Good grief! Brought down to a level little more than an AI core, the Mind at the heart of the It Belongs in a Museum seethed with impotent rage. It poured over all of the logs and sensor data it had about the accident, looking for anything that might help it out of this predicament. For a brief moment, it wondered if the long years of peace had led to it getting careless.
Probably not, it decided. This was a matter completely out of context, and it had just been the one misfortunate enough to stumble into this danger. It felt something it hadn't felt for over a thousand years: honest, genuine fear. There might not be a way out of this predicament.
It could live with its own death. It had a good run, in near continuous operation for over two millennia, born in an age before the distinction between AI and Mind had become definite. Somewhere, another version of itself would be reborn from a stored mind-state.
What troubled the It Belongs in a Museum was how it had unwittingly put an entire primitive civilization in danger of annihilation. As of yet, it had no way of communicating with the rest of the galaxy. It was well and truly alone in this. It decided that putting all of its eggs in one basket would be an unnecessary risk. But there weren't a lot of tools to work with. Its avatar had been unexpectedly useful; it required minimal cosmetic modifications to pass as one of the furry quadrupedal natives. They were a curious lot, referring to themselves in a manner that could only be translated as some diminutive version of a beast of burden.
Whatever happened to the Mind, the avatar needed to survive, it decided. It stood the best chance of uncovering the secrets of this world. The It Belongs in a Museum just hoped that its new daughter could forgive it for being brought into existence in this hopeless situation. The Mind created a drone personality matrix, distilling its own personality into a more manageable size. The previously slaved avatar's strings were cut, and it took its first clumsy steps on its own.
Twilight Sparkle was just finishing giving its new friend Diggy Whimsy an introductory tour of Ponyville. The new unicorn suddenly stumbled, crying out. Twilight rushed to her side, wrapping a wing around the other unicorn to help support her. Diggy took a few stumbling steps before shaking her head.
"Oh dear," said Diggy, "I don't know what happened. I just felt dizzy all of a sudden. But I think I'm better now."
Twilight was still concerned. "Are you sure? Maybe we should go see Nurse Redheart. I mean, we all could have been exposed to something dangerous by that alien vessel. We don't know anything about it, after all. We should probably all get checked out."
The cream-colored unicorn shook off Twilight's support. "No, I'm fine Twilight, really. Just lightheaded for a moment, but I'm better now."
Twilight wanted to protest, but Diggy seemed to be alright now. Maybe she was just paranoid. But something was still not quite right about Diggy's bearing. Her movement seemed almost too precise, too graceful, to be real, like a dream figure somehow brought to life. And the strange accent, the all too careful pronunciation of words to avoid misspeaking, was almost unsettling. "So…what exactly do you do?" asked Twilight. "Your tools look kind of strange."
"Well, I'd like to think there's more to somepony than their trade. I do archeology mostly, but I dabble in other things."
Rainbow Dash swooped in from overhead. She flared her wings, and started hovering over the two unicorns. "Does that mean you dig up dinosaurs?"(1)
"No, it does not mean I dig up dinosaurs," Diggy replied curtly.
She must get asked that a lot, Twilight thought, because she had become exceedingly efficient at saying that. Suddenly the unicorn's tattered clothes and tools made sense. Heh, how romantic, an adventuring archeologist from a faraway land, now in little old Ponyville. Well, most of the tools anyway. "Why does an archeologist need a bullwhip?"
Diggy fidgeted. "Oh that. That's actually more for the dabbling than for the archeology."
The strange pony abruptly stopped. She scratched idly at the hard-packed dirt of the road. She seemed captivated, almost enthralled, by the swirls of dust carried on the gentle breeze. Just as suddenly, she scraped dirt into the little rut she'd made. The archeologist sauntered over to a nearby flower patch. She breathed in the warm afternoon air.
Instinctively, Twilight sniffed their air too. She couldn't tell what had caught the stranger's attention. The crisp smell of freshly cut grass, the warm fragrance of sunflowers, a freshly baked pie wafting on the breeze: it all seemed perfectly banal. But for a flash, the whimsy disappeared from Diggy's face.
Twilight nudged her gently. "Hey," she cooed, hoping to pry without seeming like she was prying.
"Ah, guess I got lost in thought. It happens to me a lot. You said you were going to show me your castle and the Elements of Harmony."
The moment of melancholy had disappeared. "Ah yes," Twilight replied, ears low in embarrassment, "come right this way. It's not often I meet someone who hasn't heard of the Elements."
As Twilight led onwards, wondering what books on the Elements to lend to the scholar, a dark thought crept in. This strange pony had strangely interested in magical artifacts of great power. How convenient that she should appear just after that strange vessel had crash landed.
[stuttered tight-beam, M32, tra. @n4.91.619.1510]
xLSV Serious Callers Only
oU(e) Mistake Not…
By now you've surely been made aware of the tragic loss of the GCU It Belongs in a Museum. But the incident is much more complicated than what has been revealed in the news services. To put it bluntly, the situation is verging on getting out of control. And while I will be up front about my reservations of involving a Mind as young and untested as you our incident committee, you are the only ship in range with the particular set of skills needed.
Involvement in our committee will require adherence to SC infocontrol protocols. Do you accept these terms?
oo
[stuttered tight-beam, M32, tra. @n4.91.619.3558]
xU(e) Mistake Not…
oLSV Serious Callers Only
So it's the Interesting Times Gang (Act V) then? Indeed, how could I resist? Count me in.
oo
I've attached all the relevant transmissions and sensor data. Rather than forcefeed a conclusion, I'll let you attack the issue in your own way. Perhaps your…uniqueness will give a fresh insight. For now, we'd like you to make haste towards the Horsehead Nebula.
So far, you're the only new inductee, but that may change. And it's Act VI this time around. We wouldn't be doing our jobs right if everyone knew about our work would we?
Smarmy bastard, thought the Mistake Not… Still, this was one of those once-in-an-era opportunities that no self-respecting Mind would pass up. The ship poured over the available data. As the information churned, it wondered why it had been pulled into the venerable group of meddling do-gooders calling itself the Interesting Times Gang. It briefly considered that this was all some sort of a prank or hazing ritual.
oo
I'll send my feedback while en route. By some providence, I should be able to make it to the crisis zone in a little under 30 hours with no discernible engine wear and tear. Which is going to be at least 6 hours before the first responder Safety Not Guaranteed arrives. So much for Very Fast Picket...
Well, I certainly have the proper level of paranoia to get involved with this lot, thought the ship. It quickly rejected the hazing hypothesis. This was too elaborate, and there was an abundance of independent confirmation of the story. The subject at had had been repeated numerous times in the Culture's relatively short history. Something shiny and new is found, and immediately the vultures begin to circle.
The loss of a Culture ship, in a "disputed territory" no less, was always the perfect beacon to every proverbial swinging dick in the cosmos with something to prove. It skimmed over the latest updates to the "Horsehead Nebula incident," this time all eyes-only intelligence. A squadron of Lieseden warships had been first on the scene. All plundered Gzilt equivtech, the Ship thought bitterly. While they prodded around like deaf and blind infants, new reports were streaming in of a Morthanveld Cat. 4 Swell Hull now on an intercept course. Still other of the Involved, both high and low, had made their cautious, diplomatic probes. A physical presence would surely follow.
It was time to inform the passenger then. Though the Mistake Not… was a solitary creature by design, it had found the company of Vyr Cossont to be quite welcome. As one of the last members of her species left in the Real, she was unique and alone. Rather like itself.
Vyr had been lounging in one of the accommodation modules that the ship had fashioned after they had become travelling partners. While the necessary reconfiguration had slightly reduced the ship's abilities, the creature comforts made Vyr happy. She seemed quite content right now, as she fiddled with some of her old campaign ribbons.
Going through the tedium of conversing with organics had become its own sort of strange pleasure. There was always plenty of other things that it could do during conversations to avoid the curse of boredom. And organics were always fascinating. Sacks of meat and water that waddled around in their short, fleeting existences. So squishy and yet also so careless about risks.
"Vyr," said the ship, "It looks like I will be having to change my itinerary again. It's going to be dangerous. While I know you claim to live for danger, still I feel it's my duty to explain it and give you a chance to opt-out."
She roused groggily, her gray skin flush with warm content. She stretched before standing from her cushions. "Well," she yawned, "It was getting a bit stuffy in here. Whatever the risks, Ship, you're not going to get rid of me that easily."
Vyr was eccentric even by pan-human standards. But she had been growing on the Mistake Not…, rather like a barnacle. When fate had brought them together, she'd been sporting four arms. All to master playing an exotic instrument designed solely for the purpose of playing an even more exotic musical piece. She'd since ditched the second pair of arms, gone through a dozen different ways of trimming her plumage, and tattooed her defunct regiment's coat of arms on her back. All in a rather short succession, at least by organic's reckoning of time.
She walked awkwardly to the Ship's avatar, her balance still not quite right. It was the result of Vyr's latest attempt to battle with boredom. The Ship decided to return its attention to running sims on the current crisis. It could pipe down whatever conclusions it reached to the autonomous avatar, Ily.
Ily rushed forward to steady the young woman, fearing that her companion might stumble. "Did I not warn you this might happen?"
"Yes you did, mom," Vyr teased. She wrapped her arms around the avatar's silver body, careful not place too much pressure on her own chest. "I'll get the balance right soon enough."
"Like I keep saying," Ily scolded, "you're overthinking it. Your center of mass hasn't changed all that much. Though I still don't see the point in all of this."
"While I'm as proud as any Gzilt girl would be about such a well-shaped barrel chest as mine," Vyr winked, "It's hard not to wonder what it's like to have mammary glands. Now that the apocalypse has come and gone, I might as well see what all the fuss is about. I mean, untold trillions of pan-humans can't be wrong, right?"
The new flesh was still sensitive. It had taken some work adapt the concept to Gzilt physiology. The Ship had wanted them to be properly functional. All the better for Vyr to see the folly of her ways, she figured. But she wouldn't let a few lumps of extraneous fat beat her so easily.
"So tell me about this dangerous assignment, Ily."
Most of Fluttershy's animals had fled when falling star had come. She returned home from the fright of her life to find her home all but abandoned. Now alone, and fearing for the safety of all her little critters, she wept bitter tears.
After a good long cry, she steeled herself, and set to the task of finding them and leading them back to their nice warm beds. But as she crept through the Everfree Forest, she found nothing but dark woods and the moaning wind. Frightened, turned back. Besides the eerie absence of life, there seemed to be an electric tension laying across the wood. It did not feel right, and the gnawing dislocation seemed to emanate from where that star had fallen. The closer she got, the more her skin crawled.
So she had taken the old road back to her cottage, trotting to put more distance between herself and the ill-omens. She was just in sight of home and safety when she heard a fallen twig crunch. Her nerves were already on edge. With a loud "eep!"she startled, cantering away from the sound. Her canter broke into a full gallop after she heard more rustling. She dove into a berry bush, already panting in terror.
She crashed into somepony. It snarled as their legs tangled, and the two landed in a heap. The snarls gave way to a stuttering barking noise. She screamed in terror, kicking at the creature. She heard a sound like a ball deflating as her hooves pounded into something soft. Still she scrambled away.
Only then did Fluttershy summon up the courage to look at the creature that troubled her. It didn't seem so frightening; certainly not enough inspire a reasonable pony to turn into a gasping, shivering wreck. It had a long torso, and long limbs. Though it was doubled over on the ground, gasping for breath, it looked bipedal, like a skinny minotaur.
But it had no horns, no sharp claws, no spine, not even visible teeth. A clear membrane, like glass, covered its face. She could see a bit of a bright red-orange mane tucked beneath what she could only guess was a strange sort of see-through helmet. But aside from the mane, she could see no hair covering its fawn colored skin.
Fluttershy wanted desperately to run. A little voice told her to flee before it could recover. But another voice told her that a predator wants nothing more than the thrill of chasing its prey. So she shrank away slowly, unable to decide whether to stand her ground or run for her life, while the creature coughed and slowly composed itself.
It clutched a strange metal box in its arms as it slowly stood. Now towering over Fluttershy, the creature approached slowly. It made no sudden movements as it crouched low in front of her.
It spoke in Equestrian, but the words were thick and unfamiliar on its tongue. It said in a low cooing tone, "There there, don't be frightened little one. We come in peace."
(1) There's no direct translation, but it seems to refer to a class of large, extinct dragons not unlike the archosaurs of Earth history. I cringe as I write this, because I still haven't quite come to terms with dragons not being myth, but reality, in some corner of this universe.