G3.01: Synthesis Complete
James Irwin knew something was wrong from her very first breath. Knew it from the strange numbness in her limbs, the unusual roominess of the bioreactor’s gestation pod, from how furry she felt. She ignored the instinct to panic, still buried deep inside despite her lifetime of training.
Whatever it is, it’s okay, James told herself. I would not be waking up if there were any critical errors with my body. Implanting the mind is always the last step. This was obviously intentional… for some reason.
Others in her place might very well have shouted, panicked, or bounced off the walls. Instead, James took a deep breath, and examined her surroundings. The interior of the gestation pod had its familiar strip of blue lights running down either side, with now-retracted manipulation arms folded against the sides. A paper thin screen set into the metal right above her head displayed her current status.
Bioengineering—Successful
Protein Decomposition—Successful
Gestation—Successful
Implantation—Successful
Crew Designation: Dr. James Irwin (Xenolinguistics)
Status Code: 137
Those three numbers at the end told her almost everything she needed to know about her situation. The first digit meant that the probe had landed on a habitable world with its own full biosphere, and that biosphere supported intelligent life. The last number indicated multiple failed attempts had been made to adapt human physiology, and that an alien blueprint had been used instead.
James reached up with one hand, holding it in front of her face. The limb wasn’t a hand, at least nothing like one she’d ever seen before. Instead of fingers, she saw only a fleshy stump, lacking fine manipulators. “Really?” She held up her other hand, and found a similar lack of useful digits. Maybe they were on the legs?
She tried to move them, and found two different limbs twitched at once, not quite in time with her mental instruction. Not just at the extreme end of her body, as she would’ve expected from legs, but somewhere on her back as well.
It’s okay, she told herself, in an exasperated mental voice. I’m trained for this. I get to be alive, I get to make contact with an alien race. Forty years of training will mean something.
Flopping around in confusion was not what protocol dictated. “Computer, can you hear me?” James asked, her voice raspy from lack of use.
This species obviously had vocal organs not too distantly related to those humans used. So closely related that she could form English words without difficulty. It was about two octaves too high, with a childish whine. Focus. Don’t apply human standards to aliens. They have nothing in common with life as we know it. I might be swimming in a lake of toxic gasses right now, or drifting down towards the ocean floor of a sea of charged liquid.
“Affirmative,” came the near instant response. James felt something on her head swivel at the sound, pointing towards the speaker set into the display above her. “Are you awake, Dr. Irwin?”
“I am,” she croaked. “Please open the pod. I want to get a good look at myself.”
“Please direct your attention to the screen,” answered the computer, its tone flat. “A series of cognitive tests will appear. Choose the best answers. I may not release you for duty until I confirm the modification to the biostructure of Alien Lifeform #FF35E has been successful.”
“I’m the first one?” James asked, and a little more fear crept into her voice. That said a great deal about the planet she had landed on, and what her mission would be. The computer chose a linguist, not a soldier or an engineer or a negotiator.
“Affirmative,” said the computer. “Please begin the test.”
James spent the next hour answering increasingly difficult logical questions with her awkward stump of a limb. None of the questions were terribly difficult—even a first-year cadet could’ve passed with flying colors.
“Examination complete. Bioimprint saved for future fabrication.” James heard a hiss of compressed gasses as the cot under her zoomed forward, ejecting her from the metal coffin of the gestation pod.
The interior of a Forerunner probe held about a hundred square meters of internal volume accessible to the crew. James’s gestation pod had been near ground level, so she didn’t get thrown around. As the pod slid clear, lights flicked to life above her, illuminating a space that now seemed built for giants.
James tried to rise onto her legs, and instead propelled herself into an awkward flop across the room. She landed with a thump on the textured metal surface, grunting from the impact. “What did I…” She tried several more times, with similar results. Eventually she settled for rising to what felt like her hands-and-knees and was able to stand.
“Computer, am I a quadruped?”
“Affirmative. All currently observed sapient species residing on KOI-087.01 have conformed to this general makeup. Would you like to read a detailed report?”
“No.”
James remembered years spent living and training in a simulated landside interior just like this, alongside as many as five other people. That had been hell—a prison of body odor and no personal space. That would not be a problem at this size, that was for sure.
She ignored the many composited sections of wall, each of which was meant to be accessed in a different way. Ladders extended up to deployable sections high above her, intended to allow a human crew to live in this tight space if conditions on some alien world required it. Hopefully I don’t need anything up there.
A thousand years of space travel, and her species hadn’t thought to program the probe to build an elevator. Hell, even a ramp would’ve been fine.
James walked tentatively at first, yet she found that after her first few steps, the others came easily. There was a natural rhythm her body seemed to know, which emerged so long as she didn’t think about what she was doing. “Did you make changes to my mind?”
“Inquiry lacks sufficient clarity for response,” answered the computer. “Standard imprinting methods were used in accordance with mission failure contingency 137.”
“Yeah,” James sighed, lowering her head in defeat. “I figured.” She made her way over to the probe’s restroom, which included a flat mirror mounted to the wall that would extend far enough for her to see.
The creature she saw staring back at her might’ve been adorable, if she’d seen it in a GE petting zoo and not a mirror. At a glance, she might’ve been a tiny horse, if that horse had been built by someone who had heard the animal described but never actually seen one.
Her head was too big, her eyes gigantic, her coat bright yellow fur. Her mane was blue, cascading down the back of her head far past regulation length. Her tail was a similar impossible shade. Most unlikely by far was the wings, which were attached to the back and twitched involuntarily as she thought about them.
“Please display biological information for Alien Lifeform #FF35E,” James said, before turning sideways to examine herself in profile. No opposable thumbs, no thumbs at all. The strange numbness she felt superimposed on where her fingers and toes should’ve been would never be going away.
The mirror became transparent, filling up with data. James was not a biologist, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make sense of any of it. There were a few photographs of something that looked almost exactly like her. Yellow coat, blue mane, purple eyes, though she was taller and had more graceful proportions. Longer legs, wider hips…
“Computer, is this body female?”
“Affirmative.”
James turned slightly to the side, concentrating on her tail. The stubborn organ eventually obeyed, moving to the side almost reluctantly. What she saw swiftly confirmed her worst fears. And just like being an alien, that won’t ever be fixed.
“Does my profile specify a biosex male fabrication requirement?” she asked, voice suddenly angry.
“Affirmative.”
“Please. Explain. This. Discrepancy.”
As usual, the computer did not betray even a hint of emotion. “Only one sample of Alien Lifeform #FF35E has been retrieved. Your skill profile matched the requirements at this juncture of mission completion. The nearest female match represented match inferiority of 34%. Failsafe 137 protocol allows—”
“I get it!” she shouted, her voice coming high and shrill. “I’m seeing… another discrepancy here.” She pointed at the screen. “This individual here is 1.3 meters tall at least. If I am a… clone… of this sample, why am I not the same height?” The alien also had some sort of mark on its flank, but James dismissed that as a tattoo, or some kind of paint. There was no reason she would have anything like that on her body.
“Alien Lifeform #FF35E does not conform to the standard model of organic development. Your body is within the acceptable margin of error.” Pause. “Do you feel these problems would render you unable to fulfill your mission?”
Discomfort was replaced with panic. “No! No! Absolutely not… no. I can fulfill my mission just fine.” She turned away from the bathroom mirror, walking cautiously over to the exit. This at least was a stairwell, a spiral staircase winding up to the airlock. Of course she wouldn’t be able to get away if the computer decided she wasn’t telling the truth. “It will only be a reduction in performance. Please recalculate the age of future Biosleeve fabrications. Do not make any additional crew members until you work this out.”
“Input accepted. Please familiarize yourself with physical motion using alien Biosleeve. The recorded movement of Alien Lifeform #FF35E will be played back for observation on the central monitor.”
* * *
Many hours passed. Eventually, James found herself curled up in one of the probe’s bunks, looking over the data the computer provided her about her planet: KOI-087.01.
It was the discovery of a lifetime. 1.02 times Earth gravity, a standard nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, and in the perfect orbit for oceans of liquid water. The probe had spent nearly a decade in orbit before it chose this landing site, plenty of time to exhaustively photograph the planet’s surface.
There wasn’t just enough life to turn the continents green. There were buildings, roads, cities… signs of electricity and the first stirrings of radio transmission. Exactly the sort of world that needed a xenolinguist.
“Computer, fabrication request,” she said. “Standard expeditionary protective suit, tailored to this…” She sniffed. “My current Biosleeve. One shortwave relay transmitter. One portable computation surface… sized appropriately to these awful stumps I have instead of hands. One nonlethal incapacitation sidearm. Appropriate food and water for a long journey, and something to carry it all in.”
“Request received. Fabrication within acceptable mission parameters, beginning now. Estimated completion time: seven hours.”
“Perfect.” James struggled with the sleeping bag for a moment, before giving up and just crawling in the opening meant for a human’s head and neck. She pulled a computation surface in behind her with her teeth, continuing to scroll through images and video of KOI-087.01. “Computer, begin rest cycle.”
There was no acknowledgment this time, except for a dimming of the lights above. James could still feel the machinery of manufacturing moving under her body, grinding gears and whirring fabricators. Far below, a system of automated drones continued their work, as they had already done for many years. Somewhere down there, near the most extreme depths of the excavation, would be the original probe, made on an alien world. It had brought her mind, blueprints for all the technology they would need, and the key to eventually completing their mission.
All of that was outside of her control. James was not here to manage the fabrication of the first outpost on KOI-087.01, only to facilitate a translation of the native’s language. Assuming they even have one.
When sleep came, it was restless, James constantly tossing and turning. She couldn’t find a comfortable position on the mattress and blankets, which felt like rocks under her body. Worse still were the dreams. Dreams of empty places, and stars like eyes watching her. Dreams of being small, weak, and helpless. Dreams of what bigger aliens might do to a small, female member of their species.
* * *
Exactly one week later, James emerged from a carefully concealed opening in the earth, stepping onto the landing site her probe had chosen. What visible signs of the impact there had been had long since been covered over by the probe’s automated machinery, burying itself with soil and rubble until only the scorch marks and the cracked rock of impact remained.
James wasn’t naked anymore, to her great relief. The computer might’ve failed to recover a male sample to make her body, but it had done an excellent job adapting a standard XE-201 suit to her unusual shape. The fabric under-uniform was remarkably flexible, and provided a constant coolness against her coat. The outer layer was woven of rigid biopolymer, tough enough to stop a bullet and with enough strength-enhancement to help her bend crystallized durasteel if she needed to. The computer hadn’t known what to make of the wings, so it had added padded sleeves to the cloth uniform and concealed them under the biopolymer shell. That detail alone felt confining to her, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she knew how to use them.
The probe had chosen the largest and most sophisticated society as a communications target. It had set down outside of the observational range of any native cities, though close enough that explorers could walk to them. James did not look forward to a long journey on immature legs, but at least she had the XE-201.
The strength and internal cooling were a godsend against the sweltering heat of the desert. It wasn’t a 301 model, so there was no atmospheric seal to cut out the harsh desert winds or the sands that occasionally blasted against James’s face. She would have to make do with her modified sunglasses.
The lenses projected a HUD onto the ground in front of her while she walked, mapping a virtual path in glowing blue arrows towards the nearby settlement. She had nearly sixty kilometers to walk to reach it. Most of the strength assistance in her XE-201 went into helping her carry the heavy bags that hung off either side of her back, filled with camping gear and food and ample water. Her suit would capture her waste and sweat, but it could do nothing for the water she lost to the sweltering desert heat.
James stopped less than twenty meters from the probe entrance, beside a gnarled shrub that barely reached past her knees. This is alien life, she thought, poking it with one hoof. She could barely feel it through the protection and the natural dullness of the limb, but even so she was awed.
James had seen photographs of alien life before, when she’d been training. She had spent a lifetime preparing for this mission, knowing full well most probes would not need a xenolinguist. Yet here she was, the one crew-member her probe had decided to create, on a planet teeming with life so similar to earth’s she could’ve mistaken this shrub for sagebrush.
For a moment, she was able to forget her strange body. Forget that she was walking on all fours, and take in the awe of the moment. I am going to make first contact with an alien race. An accomplishment like this might very well earn her her own neuroimprint when this was all over.
Then her uniform hiked up between her legs, briefly constricting her in an uncomfortable and unsettling way that reminded James of everything that had gone wrong. She squeaked faintly in protest, before setting off again at a walk in the direction her HUD indicated. There’s an alien civilization out there, she thought. All I have to do is find it.
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So James is in a tech cloned body of Lightning Dust, Oh boy I can't wait to see how he or should I say she reacts if he ever meets the real Lightning Dust or even the Mane 6 or even the Princesses.
8066272
Lightning dust will feature quite prominently in the story, but I don't think she was the one cloned. It's honestly a little bit of a spoiler to have her on the cover and in the description, but she'll be appearing next chapter so it's not as though people will be waiting very long for her to show up.
So far so good! I'm actually thoroughly impressed here. Love the hard sci-fi of the story, and this looks like the start of something to really enjoy. So, in the end, I want MOAR!!!
8066272
Since when LD is blue?
impressive I am really liking this story right from the start.
Interesting start looking forward to seeing where this goes
8066272 Cloning an existing person is a mixed bag at best. A clone at least from appearance could go places easily but they wouldn't know what the original did. Too much chance of running into someone that knows the original. Best bet is using a sample as a template and making changes so they are a different person
WOOHOO STARSCRIBE YEAH!!!
I like this. Let it continue.
OK wow read the description and that sold me on the story especially if this is done right
I love first contact stories like these! The first story I read on this site was Arrow 18, which is a first contact story 'done right'.
I've been playing a ton of modded minecraft lately and often wondered "if dropped on Equestria with nothing but knowledge to build everything, how long would it take to build a singularity engine?" :v
A very interesting premise and so far well executed. I am eager to read more.
That's not good enough!
8066661 media.giphy.com/media/gUElV5rfVUVAQ/giphy.gif
Starscribe, you son of a gun.
This is a fantastic story so far, I'm looking forward to the next chapter
I sincerely hope this is not some abstracted April Fools joke, given the date of posting, because this...
I really really like this.
8066594 When talking Starscribe, it will be done properly.
Who are you and what have you done with the real Starscribe!?
But seriously I'm looking forward to where this goes.
Question about an unimportant detail: Is the computer's voice masculine or feminine? Just so I know what mental voice to assign it when I'm reading any future dialogue.
ok, question. james was a male human, right? and now he/she is in a female pony body? is that correct?
Interesting concept so far...
8068444 yes.
He said he wanted to be male, but because the computer could not make a male pony, as it only had a female sample, it ignored that preference, as the best female crewmember dud not have the needed skills.
I suspect she is the crusaders age.
Very interesting premise, and a good implementation of it as I'd expect from you Starscribe.
I can't wait until we see the ponies' reaction at the concept of creating a living, thinking creature at will in order to fulfill a specific purpose. How do the newly birthed humans get over any existential crises from feeling as if they have a past, when their nuerology is actually 100% newly born? Was that taken care of in training? Were the neural imprints trained in post to accept their new roles? Fascinating stuff that I can't wait to discover.
I'm liking the background setting you have put in there as well as the main character.
Wonderful nightmare fuel.
~Leonzilla
8066277 Lightning Dust doesn't match the description of his/her new body, anyway. She has a blond mane, with turquoise fur. This body has yellow hair and a blue mane.
Curious to see where this goes. My only constructive criticism is that I think you should've referred to James as a male at first, because it confused me at first, and then when I started to understand what was going on, it was immediately apparent that a female body had been made. Other than that, solid start.
Since we're being hard-sciencey, cubic meters of volume, perhaps?
Feels pretty wierd that the character is female but has The name James...
8070725
Events in this first chapter indicate 'she' was male beforehand
Embodied mind, girl! Well, now a girl.
This is a really great scifi set-up for justifying a cliched trope.
So she's poking at the sagebrush, wearing a stillsuit, in Saddle Arabia or the San Palomino desert.
Ok.
8071163
one small poke for a former man, one giant wedgie for all former mankind!
I'll bet the only reason guys aren't freaking out from being in a female body is because of having breasts. Or trying to do things girls would do.
Hmm, if humanity has managed to completely transcribe an entire human mind and store it on a computer... that means we'd become essentially immortal. Heck, there'd no longer be a need for feeble, inefficient flesh bodies any longer.
"Doctor Who" realized that way back in the Peter Davison era in the episode "Four to Doomsday" with a race of aliens traveling to invade Earth, with themselves and some humans from various ages as false olive branches, all reduced to computer code.
Another male character turned into a girl?
Didn't you do that to poor Alex already?
So, that bit where the computer asked if the changes it made would prevent James from fulfilling her (his?) mission... Is the implication there meant to be that she (he?) would be euthanized? The fact that James is hasty to say that it wouldn't would seem to indicate that at the very least they don't want the computer to think that it'll be a problem.
Also, when James mentioned being rewarded with a neuroimprint, does that mean that unless this version of them does something exceptional to deserve it, their mind won't be backed up when they die, and the next James will just be loaded from the same existing template as this one was?
Shouldn't this be "two different sets of limbs"? Or did she twitch one leg and one wing?
8077890 It would likely terminate that James, and once it found a sample that was compliant with what the first James had wished, would create a new one. It's something you'd do to a computer program, but it's a lot more disturbing when it's a living being.
8066661 I agree, but I'll take what I can get.
I love the premise of this. I think I just discovered a new author I'm gonna wind up following.
8081288 That is terrifying and completely in the realm of what an AI, and some humans, would do.
Mr. Starscribe. You have a way of coming up with ideas that are incredibly different and interesting. Almost all of your stories have a weird concept. And you make them work. Well done good sir. Well done.
We art pleased with thy work!! Thou hast earned a like!!
...There are cities. Why is James doubting whether the natives have a language?
8177242 in the movie, Ender's Game the aliens were using a hive mind to communicate causing the humans to never comprehend what's on their mind. It might be the same here, she might be thinking what if they do not use languages and instead use a network of some sort.
How did i not know this existed?!?!?
Ahhhhh!!!!!!
Must Read NOW!!!
Good so far.
Age part I can understand, CM-magic and stuff, but "female-only" part seems contrived. Computer had all the time in the world to sample thousands of specimen, why would it even bother to work with incomplete data? Wouldn't it be just a waste of resources with no gain in the long run? Unless James is a throwaway piece (brain works - good enough) meant to spend 60 years to decipher Equestrian language, while computers works in background to complete data of native specimen?
The Interstellar soundtrack seems like a great choice to listen to while reading this.
Hmm.. well this is an intriguing story.
Scrolls down
Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggg
camo.derpicdn.net/fb34e067e8a3753804250da8b78ca70fe4157d17?url=https%3A%2F%2F68.media.tumblr.com%2Fae80b61b999ab3639c71778c5c41fc94%2Ftumblr_oo4gziwXLu1rsmidfo1_540.png
8074788
To quote Schlock Mercenary, it is only a little immortality. The individual still dies, along with any knowledge and memories made after the last backup. And given that the probe isn't bothering with backups...
8070774
Also strange that the author refers to the character as "she", I mean the mind is still male yes? Just one of my personal gripes with this particular trope.
8066277
Yeah, I was about to say, the pony that you included in the story looks nothing like her besides the wings.
I am extremely interested! I don't often enough read sci-fi stories, so this is a fantastic turn of pace from everything I have been reading. I have to say, though, the use of "she" and "James" is weird to me, but it drives in the point that she still considers herself as a he. That will be really awkward once he meets actual ponies.