//------------------------------// // Part 01: Startup // Story: The Transporter // by Unit_ZER0 //------------------------------// To look at him, no one would ever guess what it was Cole did for a living. True, on the surface he seemed like any other twenty-something trying to make his way in a hostile job market. It helped that he’d had several years of experience as a computer technician, and worked a wide variety of different jobs, from landscaping to electronics assembly. The fact that he was so nondescript as to be invisible to the casual observer helped as well. Slightly above average height, average build. Not too dark, not too light. The only “distinctive” features that could be claimed about him were his shorn skull, and trimmed mustache/soul patch combo. Those and his rectangular framed glasses completed the look of a man so bland as to fit in anywhere. Couple that with a near chameleon-level sense of fashion, and he could be literally anyone: businessman, day laborer, or blue-collar workingman. Today he was wearing what he thought of as his “Professional” look: a black suit and white button-down shirt, unbuttoned collar, no tie. The meet was at one of the usual places, a bar and grill called “Jakes”. He’d picked the place, the prospective client, the time. She’d said she would be wearing a white dress and teal blouse. It only took a moment to spot her, seated at the left-hand corner of the moderately busy bar. Making his way to her, he cleared his throat. “Miss Harp?” The young woman turned, and Cole took note of her hair’s flawless dye job. A bit distinctive, but for its distinctiveness, it fit. “Mr. Cole”? “Just Cole.” “Very well. My name is Lyra Michela-“ “No names.” “I understand. I’d like to make use of your services for a transportation job.” “Type of cargo?” “A sealed trunk.” “Size and weight?” “Six by two by two, twenty kilos” “Pickup point?” “The ornamental overpass at the edge of town, this Friday, midnight.” “Distance?” “About three hundred kilometers, actual coordinates will be provided at the pickup point.” “Timeframe?” “Three hours, but ideally as fast as possible.” “Ok, so a package, six by two by two, twenty kilos, three hundred kilometers, pickup at midnight, I assume stealth is essential?” “Yes.” “Five thousand. Half at pickup, half on delivery.” “Reasonable.” “Do we have a deal?” “Indeed. Thank you Mr. Cole, we’ll be in touch.” Cole and the woman nodded to one another, and she got up to leave. As she was leaving, Cole took a seat at the bar. After a moment, the bartender, and owner, Jake stepped up. “You want to tell me why a girl like that is negotiating a transport, Jake?” “Nothing to tell.” The grizzled forty-something replied. A man of few words, Jake had seen action in the “sandbox” and had come back to the states with a newfound appreciation for peace and quiet. His bar and grill was one of the quieter night spots, perfect for Cole’s purposes. The two had met when Jake had needed several cases of a particularly rare brand of scotch moved under circumstances Cole didn’t ask about, and Jake never volunteered to clarify. It was often like that with Cole’s former clients, they would provide references to prospective seekers of Cole’s unique services, and Cole ended up with a clandestine network of intel all over the city he could use to vet those potential clients. “She called the number, and asked about your reliability, qualifications, that sort of thing.” The bartender continued. “Obviously she thought I was worth risking whatever she’s moving.” “Obviously.” Cole ordered a beer, and settled down to think about what equipment he might need transporting something his instincts for trouble were practically screaming about. TWO DAYS EARLIER: Lyra Michelakos, AKA Lyra Heartstrings, was sitting at the breakfast table of her house in Ponyville. After the excitement of several months ago, she’d gotten used to the semi-monthly trips between her parent’s home on earth, and her residence in the town where she’d settled. The princesses still wanted to keep contact with the human world to a minimum, and understandably so, but her sister’s visit had allayed several concerns about the unpredictable nature of humans. She had just lifted a forkful of her breakfast to her lips, when there was a knock at the door. As her plate of pancakes wasn't going to empty itself, she yelled for her roommate. “BON-BON! DOOR!” With only a brief grumble, Bon-Bon, Lyra’s roommate/best friend, got up off the couch, where she was reviewing a new candy recipe from Neighpon, and trotted over to answer the door. What greeted her eyes was not a sight she was expecting this early in the day. “Princess Luna!” “Greetings, Miss Bon-Bon. Is thy roommate present?” “Yes, your highness, just a moment.” Bon-Bon trotted back to her roommate, and poked her with a hoof. “Lyra, the princess is here!” After hastily swallowing her mouthful, Lyra walked over to the door, and bowed. “Good morning Princess Luna.” “Rise, Lyra Heartstrings. Art thou well this morn?” “Yes, you highness.” “Good, I would speak with you about a matter I am certain your unique… heritage may prove most beneficial in.” “Certainly, your highness. How can I help?” “Walk with me, Miss Heartstrings.” The pair walked some distance from Lyra and Bon-Bon’s home, and down the street away from the center of Ponyville, followed at a discreet distance by the Princess’ personal guard detail. Once they reached a spot where they were far less likely to be overheard, the Princess turned to Lyra with a searching look. “Lyra Heartstrings, what knowledge hast thou of this human creation known as “Internet”? “Not much, your highness. I use it to look up things I need to know to fit in in the human world, and to keep track of current events, as well as communicate with my friends, but that’s pretty much it.” “We have heard that the humans use this “Internet” as one would the advertisements found in a local newspaper as well, to advertise both goods and services.” “I've heard that as well, your highness. My dad – my human father, has often said he buys a lot of his writing supplies from an “Online Store” called ‘Amazon’. He described it to me as the biggest general store that doesn’t actually exist.” At the slightly confused look on the princess’ face, Lyra continued, “Think of it as a massive catalog of almost anything you could want or need, and then once you’ve made your purchases, they are delivered to your house a few days later.” “That sounds… most impressive.” “I thought so too. After seeing it for myself, I asked, and there are several sites where businesses advertise services as well. One business he told me about was where you could have a group of persons come to your house and clean it for you. Or request a plumber or builder to come and repair damage, or perform additional construction on your house.” “That seems… risky.” “I agreed, but there are methods for countering that risk. Some places of advertisement have a rating system, so that workers who do good work can be sorted from those who don’t do a good job. Other places have a provision here people who've had work done by a business can comment of what they though. If the work done was good or bad, and would they go to that person or business again in the future.” “What about services of a more… clandestine nature?” “I'm sorry, but I don’t really understand the question, your highness.” “Lyra Heartstrings, I would speak plainly with thou. Several days ago, a group of archaeologists from the Royal Academy of Science and Magic discovered an ancient storage cache out in the Badlands. The contents are unknown, although the cache’s sole container is heavily shielded, and there have been several… incidents since its discovery. The incidents point to changeling activity.” “I can see how that would be a concern, your highness. If the changeling remnants get hold of whatever is in that case…” “Exactly. It could be nothing, or it could be something we would rather they did not possess. Now, We would secure transport which is both beyond the ability for changelings to infiltrate, and above reproach. This has led Us to the possibility of using foreign assistance. Such assistance would not be aware of the politics of relationships of the region, and thus could not be bought, or threatened, much less impersonated by an infiltrator. We do not come to this decision lightly, several transport methods were proposed, but all are controlled by Our ponies, and as such are at risk of being compromised.” “Whereas a human transporter…” “Would be –at least provisionally– above suspicion.” After a moment’s thought, Lyra’s face lit up. “Princess Luna, I think I know where to start looking for a solution.” “Speak, Lyra Heartstrings.” “My human father told me of a place on the Internet called “Craigslist…” ONE DAY AGO After a hasty departure from Ponyville, and an all-too brief meeting with her human family, Lyra found herself sitting in front of her personal computer, staring at the ad on her screen: Allied Transportation Services Secure, Fast, Reliable Call (617) 555-1672 References available upon request For such a basic ad, it was unusual that the advertisement had a live rating counter embedded. It displayed a rating of 4.89 out of 5 stars, with over 75 clients posting. Of all the other “Transportation” services listed for the given geographic area, the first four were bus companies, and the next few either personal chauffer services, or private taxi companies. It was time to check this company’s “references”. Sighing internally, Lyra picked up her phone, and dialed the number on the screen. After a few rings, the other end was picked up, and she heard a voice answer “Jakes.” “Hello, my name is Miss Harp, and I’m looking for references about Allied Transportation Services…” FRIDAY NIGHT Cole sat in the driver’s seat of his 2008 Hyundai Elantra. The car, and the underground garage it was parked in, were silent, and he was mentally reviewing his equipment: Navigation system, FLIR, radar jammer, and his insurance… After a moment, his watch began to beep. Looking down, Cole saw that the time was rapidly approaching midnight. Silencing his alarm, he calmly started the engine, and fastened his seatbelt. The supercharged, fuel-injected dual-overhead-cam engine started with a rumble, and began to purr. He pulled on his leather driving gloves, straightened the lapels of his suit, and put the machine into gear. The car was a deep midnight blue, and it’s all LED illumination and angel eye headlamps made it shine in the dark like a land-bound spaceship, as Cole drove it up the ramp, and out into the cool night, lights glinting off the car’s spoiler-and-fin assemblies. As he rolled down the silent streets, the crimson striping at the edge of the Elantra’s black seven-spoked wheels caught the light of the overhead streetlamps, and seemed to almost glow in companionship with the pinstripe that adorned each side of the car. If the light hit it just right, the black-on-blue twin stripes could be glimpsed on the left front fender… After a few minutes, Cole arrived at the arranged meeting place, a section of the old highway that had once passed this way, but had since been re-routed. In an odd choice, the city planners had decided to keep a segment of the old highway intact, and build a park around it. The stone overpass had a shallow arch, and the top section had now been converted into a massive footbridge, with a roadway still passing underneath. As his lights swung across the structure, Cole spotter “Miss Harp” standing to one side of the arch. He pulled up to her, and after a brief pause, the young woman climbed in. “Mr. Cole, good to see you again.” “Likewise. Where are we headed?” “Just through the arch, we’ll be meeting the others and the package there. I wanted to meet with you first, and ensure you didn't have any questions.” “None so far.” “Then let’s get going.” With a mental shrug, Cole put the Elantra into gear, and the sedan rolled forward. As they passed under the arch, there was a brief feeling of twisting dislocation, a sense of wrongness, that was gone almost before he could register the sensation as a sensation. Then the car rolled out under a wide desert sky, liberally dusted with stars. This was clearly not the sky over his hometown. Cole knew that, because the stars were rarely visible within the city limits due to light pollution. A brief glance in the rearview mirror showed that the remnant of old roadway was gone as well, there being a similarly shaped arch of large boulders taking its place. Clearly the not-sensations he had experienced a fraction of a second ago were not imaginary, and something major had just transpired. Cole turned his head, and gazed silently at his passenger. Lyra Heartstrings gazed steadily back at the Transporter. For someone unfamiliar with interdimensional travel, he was taking the experience extremely well. Perhaps a bit too well. She heard the underlying tension in his voice, masked, but still evident. ”I take it we’re about to meet the individuals who commissioned this job.” The man asked. “Indeed Mr. Cole. Let me be the first to welcome you to Equestria.”