//------------------------------// // End of the First Day // Story: N7 - Operation: HARMONIZER // by Useless Machine //------------------------------// Eight feet tall, as wide as a tree, and clad in a suit of armor larger than himself, Barx made for an imposing figure as he stomped away from Ponyville. He hadn't had to enter town, and he was somewhat thankful for that; if the people he'd met were any indication, they wouldn't exactly react too well to his presence. Krogan were apex predators; they evolved from a world that gave no quarter and expected none. The leading cause of death before the invention/discovery of gunpowder on Tuchanka was "wildlife". Afterwards? "Gunshot." The krogan's thoughts turned to Tuchanka as he headed towards the darkness of the Everfree. Tuchanka was his home - a sandblasted nuclear hellhole of a home, but a home nevertheless. The genophage had been cured. He'd breathed it in, and swore that he felt himself being changed. A weight was lifted off of the backs of the krogan that day, and they finally had a future. And now he was here. He was so far away from home that trying to quantify it with distance was meaningless. He had been given a future. His entire race had been given a future, and it had been stolen away from him without a second glance moments afterwards. Barx roared at the thought, and ploughed his fist into a nearby tree at ramming speed; wood splintered, and the tree shook, several leaves dropping, but it remained in place. He took a moment to set a waypoint in his armor's computer; that way, at least, he'd know where to go to get back from the depths of the Everfree. Allowing himself to grieve he retreated and allowed his body to take over; he began wandering into the Everfree, no destination in sight, no point but to do something to rid himself of the ache that possessed him. And so he wandered guideless for a long time. Feet trod on forest floor; animals scurried out of the way, predator or prey, not willing to stray into the path of the behemoth that now called the forest its home. The sun set, but he barely noticed – his eyes adapted too quickly. He only noted that the sun had finally gone down when he blinked and realized the world was tinted far darker than it was several hours ago. And yet, that damnable ache. It just wouldn’t go away. Barx growled, more annoyed than angry at the refusal of the hole to fill. As the krogan continued to meander about aimlessly it only became more clear that it wasn’t going to go away. He’d need to put up or shut up. Barx decided to reign himself in at that point. He’d travelled a good few kilometers away from his waypoint – he turned around and began heading back. He wanted to keep wandering aimlessly, but something told him that if he didn’t make it back to that strange crystal castle with at least some modicum of timeliness, then Sam would have his head. And he respected the squad Battlemaster enough to not want to piss him off. As he trekked through the forest, his mind wandering off to dark places, faint snapping from far off entered his ears. The krogan stopped, looking around. His keen eyes, covering 270 degrees around him, didn’t take very long to spot what it was; the manticore. And given how busted up it looked, it was easy to guess that what he was staring at was the manticore they had met earlier – the one that had given them a ride across the ravine. Of course, this was after poisoning Rainbow Dash and beating the rest of the ponies to a fine pulp. Barx ducked behind a nearby tree and cautiously peeked out, watching as the manticore looked around and continued forth. It was nursing its jaw – still clearly broken – but it was still far larger than Barx, with much more weight to throw around. Even in his armor, getting trapped under that beast’s paws would probably not end too well for him. He resisted the urge to draw his Claymore. Not yet. It might make too much noise, and tip the manticore off to his position. Keeping one eye trained on the beast, the half-lion eventually headed off – in the direction of the waypoint. Barx grinned. Now this was something he could do. Moving quietly and cautiously – something that wasn’t quite in a krogan’s nature, but was still a fun challenge to do – Barx stalked the manticore, taking care to try and avoid any underbrush that might give away his position. It was far easier said than done – the Everfree was full of underbrush, and oftentimes he found himself having to hop between patches of open ground, trying desperately to make as little noise as he could. Yet somehow, despite his weight, the forest, and the fact he was pursuing a predator like himself, Barx was able to keep pace with the manticore for another hour. Eventually, however, he made a mistake. Given the relative quiet of the forest – the only background noise having been the euphony of a hundred different kinds of animals he couldn’t identify – Barx felt more than heard the twig cracking under its food, and saw the manticore swing its head around so fast that the krogan wouldn’t have been surprised if the thing gave itself whiplash. Nevertheless, he stood out – there was no more point in hiding. The manticore stared at Barx. Barx stared at the manticore. The staring contest continued for a few moments as beast regarded krogan, and krogan in turn regarded beast – both of them finding far more in common than they would have thought. Before any of them could move, however, they heard the sounds of heavy footfalls and growling. Barx and the manticore turned as one. To Barx’s right were a pack of… what looked sort of like varren. Varren made of wood and detritus, with glowing green eyes that broadcast their confidence in being apex predators for miles. There were six, he knew. He didn’t even have to put effort into counting; it was instinctive, as difficult to describe as how to breathe. He looked over to the manticore, and found it was also looking at him. “Let’s thrash ‘em,” suggested Barx. The manticore roared. Not quite a yes, but close enough, thought Barx. The timberwolves howled, and as one they charged. Barx tore his M-300 Claymore from his back, the weapon unfolding with a series of electronic clicks. The firearm’s barrel jutted out farther than most of its make, an indicator of the high-caliber barrel installed on it. The smart choke installed inside it whirred to life at about the same time the shotgun’s omni-blade flashed into existence. Barx fired the first – and only – shot the Claymore had loaded, the massive report stunning everything in the forest for miles around into silence. The relativistic scattershot more or less annihilated the timberwolf, which would have been blasted back into the detritus that made up the forest were it not for the fact the sheer velocity of the pellets rent said detritus asunder. Of course, it happened so fast that to the eyes of the animals that had watched, Barx pulled the trigger, thunder cracked out, and the timberwolf disappeared into a storm of organic particles and twigs. Barx turned to the rest of the timberwolves and operated the Claymore’s pump-action, the shotgun ejecting a white-hot thermal clip that fell to the ground, sizzling as it met the organic material on the floor. “You want some?” spat the leviathan at those that would dare opposite it, “because I got more!” The timberwolves looked at each other, and then splintered, each piece of them forming into what eventually made out to be a single, massive timberwolf. It roared, and the forest would have been made silent were it not for the earlier, thunderous blast of Barx’s shotgun having already done so. “I heard a ‘yes’,” quipped Barx, but before he could move the manticore charged – without a roar, as such a thing would have caused an excessive amount of pain to the creature’s damaged jaw. It charged forth and grappled with the megawolf, which roared in its face, utterly unintimidated by the manticore’s sudden combat pragmatism. The two beasts swiped at each other, flesh slapping and wood cracking as Barx decided to hang back and watch the two duel. After half a minute more of frenzied close-quarters battle the megawolf made a critical mistake and overextended itself in a lunge; the manticore caught it, spun around, and threw it into a nearby tree. Following a suitably loud crack, it slid to the ground and didn’t get back up. Barx punctuated this with another shotgun blast; this one gouged a massive hole through the megawolf, and it lost cohesion entirely, falling into pieces in response to the absolute overkill directed towards it. Barx racked the Claymore again and stared at it for a few moments, making sure it wouldn’t pull back together. After a moment of watching, he trudged over, and poked around at the pile it had fallen into, the manticore watching him curiously as he did so. Barx turned to face the manticore. “Interesting specimens you’ve got around here. So long as they don’t get up again, they’re fine by me.” The manticore didn’t respond. It cocked its head, judging Barx. No, not judging, the krogan corrected. Assessing. “Relax. I don’t know if it’s even safe to eat you. I might choke on my own vomit and die.” The manticore seemed to relax, and Barx raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you can understand me?” The manticore nodded. “Huh.” Barx blinked, for once being taken by surprise. “Didn’t expect that one, to be honest.” The two stood there for a moment, lording over their kill, before Barx decided to speak up again. “I need to get lost. Gotta be somewhere else tomorrow morning.” He turned and left, and after a moment heard the manticore moving away. Barx allowed himself a smirk at his productive night, and meandered off to find a place to rest. ---- The walk to Fluttershy’s cottage was a quiet one. It left time for Yelena to think. And she wanted to push that away for as long as she could. Considering they were barely holding on as was, thinking would just get her killed. Yelena idly munched on a ration bar as and her bright-yellow winged companion travelled down the dirt road, headed towards the growing edge of the Everfree forest. It brought her back into reality, and as she chewed she figured it would definitely make a good conversation starter. Fluttershy did apparently live rather close to what was essentially the boundaries of civilization. She turned to face her newfound friend, who was currently obliviously trotting along, as happy as could be. If only I could share in your optimism, thought Yelena. “So, Fluttershy… you live near the Everfree, correct?” “Oh, yes,” responded Fluttershy. “The Everfree is a dangerous place,” continued Yelena. “It is certainly full of animals similar to the manticore you fought earlier. One wonders why you’d choose the exact boundary as a place to stay.” Her attention turned to the forest for a moment, the pensive look on her face telling Fluttershy that she had more to say. After a few seconds she looked back towards the pegasus. “Perhaps it is because of the animals you stay there?” “Mmhmm!” confirmed Fluttershy. “I get many animals who travel through the Everfree to see me. In addition, the large trees provide adequate shade in the backyard for hot summer days.” “Wait,” interrupted Yelena, “to see you? The animals head to see you specifically?” “Yep!” was the emphatic confirmation. The answer and its bluntness puzzled Yelena. “But animals… they can’t reason like we do.” Fluttershy quirked an eyebrow. “And yet the manticore was willing to listen to me, wasn’t it?” As much as the asari hated to admit it, Fluttershy had caught her on that one. (She still wasn’t getting used to seriously calling a sapient being “Fluttershy”, either.) “I suppose you have a point. Where I come from, the distinction between an animal and a person is that one is not capable of thinking for itself like the other is. I suppose it is one of the many, many oddities of this world that such a distinction does not exist here, then.” Fluttershy was content to listen to Yelena as she talked herself through the concept – it was refreshing to see somebody so open about these sorts of things. “And it may be yet another thing I must get used to in the process of waiting to go home.” “I do hope you’ll find a way back home,” wished Fluttershy. “It must be so lonely staying here away from all the ponies… ehm, people you undoubtedly know.” Yelena nodded sagely, a darkness seeming to overtake her face as Fluttershy expounded on her position. “Yes. It very much is. And… no offense, Fluttershy, but it isn’t something I’d like to think about at the moment.” “Why not?” asked Fluttershy. “You can’t run from it.” Yelena’s response was quick and sharp; “Because I do not want to drive myself into the depths of anxiety. It is far easier than you may anticipate to do, and oftentimes in a battle, it’s not the enemy that kills you – it’s yourself.” There were a few moments of silence. “So like I said,” continued Yelena, “it’s not exactly something that I want to put too much effort into thinking about. Going home, the future… I may not even have a future here, depending on what the results of Twilight’s little experiment return.” Fluttershy finally begun to understood. “Oh! I… I misunderstood my place. My apologies.” “Accepted,” replied Yelena, as smoothly as some sort of spreadable butter substitute. “It was a topic of conversation, and life is far too long to hold grudges for – especially for asari.” “How so?” inquired Fluttershy, now far more willing than she liked to drag Yelena away from what ate at her until she felt more comfortable with talking about it. “Asari can live for a thousand years. We have an extremely robust cellular regeneration system that allows us to live significantly far past that, as well, though we don’t particularly heal any faster than anyone else would.” Yelena noted that Fluttershy was listening in, clearly finding the subject engrossing – then again, to someone who looked after animals, being able to get the details on a new species must be momentous, to say the least. Yelena took a few moments to ruminate on any more interesting facts, but sadly, all she could really think of was how they mated – and sex wasn’t exactly a topic she’d like to broach to an alien. Of course, Yelena breathed a sigh of relief a few moments later when Fluttershy extended a hoof and said, “We’re here!” Sitting in front of Yelena was a cottage – multi-level, didn’t seem to be made of anything more complex than wood. She could already hear the faint chirps and cries of various animals, none which she could name, all of which sounded and looked interminably alien. Yet Sam seemed to regard the animals – hell, even the ponies – as surprising, but somewhat familiar. Perhaps there was far more to this world than it seemed to present at first glance. Yelena made a note to get digging – most likely starting by asking Sam why everything around here didn’t seem totally surprising. Lost in her mind, despite the growing cacophony of animals that Fluttershy took care of, she remained almost unaware of where they were until Fluttershy opened the door and she stepped into the cottage. It was like stepping outside of the… well, outside world, and into a zoo. The various creatures on display made Yelena feel like she could get rich selling a compendium of Equestrian animals, with nothing more than Fluttershy’s advisory and writing materials. Yelena took a moment to look around, confounded by the sheer variety of beasties (though, considering some of them looked fairly harmless, calling them “beasties” would really be overstating their threat level) on display. “…wow. You said you took care of animals, but I wasn’t quite aware you went to such a length in the process,” commented an awestruck Yelena as she continued gazing around, twirling through the room like a rather muted ballerina being captured in slow motion. Fluttershy observed her as she swirled around, trying to capture every detail. She giggled, before going to give Yelena the grand tour. It was a rather modest house in the end. The living room was stuffed full of animals, but they were really only making a racket because they hadn’t been fed, and while feeding them wasn’t exactly comparable to hitting the mute button on a TV, it did make things significantly quieter. In the process, Yelena came to understand the kitchen; it contained not just food for Fluttershy, but massive quantitites of various types of feed for many, many different kinds of animals. The kitchen was the only part of the house that seemed grandiose in any way; it also had a door out the back leading into a large, fenced-in yard, where, in an unsurprising twist, even more animals awaited. Yelena had already seen far more than her fair share, though, so the new pets didn’t really faze her as much as her first contact. There were washrooms, upstairs and downstairs, and upstairs was Fluttershy’s bedroom and a small guest room – a guest room that held a truly ridiculous amount of dust, due primarily to disuse. Fluttershy laughed awkwardly upon remembering that fact, and seemed to shrink back into herself; Yelena merely smiled. “I don’t think you ever really expected anyone to have to use this for very long, did you?” “No,” spoke Fluttershy, significantly more quietly than she had before, “I haven’t. Sorry.” Yelena shrugged. “Got anything you can clean the dust with?” After a quick trip downstairs to retrieve, among other things, a feather duster, a broom, and a dustpan, the two set to work. It was quick, and within ten minutes or so they had managed to make the room at least presentable (though Yelena would probably wear her clothing until she would be able to wash the sheets). “Well. I might be able to sleep here without a breathing mask!” Yelena was at least happy, and Fluttershy seemed less withdrawn now that she’d helped correct her “mistake” (which it wasn’t even really, merely an oversight). Yelena headed over to the window, and through the curtains she could see the sun setting. Yelena turned to Fluttershy. “Well. It’s been nice, but I believe I need a little bit of space.” “Of course,” nodded Fluttershy, and she turned to leave before Yelena could begin to explain anything. “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.” "Alright. I won't keep you any longer," responded Yelena. Fluttershy turned around and headed back down the steps, leaving Yelena alone with her thoughts. Yelena took a moment, and sat on the bed. She began breathing calmly and deeply, attempting to force herself into a meditative trance. Of course, some sort of thumping kept her from doing so. After a second attempt to try and meditate was thwarted, Yelena finally decided that investigating the source of the noise would be a far more prudent use of her time than merely sitting there in frustration and breathing oddly. Standing up, stretching, and looking over to the entance, Yelena was somewhat surprised to see a small white… thing sitting there, its foot tapping against the floor expectantly. Its arms were folded, and its face bore the sort of scowl that looked perpetual. Yelena sighed and trod over to the animal, kneeling down to get closer to its level. “Hello,” began Yelena. “You don’t look too happy.” She wasn’t very surprised to find the white creature shook its head no. It pointed to her, then gestured to the rest of the house, then returned to its quiet, malevolent, yet entirely ineffective glaring. Yelena was quickly able to decipher what it was asking, though. “Your friend Fluttershy allowed me to stay here. I’m in a bit of a bind at the moment – very, very lost.” The potential pet’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of Fluttershy’s name, before it brought its paws up to its eyes, then back at Yelena. It was protective, and communicating that it was going to be keeping an eye on Yelena. Let it, thought the asari, as she returned to her meditations. After a few minutes the thing, whatever it was, left. It was far easier to meditate with it gone, naturally. Dari’Nava vas Tonbay was not having a very good day at work. Putting her head down, her soft grumbles almost inaudible over the clink of her envirosuit’s faceplate hitting the table, she decided to give up on learning magic. Twilight seemed like she had the situation under control, and all this was doing was driving a tuning fork into her mind and twisting it around until brain spaghetti popped out. She quietly looked over as Twilight peered through a microscope at the samples of blood they had collected. Sam’s and Twilight’s had come easily enough, but Martilus, the thick-headed bosh’tet, had decided he was going to cut his head open with a knife to provide help. Unfortunately, he had a point. ceded Dari. I’m not sure if the syringe she used was properly sterilized. Knowing her, she might have a spell for that, but… really, it would just be picking which way you want to die; starve from lack of food or atrophy from sickness. And the dumbass could have just... let Twilight syringe him in the back of the head, too. She looked over to Twilight, who had been at the game for the past few hours. “Any luck?” Twilight looked back over, a quill in her grasp and what looked like a sheet of paper (something Dari had not seen in a very long time) containing an absolutely ridiculous amount of sketches and equations. It looked not dissimilar to the one time she attempted to manually calculate the proper vectors necessary for a faster-than-light jump, and ended up filling half a workbook to completion before realizing such an endeavor was probably fruitless. “I’m afraid not,” responded Twilight. “I’ve managed to amplify the microscope via the precision application of magic so that I can actually look at DNA. It’s not the best – I should probably just get a bigger microscope – but it’ll work for now.” Dari nodded, resting her head on the table. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her all too clearly of just what was at stake here. If this fell through, so did her life. Twilight was relatively quick on the draw. She could most definitely multitask, and sponging Dari for info on her home would distract her and help Twilight in collecting knowledge about their home. And it wasn't like she was doing much anyways. She was just comparing pictures of DNA, then "spiking" it with magic to see how it reacted to external stimuli of the opposite's presence. It was time-consuming, tedious, and attention-demanding work, so naturally, she found a way to distract herself. “Dari’Nava, you did say you were fighting a war, right?” Dari looked up to Twilight, confused. “Yes. Why?” “Would it be too much to tell me about it? Why it was happening?” Dari stared. Her glowing eyes seemed to bore through Twilight’s soul, but she couldn’t tell if they were focused on her – which didn’t at all help. After a moment’s contemplation, Dari straightened her back and looked at Twilight. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s not at all for the faint of heart. It’s a dark story to hear.” Twilight looked pensive for a moment, but when she said “Yes” with her voice betraying a will of iron, Dari nodded. “Alright. Now, where do I even begin with this…” “Take your time,” assuaged Twilight. “I’ll be here all night.” Dari took a few minutes to attempt to compose the story. “Alright… Like you’ve probably gathered, we’ve spread across most of a very expansive galaxy. This in mind, we haven’t colonized every planet. Far from it. It’s just a limitation of how we travel.” “Oh?” With Twilight having expressed interest Dari soldiered forth. “We utilize stationary jump gates called Mass Relays, which accelerate ships far, far beyond the speed of light through the ruthless exploitation of gravity. We found a material called element zero that changes the mass of an object when an electrical current is run through it – positive increase, negative decrease.” That piqued Twilight’s interest, and the unicorn turned to face Dari. “…so you can lower your mass so that light speed applies differently for you? How does that rightly work?” “Believe me, Twilight,” cautioned Dari, “the minutiae of the details are beyond me at the moment. I’ll get you a textbook when… well, if we ever go back home. You’ll have a field day with it.” Twilight looked momentarily shocked. “You will see home again, Dari. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll find a way.” Dari seemed to be bolstered by her sudden injection of optimism, and continued. “Anyways… in general, that should give you an idea of the scale of the war. The enemy we were facing… they were called Reapers.” She activated her omni-tool and scrolled through its holodatabase, before holographically projecting her target. Twilight raised an eyebrow. “This,” said Dari, “is a Sovereign-class Reaper superdreadnought. It is two kilometres tall. It possesses a kinetic barrier that takes four dreadnought-size ships half its size to bring down. It carries, for armament, multiple magnetohydrodynamic cannons – guns firing streams of molten metal at very significant fractions of light-speed, capable of splitting one of those dreadnoughts in two in a single blow. They are capable of brainwashing any organics nearby, given enough time, and eventually turning them into cybernetic zombies called husks – that are, as the name implies, literally a shadow of the being they once were.” Twilight stared, mouth agape. Whatever these Reapers were, they were the most inequine beings that she had ever heard of. Far more than she could even have conceived. “There are more Sovereign-classes than our own dreadnoughts,” finished Dari. “Our hopes rested on a superweapon we constructed, the Crucible. We were able to fire it, but I am unaware as to its final result.” Twilight finished sketching something on the paper she had gathered about, then hopped off of her seat. Heading up to Dari, she reared back and embraced the quarian, a move she did not at all expect despite it being telegraphed more clearly than a message from Samuel Morse. Dari stiffened up, entirely unused to the sudden contact, but eventually slumped in her chair, her arms falling more than closing around Twilight. “I’m… sorry, was this the wrong thing to do?” queried Twilight, clearly somewhat concerned. Dari did not respond for a few minutes. When she did respond, it was with a quiet “No.” Twilight let go after a few moments and returned to her work. She didn’t feel much more of a need to talk, all of a sudden. Hitman and Pinkie trod through town. Hitman wasn’t perturbed by the stares it received; even if it was, Pinkie’s introductions (not to mention the fact she was walking with the geth) did wonders for its public image. Of course, after a few minutes the stares tapered off. The Elements walking with, holding, or doing weird things was just second-nature to Ponyville – some residents had started adopting it as part of their charm. Pinkie, hopping along with a comical sproing effect that Hitman was trying its level best to entirely ignore, eventually turned to scrutinize Hitman. She did so with almost robotic precision that seemed on edge with her entirely chaotic, carefree nature, scouting him out as though she was an X-ray scanner (and given what little hearsay Hitman had picked up on the pink quadruped travelling next to it, the geth figured there was only a 92.2% chance of Pinkie actually possessing backscatter vision). After a few seconds (that felt like an eternity to Hitman, if only because it thought far, far faster than the organics that surrounded it) Pinkie decided to speak up. “So… you’re a robot, correct?” “Incorrect, but somewhat accurate,” responded Hitman. Pinkie tilted her head – whereas with other ponies it would be a rather subtle tilt, Pinkie’s twisted to the side, and then she blinked for good measure. “Incorrect? But you’re a machine!” “That is an inaccurate statement, which could be construed as racist towards synthetic life.” Pinkie deflated rather quickly at the accusation. “…oh.” “While it is accurate concerning our past,” clarified Hitman, “as of now we are more than just machines. We are synthetic life. We did not arise by coincidence as most organic life has. We were constructed by Creators to serve a purpose.” Pinkie seemed to have Hitman’s attention, so the geth continued without skipping a beat. “The quarians – the race Creator Dari’Nava belongs to – constructed the geth to serve as workers in areas where quarians would be at-risk. We were not sapient at first, merely simple machines, not unlike a clock. However, the quarians designed us so we could work together. If one geth platform was near another, it would be able to “mind-meld” with the other platform – while technically inaccurate, it still works – sharing both of their brainpower to assist in accomplishing complex tasks.” Pinkie absorbed the information like a sponge, having stopped bouncing along and now walking normally. She had managed to produce a bucket of popcorn out of thin air and was eating rather respectably. “There was no limit to this mind-meld power – in fact, the more geth there were in a given area, the smarter they became.” “One day,” said Hitman, “enough geth networked together to produce a mind. Not unlike your own. One that was self-aware. The very first question it asked to the Creators was if it had a soul – something mentioned in quarian religious texts.” “What happened next?” questioned Pinkie, clearly engrossed in the story. “War,” replied Hitman. Pinkie’s popcorn bucket dropped to the floor. “WHAT?” she practically screamed. “The Creators were unsure of how to deal with it, but frightening paranoia overtook them. They feared we would overthrow them, become greater than they were, and so they had us destroyed. This was not universal for the Creators – there were many who sided with the geth, but their numbers dwindled, and eventually we were forced to wage war on those who created us.” Pinkie flew towards Hitman as if magnetically attacted to him and hugged him with what would have been bone-crushing strength for any poor organic unfortunate enough to be the pink missile’s target. She did not interrupt the story, however. “In the end, though we strove to contact them for peace multiple times, we had no choice but to drive the Creators from their home. We began taking care of it in the hope they would peacefully return. And they did.” Pinkie’s rapt attention had been gathered, though she hadn’t left Hitman’s proximity. She produced another bucket of popcorn somehow and quietly resumed eating. “Shepard-Commander is a mythic figure. The Commander is a human soldier who has done many impossible things, and became aware of the Reapers before their attack. To go into their exploits would be another story in and of itself, but they were the cause of the successful reunion of the Creators and the geth. There is a geth program in Creator Dari’Nava’s suit that is helping her adapt to the air here, however.” “But why would she need that?” questioned Pinkie. With a sound much like the ripping of tape she let go of Hitman and dropped to the ground, catching the bucket of popcorn as it fell after her (and the few kernels that fell out, too; though those were caught with her mouth, and one that deviated far from its course with her tongue). “When the Creators were forced off of Rannoch they were forced to travel in a Migrant Fleet. Time spent in the starships eroded their immune system to the point where they could not even remain in extended physical contact with each other without suffering debilitating sickness. As it stands right now, Creator Dari’Nava could very well be killed by the common cold, as her species’ immune system has spent 291 years atrophying inside the sterile environment of space.” Pinkie’s expression had changed back to horror, but she refused to interrupt Hitman as they closed in on Sugarcube Corner. “As I have said before, however, the geth program inside her suit is working to slowly expose her to the native air. Within the next few months she should be able to take off her environmental suit’s faceplate, and within two years she should be able to disrobe entirely.” Pinkie breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, at least it had a happy ending!” “They are extremely rare in the universe,” mused Hitman. “They are to be cherished.” “In… other news, we’re heeee-re~!” Pinkie zipped in front of Sugarcube Corner, accelerating at unbelievable velocities, and stopped, both hooves thrown in the air to emphasize the confectionary. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner!” Hitman scrutinized it with an unfeeling blue eye (and its optical receptors). It appeared to be a life-sized house made of edible material. Hitman could only guess as to its construction, however – it did not keep a database on hand, and could not query the collective or the Extranet, for obvious reasons. It instead decided to ask Pinkie about it. “The house appears to be constructed of edible material. Unknown composition. Query: What is Sugarcube Corner made of?” “Gingerbread, silly!” was the reply, as if Hitman were strange for not knowing what it was. Hitman’s head flaps flipped about for a moment, before stopping as its gaze swept over Pinkie. “Query: What is gingerbread?” Pinkie let out a massive gasp. “You don’t know what gingerbread is?” “Geth do not eat,” claimed Hitman. “Oh gosh I have to show you! I also need to plan your “Welcome to Ponyville” party, but I think I can make that your “Congratulations on living” party too when Twilight finishes what she’s doing! Anyways you need to come into Sugarcube Corner, like, pronto!” Before Hitman could react, Pinkie shot over, hoisted the geth over her equivalent of a shoulder, then headed into Sugarcube Corner. There were no ponies present, only Mr. Cake. Mr. Cake was reading the newspaper, and lowered it. He took one look at Pinkie, who was carrying what looked like an alien robot and dragging it towards the kitchen, and decided that he may as well intervene. “Uh… Pinkie? What are you doing?” “Showing my new friend Hitman what gingerbread is!” Mr. Cake looked over the machine, which stared up at him with a glowing eye. If the stallion didn’t know any better, he’d swear "Hitman" was pleading him for help. “Geth do not eat,” was the only thing it said. “Have fun, Pinkie,” deadpanned Mr. Cake as he returned to his newspaper. Rainbow Dash soared into the sky towards her cloud house, her entirely unwilling human partner in tow just below her. The lines of thought they both followed varied wildly. Rainbow Dash was yet again giving herself a pat on the back for managing to evade disaster. Meanwhile, Samuel Harrison was rather pissed off that he'd been rudely dragged away from his squad with zero warning at a speed that, by all rights, should have been fatal. If nothing else, he was happy that he'd managed to shove his bucket onto his head before he'd reached the really high speeds. Of course, however, there wasn’t really any way to turn back time to prevent it from happening – he was in the sky now, and Rainbow Dash was his only lifeline to avoid a rather painful and prolonged death via falling out of the sky (really, via “hitting the ground”, but it’s not like a lone human would be able to arrest their own fall). So Sam put up and shut up, folding his arms as he was carried at a velocity that was only frightening primarily because he wasn’t sequested away in the confines of a dreadnought or a drop shuttle. Eventually, however, as the sun set, providing him with a scene he had to admit was beautiful (he took a picture of it with his Death Mask’s cameras, for later perusal), he happened upon a massive mansion made of clouds. It was impressive in its size, scale, and complexity, but something quickly dawned on him as they approached; Dash was planning to land there. On the clouds. He’d overheard that pegasi had weather control magic, which allowed them to do such things, but considering that to his knowledge magic had been the realm of fairy tails up until several hours ago, it would probably end in a very long fall, followed by a very sudden stop, followed by cessation of life, in no particular order. “Uh, Rainbow Dash?” he queried. Dash didn’t look down at him; too busy flying, but she had heard, he knew. “Yeah?” Sam pointed to the cloud mansion, which was easier to do when Dash was flying at very slow speed. “That’s your house, right?” “Yep!” Dash confirmed the accusation with no small amount of pride. Of course, however, Sam had other things he needed to know. “And you’re planning to drop us off there, right?” “Uh-huh. Why’re you asking so many questions?” Sam made a show out of slowly raising his greaved hand to rest in front of his helmet. “Because, I don’t have weather control magic.” Man, I can barely believe how casually I’m using this. “So clouds are not a solid surface for me. Meaning…” The ride slowly came to a stop as Dash pondered exactly what this meant. Sam swore that over the swooping noise of her wingbeats you could hear the whine of the case fans in her head, trying desperately to keep the processor from overheating. After ten long seconds punctuated by Dash looking at the ground, then to her domicile several times in a row, she let out a quiet, self-reflective “ohhhhhhhhhhh.” Quiet reigned for several more seconds as the two awkwardly floated there, before Sam decided to press his luck further. “Um… if it’s not too much trouble, you mind flying back to the ground and putting me down? Because if we keep going like this it won’t-“ “Yeah, yeah, sure,” came the voice of Rainbow Dash, with an edge to it that sounded very, very shameful. Clearly she hadn’t considered what, exactly, taking him away from Barx entailed. Putting himself into the other horse’s shoes for a moment, he quietly considered that because he’d stopped her before really bad things happened, it wasn’t much harm done. True, he was still amazingly pissed off at the fact that she had ripped him away with very, very little warning, but in the end, what was Barx to her? A massive leviathan three times her size that looked like it was made of muscle. If they were herbivorous (which, considering how similar to Earth this looked, mythology aside, he strongly suspected), Barx must have been the most predatory thing in existence to them. He became aware of the world sinking down as Rainbow Dash flew back towards Twilight’s castle. “So, uh…” began Rainbow Dash. “What’re you gonna do? I mean, I was this close to getting the egghead to cast a cloudwalking spell on you, but then I remembered that she was kinda doing something really important and figured it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.” Sam almost shrugged, but considering he was still much farther off the ground than he’d liked to be at that time, he quickly stopped himself. “Well, I’ve slept on hard surfaces before. To be honest, a night or two sleeping on the floor is really not as much of a bad thing as you believe it is.” There was a moment of silence (or, at least, relative silence, considering the wind blowing through his ears), but afterwards, Dash seemed to at least approve of it. “Well, okay, it’s really, really weird, but I figure if it’s not at all a problem for you then… go ahead.” After a few seconds Dash flew in through the open doors and dropped Sam onto the crystal floors of the castle. Sam was far more glad than he usually was to be standing on solid ground, something he attributed to the rather harrowing flight he had just undertaken. Reminding himself of that, he decided that he may as well take action to ensure it didn’t happen again. Turning around, he faced Dash, remembering to take off his Death Mask. “Okay, Dash. Why, exactly, did you pull me away from Barx?” “Because I…” She faltered upon realizing that her excuse wasn’t exactly as good as she anticipated, and Sam immediately capitalized on it. “Well?” Dash, surprisingly, bolstered her will. “Because I thought he was going to attack you.” Sam laughed. It was a reaction that confused Dash, but he took a moment to cackle at the reasoning before becoming serious again. “Alright, look. Barx is… yeah, he’s a little tetchier than most people, but believe me, he’s not one for pomp and circumstance. If he was going to attack me he wouldn’t even have given any warning; he’d have just attacked. It’s how he is. So please, next time, don’t judge my teammates based on their external reactions, okay?” Considering how nicely she was being treated (having done this to a military leader she had expected to get a massive dressing-down), Dash deflated slightly. “Okay, sure. I’m…” She took a moment to swallow her pride – it wasn’t quite the easiest thing to do. “I’m sorry.” Sam nodded, leaned down, and extended a hand. “Apology accepted. Please don’t do it again.” The two shook, Dash still feeling fairly embarrassed about the whole deal. “You know anything good to do around here?” The question didn’t surprise her – Dash was actually grateful that he was trying to draw attention away from her earlier actions. “Because I’ve still got a few hours to kill until I need to hit the sack.” Dash thought for a moment. “Well, the sun is down, so a lot of the ponies here are going to be asleep. Still. C’mon, let’s see what there is to do, huh?” Sam nodded and followed along. “You think they’re gonna like me?” Dash stopped for a moment. “Didn’t Twilight say she was going to take care of introducing you?” That put pause into Sam, who stopped, staring at the town. “…You know, something tells me that the populace might be frightened of me.” “Yeah, but Pinkie headed into town with… Hitman, right? The robot. So if they haven’t already brought him back here carrying pitchforks and torches, we’re probably cool for screwing around,” countered Dash. Sam took a moment to ruminate on that. “Eh, fuck it, you’ve got a point. Time for the Grand Tour, huh?” Dash nodded, and the two headed off into Ponyville. Applejack was perfectly content to leave Martilus alone. The farmhoof figured that the old turian (at least, he looked old) was having enough problems, so her endless yammering might not help him along at all. Of course, what she thought couldn’t be farther from the truth. Martilus desperately tried to distract himself. He didn’t want to think, because his thoughts would always come around to the fact that his death might be impending. His comrades certainly weren’t as frightful, but given the vast majority of life in the galaxy was levo, they didn’t have much of a reason to. The most likely outcome was that the planet would be levo. After that? He was essentially putting his life into the magical grip of aliens he’d just met who had command of forces he couldn’t comprehend or measure, that they’d be able to just… magic up a solution to biology. His gaze drifted down to the pistol at his side. It was an M-5 Phalanx – with heavy aftermarket modifications, of course. A stunner sat under the barrel for non-lethal takedowns, and a scope lay across the top – it was fairly simple, just 2x zoom, and not really necessary, but he liked how it was there. Not visible were the extra-strength thermal clips or the armor piercing upgrade he’d secured for the weapon. He thought, momentarily, of finding a nice, secluded spot, and blowing his brains out to spare himself the trouble, but decided he could do that after hunger set in and it was known that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. It was a fairly messy end, but it was quick and painless – the polar opposite of what he would endure otherwise. “Y’all okay?” rang a voice that he didn’t quite recognize at first. “You’re starin’ at yourself, it’s… sorta creepy, really.” Martilus snapped out of it, turning to Applejack. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He was lying through this teeth, but being a turian, he was confident she wouldn’t be able to tell. His confidence shattered when Applejack stared him down for a few moments. “Y’all don’t sound fine. Something on your mind?” “Nothing,” he shot back, still as calm as ever. Of course, however, Applejack was the Element of Honesty for a reason – and unbeknownst to Martilus, she could see right through him. Nevermind the fact he was an alien she’d met a few hours ago – as the "face" of Sweet Apple Acres, she had spent a long time dealing with the shrewd, the sleazy, those who wanted profit and weren't afraid to cast her aside to get it. Dealing with them gave her a "sixth sense" for liars, something she found had worked essentially perfectly on people that weren't ponies. She momentarily grew mad that Martilus was barefacedly trying to lie past her, but after she remembered the fact that this biology was different somehow (the details were too technical for her, this being Twilight territory, but she got the gist), she calmed down slightly. The poor bastard probably had his own issues to deal with. Like how he might not be here next month. “Okay. I’m gonna be honest, like you were; I know y’all’re lyin’ to me. But I know why. So you tell me the story of the Krogan Rebellions, and I’ll look the other way. Capiche?” Martilus nodded. “I’d say to get some snacks, but we’re still a long way away from home. I’ll give you the short details. Basically, a couple of thousand years ago, the galaxy was at war with a species called the rachni. They were these… insectoid hive-mind creatures that overran us with sheer numbers. But the salarians – local aliens, live fast and die fast, and smart as hell – found the krogan. Like Barx, right?” Applejack nodded, listening to the tale, her face relatively neutral. “With nothing else the galaxy could do, they ‘uplifted’ the krogan – gave them technology hundreds of years ahead of themselves. The krogan won the war – no doubt about that – but they hadn’t matured along with the tech they’d been given. They got belligerent. And they rebelled, sparking another war.” Applejack’s neutral face had finally given away to one of horror. “Mind you, this was over several hundreds of years – but it was just like the Rachni Wars. The salarians ended up making a unique weapon, the genophage – it essentially messed with the reproductive systems of the krogan, preventing most of their pregnancies from going to term.” The two of them had stopped, Applejack’s face slightly pale at the thought. “Of course, they never intended to use it – they were just going to bluff with it. Us turians, though? We believe in ‘massive retaliation’, so as soon we got our paws on the genophage, we used it. It’s been cured in recent years, thanks to Shepard, but for a while, krogan like Barx were as hedonistic as it got, knowing that they essentially didn’t have a future.” The two began walking towards Sweet Apple Acres again, Applejack taking a few minutes to compose the simple response of “…by Celestia, that’s terrible.” “So is the fact that if the results come back like I think they will, then there’s a good chance I’ll starve to death because of the amino acid barrier. And the fact that if they don’t, three of my friends get to starve, too. That’s life.” It became clear to Applejack at that moment exactly what he had been staring at his gun for. She resolved that she wasn’t going to follow that line of thinking any more. It wasn’t right. Fortunately, Sweet Apple Acres filled her eyes as she refocused on the road. “Oh, hey, we’re almost there!” Applejack tried to give off a smile, but considering how dark the conversation had been before, it was very forced. Martilus looked over the Acres, taking in the kilometers upon kilometers of trees and pasture. “So this is where I’ll be spending my time working, huh? Looks like a pretty nice place.” It seemed as though the turian was ignoring the fact he’d be dead in a few days – she decided she wouldn’t confront him over it. “Mind showing me around your home? We can always get to the details about work once I’m settled.” Martilus’s inquiry snapped Applejack out of her thoughts, and she nodded. “Sure!” The thought of being with her family at least assuaged her worries. She wasn’t entirely sure how they’d react, but she wasn’t worried about the adults so much as Apple Bloom. Goodness knows the filly would drive Martilus up the wall. Not thorough any real fault of hers – she was a filly, after all – but that wouldn’t excuse the fact it would happen. “Alright, don’t worry yourself none. You’ll know every which place in the house by tomorrow!” Applejack continued towards the house. “I’d like ta ask that ya stay outside for a moment while I lets the rest of the Apples know ya’ll’re here. They ain’t seen aliens before.” Applejack continued onwards, Martilus finally realizing that the alien being he’d chosen to live with was nothing more than a country stereotype. Then again, looking at the other, pinker choices he could have chosen, he was glad that he’d picked someone more down-to-earth than most. As he ruminated over the events that had lead him to this point he’d heard a lot of spirited conversation. Tuning in almost without effort Martilus heard Applejack’s voice, easily picked out, along with three others – one that was so bassy he could almost feel it in his chest, one that carried with it age above everything (with a hint of wisdom, though you had to focus to pick it out), and a higher-pitched voice he wouldn’t have heard, were it not for the fact that after a few seconds of conversation it was absolutely dominating the soundspace. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear it was getting closer, thought Martilus. “…I gotta see this!” Scratch that, went Martilus, it is, and I don’t want to be here. The turian looked around to try and find a way out, somewhere he could hide, but the gasp from behind him told him that his efforts were fruitless. Turning around, the child he was now noticing was barely half Applejack’s size – a very pale yellow in complexion, with ruby red hair and a bow of the same color. Eyes open in silent awe, jaw open enough to swallow a Thresher Maw whole. Whenever Martilus appeared around turian children in armor they’d always gotten starry-eyed sort of like this new arrival was doing, before launching away with a few pointed questions along the lines of his equipment and armor. The twinkle in this being’s eyes was not so much the twinkle of a star in the night sky, as it was the blinding glare of a terawatt floodlight normally used to find missing persons. Martilus braced himself, fully aware that whatever meager defenses he could put up, it wouldn’t be enough. “…oh my Celestia it’s a real life alien! This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” The child immediately started bouncing around him with speed and vigor most Vanguards would kill to have, and was – to Martilus’s surprise – more content to simply bask in the presence of something from beyond the stars than to ask any real pointed questions. It stopped after a moment. “I have so many things I wanna know but I just don’t know where to start! Do you have a name? Does your species have names?” “Slow down,” requested Martilus, raising a three-fingered hand that Apple Bloom stared at in a way that would have made Martilus uncomfortable were it from any other situation. “My name’s Martilus. Yours?” “Apple Bloom!” responded Apple Bloom, clearly still riding the sort of high she wouldn’t get for at least another month or two. Considering he wasn’t being blitzed with more questions than he could handle, Martilus found himself pretty comfortable with the situation. Turning his head to the right, he noticed three more ponies standing at the steps. One was Applejack. One was massive and red, looking closer to a fire engine than a living being. Martilus took a moment to appraise him and found that he’d feel comfortable pitting the red one against Barx in a steel-cage match. The last one there was green, and… aged was the nice way to put it, Martilus decided. Withered would be the mean way. Apple Bloom’s gaze followed his, and she immediately filled with regret, heading back over to them – it didn’t take a genius to figure that she had probably disobeyed orders to get to him. Martilus headed over, easily towering over all of them – even the red one. “Don’t mind her. To be honest, I’ve met kids that were far more bothersome than she was being. The green one raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?” Martilus nodded. “Miss, I’m a soldier. If I had a credit for every time a kid asked me if I’ve killed people, I’d be a very rich man.” The green one smiled. “Well, in that case, I suppose so long as Apple Bloom apologizes to ya, it won’t be a problem.” Apple Bloom nodded. “M’sorry, Mr. Martilus.” Martilus waved a hand. “Don’t mind it, Apple Bloom.” He stumbled over the name – confused as to how he should address her. “Oh, where are my manners?” lamented the green pony. “I’m Granny Smith, and this is Big Macintosh,” she continued, pointing to the massive red slab of muscle. “I’m sure you’ve already met Applejack and Apple Bloom, and Applejack’s let me know about the state you’re in.” Martilus nodded. “Martilus Hinfax, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you. And you, Big Macintosh.” “Eeyup,” said Mac. Martilus got the distinct feeling the man in front of him was not one for words. He decided to focus on Granny Smith, then, as she seemed to be the matriarch of the household. “Don’t worry about rent. I’m willing to work for room and board until we figure out how to get out of your hair.” “Pshaw! T’ain’t a problem at all, Martilus!” Granny Smith sounded as though she was sounding out his name. He didn’t blame her – in fact, he considered himself lucky he was getting this solid of a reception. He wasn’t sure if the six he’d met earlier that day would have gotten as good a reception if they’d ended up in the Milky Way. “’Specially since you’re offerin’. Now, c’mon in, you’ll catch your death out here!” Martilus, in that moment, felt the itch to remind her that his power armor could take care of that, but then remembered that he was talking to an elderly person on a planet that, given its aesthetic, would leave him unsurprised if they still didn't know you could use coal as a fuel. “I’ll take you up on your offer, then, as soon as you all let me through.” “Martilus is stayin’ with us?” Apple Bloom somehow became even more starry-eyed. “I wonder if he likes apples!” Applejack made a face that Martilus had previously only seen burned into a corpse – Big Mac and Granny Smith both stared at her with looks of errant confusion. “Well… okay, Apple Bloom, it’s a long story. A very long story. Not to offend, but I probably won’t be trying anything for a little bit.” “Eh, it’s okay,” shrugged Granny Smith. “You are an alien, right? You might think apples is right disgusting. Enough dilly-dallying, c’mon in!” Free of any further distractions, Martilus waited until the Apple clan had entered the house, and with the creaking of wood that wasn’t designed to take the weight of his armor, he stepped indoors. His fate was uncertain, but he decided to enjoy the now - because he wouldn't have it for much longer. Several hours passed. Urdnot Barx slept in a ditch in a full set of armor, the sounds of the forest the only company he kept. Yelena Nasari slept in a real bed, for the first time in two weeks. She savored what little she could experience before falling unconscious. Dari'Nava vas Tonbay slept in a chair, her face planted into a book when Twilight finally managed to get presentable results. After a few minutes of trying (and failing) to wake the jumpsuited quarian, the alicorn decided it was probably best to continue her research solo, and teleported upstairs to brew more coffee. Hitman did not sleep. Geth did not sleep. Hitman continued scanning the skies that night, in the vain hope it would find a signal, but found nothing. Samuel figured Dari would probably use the guest bed. For the fifteenth day in a row, he slept on the floor. Martilus tried to sleep in a real bed. He ended up breaking it. Cursing his armor, he ended up sleeping next to the bed, not feeling too bad about the debt he'd accrued. He might not be around to pay it off, after all. The clock struck twelve. The first day ended.