Pinkie Pie and Gilda Save Equestria from Alien Invaders

by Amit

Departure

Gilda sat on a cloud, staring at the claws which held the photograph. Her claws, she noted, seemed to handle pony things better than ponies could; she looked at the appendage very closely, and inspected every little detail.

Yep. Her claws were pretty awesome, she decided. The way they went around things with such speed, and such agility; the way they worked together, curling around things without the slightest hesitation, acting as if they were one single thing even though they were so different.

The way they went so wonderfully together, fitting next to each other when they couldn’t even be seen and letting instinct take over when they should.

“Hey, Gilda!”

She whipped her head around, and became aware only then of the devastatingly loud sound of candyshop-component-derived stable-altitude turbines. The pink mare attached to them grinned enormously and waved, her entire body seeming almost to twitch with glee.

The photograph was very quickly tucked under her wing. “Whad’ya want, dweeb?”

She rolled her eyes and batted her hoof. “Oh, nothing! I was just flying over to Canterlot and I just saw you up here on the way and I thought ‘hey, isn’t that Gilda?’ and you were looking all depressed so I made this and then you were looking over that picture with you and Dash and—”

“Wait, hold up!”

“Okay!” Pinkie promptly held her hooves up.

Gilda put her palm against her face and took a deep sigh. “Right. First thing, I totally was not looking at that picture. Why’d I look at a picture of some lame pony? I was looking at my claws.” She poked a talon up. “See?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, y’know! It’s kind of obvious your claws’re a metaphor for your relationship! It’s too bad my name wasn’t Middle Pie, or you’d be able to turn that into a metaphor too!” She seemed particularly pleased with her little deduction.

Gilda huffed and stuck her two Middle Pies up. “Stuff it and leave me alone, loser.”

Pinkie Pie tilted her head a bit, uncomprehending. “But you’re not happy yet! Come on, let me throw you a party! They’ve got really good cakes in Canterlot, you kn—”

“I said,” she said, trodding over towards Pinkie and rearing her arm back, the talons folding inwards, “Leave me alone!”

And she promptly did something incredibly stupid.

She swiped at Pinkie’s machine, hoping to drive her down as she had before—but she did not realise the complexity of candy-based propulsion systems, and found her talons very quickly stuck in the buoyancy compensator. “What the—”

There wasn’t very much time to complete the sentence; she promptly found herself pulling two gravities of acceleration upwards, and even her powerful throat wasn’t strong enough to manipulate the air as it pummelled its way out her lungs.

She coughed, and over the roar of the turbines, she managed to scream. “What did your stupid machine do, dweeb?”

Pinkie didn’t seem to be having any problems with the acceleration. “Just a minute! Gotta fix this!”

Gilda began to take deep breaths as the atmosphere begun to thin; she’d been in this situation before, although with far more control. In her anger and fear, as the air faded entirely, Gilda very quickly did something only slightly less stupid than sticking her claws into the turbine itself; she jammed her hand into the orientator, and found it just as stuck.

With a sickening lurch, they turned to what was coincidentally the perfect angle to capitalise on Equestria’s gravity—in less than a fraction of a second.

The griffon, if she’d been thinking straight, would have been glad she hadn’t eaten breakfast that day.

A sudden shout came from the mare attached to her; to her side, she could see smaller cylinders poking out of the sides. She was fairly sure that she’d never seen those before. “Oops!”

She struggled to look upwards. “Oops?”

“We turned around somehow and I kinda accidentally hit the pulsejet depl—”

Her sentence was drowned out by the incredible sound as a vapour cone formed around them, the Mach cone forming as a wave of pink, brown and white burst from them to accompany the sound. If not for her robust physiology, Gilda would have had her eardrums burst quite spectacularly; as it was, she only wished that they would.

“Woo-hoo!” Pinkie’s voice seemed to be amplified by the Mach cone. “This is so cool!”

“Get me off this thing!”

Pinkie didn’t seem to hear her, but she certainly had the same intention. “Alright,” she said, somehow contemplative even in the storm of sound and acceleration, “What if I—” She rested her hoof on what appeared to be a control panel.

“Hurry up!” She kneed upwards, trying to prod Pinkie into doing it quicker; she was beginning to see darkness at the edge of her vision as blood forced its way down her struggling veins, starting to pool in her legs.

The mare jerked up in shock, and her hoof landed on a button that Gilda couldn’t see; larger structures seemed to deploy from the turbines, around the pulsejets.

“Oops! I hit the —”

That was when Gilda blacked out.

—

Somewhere in lower orbit, two foreign beings looked over the world the ponies called Equestria.

“Pacifistic, non-senescent monarchy—”

“Pacifistic?”

“Indeed, sir. Not a war for a thousand years, from what we’ve gleaned.”

It gave an approximation of a grin, its flat face contorting very slightly. “Perfect. Their gems are fungal, correct?”

“They share a complete resemblance to ours in every respect but their method of proliferation. An analysis of native wildlife shows that some consume it wholesale.”

“Very acceptable.”

“Captain, I think the fact that this planet has sapient, immortal ponies and dragons is more important than—”

“Sir!” Sounds of footsteps resounded from the metal floor. “Sensors have detected what appears to be a ramjet-propelled missile heading on our trajectory!”

The one they called ‘captain’ raised on its alien skull what seemed to be a sort of bushy, black outgrowth—a smaller version of the almost bald mane he kept.

“Pacifistic, Madison?”

—

Aliens, however, were only the second-most-important thing in Pinkie’s mind as she looked frantically for a way to slow down; they had already crossed, by her estimation, a bajillion miles, gravity pushing them out like a slingshot. Not even Rainbow Dash could fly that fast. She tapped aimlessly at the control panel, wondering what she ought to do.

As if on cue, her construction did the job for her; the candy-cane ramjets began to melt from their own heat, the congealed sugar burning up and falling off. It wasn’t very long before the pulsejets followed, followed by the turbines and the rest of the machinery; Gilda went free, falling—’falling’—very slightly away from Pinkie.

Pinkie breathed a sigh of relief as she realised that now she was just orbiting the planet at several times the speed of sound without anything except air, her belly and Gilda standing between her and the solid ground. That solved one problem.

It was about then she realised that she didn’t so much breathe a sigh of relief as much as she had the air sucked out of her lungs by the semi-vacuum she found herself in.

Beginning to gasp deeply for air, she tried to think as hard as possible about what exactly could get her out of this situation; as she entered space along with the unconscious griffon, she found her problems had—once again—decided to work themselves out.

As she opened her eyes for a second, the moisture boiling away, she found herself looking at what appeared to be an enormous metal wall hurtling towards her at atmospheric escape velocity.

That was when Pinkie blacked out.

Comments

[Stereo_Sub]

Oh my god. This is utter BRILLIANCE, and I plead, nay, I DEMAND you continue. Seriously. I haven't read a good comedy in a long time, and this more than hit the spot. Liked and fav'd.

[FireHawk]

I just.....I kinda.....I want to hug you right now. Is that weird?
Yea, that's a little weird.

[MrCreeper97]

I-we-you stole my idea!

[Swagg]

this is just....LOL
can't wait to see how this turnes out

[Sparlight_Twikle]

If it was marked as “complete”, I'd say they're already dead.
But it's not, so I'm intrigued how you will continue it.