Outstanding

by TheGuyWithAPen

Chapter 2

“Well, it looks like we won’t be reaching the next town until tomorrow morning, so we had better set up the tent!” Heartsong said in an all-too cheerful manner.

Stupid tent. I hate tents. They only serve as a reminder to me that we have no real home in this world.

Out of pure habit I set up the tent with the others, trying hard not to think about what had happened this morning. Once finished, we hustled into the tent right as a particularly feisty chocolate raincloud passed over.

“This ground looks pretty sturdy, so I don’t think that we’ll be sliding around tonight! Isn’t that great?” Heartsong exclaimed.

“Hooray,” I said. I certainly did not share the sentiment.

I saw a flicker of worry in her eyes toward me before she resumed her usual happy exterior.

“Anyways, how about we have something to eat, and then I can tell you one of my favorite stories from when I was a filly! How does that sound?” chimed Heartsong.

“Oh boy!” yelled Luna. I wasn’t really in the mood for dinner, but my stomach seemed to think otherwise. It betrayed me with a large, resounding growl. Both heads turned my way, with Luna erupting into giggles and Heartsong giving me a coy smile.

“Hungry much?” she remarked.

“Yeah, whatever,” I grumbled. I began munching on my carrot sandwich determinedly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now just a second, we haven’t said grace yet,” Heartsong said. I gave a sigh of annoyance. <Stupid grace.>

“Oh Maker, we are thankful for the chance to be together this day, and thankful for each other. We know that times are tough, but with thy guidance, we know that we can persevere. We pray for strength for the challenges that lay ahead, and the faith to endure. Amen.”

“Amen!” Luna declared.

<Whatever.>

We all dug into the evening’s meal, consisting of various sandwiches and foodstuffs from the garden. It wasn’t the best, given that we didn’t have a chance to cook anything, but it was food, and I was hungry.

After dinner, Heartsong recalled to us a tale of a dragon who was rejected from his tribe because he couldn’t breathe fire, and his journeys to the tallest mountain to find a fairy to grant his greatest wish.

Luna was enthralled by it, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I had other thoughts on my mind. Depressing thoughts.

Soon enough, Heartsong finished her story and it had gotten late. We all wrapped up in our blankets and settled down to go to sleep.

“Heartsong?”

“Yes Luna?”

“Why does everypony hate us?”

Heartsong didn’t respond immediately.

“Hm, can you imagine if a bear came out of the forest and tried to hurt you and Celestia? I would be very mad at that bear. You know why? Because I love you two with all my heart, and if the bear hurt you at all, I would be very sad. Those other ponies love their families very much, and to them, we are a bunch of mean bears. They think we are trying to hurt their families, and that makes them mad at us.”

“But why do they think that? We’re not trying to hurt their families at all.”

“Well . . . did you know we are playing a game of hide-and-seek?”

“Really?”

“Yes! A big, mean, scary guy is trying to find us, and if he catches us, he will hurt the families of the ponies around us.”

“Why is he looking for us?”

“Because Luna, you are a very special pony!” She booped her on the nose. “That guy doesn’t like special ponies, so he wants to find us. The other ponies know what he will do to their families if he finds us around them, so they make us leave. It’s not because they hate us”

“Oh, okay.” Luna was satisfied, and fell asleep shortly after. When I was sure she was asleep I decided to ask about something that had been on my mind.

“Heartsong?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” she replied.

“Will it ever get any better? Will we ever get to stop running? Will ponies ever stop driving us away?” Again, she paused for a second, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“You know very well what Discord would do if he ever found us. I’ve tried to keep the truth as nice as possible for poor Luna, but sooner or later she’s going to find out. I wish that things could be better—I wish so very, very much—but for now, we will have to deal with these problems.”

“What do you mean, ‘for now’?”

“Have I ever told you of the time when I found you and Luna?”

“No.”

“Well, I was walking home from gathering some herbs in the forest when I found you. You were less than Luna’s age back then, and she was only a newborn. It was very cold outside, and you were doing your best to keep warm. You both were in pretty bad shape, covered in cuts and bruises. I knew that you wouldn’t last long out in the cold, so I brought you home.

“I didn’t know who your parents were; I searched for weeks to find out who you belonged to. I found nobody, but I knew exactly why. Tell me, have you heard about the ‘Prophecy’ yet?”

“Prophecy? What prophecy?”

“A prophecy has been floating around, stating that two ponies, possessing the attributes of all three pony tribes, would rise up and defeat Discord, using only the purest form of harmony against him.

“You two fit the description perfectly: wings of a pegasus, horn of a unicorn, and—as I found out later—the gardening skills of an earth-pony. I knew that Discord knew about the Prophecy, and I assumed that your biological parents knew that he knew it as well. He would be looking for you two, and no doubt would harm you and anypony around you if he found you.”

“Wait, so you mean that we’re supposed to defeat Discord with some Harmony stuff?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s only a prophecy, you know; it could be false. But it could also be true. I know you well, and you are not the kind of pony to give up a chance to change things. It’s up to you, whether or not things will ever get any better.”

“I—I want to do it.”

I felt something, a feeling of hope I hadn’t felt for far too long. It quickly gave way to excitement.

“Can we start looking for whatever that “Harmony” stuff is tomorrow?”

Heartsong chuckled. “We can keep an eye out for it, but I think you had better get a bit older first before going up against Discord himself.”

“Rats.” I said, but my excitement still grew. I was so full of energy that I wasn’t even tired anymore. Ha, I could have stayed up all night!

<Wow! Luna and I are the ones who are supposed to defeat Discord! I wonder if we can do it . . . I’ve never tried to fight anyone before. What is that “Harmony” stuff supposed to be anyways? I wonder if we should . . .>

My thoughts drifted away as I fell asleep.

Marshall’s upper and lower eyelids were evidently having a love-affair; he was having a very hard time separating them from each other. As they vehemently protested their separation, he tried to clear his mind.

First off, he felt awful. He was groggier than he had ever felt in his entire life, and he was pretty sure that someone had rearranged his organs. His nose was clogged, his love-struck eyelids were crusty, and his mouth tasted like a week’s worth of concentrated saliva.

“Uunnnnnnnngh,” he groaned as he tried to reanimate himself.

He heard a bustling of activity coming from what sounded like a speaker. Somebody was whispering, no scratch that, lots of people were whispering, and papers were being shuffled around.

“Who . . . ngh . . . who’s . . . there . . .” He tried to sit up, but promptly fell back onto his pillow. He finally opened his eyes and saw that he was in a small white room. The furnishings were sparse, but there was a small desk to his right, and he obviously was in a bed, which was quite comfortable, actually. There was a large mirror on the left wall, and a small potted plant sat in the far right corner. The only thing that seemed out of place was the door, which looked more like something found in a bank vault, rather than a small bedroom. It looked to be made of steel, was covered in rivets, and obviously looked very, very strong.

Marshall breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Firefly was curled up next to him, fast asleep. He also noticed that the voices had stopped.

“H-hey,” he mumbled, still trying to find his voice, “where are you?” He heard more shuffling coming from a speaker somewhere. Where is it . . . where . . . aha! There it is, on the ceiling.

Someone cleared their throat; they sounded female.

“Unknown creature, by order of the Diarchy of Equestria, you are to identify yourself.”

“Just where are you?” he inquired, looking around for a security camera.

“It doesn’t matter, now identify yourself.”

Marshall got an idea. “You’re behind the mirror, aren’t you?” He heard something whispered. It sounded like “Horse-apples”.

Marshall was getting fed up with this, and he was becoming increasingly aware of just how weird his body felt.

“Look, whoever you are,” he huffed, “can’t you just come out and we can talk about this face-to-face?”

“Not until you identify yourself,” the voice said, matter-of-factly.

“Goshdarnit, I’m a human, for pete’s sake!” he yelled. “My name’s Marshall Bradley, alright? Now could someone tell me just what the heck is going on?!” His skin was feeling tingly.

Silence reigned for a moment.

“One moment,” came the voice.

Marshall tried to drum his fingers, but they were all stuck together, like they were bandaged or something.

Before he had a chance to check them, the door opened. In stepped two creatures, walking on four legs. They warily made their way toward him.

Horses, Marshall mentally deadpanned. They’re horses.

He shrugged. Oh well, I guess I expected weirder.

Horses wasn’t a completely accurate term for them, they were much shorter and proportioned differently, and they had eyes that were gigantic. Ponies might have been a better description, but not by much. They were very colorful, though; one of them was lavender with what could only be described as a mane that was dark purple with a pink streak. The other was light blue, with a white mane with a mint green streak in it. He wondered if the colors happened naturally or were dyed. Both of them had some sort of tattoo on their hindquarters, and on top of both of their heads sat a long horn. Unicorns. Of all the aliens I get to meet, they're unicorns. He chuckled, which incited a flinch from the two creatures.

It was just about then that Marshall noticed something very off. Something sitting in the corners of his peripheral vision. Something that was right where his nose should be.

He crossed his eyes and that something focused into view.

It was not his normal nose. It was long and green and covered in fur.

Marshall’s eyes widened. “W-wha-w-what the hell is that?!” he yelled.

“What?” the lavender one asked. “What are you talking about?”

“That!” he shouted, pointing at his nose. He then saw the appendage he was pointing with. It was not his hand. It was a hoof, also green for some reason, and also surrounded by fur.

“Aahh!” he screamed, and attempted to jump out of the bed to get a look of himself through the mirror, but once he landed on the floor, he immediately fell flat on his face. “What the—?!” He frantically looked back at his legs to see why they weren’t working, only to see that they were proportioned very differently, his feet being very long and the rest of his legs being very short, once again ending with a pair of hooves. He screamed again and began army-crawling toward the mirror.

“Sir, you need to calm down!” yelled the blue one. Marshall didn’t need to calm down. What he needed was to see what he really looked like.

He made it to the mirror, and what he saw was not encouraging.

“I . . . I-I’m one of you guys!” he yelled, eyes glued to the mirror. He tore them away to look at the two others in the room. “W-why am I one of you?

“We were hoping you could tell us, actually,” the lavender one said. Marshall looked back into the mirror, studying every inch of his body. He noted that he did not have a horn and instead had a pair of wings. That particular detail however, was not the most pressing thing on his mind; he needed to figure out what was going on instead.

“No no no no no, this isn’t right,” he said. “Nothing was supposed to happen when I went through; I was just supposed to”—he immediately jerked around, facing the two others—“are you a part of A.I.R.?”

The lavender one took a step back. “What are you even talking about?”

“Oh what was it, Autonomous Interstellar, uh . . . oh! Autonomous Interstellar Relay system! A.I.R.!” He gave them a pleading look, hoping desperately for an ounce of recognition.

“Never heard of it,” replied the lavender one, before giving a questioning look to the blue one. “You?”

“Nope,” responded the other, shrugging what appeared to be her shoulders.

“No no no, this can’t be right!” He leaned back against the mirror, clutching his head with his hooves. “I was supposed to go through and tell the A.I.R. team that gateway 149 was on the other side and that I’d be fine, so long as I told the truth, and wait—how are we even understanding each other? The field was only supposed to extend for ten meters, why can we understand each other? No no no no no, you’re supposed to know what to do! You’re supposed to have a team here! You’re supposed to be able to take care of everything!” He began hyperventilating.

“Sir—Marshall, was it?” the lavender one cautiously took a step forward. Marshall snapped his head toward her, eyes wide and breathing too quickly, causing her to flinch. “Marshall, take a deep breath,” she said. “Everything will be okay.” While her voice was calm, there was the faintest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Marshall inhaled as deep as he could, and sighed it all out, deflating considerably.

“You’re r-right,” he said, his voice still shaking. “We-w-we can fix this.” He looked determinedly at the opposite wall. “I j-just need to talk to the gateway, it can fix all of this.”

The lavender one wore a confused and slightly worried expression on her face. “Marshall, would you care to explain all of this, please?”

Marshall sat up quickly, and the two other ponies flinched again. “I need to talk to the machine that opened up the portal I came through, do you know where it is?” he asked the purple one. She hesitated before responding.

“Yes, I do, but I can’t let you go, not yet,” she said firmly. “Not until we can confirm you’re not a threat.” She slowly sat down next to him, giving a quick nod to whoever was behind the mirror. “Now then, hello Marshall, my name is Twilight Sparkle,” she said gently, raising a hoof to his. With uncertainty, he was able to determine well enough what she meant by the raised hoof, and raised his to meet hers. In a moment of weird surrealism for Marshall, they slowly shook hooves.

Well, not that this entire experience wasn’t a gigantic bucket of deep-fried surrealism, extra crispy.

“Now, would you please tell me what’s going on? From the beginning, preferably.”

Marshall gave a heavy sigh before slumping into the wall. “Okay, I guess it all started when I was coming home from work, and I found a weird fan sitting in the hallway. It was really messed up and broken, but for some reason, I got some sort of a subconscious vibe from it, real friendly-like. It was free and nobody else wanted it, so I took it. I was thinking, ‘Eh, why not? It’s free stuff and maybe I can fix it up later.’

“Anyways, I went home, had some dinner, and tried to fix the thing. Turns out, when I did finally manage to fix it, it turned into some sort of a . . . thing. I’m sure if you saw me come through, you know what it looks like. A really short turbojet engine is the best description I can come up with.” Both ponies gave looks of confusion at the mention of ‘turbojet engine’.

Oh right, Marshall. Duh, these aliens have probably progressed so far technologically that the concept of a conventional engine is something you could only find in the history books! These guys probably can teleport wherever they need to go, you fool!

Marshall smiled sheepishly. “Don’t—don’t worry about what a turbojet engine is, you’d probably think it was stupid,” he said in an attempt to save face.

“Well,” the lavender one replied, “we’re supposed to have an open mind about new ideas, but if you really think so, we won’t press the matter further.”

Marshall thanked his lucky stars (which happened to be Sirius and Rigel) that he had at least landed with a bunch of aliens that were courteous.

“Please continue,” said the blue one. Marshall noticed that the clipboard and quill were both floating in a blue aura that matched one that was surrounding her horn. Of course! Why wouldn’t they have telekinesis? Without hands, I’m sure that was the first thing they discovered!

Still, he found himself staring at the two floating items, jaw slightly dropped.

“Marshall, are . . . are you alright?” asked the lavender one.

“Huh, what? Oh right.” He continued, still shooting glances at the clipboard every now and then. “Anyways . . . where was I . . . oh right, the fan. So it turns into this thing, and then it starts talking to me about all of this stuff about what I think is the United Galaxies and a transport system and saving the world through communication and boy was it annoying, but anyway, I know about programmed A.I.s and such, but I’d never seen anything like this. I mean, this thing was fully sentient! It could think and feel and make condescending remarks about me and my race for some reason, and I have absolutely no clue as to why anyone would create something like that only to stuff it inside a gateway-thing. This is the kind of thing I’d see on sci-fi television shows, so why would they make it perform menial tasks like sending foreign dignitaries through portals?”

“And are you a foreign dignitary?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“Oh heck no!” Marshall snapped. “Not me, no way. I’m just . . . I’m just . . . you know, me.”

“Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted,” muttered the blue one under her breath. Twilight Sparkle jammed an elbow into her side.

“Anyways,” Twilight said, shooting a hard glare at the other one, “please go on.”

“Well, there’s not much left,”—Marshall shrugged his unusually shaped shoulders—“the thing asked me to go through and inform whoever was in charge that there was a gateway on an unregistered planet, and so I went through, and that’s how I got here.”

“And was the gateway supposed to turn you into a pony?”

“No! That’s what I’m trying to figure out! None of this makes sense!” He rubbed his forehead with his hoof. “I . . . I need to talk to the machine that made the portal I came through.”

“And just what makes you so sure that talking to this thing will help?”

Marshall stared at the ground. “The machine that made the portal is apparently connected to a system of gateways that send people all around the galaxy . . . somehow. From what I’ve seen, each one has an A.I. that I can talk to, however annoying they may be. It should be able to tell me why it’s here and why it turned me into one of you guys, right?”—he stared into her eyes with a look of desperation—“I need you to let me talk to that thing.”

She stood up, her face unreadable, save for a slight drop in her eyebrows. Her eyes flitted between Marshall and the floor, before finally resting on him. Her face relaxed and she took a deep breath.

“Okay fine, but you need to understand that we still don’t trust you, not completely.”—her face hardened—“If you give us so much as a reason to think that you might be dangerous, we will put you right back here; incapacitated and in a world of pain.”

Marshall’s eyes widened. “Yes! Right. Got it. No worries here!” He gave an overenthusiastic smile. “It’s just me,” he said through closed teeth, “the most un-dangerous guy you’ll ever meet!”

He was going to have to tread carefully from here on in.

Twilight gave him one last look of uncertainty before shaking her head. “Alright then,” she said, “I’ll go get the relations manager to come take care of you while we notify the staff of your intentions and get everything ready.” She nodded to the blue one. “For now, wait with Snowburst until she gets here.” Twilight promptly trotted out the door.

So that’s her name. Snowburst. Huh. The names were funny around here. Marshall had expected the aliens to have crazy, unpronounceable names, or even just plain old numbers, but these ones? Well, these names were just silly.

Then again, he didn’t exactly know what to expect from sentient talking horses.

---

Twilight trotted out the door of the quarantine chamber, passing the room behind the mirror. She politely nodded to the security pony inside that was monitoring the systems, ready at a moment’s notice to shut down the room. As she came out into the hallway, she found herself troubled more than she would like to admit.

Just what have we gotten ourselves into? She thought as she passed numerous ponies working in the quarantine facilities, each one bowing their head or saying a polite ‘hello’, prompting a response from Twilight. This guy is way out of our league! “Hello!” His race must think ours to be that of simple pets or something! “How are you doing?” I mean, sure, I can grasp the concept of portals and the fact that there’s some sort of organization out there in space, this guy’s existence is solid evidence for that; but none of the rest makes any sense to me! “I’m doing fine, thank you.” A.I.’s, television, what are they? What’s a turbojet? He obviously made it sound important. Just what is the extent of their technological superiority?

She looked up and realized that she was standing in front of the door to the relations manager’s office. She stepped inside, notified the pony at the desk that the new arrival had finally awakened, and immediately headed for the section of the facility reserved for the volatile chambers.

Gah, I don’t have time for this! Of all the times for him to wake up, it had to be the day before we launched the project, didn’t it! “Nice to see you again!” I still need to check in with Butterscotch on the power diversion connections, and the spell matrix, and basically the entire system, and I need to get one last check-up from Tender Care, and I need to triple check my supplies, and I just . . . I just need to . . . to—“Thank you! You as well!”—I need to calm down, that’s what.

She took a deep breath and sighed it out just as she approached the entrance to the volatile section. She greeted the security guard at the entrance, verified her magical signature, and stepped through the gigantic steel doorway. After a short trip through a narrow hallway, passing several entrances marked from one to eleven, she stopped at the one with a large twelve painted across the front.

Once she verified her magical signature again, the door slid open with a small hiss, revealing a medium-sized room full of various university students, appearing to be mostly comprised of Professor Circuit’s senior class. They mulled about, fiddling with dials and taking readings of data. The professor himself was there as well, and the unicorn shuffled up to Twilight the moment he noticed her. He was a spindly pony, with gangly legs and a long neck. He would have been tall enough to be an imposing figure, if it weren’t for the fact that he was so skinny that a cross breeze could very well blow him over. He smiled through his well-groomed goatee and politely bowed.

“And how are you today, Princess?”

“Just fine,” she lied. “How is progress coming with the machine?” she asked as she trotted toward the small window that opened into the actual quarantine chamber. She looked through several layers of shield and barrier spells and saw the fan-shaped machine, along with various other tools that were currently being operated by the unicorns on the team.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, Princess,” he responded, moving to stand beside her. “The thing is impenetrable! Everything we’ve tried so far to open it up has failed spectacularly. It has no bolts, screws, plate joints, cracks, seams, nothing! The entire thing is one big hunk of . . . well, something. And darn strong, too! Our diamond hammers couldn’t even make a dent in it!” He gave a long, drawn-out whistle and clicked his tongue. “I’d sure like to meet the pony that built this thing.”

“We’re not even sure it was built by a pony, Professor,” she commented, as the students attempted to hack into it again using a saw of some sort. “The creature that came through it a week ago just woke up, and he’s been rambling about galaxies and portals, saying that this thing is a gateway to other worlds.”

“Is he now?” He stole a glance at Twilight before looking back toward the work of his students.

“It gets better too. Apparently, each one of these things can communicate with us as if it were a real, living pony. At least that’s what I think they can do, he was very unclear upon the matter. Anyways, the creature, whose name we came to find out was Marshall, is coming over in a bit to ‘speak’ with this thing, whatever that entails.”

“Well golly, I never thought to actually just talk to the thing,” he said with a smile and a huff. “It’s like my mom always said, ‘if you’re always friendly and nice to others, you can be sure that you’ll go places’. I guess I never really thought that machines counted too!”

“Indeed.” She stared down at the floor, her face contemplative. “To infuse an artifact with somepony’s soul . . . that’s just . . . that would take an unbelievable amount of magical energy! Almost more than Celestia’s!”

“Hmm, not to mention very unethical too. Illegal to boot.”

“Yes! What kind of pony would consent to this sort of thing? It’s horrible! How could anypony be willing to let anyone take away their soul and put inside something else?”

Circuit shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, immortality, lack of the need for basic necessities like food and water, near indestructibility in the case of this particular thing; some ponies would find those prospects to be very tempting.”

“But that’s . . . that’s just . . . stupid!” She shot him a hard glare. “Why would anypony ever trade friends and family for something as idiotic as that? My friends and family are the most precious things I have! There’s no way in Tartarus I would trade them for something as ludicrous as immortality!” She found herself getting angry, mostly because she knew the professor’s point was very valid. There really were ponies out there that would make that decision out of choice. And boy, did that make her blood boil.

The professor chuckled. “They sure don’t call you The Princess of Friendship for nothing! I think I should probably go help my students out, lest I suffer the wrath of your all-powerful friendship beam.”—something crashed, and his head spun around—“Oh yeah, and to make sure they don’t destroy the entire castle too. What the heck do you think you’re doing, you fools!” He ran off toward a group of students, to the sound of them crying out things like “Sorry!” and “Please don’t let this affect my grade!”

Twilight’s lip curled into a pout as she watched him scold his students. Why was she so upset about this? Sure, the professor had made a solid argument and knowing that made her angry, but there was something else too, something she couldn’t place her hoof on.

Then she realized what it was: it was Nyx. Nyx would never be able to find lifelong friends and family, simply because of the fact that she would outlive all of them. It seemed so unfair that Nyx should have to suffer that fate, she had already gone through more than her share of troubles. When all of them, Twilight included, grew old and died, Nyx would just be approaching the prime of her life. She thanked the Maker above that Nyx had Spike for a brother. With any luck, he would last hundreds of years.

Her subconscious pinged her mind that she had things to do and take care of. The guards should be able to handle Marshall, so far as what she’d seen him to be capable of, and Circuit and his students could deal with the machine, so she allowed herself to quietly leave.

After all, she had an Equus-shattering scientific breakthrough to discover.

---

This was getting awkward. Marshall thought back to the time in highschool when he and his prom date were stuck at his house, all alone, for an hour and a half, without any means of transportation. Before then, Marshall had always enjoyed silence mostly, he had found it calming and pleasant, but that particular silence had been neither calming nor pleasant. It had been possibly the worst hour and a half he had suffered through.

The situation he was currently in was no different. Snowburst stood in the corner, shifting her weight every few seconds, casting sidelong glances at him. He could hear a low drone coming from the speaker on the ceiling, as well as the beating of his own heart and the blood flowing through his veins. On top of that, the sound of his own saliva in his mouth was horribly, painfully loud.

He had been making a valiant, but hopeless, attempt to keep from staring at himself in the mirror; knowing that there was probably another pony behind it, staring right back at him. Numerous times he had tried to stand up and walk, but the best he could manage at the moment was to prop himself up on his legs in a stable, but very limited position. He contemplated asking Snowburst for some help, but his already wounded pride wouldn’t permit him. Not to mention the fact that she intimidated him more than he would like to admit.

At least Firefly is still asleep and doesn’t have to deal with this.

. . . not that she would care, really.

“So,” he croaked, before clearing his throat. “So, why . . . why do I have wings instead of a horn?”

Snowburst jumped slightly at the lack of unbearable silence. “What? Huh? Oh, well it’s because you’re a pegasus, silly.”

Marshall looked back into the mirror at his newfound wings. “Really? Like as in Greek Mythology?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about as far as mythology goes, there’s nothing mythical about pegasi, other than I hear that they’re horrible roommates. Feathers, everywhere.”

Marshall said nothing for a moment, before settling on the best thing he could think of at the time.

“Huh.”

He unfurled his wings and studied them in the mirror, despite the uneasiness about whoever was on the other side.

Of all the weird things to get used to, having wings was the weirdest for Marshall. Sure, being a quadruped was unusual, but at least they still felt like his arms and legs, just all proportioned differently. He did note that the proportions felt natural, however. He knew that if he had tried to stand like this as a human, well . . . anyone that has ever tried to “bear crawl” can attest to its inefficiency.

But his wings were completely different. It wasn’t that they weren’t natural either, surprisingly. They still felt like they “belonged”, so to speak, but boy did Marshall’s human-centered brain have a hard time getting used to them.

Think, for one second, just how unbelievably weird it would be to have another pair of arms growing out of your back. With their own muscles and bones and feathers, and everything would be intrinsically connected to your brain. Weird, right? So thought Marshall.

He looked down at the joint between his back and his wings (also noting that his neck had the flexibility to do so). The transition from fur to feathers was quite seamless, surprising Marshall once more.

A buzzer sounded, much like those found in apartment buildings, and shortly after the large vault-like door opened.

What stepped through was . . . well, still a pony, by Marshall’s judgment, but it looked quite different from the rest. Marshall guessed it was a female, but then again, he had seen no males to reference against, so he could be wrong. She had a base coat of light brown, but on top of that, she had a rather extensive array of markings in all shape and size covering her body, ranging from cream-colored to red and green and even a fluorescent blue. At first, Marshall thought they might have been some sort of paint or tribal markings—he was honestly not too surprised by much at this point—but then he noticed that they were moving. Not fast, but they still rippled around a bit, and progressively morphed into different colors, although at the moment, the predominant color was green . . . ish.

She gave a cheerful smile and her colors shifted toward more of a yellow. “How ya doin’, Snow?” She cantered up and bumped her front hoof against Snowburst’s.

“Oh, not too bad, I suppose,” she said with a shrug. She shot a glance at Marshall. “But I really need to take care of a bunch of stuff like, right now, so could you . . . you know”—she nodded her head toward Marshall—“take care of this?”

The other one chuckled, and she turned greenish again. “Don’t worry, you can go now. I’ll look after the new guy.”

Snowburst gave a quick “Thanks!” before rushing out of the room, muttering something like “Maker above, that was horrible. I can deal with monsters and criminals, not awkward stallions!”

The new pony shifted to a light pinkish color and sidled up to Marshall, showing off an unassuming smile.

This is weird.

“So you’re the one everypony’s been talking about, huh?” She stuck out at hoof, prompting Marshall to shake it. “Name’s Rho.”

“Marshall,” he squawked.

“Alrighty then, Marshall, come on! I’ll show you around,” she said, turning a light shade of blue. She turned and nodded to the mirror, after which the large door swung open. She turned to go through the door, before noticing that Marshall wasn’t following her. She looked back at him, and stopped.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“One second, I just gotta figure this out.” He placed his left foreleg forward very slowly, then looked at his hindlegs and moved his left back leg.

“Wait, do you not know how to walk?”

“Not on four legs, no.”

She walked up and inspected his progress, before shaking her head.

“Well there’s your problem, buddy,” she said, pointing to his back leg. “You’re putting the wrong back leg with the front leg. You gotta think about it like an X.”

“Huh?”

“If you put your left foreleg forward, then you have to put your right hindleg forward after that. And then the right foreleg and the left hindleg. See?” She walked a few steps to demonstrate.

Marshall blinked. Left foreleg, right leftleg . . .

“You okay?”

Hind rightleg, fore hindleg . . .

“Marshall?”

He shook his head. “Right. Like an X. Got it.”

“Try it out.”

“Okay, so the left foreleg first . . .” He moved his left foreleg.

“Yep.”

“And then the right . . . hindleg?” He moved that one.

“Uh huh.”

“Right foreleg.” It moved forward.

“You got it.”

“And left hindleg.” It took a step.

“Keep going!”

“Okay, left foreleg, right hindleg. Right foreleg, left hindleg.” He started speeding up.

Foreleg, hindleg, foreleg, hindleg.

Left, right, right, left.

Left right, right, left.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One . . . two.

One . . . two.

“Ha-hah! Look at that!” He was now walking in circles around the room. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this! No probl—Oof!”

Rho gave a small chuckle before moving over to help him up. “Keep working on it, buddy.”

“Right,” Marshall said as he worked to get himself back up, taking the hoof of Rho’s. Not that he exactly knew how he could really grasp another hoof like that, but whatever.

“Now, let’s see if we can put your newfound ability to use out there, huh?” she said once he was back on his hooves.

“Right!” Marshall however glanced back at Firefly, who was amazingly still asleep.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your ferret until you get back, okay?”

“Okay . . .”

Both of them stepped—slowly at first—through the narrow corridor into a large hall, full of various ponies bustling about. As he walked among them he noticed that most were levitating items with their horns, yet others—like him—had no horn, and were carrying things in their mouths, leading him to wonder if telekinesis technology was only reserved for the supposed unicorns, possibly creating a major disjoint of power between factions.

Does that mean that there would be some sort of nobility class based on it, perhaps? Or is it purely wealth based? Maybe gaining a horn and telekinesis is a medical procedure and only the very rich can afford it? I suppose—one way or another—it would lead to some form of elitism. What if the unicorns are born with it, giving them a natural power to assert the Divine Right of Kings? If so, there must be some reason why the other ponies haven’t revolted yet—are they born with some other natural ability that equalizes the balance of power? I guess I have wings, so my race, the pegasi, I think, can fly? I suppose that could be useful, but what about the other ones that don’t have wings or a horn? Are they the equivalent of serfs? But wait, that one’s wearing a lab coat and looks like it’s doing something important, so what’s the deal?

Shut up Marshall! You’re on an alien planet full of new alien creatures, and the best you can think of is political science?

But—but I’m a Poli-Sci major. That’s what I’m supposed to think about.

Doesn’t matter! It’s a stupid major! Why are you even doing that anyways? You always wanted to get into Computer Science in Animation, didn’t you? Make all the cool effects in movies?

I’m . . . I’m not good enough to get into that program though.

Rho was saying something.

Oh crap. Abort. Get out of there, Skywalker!

Stop that!

What?

Quoting stupid fantasies!

It’s not stupid, and it’s not fantasy! It’s called Science-Fi—

Marshall shook his head to clear his rampaging thoughts.

“Huh, what was that you said?” he asked. Rho flickered red for a split second before turning back to her usual blueish green.

“I was saying you’re the first we’ve had around here. Alien, I mean.”

“What?”

“You’re the first alien we’ve had around here,” she reiterated, adding a bit more emphasis. “Although, you look pretty normal for an alien. When we heard that one was on its way, the entire staff just about flipped out!”—she sighed before chuckling—“ Just our luck that you look exactly like a normal pony.”

“Riight. And just what is here, anyway?” he asked, looking around.

“Here? You’re looking at the main hallway of the Quarantine Facility of Canterlot Castle.”

Canterlot? As in? Like? Camelot Canterlot? Marshall giggled internally.

“And I’m assuming you use it to quarantine things?” he inquired.

“Yep! Anything that is deemed too dangerous to live within normal society gets put here.”

“So it’s like a prison?”

“I suppose so, if you think of it like that. But I think it’s more like protection from outside society.” Her colors shifted to a dark maroon.

“What do you mean?”

“Most ponies here couldn’t function—or at least, wouldn’t be allowed to function—in a regular society. The rest of the group would drive them out of town, calling them demons or monsters.”

She gestured to a reddish orange unicorn standing off to the side, with a golden mane and tail and a glowing fireplace for a tattoo. “Take Ember, for example. When we found him as a colt, the townsfolk were just about ready to stone him to death, claiming that he was ‘seized by a devil’.”

“He doesn’t seem too different to me though.”

The pony yawned and lit up his horn, apparently casting a bubble around himself. He then burst into flames.

“Blah!” Marshall jumped back.

“Yeah. See what I mean? Perfectly normal ponies that could never live a happy lifestyle outside of here.” The pony fizzled out, steam still drifting from his body. “In here though, with everything fireproof, he can live out a happy life.”

“So . . .” Marshall tried to continue, still visibly shaken. “So are they stuck here forever? Do they ever get to go outside?”

“Oh we let them out every once in a while, usually to visit family and such, often with heavy disguises.”

“But what about, you know,”—he gestured to the orange pony—“the fire?”

“Not a problem. That bubble protects anypony and everypony from the heat.”

“Okay, sure, I guess.” Marshall still found himself shooting sidelong glances at him, though.

“Well anyways, we’re here.”

“Where?”

“The section reserved for housing volatile things. It’s where we’re keeping whatever that thing was that sent you here.”

“Oh! Right. Good.” He had forgotten about his current situation in the midst of all that had happened. It gave him a twinge of sadness to be forced back to deal with his real problems.

They went through what seemed like a ridiculous amount of security checkpoints before entering a final chamber. Inside was numerous other ponies, mulling about in various clusters. Heads turned as both of them stepped over the threshold.

“Hello everypony!” Rho gave a cheerful wave before gesturing to Marshall. “I would like you all to meet Marshall. He is going to help us figure out this machine.”

He was met with relieved smiles, as well as suspicious looks, mostly aimed at his lack of a butt-tattoo. He responded with a meek and rather un-reassuring smile.

“Over here, Marshall,” voiced a twig-looking pony with a luxurious moustache. He pointed through the tinted glass at what appeared to be the fan that had opened the portal on this end of the universe.

“So that’s the thing, huh?” Marshall asked as he moved to the window.

“That’s the thing.”

“Right.”

Okay, so I’ve gotta talk to this thing and get it to let me through, right?

And you’ve got to get it to change you back into a human too.

Right.

And hopefully figure out why the whole translation thing isn’t working like it was supposed to.

Right?

Right.

Right.

Silence ensued.

“Soo . . . you wanna let me go in and talk to it?”

“Oh! Yes, one second,” said the moustached pony, before pressing a large button on the desk in front of the window. A heavy door to the side slid open, letting out a small hiss.

Marshall entered the smaller room, passing through a blue barrier of some sort, and regarded the fan in the center. He cautiously approached it.

How does one address an object like this anyway?

“Um, hello? Can you hear me?”

Guess that works as well as anything.

In the same manner as the previous encounter, the screen at the top notified him that he was being scanned.

“Hello?”

[My scanners inform me that you have no rank nor insignia. There are no records of you ever having held any officer position in the military or above. Therefore, access is denied.]

“What?”

No response.

“O-okay then. Um, could you tell me why I turned into a pony?”

[Information is classified.]

“Well how about why the translation field is nonexistent?”

[Classified.]

“Ugh, could you tell me where I could find someone that does have access?”

[I cannot. Such information would compromise my duty.]

“You’ve got to be kidding me . . .”

[I do not kid. Such nonsense is outside of my programming.]

Marshall put a hoof to his forehead and rubbed his temple, silently noting how weird that gesture felt.

“So I don’t suppose there’s any chance of you opening that portal and letting me through?”

[Most definitely not. The very notion that you are informed of my true purpose is evidence enough to strengthen my security measures twofold.]

Well, it looks like you’re not getting home that way anytime soon, Marshall.

Aw crap.