Chapter 26: A Dangerous Plan
The room was one of many that maybe once had been crew quarters, and it was dark and swampishly humid—and yet somehow cold, with foul-smelling but well-chilled air being pumped in by what was left of the Cardasian life-support system. Which, although their ship was high-quality, was definitely the place they had skimped on to save ma few drops of latinum.
What intrigued Kirk in this particular room, though, were the fragments of various pirateish detritus that lined the various shelves. Trophies, he supposed, or other things that the symbiote that was now possessing Rarity had accumulated in its immensely long lifetime. There were several interesting rocks, one with a hole in it, and a few crystals in several colors. There was a mechanical monkey with a pair of cymbals, and a jar with an indeterminate thing held within, as well as a small and extremely old framed photograph of an extremely well-dressed Trill man with a long-haired woman who looked dirty and greasy but at least vaguely human apart from the slit-shaped pupils in her weirdly-spaced blue eyes.
Spock was also present, not for the display but because this was the room where the tools were kept so that he might do his Spock things. Which mainly meant science. The particular science that he was now engaged in involved careful dissection of what remained of an enormous robotic arm, the one that Kirk had used as a weapon to fire a projectile cleanly through the body of its twin. When Kirk entered, Spock had already removed the housing of the main cannon and was carefully disassembling it.
“Finding anything interesting in there?” Kirk picked up a skull from a shelf. It was immensely old and human in shape, but with an insignia of metallic gold somehow embedded in the forehead. Perhaps the remnant of yet another body that the symbiote had once maintained.
“Several things,” said Spock after a moment, his hands still in the machine and dexterously removing a large crystal from its housing. “Which are in equal parts both fascinating and intriguing.”
“Both at once? That doesn’t sound good.”
“It is neither good nor bad, Captain.” Spock sat back from the assembly, swiveling on his chair to face Kirk. “However, my findings do suggest that what Rarity indicated concerning alien use of this planet’s resources may indeed be more than just probable.”
“Meaning?”
Spock gestured to the device. “The object in question is a projectile weapon.”
“Yes, Spock, I know that. My shoulder still hurts from the recoil.”
“I am also able to fix that, if you require it.”
“I’m not letting you anywhere near my shoulder.”
“Noted. A projectile weapon is a device which instead of using a directed energy beam fires a projectile to inflict damage using kinetic energy--”
“Yes, Spock, I also know what a projectile weapon is.”
“Of course, Captain. I just told you.”
Kirk sighed. “So it’s more primitive than our phasers, but it still packed an awful kick. Is it something the ponies built?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. Kirk sighed again, knowing what was coming.
“I would hardly describe this particular weapon as ‘primitive’, Captain. In actuality, the technology far exceeds what is currently understood by Federation science, at least in some respects.”
“But it’s a projectile weapon. How can a projectile weapon be superior to a phaser?”
“Empirically, Captain. But in addition, there are several modifications to the basic function.” Spock turned back to the device and reached inside. “The weapon utilizes a supermassive subatomic particle matching Rarity’s description of her so-called ‘element zero’. The particle, when agitated with adequate electrical fields, does indeed induce what can be best described as a mass-effect, reducing the effective mass of an object and in this case a projectile.”
“Why would anyone want to make a projectile less heavy? That doesn’t make any sense, you’d be losing kinetic energy.”
“Considering the equation for kinetic energy, no. That is untrue. While kinetic energy is linearly related to mass, it is exponentially related to velocity. This particular system uses that to overcome relativistic discrepancies.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Strange. Considering you had just stated that you understood how a projectile weapon operates.” Spock pulled something out of the weapon. A small piece of metal, about the size of Kirk’s thumb. From the color of it, probably a tungsten alloy.
“Is that one of the projectiles?”
“Yes, Captain. And also no. This is all the projectiles.”
Kirk groaned. “Spock, I’m not in the mood for riddles--”
“The mechanism draws all the projectiles from this source. On the order of a few hundred atoms per shot, bound and accelerated to nearly the speed of light. This block contains every projectile this weapon will ever need to fire.”
Kirk frowned. “Spock, I fired the thing, it wasn’t just a few atoms--”
“Without a warp field, the mass of an object increases to infinity as it approaches the speed of light. This device simply limits it to perhaps a few grams, or kilograms. I believe it may be possible to modulate it depending on the structural parameters of the weapon.”
“But...why?”
“Captain, an effective mass of a single kilogram moving at 99.99% the speed of light would have have an energetic capacity orders of magnitude greater than any known weapon. Given an adequate source of power, this technology could vaporize a continent with a single atom.”
Kirk shivered. Rarity had been indeed been right.
“It also gives me insight onto how their telekinesis operates,” continued Spock. “It is not actually telekinesis, in the strictest sense. Rather, it is a localized field of spatial distortion. In effect a small and highly-controlled warp field. They quite literally have the capacity to warp the fabric of space at will.”
“The unicorns, at least.”
“No, Captain. I believe this material may permeate all biological creates of this planet. All may have this power to some extent.”
Kirk froze, realizing that fruit and cupcakes all ultimately derived from biological sources.
“Is it toxic?”
“Highly, Captain. To us, at least. Although it would take us decades to accumulate a dangerous amount short of ingesting a unicorn directly. Or more likely several.” He paused. “Although there is a possibility that an organic creature like us could intercalate this material into their own biology...although we would be as likely to violently explode as we would be to match their power. Perhaps even more so. I do not have the basic information necessary to perform a statistical power analysis.”
M’Ress entered the room, still wearing her sundress but now also holding one of the weapons stolen from the smaller robots.
“Still in the dress? We can get you a proper uniform.”
“This dress may well have saved my life, Captain.”
Kirk frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“No. You would not. Your shirt is yellow. Somewhat.”
Kirk still had no idea what she was talking about, but it was possible she was somewhat addled.
Despite being a Caitian, M’Ress was a communication’s officer specializing in fundamental linguistics and cultural support for diplomatic missions. She was not trained as an infantry soldier. None of them were. Starfleet was only superficially military; the crew of the Enterprise were meant to be explorers, not soldiers. So her holding a weapon, in this context at least, was disturbingly out of place.
“I am more interested in who built these machines,” she said, entering the room. “The ponies do not possess this level or engineering prowess. And you can bet your respective untufted ears that if the Klingons had a weapon with such recoil and power, we would have seen it before now.”
“That is not necessarily a valid logical assumption,” said Spock. “However, I have indeed confirmed that there is a high probability that these machines are not Klingon in nature.”
“We already knew that, Spock.”
“Yes. You did. However, it needed confirmation.” Spock pulled uncharacteristically hard on the outer surface at the base of the arm, where it was most badly damaged. The Klingon-colored plating came off, revealing that it was bonded to a much smoother and distinctly unKlingon white surface beneath.
“What is that?”
“A form of reinforced polymer, Captain. This symbol was drawn on it.” He held up a fragment that he had removed from the casing, revealing that it was marked with three red-colored, interlocking shapes. They had no meaning to Kirk.
“The rifles have it on them as well.” M’Ress turned hers over to show them. “I have a specialty certification in galactic symbology. And I do not recognize this symbol.”
Kirk nodded. “Then that means that we’re dealing with someone new.”
“Someone who knows Klingons, Captain. But also someone who is incompetent at forming a successful ruse.”
“I don’t think we were meant to survive this particular ruse,” said M’Ress, darkly.
“But we did.”
“Empirically, yes, Captain.”
Kirk considered this for a moment. Something felt wrong, but he was not sure what. Things were playing out logically, but in a way that made him unexpectedly nervous.
His consideration was interrupted by the high, somewhat squeaky shouts of ponies from elsewhere in the ship. Kirk and M’Ress looked at each other, and then went to see what the commotion was. Spock did not join them, and most likely did not even notice that they had left. He was far to intrigued and fascinated by the new theories of physics that sat before him in the form of a massive weapon that had formerly been attached to a robot.
They were in the main room of the ship, what had once been the bridge. All three of them. Rarity had at least partially recovered, but she was pale and listless in appearance, almost seeming thin, and when she walked it was apparent that she was weak and in great pain. Whatever she had done had been both draining and injurious, and although she was walking it was apparent she was still significantly unwell.
Despite this, she was engaged in a heated argument with Lyra, who had apparently taken a break from the construction of a hand throne to engage in a screaming match. Rainbow Dash was sitting in what had once been the captain’s chair, slowly rotating and pretending not to be watching.
“You have absolutely no idea, not the barest comprehension, of what you are talking about, and I am not in the mood to--”
“What you’re in the mood for? That’s exactly it—YOU! Look at this ship, YOUR ship, you have ALL THIS--”
“And you have no idea what I needed to do to get it, you couldn’t even imagine the things I’ve seen. I may look like a pony to you, and Rarity is, but I--”
“What’s going on?” asked Kirk.
Lyra turned sharply. “She’s being a dang horse--”
“I had simply stated the truth,” snapped Rarity, flicking her mane into Lyra’s face. “And you are apparently too blinded by your sick fetishes to understand the implications of basic decency.”
“This isn’t exactly a great time to be arguing--”
“She wants to force you off this planet,” snapped Lyra. “STILL.To keep ponies separate and alone. And it’s not a fetish.” Rarity raised an eyebrow. Lyra groaned. “Well, yes, it is, but that’s not the point! She doesn’t understand, because she’s already half-alien. What their technology could do, what existing on a galactic scale could mean for Equestria--”
“It would mean utter destruction. On a level that you can’t comprehend.”
“You don’t know that!”
“YES. I do. I understand that it may be tempting, but I have dedicated my life to keeping this planet protected.”
“By sealing it off from everyone and everything! There’s technology out there that could revolutionize science, redefine our world--”
“Into something you would scarcely recognize. For what? Shiny, glimmering ships? To find more cold, empty space and put Luna’s flag on it?”
“For history, for understanding, for the TRUTH--”
“Ponies don’t need the ‘truth’, they need PEACE. Security. Protection. Not...pointless abstractions.”
“Well alright then, how about something practical? How about medicine? With their space-han -alien technology, what do you think that would do for our diseases?”
“They have no knowledge of pony physiology, they surely couldn’t contribute.”
“That’s not true,” said M’Ress. “When we escaped District 51, we passed through a grove of trees that had highly toxic effect on your small prey-like body. You treated it with a hypospray of amphiteracin.”
Lyra’s eyes widened, then she glared at Rarity. “Those trees...that was swamp fever? You literally have a cure for swamp fever? ON THIS SHIP?!”
“I used it only because it was strictly necessary for security purposes--”
“One of the most horrific diseases on our planet, that claims hundreds of ponies every year with one of the most agonizing types of death imaginable, and you had a cure...and never even THOUGHT to share it? Aren’t you supposed to be generous or something?”
“How disfiguring?” asked Kirk, not having the context to understand.
“They literally turn into trees. This ampibian terapin, how much does that cost, Kirk?”
“It’s basically free. With industrial replicator-factories, we can make anything we want. Any medicine we need. And we’d be happy to share if we--”
Rarity turned sharply to him, glowering. “Of course you would, darling. Today. Two weeks ago, though? Of course not. It would be unthinkable.”
“Excuse me?”
“Because of that little arbitrary price the Federation puts on any help it wants to give. You have to have a warp core. There are over two hundred pre-warp civilizations in Federation space. How many of those have their own epidemics? Their own Black Death, their own Spanish Flu, Legato, their own Red Necrosis? Or maybe the Augment virus you dropped on the Klingons?”
“We didn’t--”
“It’s not my point. You could cure any world you want. Purge diseases that wipe away billions ever year. But you don’t. Not without that warp core. Not until they have that little justification for you to conquer their planet and bring it into your Federation.”
“That isn’t how it works, and you know it.”
“Oh no, I know it. I know exactly how it works. Planets with primitive populations are allowed ‘self-determination’ so long as they have nothing of value. But if they don’t, that’s a different story, now isn’t it? If there’s dilithium, or latinum, or duranium, or simple, pointless gold. Then maybe a ship ‘crash lands’ on their surface. Or they start picking up radio signals from a ship that just happened to be passing by. Or one of your ‘cultural research stations’ suddenly loses is cloaking field. Or in your case you just damn the Prime Directive and beam down anyway.”
“We don’t do that.”
“Yes, we do,” sighed M’Ress.
Rarity seemed to be vindicated, but unhappy about it. “I’m the only one here that seems to care about the 'Prime Directive' you Federation Knaves insist that you always follow.. To protecting this planet’s unique culture, it’s unique development. Because there is no other planet this beautiful in all the galaxy. You’ve ruined the rest.”
“What if we don’t want to be protected?” asked Lyra.
Rarity glared at her. Then she sighed. “You can’t see it. You don’t know. War. Death.” She looked visually uncomfortable, and the cadence of her voice changed as she attempted to speak. “You don’t even know what they are.”
“We’ve had wars all the time. We know what it means.”
“No. No you don’t. It’s an abstraction to you. The idea of death. It’s a threat, a danger, a source of drama, but it never really happens. Ponies never get hurt to severely, do they? Those spears the guards carry. You’ve surely seen them?”
“Of course.”
“How often have you seen a pony run through on one?”
Lyra looked absolutly horrified by the thought. “That’s—that’s not what they’re for, that can’t happen--”
“You can’t even visualize it, can you?”
Kirk interrupted. "I think I've had my life threatened a lot since I got here."
"Of course you did," snapped Rarity, glaring at him. "Ponies are a prey species. What does prey do when its afraid? It looks bigger. That's it. Pretends to be dangerous, like a butterfly with eyes on its wings. If you cornered a unicorn? Maybe. Maybe she would strike out. But seeing it? To witness death? Murder? What your Federation does on a daily basis? It would shatter them. Us. Down to our very minds, our very souls." She stared at Lyra. "Envision it. Try to. Not like a threat in a game, not a joke. A thin, silvery knife put...put...through...a pony..."
Lyra shook her head hard, as if trying to purge the thought. “Ponies don’t, we can’t, we never--”
“Ponies never kill." Rarity was breathing hard. A combination of her sickness, perhaps, but also something else. As if Rarity herself were experiencing the same extreme revulsion that Lyra was subject to as the symbiote inside her tried to keep the memories separate from the words. "I know. Even the thought of it is tearing you apart. You can’t comprehend it. But I can, even if Rarity can’t. Because I’ve seen it. Enough to know that this planet is unique. That THEY...” She looked at Kirk. “...don’t have that mental restriction. One death, one murder, it’s...an unthinkable atrocity to a pony. And your pointless wars over meaningless empty space burn millions upon millions.”
Lyra collapsed to the floor, pale and shaking. She looked up at Kirk, her eyes pleading. “It...it can’t be true...I didn't--I didn't mean to! Bon Bon, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! The hand, the HAND--”
Kirk did not know what to say. “We’re not perfect,” he admitted. “But we’re trying our hardest.”
M’Ress to Rainbow Dash, who had stopped rotating. “What about you?”
Rainbow Dash looked back. “I don’t know,” she said. “I want to fly again. And...there was a little girl in the town. I lost my wing but...she’s never flown. Do you think you can fix her wings too?”
The rest were silent, and Rainbow Dash slid down off her chair.
“I don’t know,” she continued. “And I don’t know if I even care.”
“Rainbow,” snapped Rarity. “That isn’t a legitimate--”
“Why not? I stopped listening. You’re both whining like a pair of foals and now Lyra's crying like a lump. I fly planes, and rockets, and I used to fly myself. You don’t get those jobs by thinking, especially about things that don’t matter. You do what needs to be done.” She held out her metallic wing. “No matter what.”
Rarity and Lyra fell silent, looking at each other. Rainbow Dash pushed past them, though, to address Kirk.
“Robots, eh? That’s probably pretty bad.”
Kirk nodded. “We think it is.”
“So what do we need to do?”
“To what end?” asked M’Ress.
Rainbow Dash thought a moment. “Whoever sent those wasn’t concerned with grinding us into rainbow paste, so I’m guessing it wasn’t a pony. And you guys seem okay, so it probably wasn’t you. But whoever it was, they shouldn’t be here, should they? So let’s find them and beat their flanks so hard their own mothers won’t recognize their rumps.”
Kirk smiled. “I have an idea, if you want to hear it.” He faced Rarity. “Even if it’s from a Starfleet officer.”
Rarity stared back, and then sighed. “I’m running out of ideas myself,” she admitted. “This conspiracy seems to have gotten very much beyond me, and I’m out of my depth. I do wish to protect this planet...but I also wish for my dearest sister to grow up having a sister who is not, as you so eloquently stated, ‘rainbow paste’.”
Kirk nodded. “This ship. Does it fly?”
Rarity’s eyes widened. “No, of course not. I purged the warp-core on entry and detonated it remotely. There’s enough deuterium to run the generator, but it’s running on fumes. There’s not nearly enough to reach orbital velocity.”
“We don’t need orbital velocity. Just enough to get it into the air.”
She paused. “I...suppose there is. With a few rather substantial repairs, it probably could. But why?”
“Do the weapons work?”
“Again, why?”
“Do they?”
Rarity whinnied annoyingly. “In theory, although they’ve been in especially disgusting muck for the better part of a decade. And I assure you, the forward shields are quite ruined. They saved the ship, but do recall that I still died in the impact.”
M’Ress shivered. “Captain, you can’t be serious.”
“Of course I am.” His smile grew. “I want you to get this ship into the air. And then we’re going to fly it straight over to District 51.”
M’Ress brought her paw to her face in exasperation, and Rarity frowned at Kirk in disbelief.
Rarity frowned. “And what, you uncouth Starfleet fool, do you expect to accomplish with that?”
“An alien ship pops out of the ground and flies right into one of the highest security areas in all of Equestria. A place imperative to scientific and diplomatic advancement for the whole planet.”
“And what, exactly, would destroying it accomplish?”
“Not destroying it. We just need to show up. Because as soon as Celestia finds out, there will be an investigation.”
Rarity’s eyes widened, and a slight smile crept across her face. “That is not untrue. Assuming Celestia does not sweep it under the rug.”
“She can’t. I think she’ll be as interested as you are as to what’s going on in there, but even if she isn’t, there’s three other rulers in Canterlot right now discussing my invitation to the Federation. At least one will call an investigation. And when they do, if there’s something going on, we’ll know.”
“And if they simply shoot us out of the air?” asked M’Ress.
“I thought of that too. Rarity, does this planet have some kind of media? Some manner of television?”
M’Ress frowned. “What in the name of warm sands is ‘tele-vision’?”
“It was something we used to have on Earth. Radio transmissions of images to primitive viewcreens. People used to spend about eight hours a day staring at them.”
“But why?”
“The twentieth century was very boring apart from the continuous planet-wide warfare. Apparently.”
“Humans are so...human...”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It isn’t,” said Rarity and M’Ress simultaneously.
Rarity continued. “We do, but it is rare. An earth-pony technology favored by the farming proletariat. There are barely any sets in Canterlot or Manehattan, but Baltimare, Fillydelphia, Detrot, Whinnypeg...you’ll get reception there.”
“And in Las Pegasus,” added Rainbow Dash. “They've got TV there, if you can get in between 24-hour aerobics broadcast.”
Kirk frowned. “Is every city on your planet a pun?”
The ponies all looked at each other.
“None of us have any idea what you are talking about.”
“That said,” continued Rarity, “the moon also has a substantial television presence. The highest. That is where it was invented, to overcome the profound enuii of bleak lunar existence.”
“Then here’s what we do. We broadcast it. Overwhelm all the frequencies. That way, everyone--”
“Everypony.”
“--sees what we’re doing. And if there’s more robots, well...”
Rarity’s smile grew. “Then they see exactly what we need them to see. The truth.”
Kirk, also smiling, nodded. “Either way, we win.”
“Aside from the part where we get shot out of the sky,” added M’Ress. “With death being an implicit result.”
“That’s a risk, not a guarantee.”
“Yes. And said risks are why the Enterprise has such high crew turnover in the red-shirted department.”
Rarity moved as quickly as she could to one of the screens and began entering information. “There’s just one problem, darling, and that is the communications blackout that they’re projecting. Which will prevent the signal from going anywhere at all.”
“And prevent us from calling in help from the Enterprise.”
“However,” said Rarity. “I’ve been looking into that. Slightly. Between being shot at and overdosing on a very expensive drug. And I believe that there may be a solution.” One of the screens flickered, showing the central tower—and zooming in on the top of it, to where several antennas reached upward into the sky.
“I had not known what these were for,” she admitted, “but I believe they may be part of its communication system. And the system generating this field.”
“Can we shoot it out?”
“No. Because we need it. With that power, we can boost the signal across the whole planet.”
“But how are we supposed to get to it?”
“I can get to it,” said Rainbow Dash.
They all looked at her.
“What?”
“Darling...you can’t fly.”
Lyra winced. “Ouch, way to be harsh--”
“I know,” said Rainbow Dash. “But I have to learn eventually, don’t I? Maybe I just haven’t had the right motivation until now.” She stepped up to the screen. “I can pull off a glide. I’m sure of that. If you can get me to a cloud, I can drop in.”
Rarity nodded. “I have a pair or rockets from a ruined pair of rocket-boots. I can strap them to you for thrust. We can rig you with a life-support belt and match the harmonics of their shields to prevent splattering.”
“Wait, what?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Technical jargon.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Is she smart enough to reconfigure it?”
“Ouch, darling, so very harsh--”
“I’m smart,” snapped Rainbow Dash. “I have a third-grade education at least! I’ll figure it out! Just give me a chance to do SOMETHING! I’m not about to sit on this ship and film a movie, as awesome as flying it would probably be...”
“I will handle the flight,” said Rarity. “Of my ship, that is, not the literal flight. But I will need help. From all of you. And the wonderful cat-girl is correct, there is indeed a rather sizable danger. To all of us.”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take,” said Kirk. “But if we move fast, we can catch them off guard. And finish this with as little damage as possible. A few smashed robots and a federal investigation.”
“What if we don’t?” asked Lyra.
Kirk sighed. “Then a few more smashed robots the next time we try to go out for a walk.” He paused. “A few smashed robots, and some rainbow-colored paste.”
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This is a very Kirk-ish plan that they have come up with. A certainty of death and small chance of surviving. What are we waiting for?
Indeed.
Ah yes. Trill and ponies. Hypocrisy at its finest.
Time to invoke that clause in the Starfleets charter. The one that allows captains faced with a threat to the Federation as a whole to go full Exterminatus on a planet.
11132739
Shol'va!
It seems that Flimand Flam have been making mass accelerator waepons for their alien bosses and an investigation into district 51 would be usefull since it would reveal all kinds of secrets.I like how Rainbow Dash is the only pony who realizes the real issue.
11132761
Cynics of all stripes always seek the worst from others to justify themselves. And Rarity's trill used to be a hardened criminal.
Boars, goats, rams, bulls, cattle, horses, deers, porcupines, rhinoceroses, elephants...
Pretty sure prey species are as ruthless as predatory ones regarding self-defense, protection of family or territory, mating rights...or just having a bad mood. Just not (usually) to get their food.
Before electricity and domestic technological appliances, there was not much time for boredom, since people had to dedicate a massive amounts of time to chores. Everything had to be done by hand: washing dishes, sewing clothes, cooking, boiling water, etc...
Not to mention tourism and travelling long distances became far easier when an increasing number of middle and even lower classes became able to afford cars.
Canon Kirk is more than educated enough to ever say something like that (not to mention the decade when Star Trek began airing).
11132892
Well to be fair the original run of Star Trek is a bit different from ours in the later 20th century. Two more world wars that went nuclear, the Eugenucs wars, no doubt a few economic collapses too. Its entirely possible that a lot of people at the bottom didn't have the means for other forms of escaping boredom.
Or Kirk could be making a point that half-Vulcans aren't the only ones capable of sarcasm. In which case that one took off like a heat seeking missile chasing an unshielded warp core.
This story is indeed very enjoyable to read !
The characters and their interactions are quite solid, and the story has enough twists and discoveries (even small things such as why the mares have painted uniforms) keep the interest.
There are some biological parallels between Trill parasites and the Goa’uld, but thankfully few if any cultural ones.
In any case, the crossover intensifies, and Spock is well and truly fascinated by the implications. The rest of the group, meanwhile, has to fly a UFO to
AreaDistrict 51. Let’s hope they don’t go full Roswell.And there’s still the matter of the interior of the Equestrian warp core…
11132674
heh. cowboy diplomacy at its finest
NO RED SHIRTS
Title-drop surprise crossover. At least it's using the system from the first one, "thermal clips" were such a disappointment both for game mechanics and breaking immersion and lore.
I wonder if the ship is in bad enough of a state that theyll have to use the old Luftwaffe trick of using the guns recoil as launch thrust assist.
this story is just growing on me.
and this chapter sure revels a hole bunch of new things.
11132739
Damnit, beat me to it.
11134051
I implore the author to rewrite the first few chapters.
The writing greatly improves later on.
Do they even know what a rail gun is? Kirk is indoctrinated with the phaser technology and Spock is speaking techno nonsense. Even I know that Rarefaction Wave guns and ElectroThermal Chemical guns exist.
Mass Effect weapons are in my opinion technological nonsense. They are not atoms. If you take an atom and accelerate that to relativistic speeds it's not going to do any damage.
11135674
What they've got is more akin to a particle accelerator that doesn't need to worry about the mass of the atomic elements.
Synchrotron beams are no joke, they're absolutely lethal, especially if they were using some very heavy element. If you've ever used a sandblaster, its like that but at the speed of light
11132904
not to mention Khan who is effectively Star Trek's Emperor of Mankind, but gets beaten down by the rest of humanity
Teal'c?
So, Kirk's plan is to make such a huge show that everypony comes rushing to see the secret base... yeah that is a legit plan. Only improvement would be have the ship's external speakers blast Ride of the Valkyries... because every aerial stunt is more epic with that playing.
As to the phaser v kinetic weapon.... yeah, it is a bitch trying to stop just raw kinetic force.
On Raritrill's views.... she is not wholly wrong that not being isolated will change Equestria, and that ponies are very not equipped for some of the harsher aspects of the galaxy... but at this point isolation is simply untenable, and if the various powers, The Federation is by far the best one for them. They are reaching some very biased conclusions. Yeah, The Federation has screwed up, and there are parts that will do some very shady things... *cough* Section 31 *cough*. But Kirk is right, it is legitimately trying to be better and do the right thing.