Under Free Flag

by twillale

Chapter 10

CHAPTER X

On two occasions I have been asked,—”Pray, mister Babbage, if you put into the machine wrong figures, will the right answers come out?” (...) I am not able rightly to apprehend the kind of confusion of ideas that could provoke such a question.

—Charles Babbage, Passages from the Life of a Philosopher

“This coffee tastes like cat piss.”

“You’re free to make your own any time, captain.”

“My stash is for emergency use only. And you’re a real cunt in the mornings, Tito.”

“I got a grand total of two hours of sleep tonight—in three segments—because of a rocket fuel leak, so please stumble into a thruster.”

“Your insults suck. They lack punch.”

“I have manners.”

I sip the terrible coffee, eyeing the slow progression of reports rolling over the screen. The night has passed without incident, so I’m well-rested and motivated enough to actually do my morning rounds all the way down here. The engineering bay is Tito’s kingdom, and hence is full of quaint little anachronisms like wall-mounted displays and mechanical switches. He always boasts that he could make the ship fly without a single automated system, and I’m inclined to believe him. The space is full of hustle and bustle, technicians with sprawling smart tools poking at some piece of obscure equipment or another and engineers with smudged overalls lumbering about in bulky yellow exoskeletons. A pair of younger crew members snicker at our familiar-albeit-hostile banter, trying to hide grins under the visors of their caps as they rummage around inside an open service panel.

“So, are you going to get this scrap pile into the air any time soon?”

“We could fly tomorrow, in an emergency. I estimate a week for full repairs, give or take a day.”

“A week? I could build a new ship myself in a week.”

“If you’re unsatisfied with my work, you are free to release me from service and recruit one of the ponies to do engineering work for you instead.”

“That doesn’t sound like too bad a plan. Maybe I’d get a cup of decent coffee, for once.”

“You don’t have to drink it, if you don’t like it.”

“What would I have to gripe about then?”

A comm channel opens into my ear with a quiet pop.

“Eris, it’s Jo. The pathogen results for the outside atmosphere are in.”

“Hit me.”

“Well, it should be safe. The air is breathable, although a little high on oxygen, and we identified a few tens of thousands of unknown microorganisms, but analysis says here’s nothing in the surroundings that the smart antibiotics can’t target. I’d still be a bit careful with local wildlife, though. We’ve been picking up heat signatures in the area.”

“Good, excellent. Thanks, Jo.”

“No problem.”

The line closes with a click. I finish the last of my drink—that really is quite disgusting—and hand the cup to Tito.

“Right, duty calls.”

“Going to go pose in someone else’s work area, trying to look important?”

“Fuck you,” I call over my shoulder as I leave the engineering area, the thrum of the reactors disappearing behind me as I turn a bend in the corridor.

Ah, what a great morning, feels like today is going to be a good day. Visiting Tito always gets my mood up.

Whistling the jaunty melody to The Sailor With The Ocean’s Biggest Gun I greet the assorted crew members passing me by with a sloppy caricature of a salute, knowing the catchy tune will most likely haunt the ship all day. As most good maritime drinking songs, The Sailor has a goodly amount of raunchy lyrics to go around so by the time I march through the doors to the bridge I’m loudly singing the end of verse twenty-one.

“Whatever this bloke aims at, his target always falls,
he fires with both barrels, gives em' powder, shot, and balls!
The harbor's local madam, she ran off to be a nun,
the time she saw the sailor with the ocean's biggest gun.”

I’m ambushed inside the door by billowing coats and hat plumes in various shades of turquoise, green and neon orange, heavy arms draping around my shoulders and two rough voices joining in on the chorus.

“Thrusters up! Fill the sails! Sound the horn for departure, he’s setting off again,
and from whichever port he’s leaving, he’s a legend!”

It’s a song about a guy’s dong, okay? It’s not high art.

Shrugging off Sasha and Kolya, I lean against the back of my command chair. Elizabeth quickly corrals the two brothers to stand by the door, presently opening to admit a tall, gaunt man flanked by two tall, gaunt subordinates.

“Hello, Eris,” he says with a twinkle in his eye and takes a gentlemanly bow.

“Abebe.”

I treat him to a warm smile. Degagmanna Abebe is a charmer to his fingertips, and having him around is always a nice counterpoint to the rough-and-tumble bulk of the crew.

I turn to the assembled personnel, proprioception sensors implanted in the back of my skull translating hand gestures into commands. A three-dimensional topographical projection forms in the air, the rough outline breaking down into finer and finer shapes in five quick pulses. Finally, the mountains, hills and forests take colour from a patchwork of photographs and artificially coloured radar images, forming the distinctive light-and-dark mess of a multi-sensor composite map. Numbers and labels flicker to life on my retina, the tiny projectors inside my eyeballs overlaying my vision with shorthands and legends.

I look over the image, taking in roads, railways, buildings and tent villages.

‘Schizophrenic fairy tale’ is the term that comes to mind. Railroads but no gunpowder? How does that even happen?

“Okay everyone, here’s the map of the area, compiled from drone surveys and radar images,” I begin.

“...as you can see, we’re just on the edge of a fairly large wetlands, here. The closest native habitation is this town or village here, and we’re surrounded by what appears to be a military cordon, marked by this circle here. Here, about an hour’s flight away, there is a larger city with several railway connections. Any questions about these locations?”

“Designations?”

“For now we’re just going with ‘LZ’, ‘VILLAGE’, ‘CITY’, and ‘CORDON’. Anything else? Good, moving on. I have given orders pertaining to movement already, but until we can reliably communicate it’d probably be helpful to appear as friendly as possible. Then again, looking like a target has never benefited anyone greatly, us least of all, and I know the platoons will be going stir-crazy within half a week if they have jack shit to do.”

“Yeah, let’s not ‘ave a repeat o’ Blacksburg, awright?” Spitfire mutters with a dark expression.

“Hey! That refinery was accident and you know it,” Sasha protests indignantly.

“And we were young at time,” adds Kolya.

“Shut up, you.”

“...right,” I continue, “let’s not. Anyway, beside the regular close perimeter response readiness, let’s run a few mobile patrols for intel and show of force. No engaging, strict mission control. Set up a schedule between the two of you for for an even handful of patrols, day and night.”

“Any specific route you want us to take?”

“Inside the cordon, and at maximum visual observation range. If the cordon shifts, so do patrol routes. Altitude no higher than the tree tops. Otherwise do as you see fit.”

“Roger.”

“Oh, and the pathogen results are in, the air is safe. I’d be careful in the forest, though.”

“I understand.”

“Awright.”

“Good. Any questions? Then get to it.”

Xavier gestures me over as the others leave. Drawing a circle in the air starting from his head, Xavier partitions the spot we’re standing in from the rest of the room, the bridge blurring through the distortion barrier blocking clear sound and vision. I’d raise an eyebrow but I’m already fairly sure what he’s going to want to talk about.

Right, now he pulled up Ace on a private feed. This is about the cargo.

“Ma’am, sir, about the cargo.”

Called it.

“...I’ve told my opinion of this job, and I won’t repeat it, but I will say I have an itch that something’s terribly wrong with the whole picture. The initial acquisition and loading went smooth and easy, not a single sign of trouble, but the minute we were out in free waters we’re jumped by three hostile ships? With all due respect, ma’am, that’s a little too much of a fecking coincidence to me.”

“You think the whole job was a setup?”

“I’m saying it’s a possibility. Devil knows we’ve got plenty of people willing ta hoist us off to the Geckos.”

Ace clears his throat.

“Xavier, a setup for what? Only thing we know about that thing in the hold is that it’s not a bomb. Seems like a fairly convoluted way to get us killed.”

“Honestly, sir, I haven’t got the foggiest. The only reason I can think of why we aren’t taking an orbital carpet bombing is that the only one of those three ships that could keep up with the Trickster was a corvette. If it could breach the streamwall, we’d be in trouble.”

“How much time are we looking at, worst case?”

“Worst case, they’ll be coming for us in less than a week. Most likely it’ll take almost a month.”

I digest the information for a moment.

Shit.

Well, now it’s more important than ever that we can open a channel to the equines. It’s not entirely ruled out that the Great Empire would want to talk first, but then again it’s not entire impossible that I’ll sprout wings and start laying eggs either. The—literally—cold-blooded bastards aren’t really famous for taking kindly to other sentient species in their territories. Doesn’t help that they consider fairly everything their territory.

“This is going to be really hard to explain to the natives,” Ace notes.

“Oh, really? I think ‘we might have lead a species of genocidal lizards vastly more advanced than you to your planet, sorry’ might not really cut it. Jesus, they don’t even have firearms.”

We collectively mull over that for a second.

I sigh.

“Well, right now there’s nothing we can do about it. Your concerns have been noted, Xavier. Let’s concentrate on getting the ship fixed for now.”

“Aye.”

Ace nods before cutting his feed.

The distortion field disappears, the sounds and sights of the bridge rushing back into focus. Xavier salutes and moves along, leaving me in the meager company of the map and my thoughts.

*

“My goodness, Twilight, you look like a mess! Have you slept at all?”

Twilight grins sheepishly as Rarity moves in to brush off the generous amounts of chalk on her coat.

“Hi, Rarity! I guess I have been a little engrossed in this translation spell. But look! It’s almost complete!”

“It ought to, with all that. It looks like a terribly complicated spell.”

“Well, it’s not as—my mane is fine, please stop fussing! It’s not as complicated as it would appear on first glance. Translations spells are really more like enchantments with a lot of fiddly bits: they basically upkeep themselves once they’ve been cast on someone.”

Trying to shoo off the other unicorn, Twilight releases the glowing image stored in her horn, eyes flicking between it and the blackboard taking up most of the floor space.

“Hm, I think it’s almost done, but I can’t really be sure it works without testing it out with the aliens’ spell. Ooh, this is so exciting! We might be the first ponies to ever talk to an extra-Equestrian alien!”

“I must admit that I was intrigued by the clothes they showed in those... images. At least some of them are as interested in us as you are of them, too, if the one in that hideous suit was anything to go by.”

“Yes, I was a little taken aback, but I think I can understand what it... he was feeling. Was it a stallion? I can’t recall.”

“Neither can I, dear. I think they never indicated that.”

“I guess we can ask. I can’t wait! I just have a few more things to do and we’ll be almost ready to go!”

“What, this early?”

“What better time? Sweetie Belle is already at school, right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

The voice belongs to a beige mare, curiously looking around at the mess of books and the extended blackboard covered in near-illegible scribbles. Twilight smiles amicably at the newcomer.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Welcome to the Ponyville library, can I help you with something?”

“I hope you could. I’m looking for any books you might have on the topic of dreams.”

“Do you mean dream magic? Hypnomorphea and the like?”

“Something like that, yes—I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it. It seems like a very hard topic to get any information on, though.”

Twilight trots to a corner of the library, already pulling tomes off the shelves.

“Well, yes, it has only recently regained its former popularity. You’re in luck, though: it’s a long-time hobby of mine, so I have a number of books on the topic! Nice to meet another unicorn with the same interests, miss...”

“Poppyseed.”

“...miss Poppyseed. I don’t think we’ve met before, are you new in Ponyville?“

“Oh, no, I’m just passing through. I’d heard that princess Celestia’s prodigal student runs a library here, so I thought to stop by and take a look. I figured it would be a fair probability that you would have books on rare magic.”

“Oh, I just like to gather knowledge on many different topics,” Twilight answers, looking slightly abashed.

“No need to be modest about it. You’re quite well-known in Canterlot. Protege of the princess, Element of Magic, diplomatic envoy to unknown creatures...”

Twilight fidgets uncomfortably under the praise, but Rarity’s ears perk up.

“Excuse me if I seem rude for interrupting, but how did you find out about that?” she asks curiously. Poppyseed turns to her with a detached smile.

“It’s no big secret. Princess Celestia held a speech on the topic yesterday.”

“Really? But there has been no extra activity in Ponyville, not even a single journalist.”

Poppyseed shrugs noncommittally.

“Maybe they just haven’t made it here yet.”

“Why, if I know one thing about the Canterlot press, it’s that they’d be over rumours like these in a heartbeat. Are you sure this is where you heard about this?”

“Quite sure. But really, I only remembered the fact because I was looking for that book.”

“Well, here are all the works I have on dream magic. Take your time,” Twilight says as she straightens out a tall stack of thick tomes. Poppyseed begins rifling through the tower, discarded volumes quickly forming a new stack next to the first one. The process is short, and Poppyseed lowers the last book with a sigh.

“Not here. Oh well.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be of help. If you could give the title of the book you’re looking for, I might be able to find it...”

Thank you, but I don’t remember the title. Or rather, I only know what it looks like. Thank you for your time, miss Sparkle.”

“Oh, no problem.”

The guest nods to the two friends before trotting out the library, nudging the door closed behind her. Twilight begins re-shelving the volumes in silence, while Rarity thoughtfully stares at the closed door.

“Twilight, didn’t you think there was something awfully strange about that mare?”

“Hm? Strange how?”

“It’s hard to place, but... it felt like she was avoiding my questions. Like she wasn’t here looking for a book at all. She left in quite a hurry, too.”

“Well, why would she come here, then?”

“I don’t know. But there were other things as well. Didn’t you notice her cutie mark? A sealed envelope doesn’t seem very related to poppy seeds. Or dream magic, for that purpose.”

“Well, many ponies change their names. And maybe she’s just a hobbyist, like me.”

Rarity gives her her friend a long look. Twilight giggles.

“Well, okay, I might have more than a passing interest in the topic. Anyway, I can mention it to the princess in my letter. I was about to send a report before leaving to test out the spell anyway. Spike should be back any moment now.”

“I’m sorry to be such a worrywart, Twilight. All that business yesterday was quite exhausting.”

“Oh, think nothing of it. Would you like some tea while we wait for Spike?”

“Why, that would be lovely.”

*

The second trip to the encampment goes much smoother than the first one, the guards in the outer cordon obviously now informed on the identity of the Elements. Soon enough the group is back amongst the escort detachment and ready to move out.

“Good morning, ladies. Another day, another alien, eh?”

”Good morning to you too, sergeant.”

“Just call me Plate.”

“Attention!”

“At ease, for the princesses’ sake. It’s too early for this.”

“Captain! We weren’t informed you’d be joining us.”

“You are now. Going to return the stretcher I see, sergeant Gale.”

“Yes, sir. I thought it prudent.”

“Hrm.”

“Hello again, captain Hoof.”

“Hrm. Are we going or what?”

“Yes, sir. At your pace, miss Sparkle.”

“Thank you.”

*

“By the sun, what is that?”

Leaving the treeline behind, the ponies find the area around the visitors’ ship quite changed. Four familiar figures wait at the end of the ramp, but the surrounding terrain has been mostly cleared. Fallen trees rest in large, pyramidal heaps, a large bipedal machine completing one of the piles as the ponies make their careful approach.

“I didn’t know they got that big...”

Apparently satisfied with the stability of its work, the angular walker turns to look at the approaching ponies, gives a small wave with one enormous claw and lumbers away to disappear behind the ship.

“It’s another suit,” Mountain Gale notes, “there was one of those creatures inside it.”

“Wow, it must be really strong to move that around.”

“No... remember how much trouble they had with the table? I think they’re using the suits to multiply their physical power.”

“Like you do can with magic, Twi?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that noise?”

The high-pitched whine has barely become audible when the group of flying machines arcs over the foliage to the far left of the ponies. The four skimmers momentarily slow as they break their fall, tightening up into a close formation and making a low-flying approach to the bigger craft. Pointing with its foreleg, the lead of the group gesticulates towards the lowered ramp before breaking off and flying over to the group of bipeds waiting for the ponies. The machine comes down to a jerky hover, and the pilot briefly converses with the other group before turning around and following the other three up the ramp.

“Fascinating! Were those the machines you talked about, sergeant?”

“Not the observation one, if that’s what you mean. We saw that kind when we evacuated Chaser, though.”

“We’ve actually seen them around a lot since yesterday,” comments Plate Mail. “They seem to be running patrols inside the cordon.”

“Those seemed pretty fast, I wonder if they’d be up for a race?”

“Hopefully you can ask them yourself, Rainbow.”

Making their final approach, the group of ponies finds he previous day’s table already deployed, the goggles lying on it. The red and green circles hover in the air. The waiting hosts are somewhat different from the day before, however.

Wearing the same suit but having eschewed the helmet, the leader smiles at the approaching ponies. The group take some time to take stock of the aliens’ now unobstructed facial features.

“They’re eyes are really small, I wonder if their vision is worse than ours...”

“Wow, they have really sparkly eyes!”

“Indeed, I wonder if it’s just the light, or...”

“It’s pretty weird, how flat their muzzles are.”

“I find them quite endearing, actually.”

Twilight steps forward, reaching out for one of the circles with her magic. Excitement shows in her movements.

“Right, let’s get right to it.”

HELLO

USER [TWILIGHT SPARKLE]

ACCESS GRANTED

“Oh, uh. Thank you?”

Her friends lining up to have their goggles activated, Twilight takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and concentrates. Her horn shines with the forming magic, the spell spreading to envelop her in a lavender glow.

“Hm, these here glasses feel different. Feels like they fit on mah head much better than yesterday.”

“Yeah. I think they’ve been adjusted some— whoa. Whoa! Check out Twilight!”

Curious to the reaction of her friends, Twilight opens her eyes and gasps. Within the aura of her magic, normally slightly translucent and fuzzy, intricate shapes are now visible. Infinitely tiny dots and swirls appear and disappear seemingly at random, creating a beautiful mosaic of shapes whirling around Twilight’s body.

“Oh! That is fabulous!”

“It’s like a magic pattern chamber!”

“A what now?”

“It’s like a really dense magically charged cloud, it’s used for magic research. But this one is so clear! And it doesn’t require any bulky equipment. This could mean a lot for magical research!”

“Uh, Twi’, Ah’m happy for ya, but how’s that spell coming?”

“Oh, right!”

Finalising her spell, Twilight watches as the luminous squiggles whirling around her slow down and settle down on top of her fur like an intricate full-body cutie mark. As the spell finishes, the marks pulse once and then rapidly fade from existence. Accompanying this strange, silent theatre is the familiar, slightly dizzy feeling of magic taking it’s hold of her perceptions as the translation spell settles on her mind.

“Well, that was interesting... Now we’ll see.”

Twilight expectantly turns to the other party, who runs through a short series of gestures. Touching her lower front teeth. Toughing her ear. Twisting her free hand against her palm and finally extending her arm across the intervening distance.

A tight matrix forms in the air. Perfectly geometrical lines shoot out to connect with Twilight’s horn, small whirlpools of light responding in kind.

There’s that strange feeling of magic adjusting, and the matrix is gone in an instant.

Twilight blinks.

She takes a breath.

“Hello? Can you understand me?”

The alien smiles broadly.

“Good morning, miss. Just call me Eris.”

*

Comments

[twillale]

I'm... not quite happy with how this chapter turned out, but it's really about time this story started getting somewhere. Sorry for the delays, folks, and thanks for waiting. Real life's not an easy opponent.

Credit for The Sailor With the Ocean's Biggest Gun goes to PJAbrony (because I can't write english song lyrics for @"#¤.)

EDIT: So, I just watched the season 3 opening.

...

Okay, holograms are now canon. I can work with that.
Magic can do some pretty cool stuff.

...I need to up my game.

Also, /)(\ SO AWESOME

[DarthPony]

ok 2 things

1st that strange pony is going to mean trouble I'm sure of it
2nd Finaly they are cominicati.... FUCK YOU CLIFFHANGERS!!!

All in all an ejoyable chapter. keep up the good work

[WordPlay]

Woohoo, communication established!

And yes, Season 3 is looking promising.

[GreenZebra]

The strange pony at the library is indeed strange, but not enough info to have an opinion. If she does something bad though, well.. Twilight is only a letter away from letting the Princess know anything. The new episodes do cement the whole illusion/hologram thing pretty nicely, and also the fact Twilight can pretty much replicate anything she sees once, apparently.

I kinda want to see the evil alien race come now, only for Luna to come by.
"Hey, is this your meteor shower?"