Chapter Two: Getting There
Second Contact
Chapter Two: Getting There
-----
Princess Luna knew change would happen while she was gone. It was a constant thing, sometimes taking hundreds or even thousands of years, or only a few seconds—sometimes subtle, barely noticeable, but sometimes so obvious you would need to be a blind and deaf foal not to notice it. In the five years since her return, Luna had taken note of scores of changes, ranging from the discontinued use of thee and thou to the problem that was on her mind most often.
Aliens existed.
The scholar in her was ecstatic. The ruler was cautious. The philosopher was curious. The combination of all of that gave her a pounding headache even as she pored over every document relating to the Constantinople. Every telescope photo, every Friendship mission recording, every report, schematic, thesis on everything about it.
It came from a star almost seven light-years away, carrying over a thousand humans in a frozen sleep. Pony scientists and engineers had managed to reverse engineer some of the technology on the ship—computers being the chief accomplishment. Once they had learned how the almost magic devices worked, the astronauts on the last few Friendship missions were able to download the entire human database, enough information to fill the Royal Archives a hundred times over.
For once, Luna was grateful that the Night Court didn’t receive nearly as much business as the Day Court. It allowed her to peruse that information at her leisure, and in the five years since she had first heard of them, she had become as much an expert on humans as anypony could be. The Constantinople’s computer had programs that she and thousands of ponies had used to learn their language, along with huge volumes of literature. A printed sample of the latter (something called “Hamlet”) was held in her telekinetic grip.
Her reading was interrupted by one of the guards that were stationed outside the throne room entering.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing in front of her. “A Doctor Ground Lens from the EPS is outside requesting an audience.”
“Show him in,” Luna commanded. The guard bowed again and showed Ground Lens into the throne room. Ground Lens rushed to the throne with a tape recorder in his teeth and bowed low, dropping it to the floor. Luna quirked an eyebrow up and looked down at the panting stallion. “What business have you, Doctor?”
“Message,” Ground Lens panted. “Message…from…humans.”
“You received a transmission?”
Ground Lens simply nodded and pressed the play button on the recorder.
“Nu Guane lrao iza’ samusjhek. Ran. Hush. Okay, begin recording. Ah… Greetings. This is Re—Ludel Yanvorren of the I.K.S. Robali speaking. We…snirk…we come in peace. Right, we are currently in orbit of your sun at a range of 470 light-minutes. The ship’s commander respectfully requests an audience with your leader. Please respond with a matching carrier and modulation. We hope to make contact soon.”
“That’s all we received, Your Majesty,” Ground Lens said, having finally caught his breath.
“I see,” Luna said. She was silent for a long while as she contemplated the news. Finally, the dark alicorn turned to one of her guards. “Wake my sister and tell her that we will have visitors. Doctor, prepare a response. Inform the humans that we will grant their audience.”
-----
Unless you were the captain or first officer, officers’ quarters on Kavican ships were rather uniform, with the only differences being personal possessions and decorations. They were three meters high by three wide and four meters deep. A door was centered in the bulkhead adjoining the corridor and slid into the wall. The opposite wall was taken up by a pair of bunk beds, Spartan in design but meeting the sailors’ needs. Drawers for clothing were set under each bed, and a ladder was affixed to the foot of the beds. At the head was a pair of lockers, one atop the other. Between the lockers and the bulkhead with the door were two identical desks with a plain aluminum chair and a computer terminal each.
Be-beep!
Yanvorren groaned and rolled over in his bunk, pulling the heavy blanket over his head. He still had yet to get any real amount of sleep after his last shift—Redel Yemslu’fi had taken the hour and a half he’d spent dealing with the messages personally (though catching him in the middle of a poker game probably hadn’t helped), and gave him the most tedious and mind-numbing, yet attention-demanding, tasks she could. He’d finally crawled into his bunk at nearly 1800, a good ten hours after he would normally get to bed, and fell asleep instantly.
Be-beep!
Yanvorren thrashed on his bunk, twisting around to glare at the door to his quarters. The clock glowed with a dull green light, almost mocking him with how little sleep he had gotten.
Be-beep be-beep!
“Fine!” he snarled, throwing the blanket off and rolling out of his bunk, and landed silently on the floor with practiced ease. His bunkmate stirred in the bed below his, but didn’t wake. Wearing just his underwear, Yanvorren slid the door open just enough to stick his head out into the blindingly-bright corridor.
“What?” he demanded shortly. Outside was an enlisted—Yanvorren’s eyes were still adjusting, so he couldn’t tell exactly what rank. The young sailor held a datapad out to him.
“From Communications, sir,” she said. “We were under orders to deliver any transmissions from the planet to you to be translated.”
Yanvorren stared at the datapad with bleary eyes for a long while before roughly taking it from the younger sailor’s hand.
“Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Return to your station, then.” Yanvorren closed the door before she could respond. He tossed the datapad onto his desk before climbing back up to his bunk and burrowing under his blanket. “It can wait a few hours.”
-----
“I’m not sure this is a wise idea,” Celestia told her sister at the breakfast table the next morning. “As much as we were able to learn from their ship, these humans are still unpredictable. I wish you had at least informed me before making the decision.”
“Sister, we have an opportunity that may not come again,” Luna countered. “It would be shameful to waste it.”
“And what happens when they arrive and find out that not a single one of the people on that ship was alive when it reached us? What if they blame us for their deaths? They could wipe Equestria off the face of the planet.”
“They are a reasonable people, Tia,” Luna said sharply. She couldn’t let this slip away when she had the chance to finally meet one of the beings she had studied so extensively. “As long as we explain to them, and show them the records, they will understand.”
“Do you not remember their records? Their wars and weapons and greed? They could—” Celestia stopped abruptly, and spent several mouthfuls picking the right words to put to her feelings. “I simply cannot stomach the thought of them hurting any of our little ponies.”
“Trust me, Tia,” Luna pleaded. “Trust that I know the risks, and that the potential benefits they could bring are worth it.”
“I trust you, Luna. I don’t trust them.” Celestia finished her breakfast and quietly sipped her tea. “I trust you. Since we can hardly recall a radio transmission, I suppose we will give the humans their audience. But—not in Canterlot. I will not have them causing a panic in the capitol.”
“Where then, sister?” There was a long pause. “Surely you don’t mean….”
“Who else would be better? Get some rest, Luna. I’ll send a letter to Twilight.”
-----
“’Greetings, humans. This is Doctor Ground Lens of the ESP. We gladly welcome you to our planet, and on behalf of Her Majesty Princess Luna, we grant your request of an audience. I must inquire as to how soon you may arrive so that we may adequately prepare.’”
Raklralen looked up from the datapad that Yanvorren had handed him. He took careful note of the newly-made ludel’s appearance: there were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was unkempt.
“Is this accurate?” he asked.
“Word for word,” Yanvorren answered, shoulders squared and staring out the window behind the guane’s desk. Raklralen read it again.
“I’ll tell the Asamusgo,” he said and stood, leading Yanvorren into the Command.
“Helm, make ready to disengage from the Jumpgate,” he barked. “Engine room, prepare to engage main drives. Communications, inform the Jumpgate crew that we’re going in-system.” The crew jumped to respond to the orders, tapping keypads and tugging levers. Outside, the docking clamps holding the Robali to the Jumpgate’s docking arm released, and maneuvering thrusters gently pushed the cruiser away. She slowly turned to face their destination, not even visible in the transplast forward window, as the twin engines burned an intense yellow. The Robali gracefully accelerated to the tiny planet, steadily picking up speed. Inside the Command, Raklralen watched with no small amount of pride in his crew.
“Helm, what’s our ETA?”
“Eighty hours, sir.”
“Good. Ludel Yanvorren, pass that along, as well as my thanks. Also, inform them that we can gladly host any delegation they wish to send, if it is more convenient for them.”
“Yes, sir.”
-----
My Faithful Student,
A matter of great importance has arisen. The Equestria Space Program has received a signal from an alien vessel that we believe to be crewed by humans. They are on their way here, and I have chosen you to be our official representative. I know that you will do your best to make them feel welcome. I will send another letter with details as I receive them.
With much confidence in you,
Princess Celestia
“Humans? Coming? Here? Official Representative? Me!?” Twilight Sparkle’s violet eyes grew wide with a combination of fear, anxiety, pride, and excitement. Her mentor, one of the rulers of Equestria, had chosen her to greet the first live aliens pony-kind had ever seen. She began frantically running around her home in the Ponyville Library, horn glowing as she tore open drawers and cabinets to find supplies.
“Oh, so much to do. So much to plan. Spike? Spike! Where is that lazy dragon?”
“I’m right here, Twilight,” said Spike, padding into the room with a stack of paper clutched in his claws. He calmly took a seat at a desk and pulled the typewriter closer. As he fed a sheet of paper into it, he looked up to his caretaker and best friend. “What do you need?”
“I need to make a checklist of things to do to prepare for the arrival of a species much more advanced than ponies. Oh, no, I don’t know how long before they arrive. We’ll need a greeting party, and food, music, decorations…. I’ll need to research human customs. Oh, I don’t think any of our friends speak English. Is there a translation spell?”
Through all of that, Spike only sighed and kept pecking at the keys, each letter hitting the paper with a satisfying tak! He was long-used to Twilight’s ramblings, and was able to pick out the important parts from all the chatter.
“We just got some books last month on humans. Spike! Where are they?”
“They’re all checked out,” Spike said. “Lyra practically ripped them right out of the box.”
“We’ll have to get them back. Oh! Lyra’s a musician—”
“Is that what they call freeloading off your marefriend these days?”
“—maybe she can help with the greeting.”
“Twilight, I think you need to calm down for a second,” Spike said, putting a comforting claw on her shoulder. “There’s plenty of time to plan it out. And if you’re calm and collected and make a good plan, then everything will go the way you want it to. Okay?”
“Okay,” Twilight let out several deep breaths. “Thanks, Spike. I don’t know what I’d do without my Number One Assistant.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Spike grinned playfully.
-----
Princess Celestia glanced at the sun through one of the tall windows of her throne room. It was low in the sky, slowly falling beyond the horizon. She knew, as she had for nearly as long as she had been alive, that she did not actually raise and lower it. Instead, their planet, Gaea, spun on an axis and orbited the huge ball of plasma millions of miles away. It was common knowledge even in the very beginnings of Equestria. While it was true that she had never raised the sun (something simply too massive to move, even with all the power of an alicorn), she and her sister played a vital role in ensuring their fragile little planet stayed safe.
For reasons science and magic had yet to discover, Gaea had a pronounced wobble. The optimum tilt for a planet its size was around twenty to twenty-five degrees. Without Celestia (and Luna, now that she was back on the throne) constantly stabilizing it, the tilt would oscillate radically from zero to almost a hundred-eighty degrees. Equestria—the entire world—would be devastated. Forests turned to deserts, ice caps melted to oceans, grassy plains frozen into tundra.
The ponies of the distant past knew that to be true. When Celestia and Luna first ruled, everypony understood exactly what they did. Then, as time passed and the two sisters became more closely associated with their respective astral bodies, their titles of “Caretakers of the World” became “Caretakers of the Sun and Moon.” Eventually, that evolved into the belief held as recently as a hundred years before that the sisters could actually move the sun and moon through the sky. Of course, the sisters had denied the claims, but saw the need in their citizens’ hearts to have a reason to treat them like goddesses—their need to have somepony to look up to and worship. So, after a while, they decided to let the ponies do as they wanted.
Celestia turned back to her tea, gently swishing it around in the cup. She remembered the mild panic when her little ponies learned the truth. She’d been forced to retrieve barely-legible parchments dating back hundreds of years to prove her story. Eventually, the ponies had accepted it, and many were surprised to find that their daily lives hadn’t really changed. And so, life in Equestria went back to status quo.
There were other changes Celestia was much more appreciative of. She’d found that regular breaks during the Day Court went a long way towards improving her mood, especially towards the end of the day. For a whole ten minutes, the throne room was forcibly emptied except for her, a pair of guards, and a tea service. The alabaster alicorn sighed contentedly, raising the strong, fragrant drink to her lips when the doors slammed open with an ear-shattering bang. The teacup fell from Celestia’s interrupted spell, crashing to the floor with a splash and the delicate tinkle of dreams being crushed under an Ursa Major’s behind.
Celestia looked up from the tragedy, hiding the tears welling in her eyes, to see a Pegasus wearing the Royal Guard uniform bowing before her.
“Your Majesty,” he said quickly, retrieving a letter from a bag under his wing. “Message from the ESP.”
Celestia grabbed it with her magic and held the letter in front of her.
Transcript of message received at 15:12:
“Hello again. This is Ludel Yanvorren [no translation—sender’s name] of the I.K.S. Robali. We graciously accept your invitation and will be in orbit of your planet approximately seventy-two hours after you receive this message. I have been asked to inform you that we have facilities to host an envoy onboard the Robali should the need arise. I will be keeping in contact as we approach, so we can work out details over the next few days. Awaiting your response.”
Your Majesty, we estimate the arrival to occur between 15:00 and 15:30 this Thursday. We will of course keep you appraised of any further communications, and would happily transmit any response you wish to send.
Doctor Night Light
Director
Equestria Space Program
Celestia read through the letter again. After a moment of consideration, she took the pen and paper offered her by one of her guards and quickly scrawled a list of titles.
“Go to the Archives and retrieve copies of all of these documents,” she ordered the Pegasus who had brought the message. He bowed and rushed out of the room, leaving Celestia to carefully write her next letter.
“’Ludel Yanvorren,’” she said aloud as she wrote.
-----
Leonidus Rex, King of the Griffons, was beginning to show his age. His fur, once sleek and bronze, had dulled to a dingy brown. Several clumps of his dishwater feathers were missing. Numerous scars crossed his lanky form. Many were recent, from Challenges to his right to rule. One attempted usurper had even taken one of Leonidus’s eyes—a leather patch covered the empty socket.
But the aging griffon was still King.
Leonidus sat at the head of the table in the Great Hall of his castle. Braziers and torches burned bright to illuminate the expansive room. Stone columns so big three griffons wouldn’t be able to touch their talons around them supported the ceiling high above them, and tapestries portraying their history hung from the walls. Along the table were the King’s Advisors, sons, and the few friends he still had. They all tore into their meals, holding the roast legs of some unfortunate beast by the bone and ripping off chunks of meat with their beaks.
Leonidus ate, but kept his eye roving along the table. Aeolus, his eldest and favorite son, had mentioned some whisperings of dissent, and the old King could not afford to be surprised by anything.
That was why, half a second after the doors to the Great Hall were suddenly thrown open, Leonidus had thrown himself from his chair, slipped his arm through the straps of his shield, and bared his talons at the messenger that was bowing and presenting a scroll to him. The old King had to calm himself as he realized that it was not an attempt on his life and smoothed out his feathers as he took the scroll. A low murmuring had starting among the griffons at the table.
“Today it was a messenger,” Aeolus said. The table fell silent. “Tomorrow, it could be an assassin. See how the King is ready for any threat!”
Leonidus spared his son a brief thankful look before turning his attention to the scroll.
Your Majesty the King of the Griffons, Lord of the Northern Skies, Leonidus Rex
Informants in Equestria have relayed to us that their government has made contact with live humans. The human ship will be in orbit in three days’ time. We will keep You informed as we receive more information.
Your humble servants
Talos, Office of Espionage
Rhea, Office of Espionage
Leonidus read the scroll twice more before a wicked grin stretched his beak. Finally, a chance to do what that meddlesome crow of a pony princess had denied him all those years ago! He turned his attention to the messenger.
“Go to the Office of Aerial Warfare,” he ordered. “Tell them to ready the Titan rocket.”
-----
Yanvorren pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned softly to himself. He was at a desk in one of the engineering labs on Deck Six with a Tumek-44 Heavy Pulse Laser Rifle dismantled in front of him. Holding a control circuit under a high-power magnifying glass, he squinted slightly at an effort to both find a fault with the component and stave off the headache pounding at his temples like timpani. Finally, he found a tiny, almost microscopic blackened spot on the circuit.
“Found you,” he said, reaching for the computer terminal’s keyboard and typing on it one-handed. “Fault with Rifle T-44-153401 confirmed as damaged control chip. Solution, replace component.”
He stood and rummaged through the cabinets and the multitudes of tiny drawers until he found the circuit he was looking for, and quickly had the rifle reassembled. At the far end of the room was a solid grey block on a stand that held it at about chest height. Yanvorren picked up the rifle—a heavy, somewhat cumbersome weapon with three barrels arranged in a triangle, a thick grip, and a tiny screen to display the settings above the handle. He turned it to narrow focus, high intensity, and shouldered it with a grunt. Aiming at the grey block, he flicked the safety off (the heavy weapon’s capacitors quickly charged with a high-pitched whine) and mashed his thumb on the trigger. Each of the three barrels fired in rapid succession, releasing a tightly-packed burst of x-rays that bored deep into the grey block with a crack of thunder.
“Perfect,” Yanvorren said as he flicked the safety back on and laid the rifle on the workbench. “And with that, my shift is—”
“Command to Engineering Lab Two.”
“—done.” Yanvorren felt his eye twitch as he tapped the intercom by the door. “Engineering Lab Two, Ludel Yanvorren.”
“We just picked up another transmission from the planet. Guane wants you to translate and report as soon as you can.”
Yanvorren sighed. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
-----
“How could there not be a translation spell?” Twilight looked up from her checklist, both ears aimed at her assistant. He held the Princess’s latest letter, only the top sheet in nearly half a ream of papers.
“Translation spells are very complex pieces of magic, Spike,” she said. “They rely on a matrix of sounds and symbols being overlaid on the one you already have. It basically rewrites your brain’s vocabulary and syntax, even if only temporarily. It takes a lot of magic to perform, but even more time and effort to actually create one.”
Twilight started pacing the room and chewing on her lip as she continued, “Aside from myself, I only know of two ponies in Ponyville that are fluent in English. Rarity speaks a little bit, but not enough to really help…. Oh, a translation spell would be unbelievably useful right now.”
“What about this ‘Knowledge Transference Spell’?” Spike asked, holding the Princess’s letter up to his caretaker. She snatched it away with her magic, reading over it quickly, and then took the rest of the papers from Spike’s claws.
“That could work,” she muttered after quickly skimming the first few pages. “’This spell’s main purpose is the transference of knowledge or skills from one pony to another by copying memories of learning and using the knowledge or skill in question and implanting the copies into the recipient’s mind.’ Spike, this is perfect! I can just use this spell to share my English lesson memories with the others!”
“Huh. That’s cool, I guess.” Spike shrugged and glanced at the clock by the door. “Weren’t we supposed to talk to Rarity about the decorations today? Like, right now?”
“Oh, I completely forgot!” Twilight grabbed her checklist and stuffed it and the Princess’s letter and documents into her saddlebag and galloped out the door, pausing only long enough for Spike to hop onto her back. They quickly made their way to the town square, where ponies were already hard at work preparing for the arrival of the aliens. Streamers and bows were hung from buildings. Ponies were pulling up the few stray weeds that had grown in the streets. Twilight happily trotted towards Town Hall, tossing pleased smiles and praise to the ponies she passed until she spotted the white mare raising a wide banner over the main doors.
“Hiya Rarity!” she called cheerfully. The purple-maned unicorn turned just enough to see her friend.
“Twilight, darling, I’m so glad you’ve arrived,” she said. Rarity gestured to the banner, which she had affixed to the wall of Town Hall. “What do you think?”
“It’s…um…,” Twilight searched for a good descriptor. The banner, made from a light blue fabric, had “Welcome!” in a darker blue, flowing, elegant script. It was also in English, and while it was certainly well-made, she had been expecting something more intricate from her fashionista friend. “It’s certainly…succinct.”
“Hmmm.” Rarity tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at the banner. “I would have put more on it—something like, ‘Welcome to our fabulous town, human friends’ or some such, but I simply could not remember the words for it, so I decided that a short, simple message with no possible chance of misinterpretation would be best. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah,” Twilight said. “It’s perfect for that. Thanks Rarity.”
“Think nothing of it,” Rarity said, waving a hoof dismissively. “I must admit that I’m very curious about them—especially how their fashion must have changed since the Constantinople left. Surely a hundred years must have brought forth marvelous new ideas in fashion, especially in a species that wears clothes all of the time.”
“We’ll get to see tomorrow night. Anyway, it looks like you have everything taken care of here. I’ll go check on Applejack and Rainbow Dash to make sure the food and weather will be ready.”
“Best of luck, darling,” Rarity said with a poorly-hidden scoff. “You know how those two ruffians can be.”
-----
“They sent coordinates for a landing site,” Yanvorren said, standing in front of Raklralen's desk for what felt like the hundredth time that week. “It’s a rural area about eighty kilometers from their nation’s capitol. Princess Celestia—their leader—has asked that we minimize our delegation and not bring weapons.”
“I see,” Raklralen said, reading the datapad that the engineer cum translator had handed him. He looked up and observed the young ludel. Despite a few issues with discipline (the betting pool he’d started among the enlisted being an example), he was a hard worker and a good officer. Indeed, he’d only gotten positive reviews on his task performance. Raklralen kept this in mind as he took in the human’s almost-glazed, drooping eyes; slumped, slightly swaying posture; and disheveled hair. He sighed softly. “Ludel, when was the last time you slept?”
“Sometime yesterday, sir.”
“Explain.”
“I had maintenance and diagnostics to perform, sir.”
Raklralen’s ridge flashed with surprise. “You’re still—of course you are. I should have made myself clear: you’ve been reassigned, Ludel. You’re our official translator until someone can be sent from Kavic. You do not have to keep working engineering.”
“With respect, sir, I signed on to be an engineer, not a diplomat.”
“You signed on to serve the Empire,” Raklralen said quickly, with a tone that would allow no argument. “I’ll be happy to bump you down to Luedan once this whole mess is over with, and you can spend the rest of your career scrubbing fluid conduits, but right now, the Empire needs you to be a translator, so you’re a translator. Is that understood?”
Yanvorren grit his teeth and stood up a bit straighter. “Yes, Guane.”
“Good. I’ll talk to Redel Yemslu’fi about your reassignment. In the meantime, inform Princess Celestia of our standard landing party procedure and make our offer to host a delegation of theirs again. It’ll be at least ten hours before we get a response, so after that get some sleep. Consider it an order.”
“Yes, Guane.”
-----
Twilight sighed in contentment as she slid herself down into the bath, eyes sliding closed as she wiggled into a comfortable spot. Her friends were around her, some already in the huge tub that dominated this room of the Ponyville Spa. Perfumed steam and soft music filled the air as all the ponies present settled in for a few hours of pampering and relaxation.
“Thanks again for all your help, girls,” she said.
“Tweren’t nothin’,” Applejack said, shrugging before jumping into the bath as well. “It’s a big important day, what with the humans finally comin’ to get their ship.”
“You can always count on us, Twilight,” Rarity said. She was wrapped tightly in seaweed and up to her chin in the bath. Fluttershy sat next to her, eyes closed as she frowned softly.
“What do we tell them about the people on the first ship?” she asked, seeming to shrink in on herself as she spoke. “They were all dead when Friendship One went up there. What if the humans get angry?”
“The Princesses said to show them the logs and records of the Friendship missions,” Twilight explained. “She had them shipped here, but I still need to get them from the train depot in the morning. Anyway, that should convince them that it was an accident.”
“Ah,” Rainbow scoffed from her place near the rafters. “We can take ‘em. Just a few thunderclouds and they’ll be down like nothing.”
“Rainbow, the Constantinople was powered by a miniature sun,” Twilight looked up to the hovering Pegasus. “And that was technology from a hundred years ago. Who knows what they could be capable of now?”
“I’m sure they’ll be reasonable people,” Rarity said with a dismissive wave. “No need to get ourselves worked up now that we finally have a chance to relax.”
“Rarity’s right,” Twilight said. “They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. The town’s ready. Everything’s set up and waiting. Everything will go just fine.”
Though she smiled confidently as she said it, Twilight couldn’t help but hear a seed of doubt. She chewed her lip as she began mentally cataloging every possible way that the next day could be their last.
-----
Princess Luna looked over the transcripts of the messages both sent and received over the past two days. As the ship grew steadily closer, the response times shrank from eight hours to only two, allowing for more rapid communication. By the time they were within the moon’s orbit, the delay would be negligible and they would have near-instant communication. She would finally be able to speak with them directly instead of relying on the go-betweens in the ESP Headquarters’ basement. She moved on to the transcript of the most recent transmission, which Ground Lens had said required her attention.
Princess Celestia. I have been asked to inform you that standard landing party procedure is to send six crewmembers on one shuttle, with all carrying sidearms. This is not an act of aggression—just standard precautionary procedure. You understand the need to be able to defend ourselves should anything happen. That’s not saying anything about you or your people, but there could be…I dunno…a bear attack or something. Anyway. We’d also welcome a delegation of yours aboard the Robali if that makes things more convenient for you. We await your response.
Luna sighed softly. Her sister would not like the humans bringing weapons. The humans would not like not bringing their weapons. A compromise would be needed. Perhaps if they were to not bring ranged weapons? Luna would discuss it with her sister in the morning. There was also the possibility of seeing the humans’ ship. Surely it would be a technological marvel—she’d done the math herself and found that the Robali was traveling at a tenth of the speed of light! Even the most powerful rockets the ESP had produced could barely achieve escape velocity.
Luna glanced at the clock—the ship would be in orbit in a little over sixteen hours. She had faith in Twilight Sparkle and her friends, but that didn’t stop the Princess of the Night from wishing she would be able to meet the humans herself. Both Celestia and the Captain of the Guard refused point blank to let either of the sisters leave Canterlot, or to allow the humans into the city. The best she could hope for was to suspend the Night Court for a few days and hole up by the radio in the ESP basement. She’d be well within her boundaries (forced upon her as they were) to do that.
“Perhaps I shall,” she mused to herself. As excited as she was, she doubted she would be able to sleep today anyway.
-----
The top deck of the Robali held the guest lounge, officers’ mess, and guest and officers’ quarters. The quarters were grouped into five rooms with two bunks each and a shared bathroom. Kavicans lacked sweat glands, and so took several days to develop an offensive odor. Most only bathed twice a week. Over time, this tendency evolved into groups such as family units or close friends bathing together, and the inclusion of a single bathtub big enough to easily hold four for each bathroom in the officers’ quarters.
Yanvorren, being human, did have sweat glands, and since a good portion of his job was crawling through cramped and hot maintenance tunnels, they were well-used. He’d bathe daily, using the time to do whatever reports he needed to with the help of his personal editor-type datapad, which had a small keypad to input data. A few of the other officers would join him occasionally, including a pair from his team in Engineering.
The night before they would reach the planet, he was soaking in the tub, filled to chest-height with steamy water. He held a standard datapad in his hand, brown eyes flicking over the yellow-on-black display. The door sliding open didn’t even prompt a twitch of reaction.
“There you are,” Re’dan Tea’mahk said. She had a shallow bucket with a rag and soap in one arm, and a towel wrapped around her flared hips. Yanvorren looked up and nodded to her, barely registering the fact that besides the towel, Tea’mahk was hatching-day naked. She quickly went about wetting the rag and scrubbing herself clean, while Yanvorren’s eyes returned to his datapad. She was sitting on one of the low benches, facing away from him and showing the broad, pale yellow stripes on her back and shoulders. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was uncomfortable enough for Tea’mahk to break it. “We heard about your promotion. Two ranks at once?”
“It’s just because I can translate what the humans on the planet are saying,” Yanvorren said. “Not like I earned it.”
“Still, you finally outrank me.”
“Not the point. Supposed to be maintaining the data network or something, not acting like a glorified secretary.”
Tea’mahk began rubbing the soapy rag over her arms and chest, efficient but at the same time graceful. Yanvorren forced himself to focus on the datapad, and so didn’t see when she removed the towel and started rubbing the rag over her lithe legs.
“I was fixing a console in the Command earlier,” she said offhandedly. “Apparently the Empress herself is coming. Luedan Kolarknorr said that the Dufojorr Avoyigo will be here in ten days.”
“Huh.”
Tea’mahk stretched her arms over her head, putting her slender figure on full display. With a slight, feminine grunt, she looked over her shoulder at Yanvorren, only to see him staring intently at his datapad. With a sigh, she decided to get his attention with a more direct approach.
“What’s on the ‘pad? Another letter from the humans?”
“Nah,” he said, not even looking up. “It’s that book you loaned me. Tooth and Talon.”
“Yan, I gave that to you four months ago.”
“Been busy, but since Raklralen won’t let me do the work I’m supposed to, and the transmissions are still taking an hour or so to travel, I’ve had some free time.” he said. Tea’mahk sighed and tossed her towel onto the row of hooks next to the tub, alongside his. She stepped into the bath, letting out a happy trill as the hot water seeped into her muscles, sore from seven hours of working on her feet. He didn’t even seem to notice when she let her tail drift into his lap and lay across his legs. Instead, he kept reading.
“So what do you think?” Tea’mahk asked.
“Almost done with it. Not really one for romances,” he said. “I like the style of this one, though. It’s sexy without being racy. Kinda…elegant, if a romance novel can be.”
“What about the characters?”
“Good concept, I think. They’re believable. They’re flawed and make mistakes, but I think it’s kinda pushing it with just how oblivious the male lead is. No one’s that stupid.”
“Yeah,” Tea’mahk said, her ridge practically glowing with disbelief. She shifted a bit, leaning back and putting her arms on the rim of the tub while crossing her legs. “Yeah, you’d have to be some kind of stupid to not get signals that blatant.”
“I know, right?”
“What about the idea of it? Think they could work as a couple? Even in an interspecies relationship?” Tea’mahk uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, almost rubbing them over his, but he stayed focused on the datapad.
“Well, yeah, if they cared enough about each other,” Yanvorren said. “I figure it would be just like any other relationship—they’ve got differences, but if they work through it, they can make it work.”
Tea’mahk was actually glad he wasn’t looking at her—her ridge was the limiest, happiest green it had ever been.
“So you think a human and a Kavican could work as a couple?” she asked. He shrugged.
“I just said so, didn’t I?” Yanvorren couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit. Tea’mahk took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She mustered up all the courage she could and opened her mouth to speak…only to close it sharply when the intercom buzzer rang. Yanvorren hauled himself out of the bath, mumbling, “I got it.”
“Command to Ludel Yanvorren.”
“Yanvorren here,” he said after mashing the button on the intercom by the door. “New transmission?”
“Yes sir. We just received it.”
“Okay. I’ll access it in my quarters. Let me know if any others arrive.” Yanvorren grabbed his towel from beside the tub and quickly wrapped it around his waist. “Sorry, Tea’. Duty calls.”
And with that, he left and closed the bathroom door behind him. Tea’mahk sat still in the bath, staring at the door with one eyelid twitching involuntarily. Her ridge flashed paper-white as she slammed a fist on the side of the tub and cursed, “Prrak!”
-----
The next day, the Command Staff had gathered in the conference room once again. Their destination was much closer, to the point of being visible in the room’s forward-facing window. Raklralen stared at the blue-and-green marble while the department heads chatted with each other, poked at datapads, or sat in silent contemplation.
Finally, Raklralen took his place at the head of the table, his back to the window in the forward bulkhead. The rest of the officers stopped what they were doing and faced their guane.
“Navigation,” he said simply, “report.”
“We’ll be in orbit in six hours, Guane.”
“Good. Orders from the Asamusgo are to make face to face contact as soon as possible and maintain peaceful relations until the Empress arrives in nine days. We’ll send a diplomatic landing party to the surface as soon as we’ve established orbit. The team will consist of Adel Jarlangor, Ludel Yanvorren, two members of security and the shuttle crew. Jarlangor will be in command, and Yanvorren will be the official translator. Yanvorren will also make official first contact.”
For his part, Yanvorren felt uncomfortable. The only times he’d been in that room before were to change light bars or debug the display screen. This time, he stood next to the display with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for his cue to speak.
“With respect, sir,” Redel Havakin leaned closer to the guane, but still spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I do not believe that the ludel is an appropriate assignment. We should send someone more experienced with diplomatic processes.”
“Ludel Yanvorren is the only crewmember fluent in a Terran language,” Jarlangor said in a sharp tone. “He will also not be leading any negotiations. As translator, his only duty will be as a go-between. I will be leading the mission.”
Havakin shot a look at Yanvorren, who stubbornly stared out at the planet ahead of them. The science officer sat back in her chair. Wanting for forestall any other outbursts, Raklralen gestured to Yanvorren.
“Ludel. You’ve been talking with the humans on the planet. You and Jarlangor have worked out the mission itinerary with the natives. Explain it.”
“Er…yes, Guane.” Yanvorren tapped at the display’s control pad and brought up one of the scans of the planet’s surface. The resolution was poor, but the officers could make out what looked like a small village nestled between a lake and a forest. The blurriness didn’t allow any more details than that, but Yanvorren pointed to a grassy area at the outskirts. “This is our landing site. Local time will be 15:25 when we establish orbit. A group of residents will meet us there when we land and will start a tour of their town at 16:00. At 18:00 will be a welcome banquet, and then we’re expected to stay the night. At 8:00 tomorrow, the landing party will return to the Robali with the welcoming party for a tour of the ship.”
“Good,” Raklralen said. “While they’re aboard, the humans will be treated with all the respect and courtesy due to any representative of another government. Understood? Dismissed.”
-----
Twilight looked out over the ponies gathered near the Ponyville Tower and nodded to herself in satisfaction. She and her friends were ready to greet the aliens and simply had to wait for their arrival. As the Tower’s clock struck three, she turned to face her friends.
“According to Princess Celestia’s letter, the human ship should be in orbit any moment now,” she said. The lavender unicorn started pacing in front of the other ponies. “Applejack, how’s the banquet coming along?”
“Big Mac should be takin’ the last cart to the square right now. We’ve got the whole spread ready for them.” Applejack winced and held a hoof to her forehead. “I still got a bit of a headache from that spell you did.”
“It’ll wear off after a couple of hours,” Twilight said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Rarity? Pinkie?”
“The decorations are all in place, and absolutely fabulous if I do say so myself.”
“And the music’s all set! Vinyl mixed up something special for today and it sounds absoluterrific!”
“Perfect,” Twilight said. She levitated her checklist and ticked off the last few items with a fountain pen. She tucked the list away and stood with her friends, facing the area that had been cleared and marked as a landing pad. “Any word from the Princess, Spike?”
“Nothing yet,” the little dragon said with a shrug. “She said she’d send a letter when the humans con—burp!” He was interrupted by a belch of green fire. A scroll materialized out of it and fell into his waiting claw. Spike quickly unrolled it and read it aloud. “’My Dearest Twilight Sparkle, We have just received word that the human ship is in orbit, and will be sending their delegation soon. They’ll land within half an hour of launch. Best of luck, Princess Celestia.’ Well, that settles that. They’ll be here soon.”
“Perfect,” Twilight beamed at her friends. “Now, we just wait for them to show up.”
-----
Raklralen slowly paced between the consoles in the Command. The planet, not even visible four days before, now filled the forward viewport. Sunlight sparkled off the oceans as clouds wisped across its surface. No matter where, or how many times he saw it, the aging Kavican always found the sight of a new planet awe-inspiring. He stood in the center of the Command and leaned on a nearby railing.
“Helm,” he said, “put us in synchronous orbit over the landing site. Redel Havakin, ready a pair of atmospheric probes, but don’t launch them yet. We don’t want to scare our human friends. Ludel Yanvorren, open a channel with your contact on the planet.”
The crew jumped to carry out their orders. Yanvorren, sitting at the main communication switchboard, turned a few dials and put on the earpiece.
“They’re responding,” he reported, turning back to Raklralen.
“Tell them we’re in orbit and ready to send the landing party.”
“Yes, sir.” Yanvorren said, relaying the message. “They say the greeting party is ready for us.”
“Good. Tell them that the shuttle will launch as soon as it’s ready, then get down to the launch bay.”
Yanvorren quickly relayed the message and threw the earpiece into its holder. He stood, saluted Raklralen, and then made his way to the lift that ran the height of the ship. It carried him to the bottom deck, which was home to the Robali’s small craft maintenance and storage bay, as well as a pair of magnetic accelerator tracks that would launch the ship’s compliment of fighters and shuttles. Yanvorren stepped out of the lift and into the maintenance bay, a huge room filled with small craft and mechanics. He nodded to his bunkmate, one of the engineers that worked to make sure each shuttle and fighter was always ready to fly.
“Adel!” Yanvorren called, spotting the First Officer near a shuttle. It was a standard personnel transport: a somewhat blocky body, three meters wide and tall by five long, with flattened ends and four engines on gimbals to steer and power it—one pair at the tail, in sockets that kept them flush with the hull, and the other pair behind the twin pilot’s bubbles on either side of the nose. The Robali’s flag was painted onto the sides, just behind the forward engines. The nose itself opened up into the boarding ramp, which a pair of enlisted were using to carry a crate inside. Jarlangor was standing next to it, checking off things on a datapad as Yanvorren rushed forward and saluted him.
“You’re late,” Jarlangor said, barely looking up enough to return the salute. “Get inside and strap in. Launch is in two minutes.”
Yanvorren wanted to retaliate, but limited himself to inaudible grumbling and stomping a bit harder than necessary as he boarded the shuttle. Inside were three rows of benches, with two seats on each side, back- and headrests for each, and a narrow aisle down the middle. The crate had been secured between the last two benches, flanked by the two enlisted that the engineer saw were from security. Yanvorren chose a seat at the front, strapping himself in securely. He wiggled a bit to get comfortable and looked up just in time to see two more Kavicans enter, followed by Jarlangor.
“Oh, prrak,” Yanvorren said as he recognized the two that straddled the seats in the pilot’s bubbles. They were sisters, Ta’kozilran and Fiszilran, and while they were both very good pilots, neither was known for giving the smoothest rides. He’d gotten more than a few reports as long as his arm from the small craft engineers about problems they found in ships that the Zilran sisters piloted—problems almost always caused by overzealous and reckless maneuvering. Yanvorren quickly checked all of his straps again, tightened them so much his fingers and toes went numb, and then started praying. “Vorrjorr Robali, please watch over us as we make this ill-conceived attempt at a first contact instead of some humans who trained and volunteered for it. I very much would like to make it back to Kavic alive, and frankly, after six years of making sure you’re the best-maintained ship in the entire military, you owe me.”
“Are you seriously praying to the spirit of the ship?” one of the enlisted asked, his ridge flashing humorously. “Seriously? Most Kavicans don’t even do that anymore.”
“You’d pray to anyone that would listen if you saw the reports I saw about Wingus and Dingus up there,” Yanvorren spat back. There was a low hum as the shuttle’s reactor powered up, and the nose of the shuttle pulled closed, sealing them inside the cabin with no viewports except for the pilot’s bubbles, which were blocked from Yanvorren’s view. The ship lurched to the side, signaling that the loading track was taking them to the airlock. A quick exchange of loading arms, doors, and gases later, and it was loaded onto one of the catapult tracks. Yanvorren screwed his eyes shut, holding his straps in a white-knuckle grip. The sensation of weightlessness made him queasy (there was no artificial gravity system inside the launch tunnel) and he was still silently pleading with any spirit that would listen.
“Remember, Redel Ta’kozilran,” Jarlangor said. “We’re just going to the landing site. No need to show off.”
“Yes sir,” Ta’kozilran said with a dejected sigh. She turned to the shuttle’s radio. “Shuttle Four to Launch Control, we are ready.”
“Launch Control to Shuttle Four, accelerator activation in three…two…one…launch!”
Yanvorren was flattened against his seat as the shuttle rocketed forward, until a fraction of a second later when a dull clunk signaled that they’d been released from the catapult and were now free of the Robali. Yanvorren kept his eyes clenched shut, not relaxing at all as the shuttle fell into the atmosphere. The trip was surprisingly smooth, and Yanvorren didn’t even really feel they were moving until Fiszilran spoke up.
“Entering the troposphere,” she said. “Time to target, six minutes.”
“Ludel Yanvorren will exit first,” Jarlangor said. “Once he gives the all-clear, I will exit with Rekhan Jektselen. Redel Ta’kozilran and Ludel Fiszilran will exit with Lukhan Hikivelora. Make sure all weapons are on low intensity. Understood?”
“Yes sir!” the others replied, though Yanvorren’s was much more reluctant. Jarlangor eyed him a bit, but didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip.
“Approaching the landing site,” Ta’kozilran said. The shuttle banked, but kept dropping at a controlled rate. Yanvorren could feel them slow and eventually stop, hovering while the landing gear extended and finally dropping with a slight bump as Ta’kozilran cut the engines.
“Er…sir?” Fiszilran said uncertainly. “I think you should look outside. Those don’t look like humans to me. Jarlangor released himself from his seat and stood behind her, looking out over her shoulder.
“Yanvorren, get ready,” he said. The human unstrapped himself and stood, slowly moving forward to the boarding ramp. Jarlangor turned to him, his ridge a swirling rainbow of colors that would amount to an expression of complete bewilderment. “Go find out what’s going on, Ludel. And find out what those things are.”
“Just what do you mean, sir?” Yanvorren asked, wondering not for the first time why he had gotten out of bed that morning. Jarlangor shook his head and hit the switch to open the ramp. Bright sunlight filled the dark cabin as the nose of the shuttle opened. Yanvorren held up a hand to keep himself from being blinded while the other fell to lightly grip the comforting handle of his pistol. Outside were a brilliant blue sky and a field of rich green grass. Lush trees surrounded the area, and a simple dirt path led past a clock tower to what looked like a cozy little village. He’d only seen things like this in old Terran picture books.
“Welcome!”
Yanvorren looked down at the greeting to see six brightly-colored quadrupeds and something that looked like a small, fat, purple Kavican child.
“Er…Adel?” he called back into the shuttle. “They’re small horses.”
-----
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I'm intrigued. Tell me more.
The idea that both sides were expecting Humans was hilarious. I'm getting the idea that these reptilian people aren't really unfriendly with the humans (having a human crewmember shows that at least), but there seems to be some ulterior motives that might turn things hostile? Maybe I'm just seeing things that aren't there.
Please sir, may I have another?
lol can't wait to see there reactions they where both expecting to meet humans
This tickles my fancy.
When can we expect the next one if you don't mind me asking?
3149266
Unfriendly, no. Best buddies, also no. More details will be around later, but basically, the respective governments are allied and trade and such, but there are still several people on both sides that are distrustful of the other.
3150116
There's going to be a lot of embarrassment and blame flying around about that. Should be fun.
3153435
Next one? Not entirely sure. Can have it...soon? Ish? I promise nothing other than it will eventually be here.
3160827
Rad, just take you're time, you know? Creating a good story can be very time consuming so I understand. Don't rush you're self.
Interesting, I'm assuming that humans are a slightly formidible empire? And have they found and completed Nikola Tesla's plans for an Atomic Death ray, and do their cruisers carry one as a main cannon?
3163838
I'm...not entirely sure how seriously I should take that comment. Are you referencing something?
3166835 Nikola Tesla, before he died of heart failure, was designing an atomic death ray. The blueprints were incomplete and were later "lost" by the US government.
Is this ever gonna be updated?