• Published 6th Aug 2019
  • 402 Views, 17 Comments

The Most Shameless Nonclop Ever Told - Coyote de La Mancha



They say that sometimes, to better write something classically great, you should step back and write something that is classically not. So, I'm testing that theory. Ponies, Star Trek, pirates, space weasels. Let's see where this takes us.

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1. It Starts.

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“Checking all circuits,” Spock said. “No sign of malfunction.”

“Then whatever it is, it’s real,” Kirk observed. “But what is it?”

“Analysis complete,” the science officer announced. “It appears to be a tight energy beam similar to an old-style radio wave. But altered, to allow for it to travel at interstellar speeds.”

“Spock, is there any record of that kind of technology in this sector?”

“Negative, captain.”

The captain thought or a moment. His crew had been through a great deal during the last five years. There had been changes, of course. Transfers, promotions, and, yes, even deaths. But it remained that he had the best crew in the universe. Whatever lay in their path, he knew he could handle it.

They, he corrected himself. They can handle it.

“Lieutenant M'Ress,” he asked, “can you decode the transmission?”

“Negative, Captain,” the female Caitian purred. “The signal was too tightly focused.”

“Spock, can you isolate the origin of the signal?”

“Affirmative.”

Several moments were filled with the background sounds of the bridge’s computers.

“…and?” Kirk prompted.

“And it seems to have eminated from the only planet in the Equus system,” the Vulcan answered. “I am obligated to point out that the Equus system has been in a state of quarantine for approximately sixteen standard years.”

“M’Ress, could that signal have been a distress signal?”

The felinoid considered. “Theoretically, Captain. But—“

“Lieutenant Arex , plot a course for Equus-1,” the captain said immediately.

“Aye, sir.”

The orange-skinned Edosian complied at once, his three arms working the navigational controls with their customary grace. Still, the tripedal officer had to wonder: why the rush? Had it truly been so long since the last shore leave?

Kirk threw himself into the command chair with gusto, staring eagerly at the screen.

Arex snorted. Apparently, it had.

“We’re approaching the planet now, sir,” Arex said.

“On screen.”

The bridge crew fell silent.

“Mister Spock,” M’Ress asked in a hushed tone, “what… is that?”

“That,” Spock said, “Is Equus-1.”

The system had but one planet, if such it was, maintaining a stationary position near a sun the size of a large moon. The planet itself was a rough flat plane, like a badly chewed coin at least fifty thousand miles across. One side, the side facing its miniature sun, was barren and lifeless. The other was covered with a vast array of oceans, clouds, and terrains worthy of any lush and resource-rich world. Facing the living side of the planet, a pale moon shone against the emptiness of space.

“According to Federation records, the Planet Equus-1 is home to a variety of fully sapient non-bipedal creatures, as well as a few bipedal and quasi-bipedal ones,” Mister Spock said. “Virtually all forms of government are represented, however haphazardly. At the time of last contact, none of them were known to have reached a level of technology beyond that equating with Earth’s nineteenth century.”

“Mister Spock,” Kirk asked, “How is what we’re seeing… even possible?”

“Unknown.”

“And the reason for the quarantine?”

Spock cocked an ominous eyebrow. “Unknown.”


.

“Ce-le-stiaaa…”

The lump in the royal bed did not stir.

Princess Luna gave an exasperated sigh.

“Sister, awaken yourself. My duties are all but done. It is time to raise the sun, even as I must lower the moon.”

At last, the lump moved. Granted, it tightened into itself under the covers rather than actually shift towards wakefulness. But some mornings, Luna was ready to take whatever she could get.

“Arise!” she cried. “For lo, the world doth await the touch of thy orbiting celestial bod from on high! So rise up, Celly! Shine down upon us!”

Throwing her arms out dramatically, she cried, ”Be brilliant, oh sun-butted one!”

“Wzlbzmgzlmght,” the lump muttered, tightening even further.

Luna considered the lump for a moment. Then, gently, silently, she crept towards the end most likely to contain a head… and therefore, a set of ears.

The lump under the covers untied itself slightly.

Slowly, silently, Luna took in a breath. These things must be done delicately, after all.

The lump began to give the slightest of dainty snores.

Somewhere in the distance, a cock crowed.

Luna leaned down. In the days before there was a need for the Royal Voice, she had been quite the opera singer. Now, however, she projected her rhymes in a deliberately off-key megafortissimo.

“ON THE FIRST DAY OF CRISPNESS, MY TRUE LOVE SENT TO MEEE…!”

“Aaaaaack!”

Princess Celestia was flailing in mid-air, eyes wide and unfocused, mane and tail splayed in all directions like a pastel sea urchin.

Meanwhile, Luna continued belting out the forbidden lyrics at the top of her lungs:

“…THREE BAILIFFS BAILING, TWO POUNDS OF CAKE, AND A PARSNI-IP IN A PEAR TREEEEEEEE!”

“I’m up! I’m up!” Celestia cried. “In the name of mercy, I’m up!”

Luna gave her a calculating look. “Are you certain? There are seven more verses—”

“No!” Celestia exclaimed, the chandelier swaying slightly from where she clung for dear life. “I’m awake!”

Luna sighed, and shook her head. “It is a puzzlement. What dark cosmic force in the universe determined that the Princess of the Sun should be a night owl?”

“More to the point, what dark cosmic force wished that a night owl would become the Princess of Day?” Celestia grumbled, dropping back onto her bed.

“You were the one who called heads,” Luna shrugged. “Are we doing this, or not?”

“Breakfast first?”

“Morning is overdue.”

“My strength is waning.”

“We can eat after sunrise.”

“Oh, Luna, really! It’s not as if the day will start without me—”

“Seven more verses, Tia.”

“What are you waiting for?” Celestia asked hastily as she trotted towards the balcony. “Our subjects are counting on us!”

Together, the sisters stepped out onto the balcony, their horns glowing with power.


.

The red alert blared shrilly throughout the ship as the crew found themselves hurled into walls and furniture, the ship’s artificial gravity thrown into disarray by forces beyond its power to account for. On the bridge, the command crew struggled to hold onto computer banks, railings, anything within reach.

“Evasive action!” Kirk bellowed.

“What’s happening?!?” M’Ress cried.

“Equus sun increasing speed!” Spock shouted. “Starboard impact imminent!”

“Deflector shields up on full!” Kirk shouted. “Helm, hard a’port!”

“Hard a’port, sir!” Arex shouted back.

“Scotty! Give us more power!”

“Captain, I’m givin’ her all she’s got!” came the intercom reply. “Any more’a this an’ the dilithium crystals will shatter!”

“Scotty, we’re about to be hit by a flying sun! Get us more power or the Enterprise will shatter!”


.

“There,” Celestia said happily. “One sunrise. Now for breakfast. Care to join me?”

“You know, I could eat.”

Then Luna paused, considering the sky.

“Did it seem to you as though there was a shadow near the sun, just now?” she asked.

Celestia waved her concerns away. “I’m sure it was nothing important.”


.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”


.

Minutes later, Celestia sighed happily as the bite of pancake all but melted in her mouth.

“Oh, there is just something about breakfast,” the white mare sighed, reclining on her chaise lounge. “Such a luxurious meal.”

“It is,” Luna agreed, gesturing towards the table between them. “More nectar?”

“Please. And would you care for more honey for your pancakes?”

“I wouldn’t say no. And perhaps some jelly?”

“But of course.”

“Still,” Luna mused as she glanced around the palace triclinium. “Have you ever had the feeling that you were missing something?”

“Not really,” Celestia shrugged. “I have a sense for these things, you know.”


.

On board the Enterprise, the bridge was a shambles. Fire burned freely on all sides while loose wires hung from the ceiling, spitting sparks. Several of the jewel-like control matrices had gone dead, more smoke billowing from their sides. All around him, the captain saw his people strewn like discarded dolls. Some unconscious, others, like himself, merely reeling from the near-impact with the system’s tiny, fast-moving sun.

“Damage report,” he rasped.

“All decks are reporting damage and injuries,” Lieutenant M'Ress coughed. With one hand putting her earpiece back in place, she pulled herself back into her seat.

While the navigators grabbed fire extinguishers and fought the blaze, she continued, “Warp drive is unavailable; shields and ship’s phasers are down; all hands in engineering are busy containing a radiation leak; decks two, five, and nine are suffering massive system failures; and all toilet seats are locked in the upright position.”

With a shaking hand, Kirk managed to press the command chair’s intercom button.

“Sick bay—”

“God dammit, Jim, what the hell did you get us into this time?”

“Later, Bones. Right now, I need that damage report.”

“Well, nobody’s dead, but damned if I know why not. We should have lost a few people just from the impact alone. As it stands, the worst injuries should be healed up in a matter of weeks. We were lucky, Jim. Damned lucky.”

“Can you be spared?”

“Why, do you need me on the bridge?”

“Landing party. Something’s going on down there, and I want to find out what.”

“Yeah, I can’t be spared.”

“Nice try. Meet us in the transporter room in five minutes. Kirk out.”

Meanwhile, in the sick bay, Doctor McCoy stared at the intercom as its light went out. Then, he sighed.

“Well, shit.”


.

The lift doors opened to allow McCoy reluctant entry into the transporter room. Spock and Kirk were already on the transporter pad, along with four red-shirted security specialists.

“Our reading shows an oxygen nitrogen atmosphere,” Spock was saying, “heavy with inert elements, but well within safety limits for all concerned.”

While the ensign prepared the transporter settings, Kirk nodded. “Gravity?”

“Zero point nine one three.”

“Just the three of us, plus a security detail, huh? That sounds about right,” McCoy grumbled. “Something swats the Enterprise out of the sky and you want to either talk to it, fight it, or kiss it.”

Kirk lifted an eyebrow. “Jealous, Bones?”

“Me? Nah. I’m just wondering which one it’s going to be this time.”

Glaring at his commanding officer, McCoy went on, “You know, not every damn planet’s going to have some golden-eyed beauty just waiting for you to fly down and carry her off for a week in some Orion love-palace.”

“Why, Doctor McCoy, I believe you are jealous!”

“Not even a little. Here.”

Kirk examined the small vial the doctor handed him curiously. He shook it. It rattled.

“Bones, what…?”

“Take three when the rash first shows up, then one a day until the bottle’s empty,” McCoy said.

“Very funny, Bones,” Kirk said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know… you probably think you’ll find a pair of hotties down there being fed grapes by a nubile servant girl in a brass bikini, just waiting to have an alien pool party.”

Kirk grinned.

McCoy rolled his eyes.

“Look at it this way, Doctor,” the captain said, still grinning, “If there’s three of them, then that just means there’s some for you.”

McCoy gave his captain a look. “In a pig’s eye,” he said.


.

“More grapes, Raven,” commanded Luna, outstretching a languid foreleg.

“Yes, Highness,” the unicorn demurred, her bikini flashing in the morning sun.

“What is on today’s itinerary, anyway?” asked a still-lounging Celestia.

“You promised to spend the day with the mare’s volleyball team, in honor of their victory against the Yaks,” Raven said as she slipped a peeled grave between Luna’s perfect lips. “And Princess Cadence will be visiting in the afternoon, as well.”

“Ah, very good,” Celestia sighed contentedly. “When we are done here, do be sure to summon the pool girls.”

Raven bowed. “Yes, Highness.”

“Oh, and have the guillotines ready, in case males should somehow interrupt our frolic.”

“Of course, Highness.”


.

Surreptitiously pocketing the vial, Kirk turned to his first officer. “Spock, you’ve been very quiet during this. Do you have an opinion you’d care to share?”

“None whatsoever,” Spock replied. “I was simply continuing my study of emotional bonding by observing the verbal sparring between yourself and the good doctor.”

“Spock, so help me,” McCoy said. “Someday, something’s going to get to you, past that thick, green-blooded skin of yours. And if there is a God, I’ll be there to see it happen.”

“As I am a stranger to the emotional range you are describing, I find that highly unlikely.”

“Don’t let it bother you, Spock,” Kirk grinned. “That’s just more of that ‘verbal sparring’ you were studying.”

Spock barely glanced at him. “I wasn’t.”

McCoy, meanwhile, had stepped up onto the pad. He glanced back at the security team, then faced forward again, shaking his head sadly.

“Poor bastards,” he said.

The security team exchanged nervous glances. Maybe it wasn’t too late to be fire fighters instead?

“Alright, gentlemen,” Kirk announced, “you’ve had your briefing, and we’re all as prepared as it gets. Next stop, Equus-1.”

He nodded to the ensign at the controls.

“Energize.”


.

MEANWHILE, EARLIER THAT SAME DAY…

“Scootaloo!”

Within the house, there was a filly who answered to that name. Her ears twitched slightly at the sound.

“Scootaloo! Come on, we’re going to be late!”

For an instant, Scootaloo glanced at the window. Seeing that it was still dark, she rolled over, contented that she had imagined the whole thing. Then, her half-closed eyes happened to land on the clock.

With a contented sigh, she drifted back towards sleep…

…then jackknifed awake with a cry of pure terror.

“Oh, holy crap! I’m late!”

Bolting to the window, she threw open the panes.

“Sweetie Belle, hang on, I’ll be right down!”

Scootaloo burst into motion, grabbing her school uniform skirt and twisting herself into it in a few seconds, not bothering to undo the buttons.

“First day of school,” she muttered, “new teacher, new school, new everything, and I made us both late, this is just perfect…”

Raising her voice as she grabbed a piece of toast, she called out, “Almost ready!”

Then, more quietly as she hurried cobbled a lunch together, “Crapity-crapity-crapity-crapity…”

Moments later the front door opened, Scootaloo emerging with her bookbag secured on her back.

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Sweetie Belle gave a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, so did I,” the young unicorn admitted. “I think it’s because it’s still night out.”

“Yeah, what’s with that, anyway? It’s not winter yet, right?”

“Huh-uh.”

Sweetie Belle considered as they walked. “Maybe it’s another monster attack?” she suggested. “Or a magical invasion?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “Maybe. If it is, The Sisters will handle it, though.”

In the distance, the schoolhouse bell began to toll.

The two stopped short.

“Oh, geez!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “We’re late!” quickly, she reached over and grabbed her friend’s hoof, pulling her onto her back. “Hang on tight!”

In a flash, they were off. Scootaloo ran, then galloped… then, her miniature wings whirring like a hummingbird, she began to truly pick up speed. A thickening trail of dust was left in her wake, leaves and the occasional piece of debris whirling in the wind she generated.

I can’t make Sweetie Belle late, she thought desperately. Gotta go faster, gotta go faster…

Sweetie Belle clung on for dear life, her mane whipping behind her, the dirt streets merely a blur as the two of them sped ever faster towards their goal.


.

Ahead of them, a shadowy figure in a great cloak and hood paced slightly, peering at an arcane instrument in its claws. Then, it paused, looking at the instrument more sharply. Its whiskered snout twitched within the shadows of its mantle, as it muttered to itself, “No, that can’t be right, not after all these years…”

Then the figure detected a slight rumbling sound, more felt in the ground than heard. Looking up, it had just enough time to register a pair of teenaged fillies, one riding the other, before there was a thunderous impact and the figure was sailing through the air, helpless as a rag doll in a wind storm.

It wasn’t the fall that hurt, though. It was the sudden stop at the end.

“Sorry!” Scootaloo called out behind her.

“Who was that?” Sweetie Belle asked. “We hit somepony, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, some shadowy guy,” Scootaloo said, her wings buzzing even faster, her legs fading into a blur. “But I mean, what did he expect, just hanging out on the road like that?”


.

The depression was several feet deep, and vaguely bipedal in shape. Slowly, a shaking clawed hand covered in what once had been downy fur reached up, fell against the edge of the pit, grasping it for support. Then, another, matching the first in most regards, did likewise. Slowly, painfully, the figure pulled itself out from the dirt angel it had created upon impact.

Wrapping its cloak about itself, tucking its furred tail out of view from any accidental onlookers, the figure took a step. Stumbled. Half-leaned, half-fell against a tree for support.

Contact. After so long, finally there was contact.

The figure allowed itself a few moments to recover its dignity, then pulled out a small, palm-sized disk. It placed it on the ground, pressed its activation jewel, knelt before it, and waited.


.

The ship’s bridge was massive and elegant and domed, with golden filigreed railing and jewel-inlaid controls. Its crew, masters of stealth and assassination, took pride in their duties as they traversed the cosmos at the whim of their dread overlord. A full dozen of them worked at their stations, watching controls, logging reports, occasionally half-slinking, half-bouncing from one station to another with the grace of a ballerina, chuckling gently to themselves all the while. And always, always, mindful of the comforts and passions of their dread overlord.

Weasels are very social creatures, and once they give their loyalty they do not take it back lightly.

The ship’s lord and master half-reclined where he sat, high-collared cloak spread over his throne to either side like a gargoyle’s leathern wings. In his ancient pale hand, a crimson liquid swirled in a goblet of purest crystal, his scalene triangle sunglasses catching the light of the bridge readouts perfectly as he sipped.

Before him, a communication weasel turned to face him.

“My Lord,” she said. “We are receiving a communication from one of our agents.”

The ship’s ruler waved an elegant hand. “On screen,” he said.

There was a moment of static, and the figure of a male weasel on one knee filled the screen, his disheveled cloak wrapped around him in obeisance.

“Agent DC-Marvel-Valiant-Defiant-Shooter-Kirby-Ditko reporting, My Lord.”

“You may speak,” His Lordship said.

“My Lord, I believe I have made contact with the princess at last.”

The pale figure leaned forward suddenly, all languidness forgotten.

“How certain are you?” he demanded.

“More than fifty percent, My Lord.” said the agent.

The vessel’s master drained his glass.

“Excellent work, Agent D,” he said. “Call me again when you have a hundred percent certainty.”

“By your command, My Lord.”

The screen went dark.

A serving weasel was there in an instant, refiling her master’s glass, even as he considered the news with growing excitement.

Could it be? He wondered. After so long, could she truly have been found, the last descendant of my chosen queen?

“Plot a course,” he said, draining his glass again. Holding his goblet out for another refill, he added, “Chart the fastest course, and get us there as quickly as possible.”

“What destination, My Lord?”

“Equus,” came the dread lord’s reply. “As fast as the ship will take us.”

“By your command,” the weasels intoned.

While his servants worked their ways, he settled back again, sipping his crimson drink thoughtfully. For centuries, the bloodline of his one true love had eluded him through space and even time itself. But now…

Now, she will be mine, he thought. Oh, yes, she will be mine.

In the deepest reaches of dead space, the Mina Murry shifted its trajectory. Its massive thrusters blazed with ruby fire, and then the Elizabethan structure was gone, warping its way through hyperspace, carrying the Lord of Darkness ever closer to his goal.

Author's Note:

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Tune in for future installments at some vague point in the future, when some or all of the following may or may not transpire…


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Celestia gave the gold-shirted alien a once-over, then turned away with a shrug.

“I don’t sleep with monkeys,” she said.

Then, she paused, reconsidering. “But the one with the ears can stay,” she decided. “He interests me.”

“Spock!” Kirk whispered as the guards surrounded them both. “We’ve got a chance! All you have to do is seduce their queen, and we could all still get out of this!”

The Vulcan turned to him with an eyebrow upraised.

“What do you mean ‘we,’ monkey boy?” he asked.

Kirk gaped.

As Spock turned to face the monarch of day with a bow, Kirk was dragged away by powerful hooves. He seemed to recover somewhat, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

“Spock! Spock, you can’t do this! You’re half-human, Spock! SPOCK!”

McCoy’s mutter could just be heard under the tirade, “I blame you for this…”

Then the great doors closed with a boom, and it was quiet.

Celestia frowned in puzzlement. “What was that all about?”

Spock shrugged. “Nothing of consequence.”


.
“…a variety of artifacts from our ten-thousand-year reign,” Celestia went on as they toured the palace’s museum wing. “Throughout that time, we have been revered for our magic powers, even worshipped briefly. But always we have sought to rule with kindness, justice, and compassion.”

“Indeed, given the circumstances of your abilities and magic-heavy environment, that would be the only logical course to take,” Spock nodded.

“Of course.”

“But what about this statue of the two of you together, with the dark stains and the gutter along the sides?”

“Yes, well,” Celestia shifted a little uncomfortably. “It’s a sordid tale.”


.
“We’re here to speak of Sweetie Belle’s well-being,” Celestia pointed out. “In light of that, our own stories are quite…”

“…inconsequential,” Luna finished, nodding.

“Your Highnesses, please,” Miss Cheerilee said. “This is a parent-teacher conference for a reason. Sweetie Belle has been acting very distracted. And as you are her guardians, anything I can find out about her home life can only help.”

The sisters looked at one another, then sighed in unison, giving in to the inevitable.

“Very well,” Luna said, “where to begin? Our father is a many-tentacled elder thing from the greater dark near where Azathoth writhes in eternal dream. Our mother is a carnivorous color of light never before seen by mortal eyes.”

“I think our childhood was typical,” Celestia added, picking up the narrative. “Our parents frequently took us abroad, to better our education. We learned from the ghouls and ghasts in the hidden places, made their gibbering ways our own. We vacationed in Leng and Kadath, and frolicked in doomed Sarnath’s ruins. In the summer we would go wamp hunting.”

“My most beloved companion was a cat from Saturn named Wiggles,” Luna said, smiling at the memories. “Together we would hunt the giant spiders of Leng as our rightful prey.”

“And I dreamed of one day becoming a great playwright,” Celestia smiled as well. “I wrote my first and only play in those days. It featured the King in Yellow, with his moldering Sign and his Pallid Mask.”

“Those were carefree times.” Luna acknowledged.

“I wonder whatever became of that old manuscript, anyway…?” Celestia mused.

With some difficulty, Cheerilee swallowed, made herself speak.

“We have to stop,” she said.


.
“But Ditsy, don’t you see,” Kirk implored, “Under the tyranny of the Two Sisters, you’ll never truly be free! You’re all just prawns in their diabolical game of Go-Fish.”

The mare looked uncertain, assessing his words with her golden eyes.

“I want to believe you, Jim Kirk,” she sighed, looking away. “I just… I don’t know if I can.”

Gently, Kirk reached out and took her chin in his hand, guided her back to face him again.

“You can believe me,” he said, leaning in. “Always.”


.
“Goodbye, Jim Kirk,” Ditsy Doo sighed.

She looked up into the nighttime sky with a brave smile. “I will learn, and watch the lights in the sky, and remember. And someday, I will join you in your travels.”

She placed a hoof over her midsection, her smile becoming a quiet glow.

“We both will,” she said.