//------------------------------// // First Contact Dermatitis (Act Two) // Story: Cigarettes & Gunmetal // by MonoGlyph //------------------------------// It’s an unfortunate fact of life that communication between two points becomes exponentially more troublesome as the distance between the two points swells to interplanetary, interstellar proportions. Or so it was thought. Certain particles communicate with each other instantaneously, regardless of the distance between them, prompting theoretical physicists to consider the possibility of a ‘Quantum Entanglement’, the possibility that aspects of the universe are connected, and that distance is only an illusion. It’s thought that the enigmatic tesseract engines function on this principle. Applejack pondered this as Twenty-One (whom the rest of the crew affectionately nicknamed ‘Blackjack’) opened a comlink with the farm back on Earth. “QE connection established,” said the AI. “Activating visual feed.” Apple Bloom’s face appeared on the screen of the console. “Applejack! Boy, it’s ah, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” Applejack smiled. “You can say that again, sis.” Apple Bloom looked around her own screen, positioned just below the camera. Probably trying to catch glimpses of machinery or recycled metal walls… “How is it up there? You guys okay?” “Yeah, everything’s fine,” Applejack replied, intentionally neglecting to mention the water shortage. “The landscape’s not too interesting but I guess that’s to be expected. We’ve been settling in over the past couple of weeks. Got the camp more or less set. I’m maintaining the greenhouses for the time being. Terraforming for the surrounding land is minimal at the moment. Survey teams leavin’ to check it every morning. Found some bacteria and the like, that’s about it. The miners dug up something neat, but I can’t tell you about that yet.” “What? Oh come on, that’s not fair!” Applejack grinned. “Not my call, sugarcube. As soon as Ground Control lifts the outgoing info restriction, you’ll be the first to know.” “Okay…” “So how are things back at the farm?” asked Applejack. “Fall’s coming ‘round the bend,” said Apple Bloom. “We’re picking what’s left of this year’s harvest and makin’ ready to hunker down for the winter. It’s gotten a bit dicey out in the fields of late. They say there’s a rogue manticore prowlin’ about the Ponyville outskirts. It’s weird ‘cos manticores are s’pposed to be nocturnal or something? I dunno much about it. I hear that Mayor Mare put a bounty on the beasty, but nobody seems to be takin’ much notice.” “Wow. You be careful then, alright, li’l sis? How’s the family doing? Apple Bloom looked glum. “Something wrong?” Applejack pressed. “Yeah, ah… it’s Granny. Granny Smith.” Applejack felt her body stiffen. “What’s wrong with—?” “She’s passed away, Applejack.” Her mind raced to determine how she felt, to try to find appropriate words… Finally, words failed. She settled on a flat, hollow “Oh.” Apple Bloom sniffed and wiped her eyes absentmindedly. “That’s why I was so, so happy to hear from you after all these months… I don’t know who to turn to, y’know? McIntosh isn’t much of a talker, and Flim and Flam don’t care… All it means is they can stop paying to keep Granny alive, after all.” Applejack could feel her teeth grinding at the mention of the two managers. With conscious effort, she unlocked them. “Apple Bloom, I…” The feed dissolved into static. “H-hey! What is this?! Twenty-One!” “I’m afraid that I cannot salvage this transmission at the moment,” said the AI. “It appears that a member of the crew is sabotaging communications. I have contacted the technician and several members of the armed forces to subdue him. They are currently en route.” “Someone from the crew? Hey, isn’t the communications chamber just down the hall?” Applejack asked, getting out of her seat. “Please remain on standby,” urged the AI. “You are not equipped or trained to handle situations like this.” Applejack slid open the hatch into the hallway beyond. Although the landing site had been rebuilt and repurposed into a base camp, the bulk of the sensitive equipment such as the communications outpost, the central lab and the oxygen converters remained inside the colony barge. The structure towered like a titanic obelisk over the stone shelters and domes that constituted the camp around it, a tumor of gleaming steel and titanium on the featureless, sun-scorched face of the planet. The conditioned air wafted over her as she sprinted through the narrow metallic gangway. She heard the sound of crackling electricity and equipment folding under the blows of something heavy. I guess somebody’s got cabin fever. She recognized the stallion before the door slid open completely. Brown pegasus. It was Drill Bit. “What the hay are you doing?!” she shouted. He paused, slinging the powered mining pick over his shoulder. The instrument still hummed menacingly. Tools like this one were built durable, and with enough sustained drilling power to turn electronic equipment into scrap metal and ponies into mincemeat. He turned his head slowly. Whereas he was scarcely able to meet another’s eye when she met him previously, he now glared at her coldly, steadily like a viper watching its prey. Her anger evaporated and gave way to icy fear. He didn’t speak. Instead, he took the mining pick in his teeth and started walking, step after decisive step toward her. She backed out of the door frame as Drill Bit rolled his head to wind up with his pick. The swing was quick, reckless and violent. He hadn’t even waited to clear the doorway and the pick shot right through the frame and a chunk of the wall. How can he wield it like that without hurting himself? Blood dripped down Drill Bit’s lip. The recoil of the tool had knocked out one or two of his teeth, but he didn’t seem fazed. He wound up again. There was a thud as a sizable stone touched down on Drill Bit’s head. The stallion collapsed, bleeding from his skull. Maud kneeled down to check the stallion’s vitals. “He’s still alive,” she said, getting up. “And my sample is undamaged. This is a favorable outcome.” “Thanks for that,” said Applejack. “Tarnation. What was up with him?” Steps echoed down the corridor. A stallion and a mare wearing riot gear and equipped with stun prods and leg-mounts turned the corner. Toe-Tapper trailed a fair distance behind the two. “What’s going on here?” asked the comms tech. “This fella—” Applejack started. The downed stallion leapt to his feet and lunged, but she didn’t see, having her back turned. She only heard the hum of the powered pick as it reached a fever pitch, and Maud’s voice, all but unrecognizable, colored with surprise and agony. She turned to see a gray stub sailing through the air, trailing crimson. The stallion hefted the pick to deliver the finishing blow, but then she was there, she was between them, and her bionic rear legs whined as she kicked outwards. A pained grunt escaped the stallion’s throat as his ribs bent and finally collapsed under her heavy metallic hooves. “Get down!” shouted one of the soldiers, and it was all she could do to obey. The deafening crack of his firearm split the air. Drill Bit twitched, as though pushed lightly backwards, but remained standing, with his pick powering up once more. The soldiers switched to automatic fire. It took nearly two full clips to finally drop the miner. He landed sprawled, mangled and shredded by hollow-point bullets. Something was amiss. He bled, but not a wholesome red. The bullet wounds and the liquid pooling beneath him were an oily pitch, black as the night sky. It started to foam, reacting strangely with the chemical makeup of the air surrounding it. Within several seconds, the liquid had flattened and super-cooled, leaving dark icy patches on the featherstahl flooring and the miner’s body. The ensuing silence was broken by Maud Pie, curled up in a fetal position. “Applejack.” She had regained her composure but her voice still cracked on the second ‘a’. It was the first time that Applejack heard the geologist utter her name. “Where is my foreleg.” At first she didn’t understand the question. Then her mind replayed the last minute and unwilling understanding dawned. Her eyes traced the arc of the gray object before she could stop them, and found it laying in a pool of deep red a couple of yards to her left. Her stomach did a somersault. “Ah, excuse me, it doesn’t matter,” said Maud. “There’s likely no hope of reattaching it now, out here.” She gulped. Applejack could see that her eyes were watering. “I hate to inconvenience you, but you’ll have to carry me to medical. I’m about to pass out.” “Get us a stretcher, antibac and bandages, stat,” said the armed mare, addressing her companion. The stallion took off toward the medical bay. Peripherally aware of Toe-Tapper vomiting in the background, Applejack knelt beside Maud. “Stay with me, Maud. You’re a strong girl, you’ll pull through this. Try not to move.” Maud’s eyes were starting to glaze over. “No, no, look at me, look at me. You got any family back home, Maud? Open your eyes, come on!” A venomous hiss erupted from Drill Bit’s body, prompting the remaining soldier to lift her leg mount once more. The miner didn’t make any attempt to move. “You are all as dead… Invading Our land, disfiguring it so… You and your kind will know the wages of your sin… We are awakened… When the two moons are as one in the night sky… hear the Song of the Swarm… and perish.” Drill Bit’s eyes went blank as he finally succumbed to his injuries. His body began to morph hideously as they watched. His brow grew, turned jagged. His eyes turned a pale blue and split into hundreds of individual cells, compound, like a fly’s. His skin darkened and twisted, hardened into a thick, black armor-like carapace or exoskeleton, indistinguishable from the crystallized blood that spilled over it. The feathers in his wings receded, turning them translucent, almost insectoid in nature. His lips peeled back and vanished into the roof of his mouth, revealing two rows of yellowing but razor-sharp cuspids. The resulting body remained vaguely equine in its quadruped shape, but nightmarish in every remaining aspect. “What in Tartarus…” Applejack stopped herself. This was something well beyond the realms of either Hades or Tartarus. This wretched creature was an evil altogether different from the brand to which her kind was accustomed. Having emptied his stomach, Toe-Tapper reconciled his disgust with dry heaves. The settlement was in disarray. Communications with Earth were down for the foreseeable future and very few among the crew knew the whole story. All anyone knew for sure was that management had ordered that the camp be packed up and the Consequence be made skyworthy once more, with minimal delay. Applejack heard hushed rumors and speculation among the other crew members as she helped collapsing their biodomes and packing their meager belongings. Some ponies believed that this was the result of a dangerous pathogen being found on the surface of Artemis II, threatening the survey team. Other theories involved space madness and sabotage, dangerous maniacs and the like. A fair few suggested the discovery of hostile alien life, coincidentally accurate theories that Applejack was quick to noncommittally dismiss. Beneath her apparent stoicism, Applejack was quickly becoming increasingly paranoid and could see the same symptoms of distrust in Toe-Tapper. These alien creatures, dubbed ‘changelings’ by those who knew of them, could change their appearance at will. The remains of the real Drill Bit were never found, though the scientist that was currently dissecting the alien carcass hypothesized that the miner had been integrated into the creature’s body, lending it the knowledge of Equestrian language and the location of the communications outpost. Any number of crew members could already have been replaced by sleeper changelings, and chances were good that the rest would never even know until it was too late. She was especially distrustful of the miners, the ones who first stumbled upon the evil-looking catacombs below. She’d smuggled a leg-mounted Sledgefire spreadgun from the arms storage to keep herself safe, or at least maintain a comforting illusion that she was. She suspected from the amount of damage that Drill Bit managed to withstand that no amount of ordinance currently at their disposal would be enough to keep a small force of the creatures at bay, however. “Yes. You’re right,” said Maud. “It doesn’t look good.” Applejack pulled a bottle of hard cider out of her fridge and poured herself a pint. “We’ll all be dead long before the barge is ready to fly,” she said quietly, sipping at the mug. “Then they’ll take our place and pilot it back to Earth. The whole damn planet will be changeling country in a decade or two.” “We can’t let that happen,” said Maud, reaching for a mug of her own before abruptly remembering that she was short one appendage. Applejack raised an eyebrow. “No offense, but I didn’t figure you for the sentimental type.” Maud didn’t smile. “I have to return to Earth. There’s someone dear to me who might need my help.” “Who’s that?” asked Applejack. “My family is pretty single-minded,” said Maud. “My father was a miner. My sisters… Limestone Pie relocated to Neighpon and now tends to rock gardens. Marble Pie went to the same university as I did, but decided to pursue her career as an archeologue. Unfortunately, not all of us shared the geocentric mindset.” She looked down into her empty mug, replaying her past over the shiny glass bottom. “The youngest of us, Pinkie Pie, decided that rocks and fossils were dull. After a tense childhood around the house, it all finally came to a head six years ago, when she had an altercation with our father.” She paused. Applejack took another swig of cider, waiting. “He kicked her out of the house and disowned her. I got the impression that he always regretted that decision afterwards, but was too proud to admit it.” Maud stopped again, nudged her mug towards Applejack. “Please.” Applejack lightly shook the bottle; about an eighth left. She poured what remained into the mug and pushed it back across the table. Maud nodded her thanks and took a conservative gulp. “I’d been trying to find her ever since. I don’t have much in the way of contacts, but I did finally manage to narrow down her whereabouts to somewhere in downtown Ponyville. The city’s population is four to five million. It might take me a while to locate her. But I have no intention of giving up, even here.” Applejack thought back to her family. Apple Bloom’s face, moments before being lost to static. Winona. Sweet, faithful Winona. Grandma Smith, finally succumbing to her sickness. Big McIntosh, phlegmatic in the face of the changing times. There were others too, more distant relatives. She looked at the body of the spreadgun peeking out from beneath her bed, components and edges highlighted by the dim light. She turned back to Maud. The geologist gazed at her levelly, unconcerned by the firearm. “You’re right,” said Applejack. “I have no intention of dying here either. But there’s no way that we can make it out on our own. And who else can we trust?” Maud was as still as a statue. Or a corpse. “Nobody,” she breathed out. “Not anymore.” It was close to midnight when Applejack stepped out onto the functional porch of her shelter. The cold reminded her of late winter back home. She wasn’t sure why she’d come outside. Normally she’d say that she just needed some fresh air, but the oxygen supply provided by her muzzlepiece rendered the excuse invalid. The muzzlepiece bobbed lightly as her jaw worked on the chewing tobacco she’d wrested from the tin she’d brought from home. Her eyes drifted unbidden to the sky. The two moons were touching, one small, comparable to Earth’s Luna, the other one closer, some three times the size. Tonight might be the night that the two would finally overlap completely. A retort in the distance. She tensed. Gunshot? It seemed quieter somehow, but that was to be expected in the thin air of Artemis II. Commotion, as a team of soldiers bustled past. The changeling had warned them of the impending assault, as though it understood that their knowing would change nothing. The hatch built into the shelter swung open behind her and Maud stepped outside. The right foreleg of her vacuum suit looked shriveled and deflated in the absence of the corresponding limb. “We have to go,” she said. Applejack pulled the muzzlepiece from her mouth just long enough to spit out her tobacco. “Go where?” she asked. “The barge isn’t ready yet.” “I spoke with the pilot. The innermost chambers can be detached from the rest of the ship and take off independently. The carrying capacity will be reduced, obviously, but as I understand the situation, either some of us will make it, or nobody will.” Applejack looked disbelievingly at the other mare. “You’re willing to just leave the others behind?” For the first time since Applejack met her, Maud showed signs of impatience. “Sometimes only just surviving is the best that we can do.” She shrugged off the spreadgun strapped to her side, and kicked it to Applejack. Applejack winced. The geologist clearly had no training regarding arms safety. “Come. The pilot is in place, but we should round up whom we can besides him.” Applejack nodded hesitantly. I guess there’s no choice. As the two made their way through the campsite, Applejack noticed something off about the air. It wasn’t so much a buzzing as a persistent, ambient prickling in her ears. In the sky, the larger crescent was obscuring the more distant, smaller one. The stars were vibrating. But was it really the stars? Or the earth below? A voice rang out before the immediate aftertaste of tobacco left her mouth. “Cease your movement in the immediate.” A member of the armed forces emerged from the shadows behind one of the biofabs. Applejack narrowed her eyes and covered her right foreleg, trying to hide the contraband spreadgun. “What was that, friend?” The soldier lifted his own piece threateningly. “Females. You will return to your respective apiaries.” Applejack gambled, slowly raising her spreadgun until it was level with the stallion. His stance faltered, though she would have missed the change in the dark if she wasn’t actively looking for it. “You alright? Want to try that in plain Equestrian for me?” In the darkness his eyes seem to widen and bulge as he bore his teeth at the two mares. She saw a flash of something else, gazing intently into his face. Two rows of yellow fangs, arranged around an insectoid jaw behind a pair of hook-like mandibles. She bit down on the trigger lever of the Sledgefire and pulled. The weapon’s recoil kicked her backwards and a chunk of the soldier’s neck was blown away in an oily black spray. He raised his own weapon, unconcerned with his injury. Two bullets escaped the rifle before she threw off his aim with another shell. She closed the distance between them before he could lift his arm again. The soldier looked down the almost inch-wide bore of the spreadgun moments before half his head was liquefied by the blast. Applejack felt her skin burn where drops of the changeling’s icy blood hit her. The body crumpled, reverted to its original, hideous form. Still it writhed at her feet, clawing blindly for her. She spent two more shells stilling the monstrosity. Maud’s muffled voice, quiet in her ears after the deafening retorts of the spreadgun. “Applejack. You’re bleeding.” She felt an ache in the point where her shoulder met neck, the post-fight-or-flight effect of waning hormones. A leaking gash greeted her eyes as she looked down. “Confound it. Lucky shot,” she said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go. Maybe Toe-Tapper has a first aid kit.” “Well, sure I’ve got a kit, but I’d like an explanation, if you don’t mind,” said Toe-Tapper, stepping into his bathroom to fetch the first aid kit from his cabinet. “And what the bloody Tartarus is with that buzzing outside?” The relaxed dub coming from his disk player felt incongruous with the tense atmosphere. “It’s the Song of the Swarm, genius,” said Spot. “Just like ‘Jack said, the fucking bugs are pouring out of the mines. A few of them have already infiltrated the armed forces, apparently, and if’n we don’t beat feet outta here, it’s gonna end poorly for us.” “We’re leaving?” Applejack jerked her head in the direction of the barge. “Pilot’s ready and waiting.” Toe-Tapper handed her the kit and moved toward the door. “You guys go on ahead, then. I need to get my brother, but I’ll meet you there.” “You’re not going alone,” said Applejack, blocking the hatch. “’Jack’s right. A candy-ass like you won’t last two milliseconds out there,” said Spot. “So I’m coming with.” “You know how to use equine guns?” Applejack fiddled with the straps of the Sledgefire with her teeth. “You need that, don’t you?” Maud spoke up. “Stop by my cabin, Spot. There’s a sampling laser in the closet. Set it to maximum intensity and it might be more effective against changelings than ballistic weapons.” “Got it. Thanks. Let’s head out, then.” Spot motioned to Toe-Tapper. Applejack watched the two disappear into the night outside. She turned her attention back to the kit. “Help me with these stitches and gauze, would you? I’m getting a bit woozy.” An ear-splitting burst of noise erupted from the vessel as Applejack and Maud got within spitting distance. The loud hissing of escaping air, along with the groaning of strained structural supports, an occasional ring as the massive rivets spread among the crucial load-bearing points were withdrawn by the engineering drones. The Consequence was being partially disassembled for her flight back home, and the resulting racket was bound to draw unwanted attention. “If the changelings arrive before our companions, we may have to leave them behind,” said Maud, voicing what Applejack already knew. Racing hooves in the darkness, almost inaudible beneath the fits of the barge. Applejack raised the Sledgefire, absently trying to calculate how much ammunition she had left. Maud leaned against the inside wall, hoof hovering over the magnetic lock switch. They were ten yards away by the time the sparse light finally revealed their faces. Spot and Toe-Tapper, with Noteworthy following closely behind. Wordlessly, Applejack stepped aside to let them through. “Shut the fuckin’ door!” Spot shouted. “They were biting at our heels the whole damn way!” Maud hit the switch. The door shuddered and began an agonizingly slow descent. “We’re probably running on auxiliary power,” she observed. Spot raised the sampling laser, a heavy-looking instrument with a yellow jacket trim, probably intended to be mounted on the spine. “Shit. Help me keep them away from the door, would you, ‘Jack?” The mob came into view as Spot and Applejack stepped back outside. It looked to be composed of a number of miners, technical assistants, and members of the science team. “Are you sure these guys are—” The laser screamed. A stallion was cut in half, spraying black like a balloon filled with oil. Well alright then. The Sledgefire joined in, blowing bloody chunks out of the incoming mob. It was a losing battle. The changelings were getting closer with each shot. Maud was right; the laser was proving to be a significant improvement over more conventional weaponry, cutting indiscriminately through the incoming drones, but it couldn’t hold the horde off indefinitely. She saw something that looked like Berryshine running toward her out of the corner of her eye. “Have you lost your fucking mind, Jacky?” The muzzle of the spreadgun turned to face her automatically. She pulled the trigger before she could stop herself. Red. Splash of something lighter, the color more clearly visible as it landed in a pool inside the halo of light escaping from the still open—damn it, how long is this shit going to take—hatch into the ship. Red, rushing hemoglobin. Berryshine looked disbelievingly at her. A gaping window of scarlet mingled with her raspberry coat, not quite centered between her shoulders. Applejack’s limbs froze over as the mare’s body toppled. “F-Ffffff…” The mob split as three members of another breed broke through. They were tall, twisting, and although they had donned the faces of the crew, they didn’t seem to fully understand how pony anatomy worked. Their necks were long and contorted, the familiar faces rotating around a central axis like the hands of some surreal biological clock. Their forelegs terminated in crustacean claws that scuffed the ground as they ran, deceptively clumsy. Two pairs of moth-like wings jutted out from their backs, fluttering feebly and ineffectually. They let out blood-curdling shrieks as they approached. “Shit! Shit! Get it together, ‘Jack! It’s the males!” “I… I killed her…” Spot took aim with the laser. “Fuckin’ useless!” The males were unnaturally fast and agile, effortlessly leaping and avoiding the sweeping beam as it passed. Finally, Spot seemed to give up. Applejack felt the grip of the diamond dog’s paws as he retreated into the closing hatch, pulling her roughly behind him. A single male changeling managed to catch up in the nick of time, shoving its head into the hatch just as it slid shut. The long, spindly neck crunched under the weight of the door, but still the creature thrashed and bit at the air. The shriek had been mercifully silenced as its larynx collapsed. Spot wrestled the spreadgun from Applejack’s unresisting foreleg and shot the monster smartly between the eyes. “Holy shit,” Noteworthy said, backing away as the pool of black expanded and crystallized. The changeling’s head reverted, but it was hard to say whether it was any different from the females’; Most of the face was demolished by the spreadgun. Maud established a comlink with the pilot over her NOI. “Warm up the engine. The rest of us here will be ready for takeoff in two minutes’ time.” Applejack couldn’t hear the pilot’s reply, but her hooves caught a gentle hum radiating from the floor. “Alright everyone,” said Maud. “Find a seat and web up.” The external displays came online. Applejack’s eyes gravitated to the screens as her seat rotated to face upwards. A larger shape moved among the hideous male changelings outside. It was tall enough to dwarf them, slender, with three pairs of spidery legs, a fleshy, larval body glistening in the low light, and two broad emerald butterfly wings. An outgrowth strangely reminiscent of a crown projected from the creature’s head. Unlike its brethren, it did not make any attempt at prying open the vessel’s hatch. It only stood there. Waiting. The musical voice of Blackjack sounded over the speakers. “Eighty-one members of the crew are not currently on board. I advise against departure.” “Acknowledged,” said Maud. An unwanted memory surfaced from the depths of Applejack’s psyche. “Hold on,” she cried out. “What about the marquee?! We’re just gonna fly right through it?” “Not to worry,” said Maud. “The Consequence is sturdy enough to penetrate the structure while sustaining minimal damage.” “That’s not what I mean!” said Applejack. “What about the rest of the team down there? They’ll freeze to death if we punch through!” “They’re dead anyway,” Spot said brusquely. The thrusters roared, and she felt a jolt as the stripped-down barge left Artemis II, friends and monsters alike, behind. “Celestia forgive us…” she whispered. “They’re dead, and we killed them. We killed them all.”