Outstanding

by TheGuyWithAPen

Space Portals?

We had to move again today.

I was playing with Luna in the sideways garden, trying to get her to eat one of those noodle-worms that always show up around the cotton-candy carrots. She wasn’t so happy, but I, however, am a resolute pony, and I wasn’t going to give up so easily, no sirree. I chased her around with the noodle-worm, until we ended up rolling around the pistachio ice-cream bush, her head caught in my firm headlock.

“HEARTSONG!” she cried out.

<Oh crap.> I relinquished my hold on her. Heartsong, a goldenrod earth pony with a mulberry mane and a ribbon-wrapped heart for a cutie mark, came around the corner of the house with that familiar stern, yet loving, look on her face.

“Now what have you two been up to now?” she calmly inquired.

<Ha, calm approach, as usual. Play it cool, Celestia, you can talk your way out of this.>

“Well see, I was showing Luna this cool trick you can do with noodle-worms where if you tickle their backside, they tie themselves into knots! See?” I tickled the worm, and it gave a squeak of annoyance, before twisting around itself and ending up in a neat, overhand knot.

“She was not!” Luna wailed. “She tried to force me to eat one and then she chased me around the garden and then she grabbed me and tried to force it down my throat and—”

“Shh, It’s alright,” Heartsong soothed before turning to me. “Now Celestia, really? Why would you do something like that?”

“I didn’t though, no way!” I defended. “She’s just trying to get me in trouble again!”

“WHAT?!” Luna latched onto my neck and started hitting me as hard as she could, which didn’t amount to much. I grabbed her and was about to teach her a real lesson when Heartsong inserted herself between us.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Girls, stop this! I won’t have my own two daughters acting like Discord himself!” She held us close and we started to calm down. “Besides, whatever you were just doing, I want you two to stop messing around with the Noodle-worms. They play an important part in nourishing the plants, and they can’t fulfill their roles very well when they’re tied in knots, now can they? How would you like it if you two were tied in a knot?” We all giggled a bit.

“Wouldn’t that hurt?” I asked.

“It sure would!” answered Heartsong. “Now why don’t you two go and play somewhere else while I finish weeding?”

“Right!” I said. <And then afterwards, I'm going to take care of a certain little cryfilly.>

“You’re dead meat,” I mouthed to Luna. She stuck her tongue out at me.

I ran off to go find Button Shine—we were going to play in Old McRaisin’s purple cabbage patch today—when I heard Luna calling after me.

“‘Tia, wait for mee! I want to come too!”

“Ha!” I huffed, “Button Shine and I are going to do grown-up things. You wouldn’t be interested.” She was about to retort when I abruptly halted, after which Luna crashed into my hind legs. A large crowd of ponies were making their way towards our house, and they didn’t look happy. Some were carrying pitchforks and torches. I could see Heartsong walking up to meet them, with her calm demeanor as always.

Luna and I rushed back to the house.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Shh, let me handle this,” replied Heartsong. She turned to the crowd. “Hello Mayor, what brings you and all these fine ponies here?”

“You know very well why we are here,” he firmly responded. “If we want to survive the next inspection, we need to make sure there is nothing out of the ordinary,”—his eyes glanced down at us— “We need a town without . . . those two.”

“Yeah! Get those freaks of nature out of here!” came a voice from the crowd. It sounded like Old McRaisin’s.

Luna stood between my legs and I cowered a bit, until a familiar face in the crowd caught my attention.

“Button, is that you? What are you doing here?” He winced slightly.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry ‘Tia. But Ma and Pa will be taken in as slaves if we get caught in the same town as you two.” He shuffled with his rake as he looked down at his hooves. “I can’t let that happen. Not . . . not to them.” His face hardened and he looked up, “Now it’s my parents or you, and it sure as chocolate rain ain’t gonna be my parents.”

<Oh no. Not you too.>

The mayor cut in. “He’s right you know. If we’re discovered with those two around, half the town will be sent to the conversion camps, and the other half will starve without them. Now we can let you three go peacefully, or we can do this the hard way.” Several ponies grinned maliciously as they hoisted their tools.

“Mayor, you don’t have to do this,” said Heartsong.

“I’m sorry Heartsong, but it needs to be done,” the mayor responded. “You’re the most kindhearted pony I’ve ever met—heck—that’s your special talent, for Discord’s sake. But we can’t all be as loving as you, and we have families to protect. So as long as you stick around them, you have to leave as well.”

Heartsong stood there for awhile, staring at the group with disappointed eyes. Some were unaffected, but most shrunk a little in shame when she looked at them.

“Girls, pack your things. Let’s go,” she quietly said.

Okay. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask her out this time.

Marshall peeked over the wall of his cubicle and saw her.

Stephanie Streadback, age 25, who liked costuming, dancing, and turtles (not that he was paying any attention, no sir), was leaning against the counter next to the coffee machine, drinking a cup and playing with her hair. She wore a light blue collared shirt with a faint plaid pattern, and brown khaki capris. Her gorgeous dirty blonde locks cascaded past her shoulders, ending with a slight curl and a bounce. Magnificent green eyes peeked through her hair and over the lip of the coffee cup she was drinking with her beautiful pink lips. The cup was pulled away, and an adorable button nose scrunched up. She let out a deafening sneeze, the most beautiful sneeze he ever did hear, and spilled coffee on her pants. Beautiful yelling. Beautiful frantic napkins.

She’s so . . . beautiful.

Suddenly Marshall’s brain kicked into gear. My lady! She’s in trouble! I have to save her! He bolted from his chair, ready to swoop in and save her from her calamity. He rounded the corner at full speed and . . .

. . . slowed to a complete stop, ten feet away from her.

Marshall, this was stupid! Stupid! What were you planning to do anyway? You can’t just magically get rid of the coffee, and heaven knows how awkward it would get if you tried to clean it up for her!

Well the best you can do is lend your support! Say hi to her, at least! Don’t you remember what the objective originally was? Ask her out!

No! Who asks someone out on a date right after they just spilled coffee on their pants?

You do!

Are you kidding! No way man!

Yes way! You have to do it!

Now’s not the right time!

It’s as right as you’ll ever get!

What Marshall hadn’t noticed was that he had slowly—and awkwardly—walked closer, and was now standing right next to her. She noticed him and looked up with a swoosh of hair. Marshall’s body froze up completely.

“Um, hello? Can I help you?” she asked.

Go! Do it! Just ask her out!

“Well I, uh, couldn’t help but, um, notice that you, uh, seem to . . . uh . . . like coffee?”

Crap. You can still recover, though. Just go for it!

“Um, yes? Yes I do, although not so much now that it’s spilled all over my pants,” she said with a small chuckle. The most beautiful chuckle the world had ever known.

“Oh my goodness! Are you hurt, miss? Is there anything I can do to—I mean, well . . . that is to say . . . that . . . I . . . like . . . coffee too! . . . And I . . . and I can . . . drink it. You know . . . just . . . just like . . . you . . . did.”

Marshall, you idiot! Stop talking about coffee!

“That’s . . . nice,” she said.

Just say the freaking words already!

“Heh heh, yeah . . . coffee’s . . . nice.”

Marshall, unless you ask her out, I’m going to give you a hormone imbalance for the rest of your life!

“Yeah . . . nice.”

Now, Marshall! NOW!

“Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I’d better—you know—get going.”

No! NO!

“Yeah, me too.”

Nononononono no No NO NOOO!

“I’ll . . . I’ll see you around, I guess.”

MARSHALL, YOU NUMBSKULL! YOU NO-GOOD DIRTY ROTTEN—

“Yeah . . . I guess . . .”

SON-OF-A-GUNSLINGER NITWIT BLOCKHEAD! I HOPE YOU—

Marshall slowly turned around, walked back to his cubicle, and banged his head against the desk for the next twenty-five minutes.

---

“C’mon man, just help me out here!”

“Seriously, Ryan?”

“It’s only fifty bucks! I’ll pay you back, I swear!”

“Yeah, just like you did all those other times?”

“This’ll be different!”

You know, if you give him the money, you’ll only be perpetuating an endless cycle.

Yeah, I know. But . . .

“So we’re cool, right man?”

But what if I insult him if I don’t?

So what? The guy needs to be taken down a peg anyways.

But he’s my friend . . .

Is he really?

Marshall let out a long sigh, and fished through his wallet.

“Here you go, man.”

You idiot!

I know . . .

***

“Okay, now I want you five to work together on this, right?”

“Can do.”

“Good. The deadline is in three weeks. Please be ready to present by then.”

As they left the department head’s office, Marshall eyed his new collaborators. They seemed like a nice enough bunch, for the most part at least.

He looked down. Aw crap.

“Hey wait up one second, guys. I have to tie my shoe.” He knelt down and began tying it, when he noticed that no one had stopped.

“Guys, wait. I really do have to tie my shoe.” They continued on.

“Guys?” They rounded the corner and were gone.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

***

“Ma’am, excuse me, someone is sitting here.”

She loomed closer, inch by inch.

“Ma’am seriously, please don’t sit on me.”

At least three-hundred pounds of fat hung in the air, mere seconds away from crushing him.

“Uh oh.”

***

“Whoa! Dude, how long have you been standing there?!”

*sigh* “Half an hour, Jeff . . .”

---

Five, four, three, two, one . . .

Five o’clock. Quitting time!

Marshall saved his work, closed down his web browser, made very sure he shut-down the computer (he was chewed out last time for not doing so), packed his backpack and turned to leave. As he stepped out of the doors of the Adobe building, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, letting out a sigh of relief. He hopped on his 100cc Yamaha Aerox and headed south on Aurora Avenue, noticing a crowd of police cars parked in some business lot, sirens flashing. Must be another drug bust, he thought. He recalled hearing that Aurora used to be somewhat of a Route 66 before I-5 was built. Now however, it was just a way to get home.

After hitting Wall Street and taking a quick right onto 4th Avenue, he parked his scooter under Centennial Tower, his home for the past three years. With a skip in his step, he bounced over to the stairway.

I think I’ll take the stairs this time! I really need to get more exercise, no harm in getting some now, right?

---

Marshall collapsed at the doorway to the twelfth floor.

I am never doing this again.

He felt like he was going to puke. His legs were screaming at him, his lungs offered him no oxygen, and his heart was beating at a tempo not unlike those found in German Speedcore.

Come on Marshall, just three . . . more . . . floors.

He willed himself to stand, but his body outright refused, so he opted to crawl instead.

Gotta . . . make it . . . to . . . the . . . elevator . . .

He found himself scraping across the floor, which later he realized probably looked ridiculous, although at the moment he couldn’t have cared less. The further he crawled, the less he wanted to move forward and the more he wanted to collapse forever. He eventually rolled onto his back and essentially passed out, resigning himself to spend the rest of his life panting and wheezing.

Had anyone entered the hallway and seen him in his quasi-defunct state, it can be assumed much fuss would have been made over seeing a man passed out in the middle of the floor, but thankfully, no other people were present.

Not more than twenty minutes later, he reanimated himself, having finally caught his breath. With sweat dried into a crusty layer and muscles turned to tapioca pudding—but no longer in immediate pain—he picked himself up rather slowly and headed toward the end of the hallway.

Along the way, he noticed an office fan sitting just outside one of the apartments, with a note attached that said “If you want it, go ahead and have it.” While he was still preoccupied with getting to the elevator, the ‘free stuff!’ portion of his brain lit up with curiosity, and he couldn’t resist giving the fan an inspection.

It was . . . used, to say the least. The cord was frayed, the stand was duct-taped in numerous places, and there was a large crack running through one of the blades. An attempt had been made to clean it of dust, but it was plain to see that this particular fan had been collecting it for years.

Eh, it’s not worth it, he thought, and continued on his path to the elevator. Five steps later, he stopped and turned around, staring intently at the fan. It almost seemed to . . . to call to him, in a friendly sort of a way he couldn’t place his finger on.

This is ridiculous, he thought, and promptly turned on his heels back toward the elevator before stopping once again.

He stood there for a while, and then looked back at the fan, eyes twitching.

“What is up with you?!” he shouted at the fan. The fan didn’t respond. The ‘friendliness’ he was feeling from it earlier was gone, replaced with only the neutrality of an inanimate object.

“Oh what the heck!” he huffed, and rushed over to the fan, grabbed it, and strode into the elevator.

When he entered his apartment on the fifteenth floor, he unslung his backpack and dropped it rather unceremoniously next to the door.

“Firefly, I’m home.” The cinnamon ferret gave no response, unsurprisingly. She was curled up in a ball in her hammock, wholeheartedly partaking in the bliss of her afternoon nap. He placed the fan next to the backpack, and made a mental note to look into it after dinner. After taking a look at the contents of his refrigerator, and finding them rather lacking, he opted to grab a packet of ramen from the pantry and throw it in the microwave.

As he stood on his westward-facing balcony, eating his ramen and staring at the sunset, he thought about typical things a man in his particular stage of life would think about. Things like how he needed to do this week’s laundry, how he probably needed to eat healthier, how he should stop spending so much time on the computer, how he needed to be less of a pushover, etc. He turned around, leaned back against the handrail, and stared at the office fan inside.

He could feel it again, that subconscious feeling he had experienced earlier.

“I know what you’re up to,” he said.

The fan said nothing.

He stormed up to it, jabbing his index finger at its grate. “You’re trying to make me lose my mind! Making me talk to inanimate objects like this!”

The fan still said nothing. What it did do, however, was drop a loose screw.

Marshall spun around in frustration, slamming his empty bowl on the counter, and paced around the room, making a concerted effort to keep his eyes off the fan. He finally relented, and took a good long look at it. After giving it more than a few scrutinizing looks, he felt himself beginning to feel sorry for it, what with its decrepit condition. The thing was in really bad shape, after all. Marshall strolled over to it, inspecting it carefully.

“Poor thing.” He flipped the switch and the fan sputtered to life. The blades spun off-weightedly, the panel that had once been held on by the lost screw now rattled around on top, and the motor sounded like rocks being thrown into a woodchipper. It was pathetic.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you fixed up,” he said gently, “uh, somehow.” He grabbed his box of tools from his closet and began taking the fan apart, dusting off each component as it was removed.

Half an hour later, he stood over a neat arrangement of various parts, most of which were in a sorry condition. “Okay, looks like the motor’s been fried, the axel’s bent, and I definitely don’t trust that power cord,” he commented to himself. Alrighty then, Home Depot it is.

Making sure to use the elevator this time, he went down to his bike, and sped off. As he was driving down Alaskan Way, he suddenly wondered why the heck he was doing all this for just a trashy office fan, but he had already turned off on 1st Avenue, so he decided to just keep going. When he had arrived back at his apartment with the parts required, he set to work fixing and building the fan back together again.

About an hour later, after running into a few major snags, and using nearly half a roll of duct tape, Marshall had managed to piece the fan back together into a workable contraption. He flipped the switch.

A flash and a loud bang enveloped the room, stunning Marshall, followed by a metallic sweeping sound.

“What the—?!” Marshall exclaimed, rubbing his eyes. When he opened them again, what he saw was not the same device he had just reconstructed. It looked like a fan, yes, but it was now glossy white, with a sleek exterior, a large ring surrounding the blades, and looked like an object one could find in the domestic turbojet section of a local space-age Ikea. With a ding that sounded like a facebook notification, an OLED screen on the top of the ring turned on and began displaying text written in fancy cursive.

[Scanning archives. . .]

[ . . . ]

Suddenly a formal—but not stuffy—voice emanated from the object. [ . . . Ah, there you are. Marshall James Bradley, age twenty four, born in Sacramento, California, United States, Earth, Second Galactic Quadrant.]

What on earth? Marshall thought. He stared at the object—whatever it was now—completely awestruck.

[Mind if I call you Sir Marshall?]

Marshall continued staring.

[Go ahead, you can say something.]

Marshall pointed at himself with a questioning look.

[Yes you. Go on, I don’t bite.]

“Uh . . . hello?”

[There we go! See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?]

“Uh, hm, y-yeah sure . . . just, just what . . . ARE you?

[Ah yes, that might be a good point to cover. Human beings are funny you know, they always seem to react in an ignorant or even destructive way whenever I attempt to make myself known unto them. Not that I would know, really, I’ve only had contact with two in the course of my entire service. I suppose it just comes with them being a near-tribal species. Are they even registered as members of the UG?]

“Um,” Marshall attempted to speak.

[I don’t think they are. That’s funny. Oh well, I’d give it another fifty Earth-years before they develop interstellar space travel. They’re in for a big surprise after that, ha ha. Ha ha, that is what you humans call laughter, right? Why is it that you create those sounds? Are they some sort of extra-conversational form of communicating?]

Marshall paused for a moment. “Well . . . technically yes . . . sort of . . . but not really . . . ish. But hey now, that’s not really the point . . .”

[Oh right, I’m afraid you will find that I have a tendency to get sidetracked. Infinite amounts of knowledge at one’s disposal really tends to scatter the central processing unit. Anyways, I am a Gateway Unit that is a part of the Autonomous Interstellar Relay system, also known as A.I.R. to the more biological members of the organization. We were designed and funded by the UG as a means of mass-travel between solar systems and galaxies. Any questions?]

Yeah, how about a billion? Marshall thought, but instead said the first one that came to his mind, “How the heck are you even”—Marshall waved his hands wildly in the air as he tried to think of the right word to use—“existing? You were a cruddy old fan just a few seconds ago!”

[Now now, there’s no need to raise your voice, and I do indeed take offense at your insulting of my previous form, thank you very much. It was the best I could do, given that my primary power source had been compromised.]

“What?”

[What you believe to be my motor is actually my main source of power. Seeing as it had a large chunk of aluminum rattling inside it, I had to resort to using an auxiliary power cord, and even then it wasn’t enough to enable me to prevent natural damage and decay. What you saw before you was the result of forty-five years of stagnation.]

“Wait a second, so you’re saying that you’re powered by an electric motor? How does that even work?”

[Ah yes, it’s a rather ingenious system with a fantastic amount of electricity output, but I’d rather not tell you now, as it is very complicated by your human standards and likely won’t be thought of by humans for another twenty five years, I’d say. I would prefer not to overstrain your tiny developing brains. I’ll tell you later, when you’re willing to talk about advanced electrochemical engineering.]

Marshall plopped into a nearby chair as the weight of the situation began to sink in. Holy crap, this is heavy stuff, he thought, running a hand through his hair. What do I even do? Do I tell someone? Do I keep it a secret? Do I have to keep on living with this slightly condescending machine? It’s not like I can just send it to Goodwill, I mean, what will it think if I kick it out? The thing thinks, for heaven’s sakes! Why does it think? And how is it that a programmed A.I. can carry on a full-blown conversation with me?

[I can see that you need time to take this all in. Usually the more tribal species go through a period of . . . adjustment, let’s say. What would you think if I gave you a period of one Earth-hour before your departure?]

“My what?!”

[After all, that is why you repaired me, isn’t it? To make use of my transportation functions?]

Marshall gave the fan a look not unlike that of someone intent upon causing serious physical harm.

[No? Hm, that’s odd. What other reason would anyone have to repair me?]

“Maybe,” Marshall spoke through gritted teeth, “because they wanted TO HAVE A LOUSY OLD FAN!!”

[Really? Fascinating. Humans are such unusual creatures. I suppose my assumptions were unwarranted, given you had stated that you didn’t know what I was or where I came from. I . . . apologize? Is that the word for when one wants to reconcile?]

“Yeah whatever.” Marshall turned around and shuffled into the kitchen. Firefly was now awake and needed some food, as she was all too willing to let him know through her squeaks and dooks.

[What are you doing, Sir Marshall?] the fan called out.

“I’m grabbing a wrench to take you apart, that’s what,” Marshall snapped.

[What?!]

“No, no I’m not,” Marshall sighed. “I’m grabbing some food for Firefly and an aspirin for myself, for the headache I’m getting because of you. Besides, I don’t think I could find any way to take you apart anyways, you don’t have a single exposed bolt anywhere.”

[Oh . . . good. Thank you very much, Sir Marshall. I should hate to resume my dilapidated state, it was most boring. I am very excited to be able to speak again.]

“No joke,” Marshall mumbled.

[What did you say?]

“Nothing.”

[Really? I’m fairly certain you said something. It sounded like ‘oh yoke’ to me, although I haven’t the slightest idea what it could mean. Is it some form of slang?]

“Look whatever-you-are, could you please”—Marshall paused—“not talk?

[Whatever for?]

Marshall gave a large sigh. “Nevermind.” He crouched down and emptied the contents of Firefly’s evening rations into her bowl, crinkling his nose at the smell. Before he could so much as get his hands away from the bowl, she pounced on it and began tearing into its contents with all the gusto of a wild animal. He stood up, threw the empty can in the trash, and plopped back on the couch. “So,” he said, “what do I call you?”

[What do you mean?]

“Like, what’s your name?”

[I do not know. I’ve never had a name before. Every creature I have come in contact with has referred to me as ‘the gateway’.]

“Well that’s no good,” Marshall said as he leaned back. “We need to find a name for you.” He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “How about Nigel?” he asked. “That would be fancy, wouldn’t it?”

The machine paused for a moment.

[That . . . would be nice. I enjoy that. Thank you, Sir Marshall.]

“Just call me Marshall.”

[I am sorry, Sir Marshall.]

Marshall sighed once again.

[Anyways, now that we are all on the same level, so to speak, when do you think you will be ready to leave?]

Marshall sat up quickly. “Whoa whoa whoa, hang on. Nobody said anything about leaving anywhere.”

[Actually, I did, if you were wondering. Not more than twenty minutes ago.]

Marshall slumped back into his chair again. “Fine, whatever. Where is it that you even want me to go?”

[It’s not that I want you to go to the other end, in fact, I’ve grown quite fond of your company. But either way, I have no clue as to what is your destination. Usually the Communications department in A.I.R. is the one that sets up connections between gateways, but I haven’t been connected to their servers for forty-five earth years, so I have no clue as to which gateway I’m connected to, or even if I’m connected at all. I had first assumed that you were the one who knew where you were going, and therefore which gateway was on the other side, but it’s become clear that you are rather new to this business.]

Silence reigned for a moment.

[Would you like to go through?]

Marshall rather opted to stare into space for a while. After a long stretch of time, he finally spoke.

“Is it dangerous?”

[I should think not! It is after all, the safest way to travel in the whole universe. Every gateway is monitored very closely by the most experienced of A.I.R. personnel. Speaking of that, that’s another reason why I would like you to go. See, I obviously have been stranded on an unregistered planet, with no gateway team to monitor me. I would like you to go through and inform them of my condition and location, so that they may pick me up.]

“So it wouldn’t be any trouble?”

[Definitely not! Just go through, tell them you’re from Earth, an unregistered planet, and tell them that Gateway 149 has been discovered there. They may ask you some background questions, and how you discovered me; just tell them the whole truth and you’ll be fine. Who knows? This may be the first step toward Earth becoming a player on the intergalactic field! Although I think the UG is waiting for you to hopefully resolve your internal quarrels before approaching.]

Marshall paused for a second. “How will they be able to understand me? If Earth isn’t registered yet, they wouldn’t have a translator, would they?”

[All gateways project a translation field of ten of your earth-meters. As long as you and whoever is talking with you stay inside, you’ll be able to understand each other completely. Well, mostly completely, anyways. Sometimes we have trouble translating slang and profanity, but that shouldn’t hinder your communication, hopefully.]

Marshall steeled himself. Well, it’s a Friday night, just before long weekend, and I’ve always wanted to go on one of those impromptu vacations to someplace exciting. What’s more exciting than another planet? Who knows what I’ll see? Fetch, this just might be the thing that’ll help me get strong enough to actually function around people.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he said, “but I need to pack some things first and make some calls.”

---

About an hour later, Marshall had a small suitcase packed with essentials, and had successfully called in his vacation hours. He had gotten a friend to take care of Firefly while he was gone, and so far as he could tell, was ready for an interplanetary expedition. Probably. He now stood before Nigel with a confused expression.

“So, uh . . . how does this work?”

[Just flip the switch on my left side, which opens up my signal to the main frequency. After that, it’s routed to whichever station has been selected by the mainframe, which of course, I don’t know.]

“And after that?”

[After that comes the fun part.]

Marshall rolled his eyes. Alrighty, here goes. He flipped the switch.

[Transmitting signal . . . one second.]

Nothing happened.

[It takes a while . . . just hold on one moment.]

“Riiight.” Marshall stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet.

[Well, when you have to transmit all the way across the—oh hey, there it is! Now if you please. Ahem, establishing connection . . .]

[Connecting in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .]

[Connection established! Haha! For a moment I didn’t know if—oh! I mean, ahem. Sir Marshall, are you prepared to embark?]

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

[Then let’s boogie! GERONIMOOO!]

The blades on the gateway began whirring at alarming rate, and the lights dimmed. Suddenly the lights went out altogether, and surges of electricity sparked around the ring surrounding the blades. Firefly squeaked in alarm and ran circles in her cage, while Marshall took a step back as an extremely deep bass began emanating from the surrounding air.

When the bass grew to levels that would make Daft Punk green with envy, the electricity began jumping to spots around the room, no longer confined to just the gateway. This prompted Marshall to dive for cover, lest he be struck by a bolt of electricity. He was also becoming somewhat nauseous from the sound, which now contained various other sounds on top of the ribcage-rattling sub-bass. One of such sounds was a deep groaning, as if the universe was stretching beyond its intentions.

Before Marshall could think more on the matter, a white mist erupted from the center of the generator and swirled around into a roughly oval shape, while the noise dropped to a quiet hum. Marshall looked over the edge of the kitchen counter.

Holy crap, it actually worked.

“Uh, you okay?”

[Can’t talk right now,] the gateway more or less grunted. [This is really difficult to hold, so could you go through as quick as possible, please?]

“Right, sure,” Marshall mumbled as he took a long hard look at the portal.

“Let’s do this.”

He stepped through.

---

Weird, the thing is weird. It caused sounds. Scary noises. Thunderstorms. It made clouds. Swirly clouds. The one that makes food disappeared in the clouds. Is he still inside the clouds? Find out. Must find out. Cage. Hard, shiny bars in the way. Have to get out. Go to the bars that swing down. Bite the one that moves. Move it. Can’t let Marshall find out. Is he watching? No. He’s in the clouds. Have to find him. Make bars swing down. They swung down. Escape! Great escape. Go. Go. Gotta go fast. Jump! Jump back. Jump forward. Jump sideways. Serpentine! Too crafty for the weird thing. Weird thing can’t catch me. Too sneaky. Really close now. Sniff. Sniff it. Smells like clouds. Marshall is inside. Go inside? Clouds getting smaller. Clouds are weird. Don’t want to go. Have to go. Clouds shrinking. Quick. Jump inside!

---

It was a blistering hot day in Canterlot. Celestia sat on her throne, using her magic to blow a gentle breeze on herself. The Day Court had been a long one, and the heat hadn’t made it any more bearable. While normally the weather teams wouldn’t schedule days like this, extra hot days were required every once in a while for the more tropical plants to thrive. Therefore, most everypony had been forced to suffer through the heat. It wasn’t nearly as much of a problem for pegasi and unicorns, due to the fact that the pegasi could fly and any unicorn with a better than minimal grasp on magic could generate a breeze for themselves, but for the poor earth ponies, there was no such relief. Thankfully, the engineers at the Canterlot Academy had come up with a nifty device to make its own breeze, and that ran on the electric power that had recently been installed throughout Equestria, no unicorn magic required.

Celestia looked around the room at all of the fans, some blowing gently, some more vigorously, but all doing their job and cooling off the many ponies that worked in the castle. She particularly liked the one in the far corner; it was white, instead of gray, and it had a sleek polished look that none of the others had. She made a mental note to ask the academy why they had only made one unit of that particular model.

“Excuse me, your Majesty, but Princess Twilight Sparkle has arrived,” an announcer spoke, interrupting her reverie.

“Wonderful! Send her in!”

Twilight Sparkle, Celestia’s pupil, friend, and near-daughter, who had accomplished so many amazing things in her life, stepped into the throne room with the regality of a pony who had grown accustomed to princesshood. Her face had aged slightly since they had last met, but Twilight clearly still had the energy of a youth. Celestia trotted up to her and gave her a warm hug, which Twilight returned wholeheartedly.

“It’s been too long, Twilight! How have you been?” Celestia asked once they had separated.

“Just splendid! The train ride was beautiful, as always. Our trip up here was very relaxing.”

“Our?” Celestia queried. In response, Twilight gestured behind her, and it was only then that Celestia noticed that Nyx Sparkle and a very, very large Spike had also entered the room.

“What a pleasant surprise! My oh my, look how much you two have grown!”—she looked them up and down—“You especially, Spike! Haven’t been getting too greedy, have we?”

He chuckled. “Nah, I’m the least greedy dragon you’ll find on this planet!” He raised a claw to his chin. “Maybe there’s a medal for something like that . . .”

“Easy scalyface. Don’t get too excited there.” Nyx nudged him in the stomach, breaking him out of his thoughts. She looked younger than she actually was, appearing not more than fifteen, but that was only because of the alicorn aging process. Her long purple hair was tied into a ponytail, and her slitted turquoise eyes shone with intelligence.

“Goodness Nyx, you’ve grown into a beautiful young mare!”—Nyx blushed at that—“How is life at the Academy?”

“Eh, pretty alright, I suppose. The Lunar Guard ROTC is pretty rough, I guess, but overall everything’s been a whole bunch of ‘normal’,” she said with a shrug.

“Whole bunch of normal? Are you kidding?” Twilight interjected before turning to Celestia. “She’s aced nearly every single quiz, midterm, and final, and did I forget to mention that she was just promoted to the rank of Second Lieutenant?”

“Stop it mom, you’re embarrassing me!” Nyx said through clenched teeth.

Celestia leaned back and chuckled. “Don’t worry, Nyx, I won’t tell anyone. Although I think your impressive resume will be harder to keep quiet! Now then, I know Twilight well enough to know that she always has some business to bring to my attention. Would you to be willing to give us some time to talk?”

“Sure thing, princess!” Spike answered before heading over to one of the windows with Nyx. Spike said something that got Nyx laughing, which made Spike laugh in turn, and before too long, Celestia could see they were clutching their diaphragms and gasping for air as they sprawled across the floor.

“Now then Twilight, what was it you needed to speak about?” Celestia asked as she and Twilight walked back towards the throne.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come over for a long time, but royal duties have been very time consuming. How has Winter Breeze been coming along? I trust that it’s up to schedule. Has Butterscotch been keeping you up to date as far as progress goes?”

“Well, I hear that it’s making good progress, although Butterscotch is really the pony to talk to about all of that. I hear, however, that the scheduled day for completion is in about a week. I’ll definitely have to stop by to see how things are going.”

“How can you be so nonchalant about it?” Twilight responded. “The biggest scientific space-time achievement since Einsteighn’s Theory of Relativity is happening in a week and you might just ‘stop by’?”

Celestia chuckled once again. “Twilight, when you’ve been around for as long as I have, it seems like every year somepony is coming up with the greatest achievement since sliced bread—which I was around for, and it wasn’t all that exciting in fact—and almost none of them turn out to be all that groundbreaking. I prefer not to get overly excited until the next big event actually happens.”

“But it will be the next big event!”

“I certainly hope so,” Celestia said with a smile, “I’m sure what you will discover will change scientific thought on the subject for generations.” She sat down, beckoning Twilight to join her and nodding to a maidservant. “But until then, would you like some tea? I’d much rather hear about how Nyx and Spike are doing, seeing as how they’re all too eager to share with me personally.” They both glanced over at the pair, of which it seemed Nyx was now wrapped around Spike’s neck as he attempted to shake her off without destroying the entire palace.

Twilight spoke with a saddened tone as their tea was brought to them. “It’s been too long since they’ve seen each other,” she said as she took a sip. “It seems like no one in our family sees each other anymore. Nyx is always here at the Academy and when she’s not, she’s always involved with the Guard. Spike is getting so big that he barely fits into the palace back home, and either way, he’s become more and more fidgety. I fear it won’t be long before he leaves to find his own place and start a family.”

“Don’t worry, there are still grandkids to look forward to. I may not have any by blood necessarily, but I have all of you little ponies that I care for just the same, and it’s the single most rewarding thing I have in my life. And besides, don’t think you’re finished just yet; I’m still waiting for you to find a nice young special somepony to grow old with, and maybe even have some biological children this time.”

Twilight blushed, but laughed all the same. “Thank you. I guess it’s all just a bunch of change, for better or worse.”

“Ah yes, change. That beautiful, horrible constant in our lives.”

---

Marshall was yanked through . . . something.

It felt like nothing, but something at the same time. He couldn’t really figure out what it was.

He heard a young woman’s voice, everywhere, and yet inside him as well.

“Thank you. Thank you, Marshall.”

“Who is that? Where are you?” he yelled as he was dragged through the void.

“The universe owes you its thanks.”

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“Good luck.”

“Who are you?!”

He heard a familiar shriek and looked back to see the outline of his household pet tumbling through space as well.

“Firefly! How did you get in here!?”

Before much else could be done, his ears popped and he felt a thud in his chest as he was ejected into physical space once again. “What the—” he exclaimed, dazed and struggling to figure out which direction was up.

He heard multiple gasps and someone behind him say something like “commencing transformation” as he tried to rub his eyes open.

Suddenly, he felt extremely nauseous, and his body felt all wrong and off-balance, not to mention his organs being in all the wrong places. He could feel his consciousness slipping, and when he finally opened his eyes, all his blurry vision could make out was he was in some large room and there were some dog-looking creatures looking at him.

He was hit from behind by something, and tried to look behind himself, before something slammed into his face and he was thrown to the floor, hitting his head. That was the final blow to his consciousness, and he passed out completely.

---

Celestia was sitting with Twilight when the sleek-looking fan in the corner began whirring in what seemed to be a rather peculiar way, at least more peculiar than normal. It spun much faster than the rest, and sparks were starting to fly off it. Heads around the room turned.

“That’s funny,” Celestia remarked, “it must be malfunctioning. I’m sure the engineers will be able to fix it.”

“Yeah,” Twilight responded, “Sure.” A royal guard was sent to fetch one of the Academy ponies.

Suddenly, a metallic groan sounded as a white mist spurted from the center of the fan. It swirled and coalesced into a ring around a black emptiness.

Celestia jumped to her hooves. Ponies scattered back and began scrambling away from the fan.

Before anyone could respond fully, a tall bipedal creature stepped—or more or less, was shoved—through the opening. It said something like “What the—?” as it stumbled around. Twilight gasped and Celestia’s face hardened.

“Commencing transformation,” sounded a voice from behind the creature.

A grid of lines appeared on the creature’s body, and it transformed into a pegasus, with a jade green coat and mousy brown hair. It opened its eyes—which turned out to be blue—with a dazed and confused expression. The pegasus attempted to continue standing on its hind legs, despite the difficulty. Promptly afterward, a reddish-brown ferret was flung out of the portal and smacked into the back of its head as the portal behind it dissipated.

It looked around to see what had happened when a gigantic purple clawed hand swooped in from behind and slapped the pony to the floor, knocking it unconscious. I wasn’t until now that Celestia realized Spike had gingerly stepped around the perimeter of the room, and approached from behind.

“Spike!” Twilight yelled, a mixture of anger and relief in her voice.

“Sorry!” he responded. “I didn’t mean to kill him! Just to . . . pin him down, or something!”

“I don’t think you killed him,” Celestia said, stepping closer to the foreign creature, noticing that it was still breathing. “Golden Heart!” she barked. A member of the royal guard that had been evacuating ponies from the room rushed up to her, the insignia of a sergeant upon his armor.

“Yes, your majesty?” he inquired, saluting.

“Get Tender Care over here immediately and escort her, this creature, and the ferret to Quarantine Chamber Five,” she said firmly. “And take this device to Volatile Quarantine Chamber Twelve,”—she gestured to the now passive fan—“I want Professor Circuit and his team looking into it as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure you want us to leave you, your majesty?”

“Golden Heart,” Celestia responded with a chuckle, “You’re talking about me, remember? Not to mention the fact that I’m currently with an alicorn that singlehandedly saved an entire town from monster attacks, a very large dragon that is the reason this situation isn’t very much out of control, and my very own personal pupil, who has saved the world more times than you have guards in your squad.”

He nodded curtly. “Yes, your majesty,” he said, and turned around. “Private Styre!” he yelled, and a scrawny-looking soldier scuttled up to him. “Go to the hospital wing and get Tender Care and anypony she deems necessary for transporting someone unconscious! You have five minutes!”

“Yes sir!” Styre said, and bolted out of the room.

“Delta Squad! Attention!” Seven guardsponies (not including Private Styre) rescinded their current task and stood at attention. “Fireteam Red, you will take this device to Volatile Quarantine Chamber Twelve at once! Tell the ponies there that this here thing could produce a portal at any moment, potentially sending another dangerous creature through! Now move it!

“Fireteam Blue, you will wait until Private Styre returns with the Head Nurse! Escort her and this creature to Quarantine Chamber Five, and be snappy! Fall out!”

As the guards executed their duties, Golden Heart turned back to Celestia and the others. “If you don’t mind, your majesty, I still wish to stay here. Just in case a problem turns up.”

“Very well, then.”

Twilight Sparkle had been the first to approach the unconscious creatures, no doubt because of her curious nature, and was quickly followed by Nyx, then Spike, and eventually Celestia and Golden Heart.

“Do you suppose he’s an alien?” asked Nyx, looking over to Twilight.

“Possibly. I’ve never ever seen a creature like that before. The Everfree Forest hasn’t been completely explored yet though, maybe he came from there?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Spike mused. “He didn’t look dangerous enough.”

“The Cockatrice didn’t look particularly dangerous,” Twilight refuted, “and look how bad that turned out for us. Besides, a shape-shifting creature that we haven’t heard of before? Sounds like a prime candidate for the ‘dangerous’ category.”

“I don’t think the creature transformed on its own,” Nyx said before looking over to the corner where the device had previously sat. “I remember hearing a voice say something about transforming, and I don’t think it was this guy’s.”

The trio continued speculating, with Golden Heart standing watch, but Celestia had more pressing matters to think about. Matters like how a device had allowed a creature to get past every level of security in the palace, just who had made such a device, how did it work, and which country, on Equus or beyond, would be responsible for such a blatant disrespect of international security. She would have to contact every embassy in Equestria to sort this through.

The Gryphons will be stubborn, most likely, but the Minotaurs should at least be willing to talk it over. The Deerfolk will be cryptic, as usual, and I’m fairly sure the Zebras won’t be any help; nopony can understand a single word any of them says anyways. Could this be the work of Changelings? Have they found a way to transfer their shape-shifting abilities to that of a device?

She was wrenched out of her thoughts by Twilight, who was asking her something.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked, shaking her head.

“I was asking you what you think about all this, princess,”

Celestia’s eyebrows lowered. “I think it’s going to be a long night,” she said as she slowly walked toward the door.

Twilight, Nyx, and Spike shared looks of confusion as the creature and the ferret were put on a stretcher and carried away.

Author's Note:

Sorry for re-publishing this chapter! There were some changes I needed to make for continuity's sake (namely, mentioning and recognizing that Firefly is a character, and a real important one too).

Also, I got another pre-reader! Give a big round of applause for Jenika Wimmer!