Chapter 5: The Princess
The door hissed as it slid open, and Kirk passed through into the auxiliary transporter room. He was so focused on a datapad that he nearly ran into Spock, who easily sidestepped him.
“Reading, Captain?”
“Uhura’s reports, based on the planet’s radio noise,” said Kirk. He looked up. Spock had gotten a tricorder pack and was prepared to depart. The tricorder was one of the newer models, a great improvement over the backpack-mounted ones used when Kirk had just started in Starfleet. “You should probably read it too.”
“I already have, Captain.”
“Spock, the profile is over two hundred pages long.”
“Yes. About the length of a novel meant for human children.”
Kirk frowned. “Any thoughts?
“Yes, Captain. I cross-referenced the form of the planet’s inhabitants with the Universal Fauna Database and found them to be remarkably similar in appearance to an animal from Earth. That animal being--”
“Horses. Yes. I already noticed that.” Kirk flipped through the pad. “Although according to Uhura, they call themselves ponies, which makes sense for their size. I think we should probably avoid calling them ‘horses’ until we figure out if that is an insult to them or not.”
“Being from Earth, are you familiar with these creatures?”
Kirk looked up again, waiting to see if it was a joke. It was not. Spock seemed serious.
“Spock, these are nothing like Earth-horses.”
“Yes. I am aware of that. That was not the question I asked.”
“You mean do I know about horses? Of course I know about horses. I used to ride them on my grandfather’s farm.”
“Ride them, Captain?”
“Yes, Spock, ride them. With a saddle. Does Vulcan not have animals you ride?”
“I would not know. Maintaining an obsolete form of transportation would be illogical, as would be practicing it.”
“But aren’t Vulcan’s sticklers for tradition?”
Spock tilted his head, but only slightly. “Creating generalizations of an entire species produces dangerous lines of thinking, Captain. Especially with regard to efficient practical aspects of our daily lives, such as transportation.”
“It’s not about transportation, Spock. It’s about the joy of riding over an open field, or wondering if you can jump that one wall in the back of the garden that you never could.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. Kirk just sighed.
“You wouldn’t understand, I guess. Which is odd considering how much emphasis Vulcans put on tradition.”
“I would hope that there will be no riding of these ponies when we are on the planet’s surface.”
Kirk looked up from his data pad, and then set it down one more time. “Of course not. They are much to small to ride.” He paused. “Or...Mr. Spock, are you trying to imply something?”
“I am merely stating that you should avoid riding the ponies.” He paused. “Additionally, I am quite aware of how you conduct diplomacy.”
“If you mean ‘effectively’, then I’ll take that as a compliment.” Kirk straightened his uniform. His fortune had once again changed. The day had started good, then grown terrible, and was good again. Although the main purpose of the Enterprise was scientific exploration, Kirk himself had always greatly preferred the aspect of exploration that concerned meeting new cultures and civilizations. To interact with them, and understand their perspective on the universe at large. Riding horses on a farm was all well and good, but Kirk was certainly not born to be another Iowa farm boy.
The door hissed and Shiboline M’Ress entered, carrying her own equipment and dressed in a newly fitted alternate uniform. Uniform regulations of course demanded that all women in Starfleet wear skirts, alterations were possible, although for the current situation, an exception had been made.
“Reporting for duty, Captain,” she said. She blinked, and looked around the room. She saw Spock and Kirk, and the transporter technician, who was herself wearing a skirt. At this point, M’Ress began to become nervous.
“Where is the remainder of the away-team?” she asked.
“This is all there is,” said Kirk, confused by the question. “I don’t think we need a larger group. My presences is obligatory, and you are going to assist. Mr. Spock is going to handle basic analysis and readings of the planet for science. I don’t think we need any more than that.”
“But...” M’Ress looked down at her uniform. Specifically, at her red shirt. A color that neither Spock nor Kirk wore. “But...we need one more, don’t we?”
“If we need someone else, we can always beam them down.” Kirk pointed at the phaser on M’Ress’s belt. “Also. Uhura’s reports indicate that the ponies are purely pacifists. Her diplomatic assessment is that they would find the presence of weapons insulting and frightening. We don’t want to spook them. So leave that behind.”
M’Ress’s eyes widened. “Captain, we would be unarmed.”
“I just said that, lieutenant.” Kirk smiled. “They’re adorable ponies. I don’t think we need to worry about them attacking us.”
“Apart from their space laser,” added Spock. Which, Kirk understood, may have been meant as sarcasm.
M’Ress took a breath and set her phaser on the transporter counter. She, being the only one wearing a red shirt, did not like where this was going.
Still, she boarded the transporter pad with the captain and science officer, holding her breath for this part. Transporting was of course safe and effective, but distinctly unpleasant for a creature covered in hair, no matter how silky it may be.
“Lieutenant,” said Kirk. “Does your planet have horses?”
M’Ress frowned, uncertain as to why she was being asked. “Not quite horses, captain, although I admired them greatly while attending the Academy. But we had a very similar organism.”
“Did you ride them?”
“No, Captain. We ate them.”
Kirk’s eyes widened, and he turned to Spock, who was otherwise impassive.
“Well,” he said. “Um...beam us down?”
The transporter hummed and the world seemed to shift slightly. There was a slight tingle as their respective atoms were separated, converted to a waveform, and shot across space only to be forcibly reassembled elsewhere in roughly the same conformation.
Kirk blinked. They had arrived at the coordinates that they had been given, emerging from the transporter in the center of an enormous room. It consisted of a vast chamber topped by a narrow dome, the whole of it supported by ornate columns of gleaming, pure-white stone. The floor, likewise, consisted of beautifully assembled tiles of a similar stone. It was a kind of marble, with the veins of the stones flecked with gold.
Kirk took a deep breath and found, much to his surprise, that this world smelled remarkably fresh. There was no hint of pollution, but to an extreme degree. There was not just a lack of smoke or airborne pollutants, but a lack of the general plastic or chemical scent that permeated almost everything in the Federation built. It was as clear as the air on his grandfather’s farm, or even deeper into the high mountains he usually spent his leave camping in. The only scent he could detect was one of pine, and a strange presence of vanilla.
“Spock, the air!”
“Consists of twenty eight percent oxygen, with the remainder being a mixture of noble gasses, mostly argon and neon. How intriguing.”
“I meant the smell.”
Spock looked up from his tricorder. “It smells like air, Captain.”
“It stinks,” said M’Ress, holding her hand to her nose. “It reeks like baking cake and frosting!”
Kirk had not smelled that, but a Caitian’s nose was, supposedly, far more sensitive than the tiny nubs humans used for sniffing. “Do you not like cake, lieutenant?”
She looked at him. In the bright light of this well-lit world, her pupils had narrowed to thin vertical slits. “I’m Caitian, Captain. We are obligate carnivores. Terran baked goods smell horrific to us. They taste far worse.”
Kirk had not known that, and he had known numerous Caitian women. From what he recalled, though, they certainly did like meat—and, as he had learned from experience, had a strong preference for Terran seafood.
He did not have long to reflect on the best way to woo cat women, however, as several figures entered the far side of the room. Ponies.
Like the masked guard on the view screen, they were dressed in angular armor made of an unknown gold and white material. They appeared to universally be unicorns, and their faces were hidden with armored masks. Each of them carried a spear tipped with a peculiar and unknown metal.
Although “carrying” was not exactly the right word. They did not hold their weapons, but rather their weapons appeared to levitate beside them, supported by barely discernible swirling, glimmering plasma wrapped around their hafts—plasma that matched the colors of the plasma produced by each of their horns.
“Spock,” whispered Kirk. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“That is not a specific question, Captain. If you are referring to the psychokinesis, though, then yes, I am. It is indeed a rare ability, but not unheard of. Even the Vulcan priestesses of Mount Seleya exhibit the ability, as do some humans on occasion.”
“I regret not having my phaser,” admitted M’Ress, glaring at the spears. “I do not appreciate receiving the poke.”
“It’s for show,” called a voice from across the room. “Trust me, you have no idea how hard it is to get poked in Canterlot these days.”
The trio of bipeds turned to face a pony entering the room. Unlike the others, she was not a unicorn but rather a winged pony. Or, rather, had once been.
She wore armor similar to those of the others, although with much more white than gold. Her back was exposed, revealing her wings—although only one matched the color of her blue coat. The other was wrought of fine, silvery metal, the cybernetic component being grafted to a heavily scarred area of her back.
She approached them, smiling. It was apparent that apart from the loss of her wing, her face had also been injured, with a scar across one of her eyes and one ear mostly missing. When she smiled, it was apparent that a few of her molars were also missing on one side.
Even more peculiar, though, was the appearance of her hair. It consisted of numerous colors, forming a distinct rainbow-like effect.
“Wow,” she said, “Spitfire was right. You guys really are ugly.” She paused, then looked down at the back of her hoof, where some lettering had been scrawled with a marker. “Oops,” she said. “That was on the list, she said not to insult you guys. Sorry. You’re ugly in a good way. Like aliens are supposed to be, you know? Especially you in the shiny shirt.”
Kirk looked down at the tiny rainbow-colored horse. As he did, he realized that the relationship between ponies horses was only barely tangential. Apart from their general body type, these creatures did not look even remotely equine. Their eyes were massive, to a disturbing extent, and their facial structure flatter and more pliable. That, and the fact that they were barely three-feet tall from the floor to the top of their heads.
“Are you Princess Celestia?”
The pony snorted. “Do I look like Princess Celestia to you?”
“Considering that we have never seen the Princess,” suggested Spock, “we have no way to answer that question.”
This seemed to confuse the rainbow pony. “Don’t try to confuse me with your fancy mathematics. I’m pretty sure I’m not Celestia. I’m Rainbow Dash. Captain Rainbow Dash. In the infantry sense. I don’t own a ship. I’m with Royal Guard now. Ever since the accident.”
“I am Captain James Kirk. This is Mr. Spock and Lieutenant M’Ress.”
“Neat. I’m here to take you to the Princess. I don’t have much else to do until I finish physical therapy, so I’m helping out at the castle.”
“And the unicorns with the spears?”
“The Royal Guard. In case you’re the bad kind of alien. You know, with slime and possibly goo.”
M’Ress adjusted her equipment. “You seem awfully unafraid of us.”
“Of course I’m not afraid. I’m Rainbow Dash. What do I have to be afraid of? I could totally take you all in a fight, all on my own.”
“I don’t think you need to be afraid at all,” said Kirk, following her as she started to walk. “And if I may say so, this castle smells amazing.”
“I know, right? But altitude does that.”
“Altitude?”
Rainbow Dash motioned to one of the large windows. “Take a look.”
Kirk did, walking to the window—and he felt his breath stop from the sheer beauty of the view.
They were high above a grand city of ornate, white-and-violet buildings that appeared to be assembled on the edge of a vast cliff, built into a high mountain overlooking a seemingly endless landscape of green forests and fields. Far below, Kirk could see narrow roads leading to small country hamlets with their own small fields as well as rivers and forests stretching to other mountains in the great distance. At present, the sun was setting, casting the sky in brilliant orange and pink—even though it was not actually the sun, but an artificial satellite. The sun itself was one of several of the brighter stars emerging as night approached.
“My God,” he said.
“I know, right? Even ponies find it impressive. Especially those without wings. And seeing as I’m pretty sure you’re some kind of evolved hairless mole-rat, my guess is you’ve never seen this either.” Rainbow Dash stood beside him, looking out. “I grew up seeing views like this. For me, it was seeing Equestria from orbit for the first time. That’s what did it for me.”
“Yeah,” replied Kirk, quietly. “Me too. For Earth, I mean. For me it was the same way. It looked so small.”
Rainbow Dash nodded. “Come on. We don’t want to keep the Princess waiting.”
Kirk followed the pony through the castle. As the sun started to set, the world grew slightly cooler, but not to an unpleasant degree. Kirk, having been born in what had once been the United States of America, had little experience with castles, but he had always assumed them to be drafty hulks of stone and uneven floors. This one, though, was built more like an ornate cathedral and somehow maintained a perfect temperature.
The long, airy hallways seemed to have been cleared for their use, and there was a strange sense of quiet, save for the fresh-scented, cool wind that blew through the large windows and past the swooping, gleaming archways.
Kirk, never being a fan of silence, decided to speak.
“So,” he said to the pony leading them. “I’m going to ask a question that I’m sure you get asked a lot.”
“Figured you would eventually,” sighed the pony. “Go ahead.”
“Your hair. Is it dyed like that, or does it grow in naturally?”
Rainbow Dash stopped, looking over her shoulder in surprise. “That...isn’t the question most ponies ask.”
“Is it, though?”
“No, it grows like that. It’s a trait, I guess. My dad has it, and my grandmother had it.”
“So it actually grows in a rainbow like that?”
Rainbow Dash smiled. “I know, right? Pretty awesome, huh?”
“Sure is.”
“Captain,” sighed Spock. “It would be most effective if you did not begin your diplomacy until we reached the Princess.”
“I’m just talking to the pony, Spock. I’ve never met a blue pony before. A lot of green women, sure, but never a pony with blue...fur?”
“Yeah. I’m covered in a fine fuzz. It’s very glossy, for, you know, aerodynamics.”
“And with feathers, too?”
Rainbow Dash stretched out her good wing. “They are great feathers, aren’t they? Other than having half the number I’m supposed to.” Her smiled faded slightly, and she quickly started walking again. “That’s what I figured you were going to ask. About the wing.”
“I figured it was a sore subject.”
“It is. But I’ll tell you if you want to know.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s a cool story, though.”
M’Ress spoke up. “I am interested,” she admitted. “Considering our chief communication’s officer’s assessment of this world as one of pacifist, I had been under the assumption that there was no war here.”
“Whoever told you there’s no war in Equestria was an idiot. And even if there’s not war, I’ve known, like, four ponies that’ve gotten eaten by things.”
“So something ate it?”
Rainbow Dash laughed. “No, of course not, I’m too fast for anything to catch.” She paused, her smile fading. “Or...I guess I was. Not anymore.”
“Then what happened?”
Rainbow Dash paused for a moment. “I used to be a test pilot, with the Space Force,” she said at last. “I mean, when I was little, I wanted to be a Wonderbolt.”
“What is that?” asked Kirk.
Rainbow Dash gasped. “You don’t know what the Wond—oh. Right. Aliens. You must live somewhere really, really boring. And probably under a rock with the other mole-rat people. They were a stunt team. You know, flying and stuff.”
“Implying that your wings are functional, not decorative,” stated Spock.
“Decorative? What do you mean decorative? Are those ears decorative or do you use them for listening?”
“My ears are smaller and less pointy than yours.”
“Well I’m almost missing one of them because I got myself blown up. Did you ever get blown up? I don’t think you did, but it would probably do you good, you look stupid, all hairless and with that stupid face--”
“You blew up?”
Rainbow Dash forgot what she was yelling about. “Y...yeah. What was I saying?”
“Wonderbolts.”
“Oh yeah. Sure. I wanted to be a flyer. But then Spitfire made orbit in the Powered-Pegasus Program, and I just...that’s what I did. I rode the suits, got to orbit, and when they invented planes I started taking those. I wasn’t the first pony to get to the moon, that was years before, but by fifteen I was setting records in crystal-driven rockets for the round trip. Barely anyone would fly those things, because, you know, the reactors tended to explode.”
“And yours did?”
Rainbow Dash smiled, but without any humor. “Wouldn’t that be cool? No. It wasn’t even anything awesome like that.” She sighed. “It was foam. A tiny little piece of foam. Foam that bounced off my rocket a hundred times and did nothing. But one day it chipped a tile. And when I came back, it started to burn up. The heat melted the control wires.” She paused. “And...I guess I made a choice. I could have ejected at high altitude and brought myself down on my wings, no problem. An easy descent. But with the trajectory, the rocket would have leveled half of Baltimare. So I rode it down, burning all the way. I got it over the ocean. But by then, it was mach-six. I tried to eject, but...not all of me made it out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that bad. I was in a coma for six months. When I woke up, I had this wing.” She extended it. “And it’s pretty cool. It’s made of mithril. Celestia did the surgery herself. It...works. She says I’ll be able to fly again some day. But now it just...hurts. It always hurts.”
“If I may,” said Spock. “The most often repeated and most important of Vulcan aphorisms is the axiom that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few. Or the one. Your decision was not incorrect.”
“On Earth, we call it heroism,” added Kirk.
“That’s what they call it here, too. I don’t regret riding her down,” said Rainbow Dash. She paused. “But I’m still out a wing. And I still have the nightmares. Some days I think it would have been better if I stayed on that crystal-rocket till the end of the ride.”
Kirk did not entiretly know how to respond, but he found he did not need to. Rainbow Dash had stopped at an enormous, ornate door. “Well, this is it. Princess Celestia is waiting for you. This is probably the last time you’ll talk to me, so nice meeting you. Sorry about the ugly part.”
“We know we’re ugly,” admired Kirk.
“For a Vulcan, I am quite attractive.”
“For a Vulcan, sure.”
“Captain, there is no need to be racist.”
M’Ress just sighed, and Rainbow Dash smiled. A sincere smile, at least—and she pushed open the door.
Kirk immediately regained his full composure, intending to be on the absolute best behavior possible—and he stepped into the room.
He had not been even remotely prepared for what he found. He had, in his life, known several princesses, and many more pretenders to the throne, so to speak, but he had neglected to ask what the word meant in this context. As diligently as he had been reading Uhura’s report, he had mostly skimmed that part.
It did not mean what he thought it meant. Her presence was immediately obvious. She was surrounded by advisers, both military and civilian, in the process of completing a rushed briefing—and she absolutely towered over them.
She was not actually much larger than an actual Earth horse. In fact, she was slightly smaller, although this had the effect of making her alien proportions seem even more extreme. Her enormous eyes, her much more graceful snout, and her thin frame and comparatively tiny torso all made her seem far more unnatural and yet at once more regal and more striking. She was a unicorn, but one of a type that also included massive feathered wings. Wings that Kirk was sure were exceedingly soft and probably pleasantly scented.
She was also, unlike most ponies, almost completely nude, apart from her crown, necklace, and golden shoes. This effectively did not matter, as female horses in general did not have much to see and Kirk had come to the conclusion that these creatures probably did not have external secondary sexual anatomy, but that fact was profoundly striking in comparison to the heavily armored guards that surrounded her.
When she saw him, she gasped, and her advisers recoiled in horror. Celestia, though, did not. Instead, she stepped forward, crossing the space between them with elegance far beyond what could be expected for an earthly equine. Which unfortunately had the effect of making her seem profoundly more alien. Kirk, though, did not mind. He likewise stepped forward.
Her mane and tail trailed behind her. From a distance, Kirk saw thin threads of multi-colored hair trapped in a field of pulsating, nearly solid plasma. Even at a distance of several meters, he smelled something distinctly similar to vanilla. One of his primary hypotheses had been proven correct.
“Captain Kirk,” she said. Her voice was not as high as the others, which made her sound quite pleasant. “I am so happy to meet you. You’re so much smaller than I expected.”
“And you are so much larger than I had expected, your Highness.”
The Princess blushed slightly. “Why thank you. I am quite tall.” She turned to face Spock. “And you are?”
“Spock.”
“A mononym, how wonderfully mysterious! And so stoic!”
“Vulcans are motivated by logic, not emotion.”
“No emotion? At all? Not even a little?”
“No, your Highness.”
“How peculiar. Not that your alien culture is peculiar. I don’t mean to be insulting, of course. Just to a pony. We are very emotional. Well, some of us are. I like to think that all of my little ponies are loving, welcoming creatures.” She paused. “Where they? Rainbow Dash didn’t...do what she usually does? What was I thinking, why did I sent Rainbow--”
“Rainbow Dash was fine,” said Kirk. “Although the guards did point spears at us.”
“Yes. They do like to point spears at things. Sometimes I regret having given them those.” Celestia turned to M’Ress. “And you, miss. You are a...” She held up an index card, levitated by her psychokinesis. “Not an Abyssinian. They’re the local species of sentient cat people, very aloof sometimes but the toms have a...roguish charm. You are?”
“Lieutenant Shiboline M’Ress. I am Caitian. Form the planet Cait.”
Celestia produced a quill and corrected the index card. “How interesting! An entire planet of ponies—people—like you. Do you have cats there?”
“Yes. We do. And they are us.”
Celestia cleared her throat slightly, and then turned to Spock. “And you, the Vulcan Spock? Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I am a Vulcan. As the name suggests, I am from Vulcan.”
“It must be a harsh planet to produce stoics like you.”
“Indeed it is. The vast desserts assist considerably with the fortification of the mind. No other planet possesses its calm.”
“It sounds a bit harsh for ponies but I’m sure its beautiful.” She turned to Kirk. “And you, Captain Kirk?” She checked her cards, flipping through them. “And you are--”
The door at behind them suddenly burst open, sent flying with considerable force by a brilliant orange field of energy. The guards mobilized, but were thrown backward by the force as a teal unicorn in a tweed jacket stepped through, papers flying out of her briefcase.
“HOOMINS!!” She screamed, triumphantly.
Celestia groaned and winced. The teal pony raced in. Despite wearing a coat—complete with leather-like elbow patches—she was utterly devoid of trousers. Which Kirk found strange, although oddly appealing form an aesthetic standpoint.
“Captain Kirk, Spock, and Shiboline M’Ress, this is my university’s leading xenobiologist. Also my only xenobiologist. Because to be honest we had no idea aliens were real, so I was mostly trying to be polite, but--”
“But I was RIGHT!” screamed the teal pony, shoving a guard painfully to the ground as he attempted tackle her. She pushed herself uncomfortably close to Kirk, overwhelming him with a strange and minty odor. She lifted her head, a construct forming before Kirk of a hand—a translucent, almost holographic hand of orange plasma. A hand that was oddly misshapen and strangely veiny.
“Professor Lyra Heartstrings!” she cried, excitedly, the holographic hand waggling its excessively sausage-like fingers.
“Adjunct professor,” corrected Celestia. “Part time.”
“It still counts and it’s still on my resume! My field has LEGITIMACY!”
Kirk forced himself to smile and took the hand, shaking it. It felt distinctly unpleasant and made his palm tingle, and he was suddenly pulled forward and nearly over as the pony pulled his hand against her face.
“FINGERS! I KNEW IT!”
“Lyra!” Celestia pulled the pony away with her own psychokinesis, dragging her by her minty tail. “Be polite!”
“But HOOMINS!” She paused, and looked up. She scowled deeply at Spock. “Well, one hoomin. I’m not interested in no high-elves.”
“I am Vulcan,” corrected Spock.
Kirk smiled mischievously. “And, in fact, Spock here is actually half human, too.”
Spock showed no reaction. “Captain. I would appreciate if you did not discuss highly personal and irrelevant matters about my personal upbringing in front of complete strangers. Let alone the ruler of a planet.”
“Oh, I don’t rule the WHOLE planet!” Celestia blushed. “Just most of it.”
Lyra blinked. “Wait a minute. You can be HALF hoomin?!”
“Sure can.”
Lyra gasped, and then made a face toward Kirk that he distinctly disliked.
“So, hey,” she said. “How about you take me out back and make ME half hoomin?”
“That’s...not how it works.”
“Lyra, if you are going to be disrespectful to our honored guests, then I will--”
“What? Dock my pay? You don’t pay me, teehee! I don’t actually teach! But now I can, because they’re REAL, they’re really REAL, and he’s totally going to turn me half-pony, and then I’ll have fingers so I can wrap them around your royal neck and give you a good and proper squeeze--”
She stopped suddenly. Celestia’s expression, likewise, changed from one of disappointment to one of grave concern. Kirk did not know why until he felt a strange sensation in the hair. The hair on the back of his neck—and on the entirety of M’Ress—had stood on end, and he smelled a strange electrical scent.
The room darkened. Then, with an explosion that nearly forced Kirk of his feet, something like lightning filled the far end of the room.
The light vanished and where it had struck three ponies were immediately walking toward them. The leader of them was, like Celestia, massive, and also one of the only ones he had seen before with both wings and a horn. Unlike Celestia, though, her body was covered almost completely in silvery metallic armor. Her color, likewise, was not white, but instead dark. From what Kirk could see, she seemed to be afflicted with the equine equivalent of vitiligo, which he supposed was technically overo. The entirety of her body consisted of a mixed pattern of dark blue and black. Her eyes, though, were the most striking part of her anatomy: they were brilliant turquoise, with vertical slits for pupils.
The two ponies that flanked her were both unicorns, clad almost entirely in black armor. One was an absolute amazon of a mare with a dark purple color and a broken horn, while the other was a much less physically imposing and much less physically fit pony who was blue in color, with a white mane, and an intact horn save for the fact that the very end had been drilled and a small ring inserted through it. A ring which contained upon it a tiny bell.
The royal guards, shaking, converged around Celestia, pointing their spears at the invader who seemed totally unfazed by their presence. The spears, though, were promptly ripped from their grasp.
“Don’t point your points at my sister!” snapped Celestia, casting the spears away and pushing through her guards. “She has every right to be here!”
She approached the dark pony who was, in fact, somewhat shorter than her.
“Dearest sister,” she said. “I was not expecting you so soon, you should have dispatched a herald--”
“We have no need for such formalities as well-powdered heralds in these dire times!” shouted the dark pony, apparently unable to regulate her volume. She pointed her armored hoof at Kirk. “These frail and foul-smelling bipedeial aliens hath committed great crimes against our empire! Absolute heresy when our divinity is taken into account as well! That they be immediately SUSPENDED!”
“Um...we don’t work for you?” suggested Kirk.
“She means hung,” whispered Lyra, who was cowering behind Kirk’s legs while the majority of the guards had now taken up their station hiding behind M’Ress.
“Well that seems severe.”
“By your leg. And then beaten until your candy comes out.”
“And his candy shall provide us with such glorious sustenance!” screamed the dark pony. “This alien has attacked my loyal subject, poor Moondancer, and done her a great harm! In the process, he has sabotaged our prototype, the work of your very own student, sister! And yet you consort with him as if he were some manner adorable furry animal, like an obese ferret or an especially pernicious owl!” She stamped her hoof. “We demand SATISFACTION!”
“Luna, you don’t need to yell.”
“WE DO IN FACT NEED TO YELL! WE ARE DISTRESSED BY YOUR LACK OF ACTION! AND YOUR LACK OF APPROPRIATE VOLUME!”
Celestia held up her hoof and her sister quieted.
“Sister, how dare you shush the Empress of the Moon--”
“We should listen to what he has to say. That is why I brought him hear. To have tea, maybe some small cakes--”
“Your cakes and tea may be shovethed where the sun doth not shine!”
The white-haired pony with the bell frowned. “Wait. The dark side? My apartment is there. Am I supposed to...feed them? The Great and Powerful Trixie needs a raise for that. Also, where’s my candy? I was promised candy. That’s the only part I heard.”
The violet pony with the broken horn elbowed the blue one with enough force to nearly knock her over.
“SILENCE, FOOL!” cried Luna. “This is no time for diplomacy! This is time for FLOGGING!”
“I would advise against that,” suggested Spock. “Rumors among the Orions indicate that the Captain may, in fact, enjoy it.”
Luna glared at Spock. “You. We like you. Thus, though shalt be flogged only lightly.”
Spock nodded. “I appreciate your judiciousness, your Highness.”
“Sister.” Celestia spoke calmly. “You are doing very well today. You haven’t once used a flaying spell, or a rending spell, or that one that turns things inside out.”
Luna’s eyes widened. “I had not thought of those things--”
“So let’s hear what the aliens have to say. Then we can pass legal judgment on them.”
“Wait,” said Kirk. “Don’t we get a jury?”
Celestia laughed. “No, no, we don’t do that here. Please, Captain. Tell us what happened to our FTL prototype.”
“And our dearest recluse. If she hath been probed but once, the vigor and sheer vim by which we shall extract your candy shall be prodigious.”
The blue pony perked up. “Candy?”
Kirk took a breath. “I am Captain of the starship Enterprise, a research vessel. We were dispatched by Starfleet from the Federation of Planets.”
“Many planets?” said Celestia, wide-eyed. “How many planets?”
“Sister,” snapped Luna. “Liveth by thine own advice. Do not put the ‘hippo’ in ‘hippocite’.”
Kirk continued. “We were dispatched to investigate your planet after it was picked up on a long-range radio telescope. When we arrived, your vessel was just launching. We observed that its warp-field was unstable, and moved to intervene.”
“At which point thouh attackethed our subject! Forfeit your candy, our judgment hath been--”
“At which point she became spooked and fled.”
Celestia and Luna looked at each other.
“We are ponies,” admitted Celestia. “We do spook. And I can see how being approached like that without expecting aliens would have been frightening.”
“Moondancer was never a fan of my work,” sneered Lyra. “She didn’t believe there were any aliens.”
“When she fled, it damaged her ship even more,” continued Kirk. “We moved for an emergency rescue and teleported her from her ship just as it exploded. Barely. She was gravely injured in the explosion, but survived. Our doctor is giving her the best care available. She is recovering on our ship and prepared to be remanded to your care as soon as she wakes up.”
Celestia nodded, and looked to her sister. “Luna?”
“We would not have come here if our intentions were anything but peaceful,” added Kirk. “Since you achieved warp-speed, this qualifies as First Contact. It’s a big deal in the Federation, so this is an important diplomatic mission now. We would not do anything to jeopardize that.”
Luna glared. “We are pleased that our subject is safe. If thou art not lying to our divine face. Because if thou art...”
“I know. The candy.”
“Indeed. And our prototype?”
“Well...about that...”
“It survived remarkably well,” said Spock, suddenly. “Our scans have indicated that the reactor core has remains intact, as well as several other large components.”
“Surely a tribute to your engineering prowess,” added M’Ress, who was doing her best to comfort the guards clinging to her legs.
“Then all is not lost. We shalt retrieve it at once. Tempest, prepare the salvage rockets!”
The violet unicorn bowed, but before she could walk away, Spock spoke again.
“At the current distance, the fastest feasible sub-light ship would take thirty seven years to reach the debris.”
Luna’s eyes widened. “Thirty seven—it was only in transit for ten seconds!”
“Ten seconds at maximum warp. It reached a considerable distance from your star system.”
“Of course,” said Kirk, quickly, “We would be glad to lend the Enterprise’s assistance in retrieving the warp core and as many fragments as possible.”
“Can that be accomplished during the time of the diplomatic proceedings?” asked Celestia.
Kirk smiled at her. “Well, that depends on what kind of proceedings you were intending.”
Celestia smiled back, but turned to her sister. “Luna. It is clear to me that the prototype’s destruction was not their fault. It was imperfect, and it is only because of them that the pilot survived. We already owe them a great debt just for that. Let alone assisting us in retrieving the wreckage.”
“We can also provide a transcript of our readings,” suggested M’Ress. “So that you can better optimize it for the next test.”
Celestia nudged her sister. Luna seemed distinctly unamused, and continued to glower. She eventually sighed.
“We elect to withhold judgment until Moondancer has been delivered to us. However, we admit that we are not...the best at diplomacy. It does not interest us. So therefore we leave that sphere to be attended to and regarded by our sister.” She glared at Celestia. “Although this is not over, Celestia. We do not trust them. We suggest that you, as well, show a degree of discretion.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we know how you conduct ‘diplomacy’,” snapped Luna. She turned sharply. “Tempest! Fool! We depart for the time being!”
The violet unicorn bowed and then forced the blue unicorn to bow as well, the bell of the latter jingling as she did so. Then they followed their Princess out of the royal chamber.
“But wait, what about the candy? The Great and Powerful Trixie is hungry!”
“Stop embarrassing us in front of the sun-goddess!” hissed the other. “You do this every single time!”
They left, and Celestia breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“I am afraid it is too late for tea. I have had rooms prepared for you here, if you are all tired, or you can return to your ship if you prefer. And I don’t mean to impose, but...Captain, is it possible you might walk with me?”
Spock let out an exasperated sigh.
“I think all of us are very grateful for your hospitality,” said Kirk. “And of course I would be happy to walk with you, your Highness.”
Celestia laughed softly. “Oh, please. You can call me Celestia.”
“And if it’s acceptable, you can call me Jim.”
“Jim? What an exotic name. Thank you, Jim.”
The two of them started walking off together. M’Ress, staring wide-eyed, turned to Spock.
“Is he...was he...”
“Conducting diplomacy. I would not say that I am afraid so, as I do not feel fear, and also because I expected this.”
“Really? I would have thought he would prefer the dark-colored and well-spoken sister. She was much more appealing.”
“That is literally heresy,” whispered Lyra. “Also, as a cat-person, do you usually give or accept belly rubs?”
M’Ress frowned. “That is harassment. I will forgive you this once because you did not know.”
“Well, yeah, but you didn’t answer the question.”
M’Ress sighed.
“Perhaps,” suggested Spock, “it is best that we retire.”
M’Ress sighed. “Agreed.”
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11020138
Thanks! Looking forward to the next chapters, don't rush though, if you think you need the time off then take it.
Thanks for the reply, have a great day!
"Conducting diplomacy" ....
This fic has been utterly hilarious, because I can’t help but imagine Shatner and Nimoy reading these lines, which has been a source of much entertainment :)
This imperfect translator is making this ..so good.
img.gifglobe.com/grabs/peepshow/S03E04/gif/9U43FJaH22v9.gif
11020222
Well, it´s the Kirk way and he is good at it.
Also let´s face it, Celestia is both the most important pony AND the only functional adult among them.
And here comes the tension-breaking levity. There were some hilarious jokes in this chapter. Meanwhile, I'm not sure what to make of this version of Equestria, besides the aforementioned humor.
Lyra as Equestria's only Xenobiologist makes way too much sense
derpicdn.net/img/view/2017/11/12/1584963.png
This is it. I´m dead.
Bow-chica-wow-wow!
Not sure if a typo or a euphemism...
Lovely chapter.
Spock's and Kirk's banter is perfect.
And I'm really starting to get invested in what this Equestria is all about.
Keep it up. :)
The term "away-team" is from Next-Gen, not the original series, they used "landing party." I find M’Ress's nervousness about being the sole "red shirt" hilarious, though being a regular, at least in STTAS, she should have nothing to fear.
Memory Alpha is quite good as an author reference, BTW. Especially if you're an average ST viewer like me who would mix up his Kzinti with a Caitian.
Poor Dash. AUs and wing loss seem to be a trend...
11020432
ya but its animated so who knows what craaaaaazzzy stuff could happen.
I mean we do but...anyways...
love how evil luna appears, immediately looses interest in being evil, just crazy
I'm surprised Lyra isn't more upset about Celestia muscling in on her "half-hoomin" territory.
That's a good survival instinct alright!
Poor RD. Well, if she's lucky she can be one of the first ponies to get Federation medicine applied to them and get her wing back. The Federation can regrow limbs, right?
Oh gods Lyra & Luna. I'm dead, you killed me with laughter
I bet they'll conduct deep, exhausting, rhythmic, extremely satisfying Diplomacy all night long
Oh, this. I love this.
If you like early prototypes of stuff we've seen before you should watch star trek: Enterprise.
Ok now we need to add the comedy tag, not a bad ting but innuendo this strong confirms it.i am curious what the other main six will be like. Rainbow becoming a pilot does make sense.
11020457
Sadly as far as I'm aware the only time the Kzinti ever got screen time in anything. Especially as the Ringworld movies seem to be another dead end. Amazingly Niven is still alive too.
11020655
They actually do end up showing up again...in Lower Decks! (And of course, the doc's Caitian.)
blog.trekcore.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/kzinti.jpg
The exchanges between the crew are amusing and capture their personalities pretty well, fun to read.
The ponies though...in addition to not a single one of them having the discipline or bearing that would be expected of their rank and responsibilities, several of them feel Flanderized. It rather weakens the impact of Lyra's very weird behavior, even accounting for her fandom-issued human fascination, when all the ponies react as if it is both very normal and impossible to prevent or limit, even for Celestia. She just barges into the Equestrians' first ever meeting with aliens and starts shouting over Celestia and propositioning them, but it's treated as a routine thing.
11020662
Huh, did not know that. Haven't watched any Trek (TV) in a very long time.
Oh dear Faust, this is the Sombra War timeline!
...or not. Good to see one-off concepts from the show, like prosthetic wings, get reused.
And Celestia's rep for "Diplomacy" is as bad as Kirk's? I am surprised
11020585
Regrow limbs? I'm not sure they can do that by the time of Voyager, never mind Kirk's day and age. Even Picard has a mechanical heart, and that was before all that stuff with the Borg.
I appreciate a good bit of tension-breaking levity, but you may have gone too far with the ponies. Lt. M’ress being understandably concerned about being the only redshirt on the mission? Good. Dash hastily double-checking the notes she Sharpie’d onto her fetlock? Great. Luna sentencing the invaders to be hung by the ankle and used as piñatas? A bit much, especially given the tone of the story thus far. It’s been lighthearted at times, yes, but not that kind of screwball, borderline nonsensical comedy.
Also, even putting aside how minotaurs, dragons, Abyssinians, and more give her local fingers to study, are we just going to gloss over Lyra wanting to strangle Celestia?
Still, overall an enjoyable chapter. Definitely looking forward to more. M’ress got in some great lines in particular. You may want to do another editing pass—“Luna seemed distinctly amused, and continued to glower” stands out as an example—but I’m looking forward to more.
This right here. I need more. Been looking for a good Star Trek crossover. Found it with this story so thank you.
11020783
I severely overestimated them then. I'll chalk it to people not having the slightest idea on how much medicine would advance in the last 60 years when the OG was written
This is a great episode, should be sure to draw in happy readers.
Guess I can sympathice with that, but maybe you get over it in time as the story stay popular over time?
That is always something to worry about.
the Star Trek show does have a very long history and is still building up on its glorious lore(just ignore Lore, brother of Data) *snickers*
This fic is hilariously self-aware. I hope Kirk gets his shirt torn at some point.
Literally the first episode of Star Trek that Kirk was in featured a human who gained psychokinetic powers.
You say that now, but wait until Cadance ropes you into a threesome with Shiny. You're the one creature on Enterprise who looks like something the ponies recognize.
Yes, I predict sexy times for M'Ress.
Might be funny if this fic employs a role reversal here. M'Ress is dropping prophetic hints about "being poked," Spock is saying he's attractive and Kirk is insulting him to suggest otherwise...might be amusing if Spock hooks up with Luna, M'Ress gets her threesome with Candance and Shiny, Lyra and Trixie sneak aboard Enterpise to "learn more about humans" and find candy and end up with both...and for once Kirk is the only one who doesn't get laid.
Theory time!
So Celestia started a space program to get Luna back this time instead of banking on the elements of harmony?
...wait, so you haven't watched the movies? This was an accidental allusion to the movie that killed Captain Kirk? You accidentally referenced the scene where Kirk talks to Picard and is the emotional core of Kirk's story arc?
I love the idea that the non-main crew are aware, Lower Decks-like, of the memes and tropes that fans have embraced and reference all over the place!
This is, honestly, the part I laughed the loudest at.
...and Kirk's luck with alien women strikes again!
EMH-type software may have existed in McCoy's time as Enterprise's doctor, but the modern Voyager style EMH wasn't developed until VERY late, an episode of DS9 showed that the software running on Voyager was very much beta and the developer went to DS9 to tap Dr. Bashir for assistance with the full production version. Also, the final version, a copy of which was shown running on the USS Prometheus just 4 years after USS Voyager was determined to be lost. That said, I appreciated this story element quite a bit!
11021506
Hmm, you didn't use any contractions so I guess it's okay. I'll be alone in the Jefferies tubes around the computer core running a level two diagnostic for the next four hours if anyone needs me, gotta leave my comm badge outside so the radio waves don't fry something delicate.
11021571
Trixie finds out about the replicator, and decides she wants to stay.
11020664
I'm kinda digging the ponies here, actually. One of the issues that ponies in these Sci-fi fics can fall into is 'horse shaped human'. That if you changed their body shape to that of a human, there's no difference.
So far, the ponies aren't acting like humans, which is a good thing. They're very emotional, easily startled, and don't have much of a filter.
This is the Star Trek and MLP that Mel Brooks would've made if Roddenberry and Faust hadn't done them first.
Wai--"first"?
Oh, never mind.
That didn't stop Mel with Star Wars.
This is a good chapter and the reactions of the ponies are amusing. Luna's bahavior is rather in character especially given her admittance at the end which suggests she was partly trying to present a strong image. Celestia isn't trying to be subtle about Lyra's behaviour she's clearly somewhat tired of Lyra's obeseesion but probably not nearly as much as BonBon.
The one rule of the universe is that if it has a pulse, Kirk will find a way to bang it.
Also, I like that you mixed Nightmare Moon's look with Luna's.
ROFL! Some smart kitty has noticed a dangerous trend.
And to the shitlist you go
I dislike the insane Luna and how none of the guards tried to restrain lyra
Just crossed this off my reading list, early. Unfortunately I am not a fan... It strikes me as fanfictiony in all the worst ways. To be frank, the writing is of generally low quality and often full of errors, and the titular conceit - though I can see it forming with Spock's lie - doesn't really capture my attention. But best of luck to Kirk's cavalric conquests, or whatever it is he's up to, and to the rest of your writing experiment.
me [it may be a malapropism on Rainbow Dash part]
Where
ù
mane
she
Hmm Up to this chapter it's nice. But the wacky hijinks are a bit much. Luna is way over the top and Lyra is quite excessive They sincerely detract from the story overall.
Ah, the crack. It's funny, but not for everybody, so don't let the negative comments get to you too much.
All I have to say about this...
static0.srcdn.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/star-trek-captain-james-kirk-peaceful-missions-gun-meme-Edited.jpg?q=50&fit=crop&w=740&h=1073&dpr=1.5
Well, if they can save her life first.
Ugh, another Lyra obsessive human cliche trope.
Really?