildered astronaut could only think about what kind of field day the medical examiners back home would have had if he mentioned hallucinations like these during the selection process.

If hallucinogenic drug use or any psychological conditions had even been hinted at in any of his records, he would have been taken off the astronaut candidate list so fast nobody would have bothered to tell Max he was ever on it in the first place. And yet, here he was, in the middle of the night on another planet, having a friendly conversation with a four-foot-tall unicorn. Such an occurrence would normally be classified as a chemical-induced hallucination.

A while must have passed with Max just staring incredulously at the unicorn named Lyra, because she cocked her head slightly and said, “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a pony with a horn before.”

“I…” he started, not entirely sure how to answer. “Um, I don’t think I have.”

“Silly, if it weren’t for my horn I couldn’t do this.” She appeared to concentrate on something, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and to Max’s amazement, her horn began to glow and sparkle a golden yellow color.

The first thing that came to Max’s mind was bioluminescence, and he had almost expected to see something like that on a new planet, but his thoughts were cut short when he noticed a similar glow coming from somewhere behind him.

Don’t tell me there are two of -­ Max began to turn around to face what he believed to be another bioluminescent creature behind him, but instead was faced with the bags the unicorn had dropped when she first encountered the astronaut. Except that they were glowing. And they were floating in midair.

“What the - AAAHH!” Max yelped and backpedaled away from the mysterious glowing objects that had been inanimate a few seconds ago. The sudden action startled the small unicorn, as she yelped in a similar fashion and jumped away from the startled human. The glow of her horn intensified briefly, and the change was mirrored in the glow surrounding her saddlebags, but this nuance escaped Max’s notice; in the same instant, the glowing set of saddle bags were propelled straight into the startled astronaut’s face with a surprising amount of force.

They hit him with a hard SMACK, and the impact put stars in his vision and sent Max sprawling. He came to rest on his back, facing up at the stars in the night sky once again. The stars spun and seemingly multiplied above him, and after a few seconds, the night sky, along with everything else, went black.