Chapter 7: Further Revelations
Celestia Sleeps In
Chapter 7—Further Revelations
Admiral Biscuit
Once again, Dale reached for his book; once again he stopped. He wasn’t sure how long the alien would want to stay on the beach with him. Assuming she wanted to sleep in the comfort of her own bed aboard the spaceship, it would be important to know when she was going to come back. Was there some reason why they waited 28 days the first time? Would the next delay be the same?
Instead, he withdrew the calendar. He wanted to get this taken care of right away so he could plan.
He had already marked the date of ‘first contact’ by drawing its pictogram on the beach. Each day that had passed he had marked in the same way as they had—one tick on the first day, two on the second, and so forth, grouping in sixes. He was convinced that they would not recognize the numbers, but that was okay; they were sure to get the concept.
Dale laid it out on the beach in front of the alien, pointing first to Wednesday June 20, and waiting. Surely she would grasp the meaning.
Lyra looked bewilderment. She had never seen anything that was half-photograph and half words. Newspapers and magazines were common enough, but their paper and printing was much lower-quality. There were probably unicorn spells that could create an book like this, but it would be reserved for the nobility.
The top half had a glossy image of something. The background was simple enough to understand: it was a wooded hill. The picture had been taken around sunrise or sunset. In the foreground, on a grey stone path, was a shiny red thing. It had big white letters across one end of it, which made her think it probably wasn’t a creature. She tried to separate out the elements of the photograph, and suddenly realized that it had wheels. They didn’t have spokes like proper wheels, but they had shiny hubs. It was obviously a wagon.
She couldn’t see a harness, so it was a picture of the back of the wagon. It looked like it had a big open area, and in front of that was a taller enclosure, which was clearly meant to seat the teamster. In front of that was another enclosed area, whose purpose was less clear. Now that she had figured it out, she could clearly see that it had a hinged tailboard—that is what the letters were on—and doors, to get into the cabin. And, she could read the big letters. “See-aitch-ee-vee-ar-oh—“ The creature had a disappointed look on its face, and Lyra’s ears fell. Maybe this wasn’t what she was supposed to be looking at.
The bottom half had a four-letter word centered, like it was important. “Jay-ewe-en-e,” she tried, and he brightened. Below that, it was arranged in a matrix, with groups of letters at the top of each column, and other symbols she hadn’t seen before in each box. It began with light red groups of two symbols, then started in red with one symbol, carried on like that until the third row where it became two again, with the sixth row finally having light red single symbols again.
What was more important, though, was column four, row four had a simple drawing of what she’d made on the beach last time. After that, there were marks on each different day. This is its calendar. She tapped her hoof on the first marked day, then circled her forehoof, indicating the whole of the beach. She began tapping each day that passed, counting them off. When she reached the end of the page, she flipped it over to the next.
There was a picture of a different wagon—this one silver and maroon—sitting in front of a lake; below that was more of the same, although this time the printing was in green. Nevertheless, she continued the count through all the squares he’d marked, finally arriving at the final square. She again motioned around the beach. Judging by his enthusiasm, she’d gotten the right idea.
She thought for a moment. He clearly wanted to know when she was coming again, and this was a far more convenient method than writing in the beach. The Princess had given her a lot of latitude in making decisions: if they spent too much time apart, they would start to forget lessons they had learned, but if they pushed too hard, they’d make mistakes. She knew that everypony involved would want to go over everything she’d already learned. She hardly could be expected to stay up all night and answer questions, and then come back here again. So, one day off, then back again?
She tapped the space two spots over, and made her ‘on the beach’ motion again. The creature nodded—a motion which she had learned meant that he was pleased—and pushed the calendar back towards her.
Lyra frowned. Did it mean for her to keep it? Did it want her to mark more days? Maybe it meant for her to take it back home, so that they could coordinate schedules. She grabbed it in her mouth and tucked it into her saddlebag, watching his expression carefully. He nodded again, so that must be what he wanted.
She sat back in front of him on her rump, waiting to see what else he would offer.
Slanting beams of the afternoon sun played across the crystal array that surrounded Trixie. She had begun in the corner, and then something had come over her. Her mind had drifted off into the blank space it seemed to occupy more and more often, and when she came back to herself, she discovered that she was surrounded.
She was lying on the cold ground, muzzle practically touching one. It was dark, yet pulsed with a deep red aura, like arterial blood. She turned her head, glumly noting that they blocked her in on all sides, with not even any open spaces to tread her hooves carefully through.
She could feel more of them under her. They wanted to grow. They would not—not as long as she held them at bay—but a mare had to sleep sometime. They whispered to her to set them free—to set herself free.
Trixie carefully extended a hoof. She poked at a tall crystal with her shoe, testing its resilience. It did not flex at all. It was hard to judge, but as she experimentally slid her shoe across it, feeling the grating resistance of metal to stone.
She twisted her shoe around to get a look. In her position, it was a difficult maneuver to manage, but she was talented at more than just illusions. She expected to see bits of stone stuck to the steel shoe, but instead saw a small line of polished—no, cut—metal.
She looked back at the crystal. She couldn’t kick them over, and they would cut her hooves to pieces if she tried to walk on them.
An idea was beginning to form in her mind. The blocking ring on her horn was held on by magically-enhanced straps which could not be cut. She knew all about them—hadn’t her mother had to wear one? But the ring itself was a different matter. It might not be enchanted at all. After all, nopony would allow anypony to swing a chisel at their horn to cut it off—horns were sensitive. A light, sawing motion might do the trick.
The challenge would be to cut it off without hurting herself. She wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing. She didn’t trust the crystals, and would have to move very slowly and very carefully to avoid injuring herself.
With a soft sigh, she twisted her head towards a likely crystal.
Dale pulled Fun With Dick and Jane out of his backpack. The book brought back memories. He remembered coming across the whole series when he had emptied his parent’s house after they had passed away, and he just couldn’t bear to get rid of them. Maybe one day, when he had grandchildren of his own, he would give the books to them. It sure beat a book featuring Dora or Spongebob Squarepants. Or Elmo.
“See Dick,” he began, almost instantly running into a wall. The words would mean nothing to her. He could just as easily have picked up a cookbook for a reading primer. When I read this, I knew what the words meant, he realized with a sinking feeling. I just didn’t know how they were written. How am I going to get past this little hurdle?
“Wing it,” he muttered under his breath. It was the American way. There was even a technical term for it—satisficing—which he would be sure to use if he ever got interviewed about this particular event.
“See Dick,” he began again. This time, he visored his hand over his eyes, then pointed to the book. He repeated it again and again, making binocular gestures, pointing to his eyes, and back to the page. Then he tried “see Dale,” pointing to himself.
She eventually responded with ‘see’ and her name, while pointing a hoof to her eyes, then tapping her breast. Much to his chagrin, she repeated it with his name, and with Dick’s. She finally made a note, and nodded, then tapped the next page.
“See Dick run,” Dale said. He repeated his first two motions, then started to jog up the beach, shouting run! A moment later, she was trotting beside him, repeating run and her name, still speaking in the strange lower voice she had begun to use while she was teaching him the alphabet.
A part of Dale’s mind was dimly aware that this was probably not the way that language should be learned. He was demonstrating the word jump, leaping back and forth across an imaginary hurdle. Much to his amazement, she got up on her hind legs and tried to mimic him.
He saw it coming too late to stop it. Her jump was off-balance, either from poor footing or the difficulty of standing on two legs. She half-fell, and his instinct was to try and catch her. Dale managed to take one step forward before a flailing hoof came in contact with his shoulder, twisting him around. She fell forward, driving the two of them down to the beach. He didn’t have time to brace himself, but he managed to wrap his left arm around her and yank her close to him, trying to avoid having her collapse on top of him as they hit.
It seemed to take an eternity to fall. Her fur was amazingly soft, not at all like a wild animal. Do they condition it? And then he hit the ground.
He lay there, getting his breath back, conscious of the creature on top of him. He could feel her heartbeat, her hot breath on his face, a tickling on his cheek where her mane had fallen. Her eyes were closed, which struck him as a little odd, although she opened them again when he took his hand off her back.
As the two disentangled themselves, he realized that he had made two discoveries: she certainly lacked the grace of a cat—which could probably have completed the move successfully—and she was heavier than she looked. He was blushing furiously, but she seemed unperturbed by the entire situation. She shook herself off, then tried jumping again, this time from all four legs.
He realized she was watching him for conformation, and he nodded absently.
By the time they reached the second book, she could identify the characters on the cover, naming each while touching it with a hoof. She brightened when Spot was introduced, pointing and saying a word in her own language.
“Spot is a dog,” Dale explained. He barked and panted, then repeated dog She nodded. “See Spot run,” Dale read. She repeated it back, then ran down the beach making barking noises while wagging her tail.
Were they related to dogs? He’d entertained that thought when he first saw them. The equine theory had won, because their manes and tails and hooves seemed more like that of a horse, but that was before he’d considered that they were wearing suits. Still, discounting the hair, would a creature with flexible digits cover them? It would be like him wearing a spacesuit with boxing gloves. What would be the advantage?
He snapped back out of his reverie when she plopped down beside him, flipping the page with her muzzle. “See Spot roll over,” Dale muttered. She seemed to have discovered the ability to puzzle out meanings from the pictures, flopping over on her back and rolling away from him. She kept her legs tucked close, foiling his chance to see if she wore shoes yet again. He glanced down at his shirt, but she hadn’t left a hoofprint there. She stood and repeated the sentence with her own name again, clearly perplexed by his silence.
Inspiration struck him like a freight train. He hadn’t been trying to say her name since he’d butchered it so badly the first time, but now that her voice was lower—he could! He repeated back exactly what she had said. “See Lyra roll over.” She looked at him with her big golden eyes, and he just began repeating her name while pointing, the unfamiliar syllables rolling off his tongue. She began oddly moving her legs—as if she was trotting in place—and he wondered if that how she showed excitement.
When he had finished the book, he thought it was time to introduce yes and no. This would be a bit tricky. He tapped himself. “Yes Dale.” Pointing to her, he said, “Yes Lyra.” Back at himself: “No Lyra.” He repeated the exercise with Dick and Jane, then started with actions. Each time, he would also nod or shake his head.
Lyra’s brain felt like it was going to melt. The book he had shown her had used both the strong letters and the weak letters. It appeared that the strong letters were used at the beginning of each line, and to give the names of the characters. Clearly they indicated something of importance. However, the wagon had been labeled in all strong letters—which probably meant it was very important—and the names of the months had been, too. Four strong letters. Did they value wagons and their calendars that highly?
Even worse, the letters hardly seemed to ever be pronounced in words like they were pronounced on their own. The first word of the book, see, had the same pronunciation as the third letter of the alphabet, yet instead of only being one symbol, it was three, and clearly should have been pronounced essee. She was not sure if the he was unable to correctly pronounce the words, or if it wasn’t more like Earth pony language, with an insufficient number of letters to represent—as best as they could—the sounds of speech. On the other hoof, the words were all short, so that was something.
It had been clever of the creature to demonstrate the verbs. She and Twilight had been discussing how to teach verbs, and they hadn’t come up with anything. She wished she’d had time to ask Cherilee. It was quite an omission on their part, especially since they’d had an entire month to come up with a solution.
At least she had the marbles and the box. They’d do for counting and for some parts of speech. She mentally kicked herself again. She could have been giving him her words for things from his book. Why hadn’t she done that?
There was no time like the present. “Dick and Jane,” she said, tapping a hoof on the beach where the book had lain. He set the book back on the sand.
“No,” she said, using his word. “Dick and Jane.” She pointed a hoof at his backpack. “Yes Dick and Jane.” After a moment, he seemed to understand that she wanted to start with the first book, and switched them out.
She flipped it back open to the first page carefully, then brought over the chalkboard. “See Dick,” she began, before repeating the word see in Equine. She said it several times, until he began to repeat it. Then she wrote the word on the chalkboard.
They went through both books that way. Dale carefully copied her words into his notebook. When she had finished teaching him the books in Equine, she decided it was time to move on to counting.
She tapped one marble, named it, and wrote the word on the chalkboard. She then traced a circle around all the marbles with her hoof, and wrote the plural on the chalkboard. It wasn’t really necessary for her purposes that he know the word for marble, but sooner or later he’d want to learn it.
Pushing one forward with a hoof, she said “One,” and wrote both 1 on the chalkboard, and below it, one. She repeated the exercise as he took notes, individually pushing marbles over, until the entire dozen were across the line. Eventually, he’d have to learn how to count two-digit numbers, but that was a lesson which could wait for later.
The creature got another book out of his bag, and pushed towards her. There was a bright red furry creature—which bore little resemblance to Dale—right on the cover, with bold letters next to it. He flipped the book open. The furry thing was on each page, next to a symbol and word. On the first page was a single chocolate-chip cookie; on the second, a pair of birds. Everything was simple and brightly-colored, like books for foals.
He tapped the first page, said a word, and pushed a single marble back towards Lyra. On the second page, he tapped a symbol, said another word, and pushed a second marble.
Clearly, this was a book for counting. As clever as the concept was, it seemed kind of wasteful. Didn’t their mares have time to teach their foals on their own? While the other book had had drawings of creatures which looked—at least superficially—like Dale, this one was nothing like him. It could be a teacher. The first two books had led her to believe that all these creatures had similar coloration, but that was silly. Only the Royal Guards looked so uniform, and that was because of the magical armor they wore.
When Dale had finished with the book, he slid it over to her. Her saddlebags were going to be quite full for the return trip, but that was okay. It would give them time to study in more depth back in Equestria. It was strange that the book only went up to ten—maybe that was as high as the creature could count. Some of the more primitive herds didn’t even have words for numbers past three.
Then he did something unexpected. He pushed the eleventh marble over, speaking a word. He wrote two vertical lines in his notebook—which looked like two weak els or a strong I, with a word next to it. He pushed the final marble over, saying another word, and writing another two symbols in his notebook. When he began writing his second word, she suddenly realized that these were numbers. Apparently, these creatures were either so sloppy in their penmanship that they didn’t care that some strong and weak letters could be confused with each other or with numbers, or else they weren’t clever enough to have come up with more distinct symbols. What was obvious was Dale’s kind added their second digit at ten.
He was still writing, apparently making marks for thirteen, fourteen, and so on. She took an extra piece of parchment and wrote down more of her numbers, too. They were fairly predictable, so she just incremented the dozens column, then the grosses column, finally sliding the paper over to him. Running a quick mental calculation, she saw that he had done the same thing, although his numbers went to twenty before they became regular. Looking at his talons, she thought she knew why. If the pattern of digits was repeated on his hind paws, then he would have twenty to count before he had to increment. Maybe they were unique because each digit represented a talon or claw?
She could discuss this when she got back to Ponyville. Surely, there was a professor who specialized in the history of numbers. It was a little too in-depth for their foal-steps of conversation here on the beach, though.
She looked over at the marbles and the box. Now it was time to teach prepositions and adverbs the same way her parents had taught her. She’d put the marbles in the box, and then teach him the word for in.
Lyra pointed at the box, said the word, and wrote it on the slate, while Dale obediently took notes. She looked back at the marbles, and suddenly realized the difficulty of manipulating them by mouth. If they’d thought this through better, they would have had jacks, or something easily gripped.
Well, going by the sun’s position, it was late enough in the day that she could probably use some magic and not have to worry. Dale hadn’t done anything remotely aggressive, and it stood to reason he would not.
“In,” she said, repeating it several times until he understood. She wrote the word while levitating the marbles into the box. Strangely, instead of taking notes, he was watching the marbles float with a look she couldn’t quite figure out. It seemed almost like amazed terror. His mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were darting around towards the woods and the water. Frowning, she pulled the marbles back out of the box and set them on the sand again. Was this a gesture that had some other meaning to his culture?
“Piper forty seven niner six lima cleared to cross runway two eight.”
Finally. Jennifer keyed the mic. “Affirmitive. Niner six lima crossing runway two eight.” She checked both ways, just to make sure, then throttled up and released the brakes.
“Contact tower on one two four decimal two when you’re ready to go,” ground control helpfully informed her.
Yeah, yeah. She switched the radio, and made a final sweep of the gauges. Everything looked good. “Niner six lima ready at three six, waiting for clearance.”
“Good afternoon,” the tower controller replied. “Niner six lima, cleared takeoff three six, left turn on course, climb to four thousand five hundred, maintain VFR.”
She read back the clearance, pushed the throttles to takeoff power, and gently let off the wheel brakes. “Rolling,” she commented into her mic.
The Piper quickly gained speed—with only her and a hundred pounds of groceries, it behaved like a race horse. As she pitched the nose up, Jennifer felt a jolt of energy run through her body. Takeoffs never grew old. The twin Continental sixes were purring happily. The airspeed needle finally passed the blue line as she retracted the gear, turning the Piper into a creature of the air once again. “Here we go,” she muttered to the sky, breaking out in a smile.
Her call sign jerked her out of her reverie. “Piper niner six lima, be advised a Coast Guard helicopter is performing training near your flight path, um, over Lake Michigan, under two thousand feet.”
“Roger.” She began to bank slightly west. “Thank you, tower.”
Dale barely kept sitting as the creature’s horn lit up and the marbles floated off the beach. He could see a golden nimbus around its horn, and there was a matching golden aura pulsing around the marbles. She showed no sign of manipulating anything with her hooves, which suggested that the ability was entirely mental. This worried him greatly. He had watched Firestarter and Carrie, as well as the X-Men movies, and had a healthy respect for what superpowers could do, at least cinematically; what was even more concerning was the fact that Lyra hardly seemed to be concentrating on the marbles. It was as if the motion was second nature to her. She was writing while she did it, although her eyes were flickering over to the marbles, as if she wanted to make sure they remained on course.
Earlier, he had seen her light up her throat with a glowing light—was that also the same sort of thing? Was the barrier behind her—the giant magenta bubble—formed in the same manner? Might this appendage be a way to focus mental energy into carrying out an action? If it was, what powered it? Was there a small atomic pellet in its base? Was it possible that she had been maintaining the barrier behind her all morning, with so little effort that she had been able to interact with him? If so, what did it mean for him? If he annoyed her, could she lift him as easily as the marbles?
Try as he might, he could come up with no scenarios where that would end to his benefit. His earlier thought of running to his canoe and paddling away now seemed absolutely doomed to failure. He had been wasting his time checking for ambush locations in the woods; what was the point when she could probably fling him a couple of hundred feet in the air?
Was this how they had built their spacecraft? Earlier, he had wondered how they had managed to craft anything, since they appeared to lack flexible digits—with access to horns like this, they wouldn’t need digits. She had been holding up three marbles—could she hold up more? Could she send them in opposing directions? Magneto had been limited to manipulating ferrous objects; Lyra apparently was not.
The first time he had come across them on the beach, one of the armored ones had been pointing its horn at him. Now he knew why. Obviously, the spears were ceremonial. The armor was probably reflective, so that the beams or whatever shot from their horns would bounce off. His mind began struggling back to everything he’d learned about physics. Gravity was a weak force, if he remembered right. Electromagnetism was a strong force, and could counter gravity. There was something about entanglement, too.
He looked back at the field. In one of Asimov’s short stories, an engineer had created an antigravity field which was surrounded by a glowing magenta field, caused by the air molecules accelerating to lightspeed in the field and then slowing once they encountered normal atmosphere again. Was that what the bubble was? That story had ended when the engineer had been killed by a billiard ball traveling at light speed which went through his heart. What would happen to him if she flung the marbles at the bubble? How did she get in and out of it without injury? The first time, the big one had put something on her. Maybe that was the key.
There was some way that the scientist in the Asimov story had used the anti-gravity field as a perpetual-motion type of energy generator. Was that actually possible? The laws of thermodynamics might not apply when reality itself was being bent. If that was so—disregarding the first-contact—this single construct might change the course of humanity. What fuel was their spaceship using that they could afford the energy cost to just keep this running on the beach?
Dale snapped back to focus, to see Lyra giving him an odd look. There was no way he could explain the mind-bending that she had just caused, so he took a couple of deep breaths, and pointed to the marbles again. “Yes.”
After another hour was spent, Lyra had covered most of the motions which could be indicated by marbles and a box. While she had written pages of notes, it was clear that their vocabulary was still severely limited. They were barely at the point where they could create complete sentences. She flattened her ears, thinking of all the work they still had to do. It’ll be easier once I can ask him if I can bring along others, she thought. Until then, I guess we’ll just have to make due.
She lifted the marbles back into their sack, put them in the box, and then lifted the whole lot into her saddlebags. She was starting to get hungry again, and wished she’d thought to bring dinner along, too.
Dale seemed to be at a bit of a loss. He had put the tube in his mouth again, and appeared to be swallowing. Lyra’s throat was a bit raw, so she walked back down to the water to get another drink.
She sat back across from him, and waited for him to make his move. Sometime after lunch, the two of them had unconsciously decided to take turns presenting things.
He picked up a thick book and began flipping through the pages, clearly looking for something specific. He passed by drawings of plants and trees and bugs and birds. It had not struck her earlier, but the printing and binding quality of the books was pretty amazing. There were clearly a number of these creatures whose special talent was book-making. The paper was brilliant white, and the line weights were perfectly even. Whoever had colored in the drawings had had the patience of a saint—she could not see a single color that strayed over its line.
When he had finally found what he was looking for, he laid the book back down on the sand, turning it so she could easily see. For some reason, his face was pinker than usual, like it was when they’d fallen.
He tapped the pictures. “Yes Dale.”
She looked down at the book. There was a fairly simple drawing of a creature like him, although it was wearing no clothing or coverings. Small words were written next to its parts. Lyra looked up at him thoughtfully. This would be very helpful. She moved her paper right next to the book and began to copy down the words as he pronounced them..
He acted oddly hesitant when she reached one small central area, and his face reddened again. Could it be he didn’t know what those parts were called? Maybe he didn’t have them. Many equine gross anatomy drawings included wings and horn, to save on printing. Some foals—especially in primarily unicorn cities—often were embarrassed if they lacked horns. It was less of a problem with pegasi foals, since by their nature, cities like Cloudsdale had no non-pegasi residents.
When she had finished writing down all the words on the two pages, she looked at him expectantly. Sighing, he turned the page, his face reddening again.
They finally made it through the names of the body parts, as well as the next illustrations of muscle groups and skeletal structure. Dale hoped it was enough to keep her going for a while. He could hardly be expected go through an entire visual dictionary here on the beach. He explained to her that she should take the book with her and bring it back next time, by drawing a series of pictures in his notebook. She seemed to understand. She could barely fit her mouth around the book, and finally lifted it in her aura, carefully settling it into her bag. She produced a book of her own, and brought it over.
It was a fairly slim volume. On the cover was a picture of a house, with a table, book, and bathtub below it. She opened it to the first page. As with the previous book she had produced, the printing quality was a few hundred years out-of-date. Once again, the images reminded him of a woodcut.
The first drawing was of a group of these creatures standing in front of a house. There were five big creatures, two small ones, and a tiny one. The one on the right had a square face and a short-cropped tail. The other four looked similar to her, except that two did not have horns, and one had wings, which were clearly visible as they were extended away from its sides. The two smaller ones were similar to the larger ones, one with a horn and one without. The tiniest, which appeared to be wearing a diaper and holding a bottle, had a very small set of wings. All of the big ones had a mark on its hindquarters, each one of them unique.
Lyra began naming them off, despite there being no text accompanying the drawing. She would point to one of the creatures and give its name, writing it on the chalkboard. Each name had two parts, and he noticed that aside from the short-tailed one, the names of all the big creatures ended the same way.
Given the simplicity of the drawings, Dale assumed that this was a book meant for children. Specific details of items were not marked. As they went through the book, there were a few items which stood out to him. They apparently had normal-looking shovels and brooms, although how they used them was a mystery. Horse-drawn carriages gave him a bit of a laugh, but he supposed rickshaws were roughly analogous. Some chairs and benches had backs, which seemed a particularly useless design, unless they preferred to sit upright.
Aside from her attempt at a jump, he had never seen Lyra sit fully upright. She was currently sitting with her rump on the ground, hind legs in front of her, and forelegs supporting her between them. It seemed a fairly natural position, but not one in which a chair back would be of any use whatsoever. Maybe she had to sit that way because she couldn’t lean back.
At the very end of the book, there were two facing drawings. One of them had a big creature like the one he’d seen on the beach, looking up at what was unmistakably a sun. On the other side, a darker night sky, complete with moon, had a darker rendition of a similar creature. If he hadn’t been watching her carefully, he might have missed the way she unconsciously bowed her head when she pointed to the day-alien.
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would have assumed that it was revered as a god. The style of the drawing seemed to indicate godhood. Still, even now there were countries where the rulers still had some mystique and respect. Certainly not in the US, though. There was nothing that the American public enjoyed more than lifting somebody up onto a pedestal and then knocking them back off again.
But, it couldn’t be their overall ruler, could it? No one would send their leader on a mission to uncharted space. When Colombus came over to the New World, Isabelle may have given him her blessing, but she didn’t offer to come with him. So maybe it was the captain of the mission?
On the other hand, what if they were a ruling caste? Maybe there was a supreme emperor or something, and its offspring led the littler ones on missions or whatever. As much as he hated to admit it, dictatorships got things accomplished in a way democracies often couldn’t. It was a lot easier to get something done when you had no opposition, after all.
He really didn’t know enough to ask, but he might as well give it a shot. He tapped the picture of the day-alien, and shrugged.
She seemed to get the message. She tapped the picture, then the sun. She pointed her head over the water and slowly lifted it, then pointed to the sun again.
Curious, he pointed to the night-alien. She repeated the same motions, this time pointing to the picture of the crescent moon. So, it appeared that one was in charge during the day, and another at night. That might explain why the one he saw didn’t get up and start giving orders until after the sun had risen.
She pushed the book over towards him, indicating he should keep it. He was about to turn and put it in his saddlebags when he saw her ears suddenly shift towards the water.
She turned her head, following the motion of her ears, which were now at full attention, not unlike a cat. A minute passed, then he heard the distant noise of an airplane engine.
Dale looked up in alarm. The last thing he wanted to show up here right now was an airplane. It would probably be high enough to not see them, but the glowing hemisphere on the beach was a hard thing to overlook. If the pilot was paying the slightest bit of attention to the ground, there was no way that he would fail to report it.
There wasn’t anything he could do about it, either. He could hardly tell her that she had to go—he didn’t even know how he could possibly explain it to her without making it seem like he was trying to send her away.
She’d gotten close to the island a lot sooner than she thought she would, Jennifer reflected. The foul-up with the caterer had put her in a bad mood, and it had seemed like ground control was asleep at the radio. As soon as she’d cleared Traverse City, though, her bad mood had evaporated.
The co-pilot on the Coast Guard helicopter had been friendly, too. She’d called when she was close to their operating area, and he’d seemed surprised by her professionalism. Well, as far as she could tell over the radio. Maybe she’d try to see if she could catch up with him at the Air Station sometime.
Focus, Jennifer! Time to prepare for your landing! “Piper niner six lima South Fox Island airport in sight, request frequency change.”
“Say . . . receiving . . . .” Her radio dissolved into static. She tried again, with no better response. Stupid radio.
“Coast Guard, do you copy?” She waited for a response, but none was coming. Radio two produced the same results. The static got louder and she turned down the volume a little. It was almost continuous now. Did I lose the antenna?
Jennifer briefly debated whether to turn around or continue. She was nearly there, and hated to go back. She didn’t want to lose the contract, after all. On the other hand, if something else was wrong with the airplane, she might lose more than the contract.
But, it still seemed to be flying well. All the instruments indicated things were boringly normal. The island’s runway wasn’t controlled, and it was private anyway. She didn’t have to radio for landing clearance. It would probably be safer—and be less paperwork to fill out after the fact—to just land normally, rather than fly back to Traverse City radio-less, and pop up in the traffic pattern as a total surprise to everyone. They’d have to use light signals, and she’d be damned if she could remember any of them. Maybe they were somewhere in the Jeppesen’s book, which was in her flight bag, which was . . . in the back. Why on earth did you toss it back there with all the groceries? She could turn on the autopilot and get it, if she wanted to turn into a cautionary tale for other pilots, that was. Better to land at South Fox.
With that thought in mind, she flicked on her landing lights to reveal her intentions and began her approach checklist. The runway was clear, winds negligible, and she could diagnose what had gone wrong when the wheels were chocked outside the maintenance shed.
Dale tucked her book away, breathing a sigh of relief as the bearing to the airplane shifted. If it wasn’t headed this way, than there was a chance the pilot hadn’t noticed the bubble on the beach.
He would have to figure out if there was a way to tell them to move their bubble. Maybe they could make it completely transparent, or something. He was isolated enough that he had a little warning before anyone showed up, but they might want to re-think their location in the future. He’d have to bring a map, maybe show them better coordinates. A familiar dread began creeping in. At some point—maybe the next time they met—he would have to teach her the word for danger. He glanced back at the weapons. Maybe they would do for teaching purposes, if she left them here.
Dale quickly put on a false smile, hoping she didn’t notice his concern. It wouldn’t do to have her—or her companions—think of him as anything less than a willing participant in this endeavor.
He had two books left in his bag, and couldn’t decide which one to present first. On one hand, he wanted to be sure they got the book on anatomy, since he was certain that would reduce the chance of himself—or anyone else—becoming an unwilling test subject. The down side was that he didn’t know half the words in the book, and he could hardly explain it to her here on the beach. Her companions might know what to make of it, though. Since their outer appearance was roughly similar to earthly beings, perhaps their insides were, too. They must have doctors aboard their ship.
The other option was the book on astronomy. While there was a lot in it that he also couldn’t explain, he was sure it would be something she would instantly recognize. He knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to point out where she lived right away, since the view of stars from earth was surely much different than theirs. Maybe she’d bring it back, though, with a single star circled. That would really be something.
It wasn’t the most detailed book he could find, but it did offer one advantage over all the others—it was filled with glossy photos of the Solar System and stars and comets—but only had one single photo of a manned spacecraft, the iconic image of the first Lunar landing. He hoped that they would see this book and assume that humanity had traveled to all those planets. Once they knew enough to communicate on a more sophisticated level, he could admit that they had not yet accomplished long-distance manned space missions yet.
He chuckled, imagining when all of this was revealed the sudden boost in funding NASA was likely to get. Long-shelved ideas were likely to get dusted off and re-imagined.
Dale flipped past the introductory section—they probably didn’t need to discuss what the Universe was, after all—and jumped right in to the Solar System. Some of it was what they would have seen as they came in.
While only a day of close-up contact had familiarized neither with the other’s body language, Dale could still tell that she was completely puzzled by the pictures. He pointed to the sun, then the picture of it in the book.
She followed his motion, but seemed to be utterly flummoxed, and he didn’t have the slightest idea how to explain it to her. Since it was a book on stars and planets, there weren’t any daytime pictures of a normal sky with the sun in it to use as a visual aid. He tried mimicking her sun-rising motion with his head, following the sun through its track, but she still looked confused. Finally, skipping ahead a few pages, he came to the moon, and watched her eyes brighten.
He patiently—using some of his newly learned vocabulary—indicated that the craters and other lunar features were on the moon, pointing to a picture, than back to the full image of the moon. She eventually seemed to understand, occasionally looking at the sky curiously.
Of course, it was his luck that it was a new moon, so there wasn’t one to see in the sky. Twenty-eight days ago, there hadn’t been one, either. Who was to say that their planet had a moon at all? Or that it was limited to one?
He started to flip to pictures of the planets, but again, she gave no indication that she understood the significance of them at all. He tried pointing to their orbits, but that was of little help, either.
He had assumed that any crew member aboard a spaceship would have some knowledge of the space they traveled in, but maybe not. If it were big enough, maybe everyone had their own special roles to fill. He wondered if the boiler crew of an ocean liner had the slightest idea where the ship was at any given moment.
But that thought was ridiculous. Even if the normal crew didn’t pay much attention to the navigation, they would hardly send some entirely clueless crewmember to a planet’s surface, would they? And if—by some oversight—they had, they wouldn’t send the same crewmember back again, they would send someone competent.
Unless there were good reason. Dale sat thoughtfully for a moment. What if this was a specialist in alien contact? Maybe she suffered from nutty-professor syndrome, and never paid much attention to where they were going or how they got there? There were human parallels: Newton and Einstein came to mind immediately.
It would explain how she was such a quick learner. There was probably a whole gang waiting for whatever she brought back.
With that thought in mind, he reached into his backpack for his final gift—a brand new copy of Gray’s Anatomy. Using words that he remembered them exchanging, he flipped it open to a random page, pointed to the illustration, and said, “In Dale.” He repeated this several times, but she didn’t really seem to understand until he pointed to series of photographs illustrating hand posture, then turned the page to a cutaway left hand. Her eyes brightened as she looked at his hands thoughtfully, then back at the book.
He carried it over and set it beside her saddlebags; a clearer gesture that it was a gift than any other than he had made thus far. He couldn’t see how she was going to fit it in, but he didn’t want to offend her by re-arranging her saddlebags himself.
The tower controller was worried. He looked up at the clock. It had been well over an hour since Jennifer had left. With some pilots, that wouldn’t bother him at all. She was—well, prudent—and was hardly one to forget to close a flight plan. If she had landed. He’d heard her call the Coast Guard helicopter—which earned her a silent thumbs-up—but nothing since.
It never hurt to be overly careful, he decided. He picked up the phone and punched in a familiar series of digits.
“United States Coast Guard Air Station Traverse City, how may I direct your call?”
“Hey, it’s Pat in the control tower. Listen, I’ve got a Piper twin that was headed out to South Fox, and I haven’t heard from her in a while. Your boys still playing out in the water?”
The ensign chuckled. “State secrets, Pat.”
“I’ll buy you a beer.”
“Roger that. I’ll let flight ops know. No transponder or rescue beacon?”
“Nope.” Pat paused. “No reason to think anything’s gone wrong. Probably have your boys check the runway first, then work their way around.”
“You got it.”
Within minutes, the message had gone up through the usual channels. Lt. Calley—who desperately wished for a promotion—acknowledged the radio call from base, and within moments, the Dauphin was racing northwest.
The sky was still cloudless, and the sun still up, so it was no great effort on their part to discern that there was a twin-engined plane sitting on the ramp, but nevertheless, they flew closer.
“That’s the plane that flew by us earlier,” Calley confirmed, lowering his binoculars. He looked down at his kneeboard to make sure the N-number matched.
“Ah, okay, that’s it. Should notify base that she’s landed.”
“Shouldn’t we land? I mean, what if she’s hurt or something?”
The pilot looked over at Calley, then back at the other two ensigns in the helicopter. They both shrugged.
“All right, Calley. I’d rather not land, but let’s move in closer. If she’s okay, there’s no way she won’t hear us coming.” He pushed the cyclic forward, and cautiously approached the runway. “See if you can get her on Unicom.”
“Unicom, right.” Calley made the adjustment to his radio, while the pilot radioed their intentions back to the air station. “I’ve got—“
“There she is,” the pilot interrupted.
Jennifer looked up at the helicopter. Calley leaned against the window and tapped his helmet by his ears. She looked at him blankly for a moment, before suddenly reaching inside her plane.
“—you read?”
“Yeah,” She stepped back outside with the handheld. “Sorry, Coast Guard. I lost my radio on the way in, and the portable crapped out on me, too.” She paused. “I guess it’s working again now.”
“Do you need any assistance?”
“No, negative.” It would be nice to have them escort her back—just in case the radios quit again—but she still had to finish unloading. It probably would take more than an hour, and then she’d be getting back around nightfall—not really the best time to have to worry about problems with the airplane. Even if the Coast Guard was flying behind her. “I’ll fly back tomorrow morning. If the radio’s still giving me trouble, I’ll land at Torchport and call from the ground.”
“Affirmative. Good luck.” Calley signed off, and nodded to the pilot. He rolled the Dauphin to its side in a climbing turn.
She sighed as it flew off. She hoped she didn’t come off as a fool, but she’d checked the radios repeatedly after landing, and they hadn’t worked. Now they did. Odd.
Even though there were still a few hours of light left, they’d learned themselves out for one day. Dale’s hand was cramping again, and Lyra’s head was drooping with fatigue. His voice was hoarse, and her stomach had grumbled a few times already.
Lyra rolled up her scrolls neatly, and managed to jam them in her over-filled saddlebags. The quills were worn out, so she just left them on the beach. It was nice to not have to worry about them staining her parchment. Since she was about to go home, she felt no need to conserve her magic anymore, and took the easy course of levitating her saddlebags onto her back. A quick spell cinched the girth strap tightly, and she was ready to go.
As she walked towards the bubble—giant tome of anatomy floating on front of her—she glanced back once. Dale was still sitting on the beach, watching her leave. She realized she hadn’t remembered to pick up the peace-weapons, but it didn’t matter.
Lyra sighed. She was going to have to spend all day tomorrow going over things with Twilight, the princesses, and Celestia knew who else, and then another day here—she would have to make time to get some of Zecora’s throat lozenges if she expected to have any voice left.
She moved to the center of the bubble and relaxed her mind. She could feel the fine thread maintaining the spell slip loose, and in a flash, she was back on the barge.
She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been all day until the familiar sounds and smells of Ponyville washed over her. The air seemed brighter and thicker than it had on Dale’s world, and she didn’t feel as alone as she had there. She remembered this morning when she had been nervous on the barge, but right now it was almost as comfortable as her couch.
She shot up three green sparks, which was the all-clear signal. Within moments, two pegasi were gliding down from the clouds, ready to tow her back to shore. Lyra could have helped by pulling up the anchor ropes, but she really didn’t feel like it. Instead, she lay down on the smooth deck, taking deep breaths to wash away the day’s tensions.
She would have to go to the library first, to drop off everything she’d gotten from Dale. No doubt Twilight would want to start discussing it right away, but she was going to get a tall hay smoothie, the chocolaty-est cupcake she could find, and go to the spa, and she wasn’t going to leave until Aloe and Lotus had gotten every grain of sand out of her mane, fur, and tail. Then—and only then—would she be ready to talk.
Stats
Page generated in 0.03 seconds
Total duration
1,007 users online
392,542 hits today, 1,996,409 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Good chapter, just a little put off by the part with the plane, but that will probably resolve itself eventually.
Lyra's going to understand that blush when Twilight-the-amateur-biologist gets her hooves on those body diagrams
oh i've been meaning to ask. Is this an alternate universe? or will there be a MLP FiM show and our human lead finds out about the show?
Well done. I'm a sucker for these first-contact stories.
Can't wait to see Dale's reaction when Lyra tries to explain Magic, and that she did not came with a spaceship to Earth. Oh, boy, I foresee a pretty confused guy the next time. Well, more confused than now.
I wonder what Twilight and Lyra will make out of the books he gave her. Hopefully they will understand enough to figure out how everything works on Earth and around. Things could become pretty awkward for sure.
2272582
Thanks!
2273156
It's a topic I'm not planning to address, but we'll assume Dale has no knowledge of the show. In all other aspects, the human world is identical to our own, on the date specified in the story.
2272734
I'm not so sure about that. In a society where everyone normally goes around nude, and even bathing is often a social event (the spa, Pinkie Pie's bathtub in Feeling Pinkie Keen), I'm not sure that the ponies would have much modesty as a society. However, you can be sure the topic will come up.
2274318
Actually, I meant the fact that they are genitals- which Lyra did not seem to understand.
Even in a nude society, parts like that would still be considered 'private', I think.
Amazing.
I have two questions-
First, I didn't really get what year they're in. I was distracted during the calendar part- anyone feel like filling me in? I've got stuff I gotta go do soon
Two- Is this story going to be long, and eventually move onto bigger scale relations- e.g, them meeting the President or something?
2276113
Fifteen miles out, there's no reason not to. Lake Erie's a different story, but it's shallow.
2274450
To the best of my knowledge--in primitive human societies--only 'private' in the sense that they shouldn't be touched without consent.
Admittedly, it's not a subject that's ever come up in the show (nor is it likely to), with the possible exception of Rarity in "Best Night Ever," although one could argue that was more of a superstition, like it being unlucky for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.
Stallion clothing rarely covers the cutie mark, or by extension, the (presumable) male genitalia. Mares fancy dresses often do, but that clearly seems the exception. Most of the simpler dresses appear to be frilly saddles, only covering the back and some of the barrel.
Given their anatomical arrangement, not much would normally be seen, anyway (although the same is true with human females, and leads to some interesting indecent exposure cases, but that's neither here nor there).
TL:DR
The ponies aren't concerned with exposing their, um, 'bits.'.
2276300
Very good point.
I imagine the ponies must have some body-taboos, although for the life of me I can't decide on what.
I imagine exposing oneself would be rude even in a nude culture.
Maybe something with horseshoes? The show is inconsistent as to whether they wear them or not.
Touching horns and wings? The fandom has really gotten behind the whole these-areas-are-erogenous-zones thing,
I don't think they'd have anything 'shameful' associated with cutie marks. After all, they are both prominent and unique to an individual- you'd think they would display, if anything.
Rambling Brainstorm, away!
This story is disappointing me. I was expecting more adorable sleepy Celestia than I'm getting!
2276389
The only taboo I can think of off the top of my head that's even remotely supported in canon would be covering cutie marks, since they very rarely do. Other than that, it's hard to imagine that the ponies--as a society--have any body taboos at all.
Horns--would Celestia and Chrysalis have touched horns if they were erogenous? That seems like a bit like two boxers touching . . . well, never mind. You get the idea.
Wings, again--they spend so much time touching each other, manipulating things with them, etc. Seems unlikely. In my headcanon, preening is probably a pegasus social activity. Presumably, it's usually done with friends or family, but it's probably in no way erotic.
I'd initially thought that earth ponies might wear shoes on their back hooves only (for things like applebucking), mostly grounded pegasi would wear them, and some or all unicorns would (since they can lift things with TK and don't need to use their hooves). [I was also influenced by Ditzy Doo: Muffins by Saddlesoap Opera in my thinking]. Ponyville Confidential shows the spa ponies treating Twilight's hooves, so that kind of shot down my theory. Plus, if they're nailed on (which is the traditional method, of course), Rarity would have had to have them pulled off and the holes in her hooves filled before she could wear the glass slippers in "Best Night Ever."
Of course, they could have figured out another way to attach them. It's something I'm still thinking on. The clearly know what they are, since AJ and RD play horseshoes, Shoeshine has a horseshoe cutie mark (is she a farrier?), and so on. Maybe it comes down to each pony's preference, or what kind of surfaces they normally walk on. I wonder if Celestia has non-slip soles on her fancy shoes?
Honestly, how can you not? At every nudist camp I've ever been at, it just *ahem* hangs out there.
2276490
Here ya go!
WARNING! I AM NOT LIABLE IF THESE CAUSE DIABEETUS!
2.bp.blogspot.com/-MygFfp7H0f0/UGpJvZK0WVI/AAAAAAAARJA/ff8_LdCh5CY/s640/filly_celestia_plush_by_zukori-d5g1mgv.jpg
derpicdn.net/media/W1siZiIsIjIwMTMvMDMvMDQvMDVfNDlfMzdfODE4XzI2MjE2MF9fVU5PUFRfX3NhZmVfYW5pbWF0ZWRfYXJ0aXN0X2hlaWxvcy5naWYuZ2lmIl0sWyJwIiwicmVzaXplX2dpZiIsIjI1MHgyNTAiXV0/262160__safe_twilight-sparkle_princess-celestia_animated_filly_cute_sleeping_adorable_heart-attack_cutelestia_momlestia_artist-heilos.gif
th04.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2012/364/7/8/mlp_fim___princess_celestia_memory_sleep_by_joakaha-d5pp6rs.jpg
fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/018/f/b/celestia_and_luna_sleeping__asleep_version__by_90sigma-d5nl3i9.png
SERIOUSLY. NOT. LIABLE.
2276490
ESPECIALLY THE FIRST ONE!
Also, the first time she slept in, they accidentally made contact with another race. Does she dare risk it again?
Man, you totally tricked me with the direction of the airplane plot thread.
2277149
A lot of people seemed to think it was going to happily fly through the bubble, bring local wine and filet mignon (and a very confused pilot) to the ponies. I've gotta say, though--first, an airplane flying into Equestria is kinda cliche; second, what competent pilot would fly at a giant, glow-y bubble on a beach (backed up by trees, no less) when there were any other options open?
2276571
That would make boxing a lot more interesting just for the hilarity of watching the receiving boxer's reaction. Making a... you-know-what-slap a legal move.
Also, I'd like to toot my own horn.
fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/087/c/7/mlp___sleepylestia_by_shachza-d4u6gd5.png
2277183
Well, by Jove, I can see why you liked my story
I don't see that many pictures with Celestia not wearing her regalia (even when she's sleeping), although she presumably takes it off (maybe she can't, though. When Luna came forth from NMM, she was already wearing her cute little tiara.).
Isn't shameless self-promotion why we're all here?
2277182
Nah, I just thought that the pilot was going to spot 'em. Flying through the portal sounds a bit silly for a story that is approaching the 'first contact' thing rather seriously. I love how you keep spinning things further and further though, it keeps me thinking, 'shit, when are things going to hit the fan?'
2277402
Dale keeps having the same thoughts, and who can blame him?
2277234
Clearly their tiaras are in fact ornamental bone structures, a key factor which separates them from most other equines.
Either that, or their stuck on there real good.
2274254
Well, Twilight does have a telescope in her house on the balcony. It stands to reason that (as long as it's 'powerful' enough) that even if their little world is the only one in their version of a solar system that she'd be able to see others (especially if she enhanced it with magic). I have little doubt she'll catch on as far as the solar system book goes.
As for anatomy they might be better off giving it to an actual doctor or surgeon or animal expert to study.
2275013
The year is 2012. As to the second question--you'll have to wait and see.
2323081
Seems to me that Celestia, with her plan to alicornify Twilight, probably wouldn't want to risk her.
2323209
Thanks for answering. Sounds like there's still a lot left in this story.
2276535
It's not impossible for them to wear horseshoes in the "traditional" (nailed on) sense. Pony hooves generally show an incapacity to feel pain, otherwise Rainbow Dash would have been howling after mowing down a line of tree in the episode where Scootaloo goes camping and Twilight would have been feeling the pain after sliding all the way down the slide in the Crystal Empire. Besides, horse (and presumably, pony) hooves will grow back if damaged or holed, so the holes for the horseshoes would not be permanent.
2330657
But that's (kind of) contradicted in Ponyville Confidential, where everyone's at the spa. Twilight has some sort of polish put on her hooves, and the spa ponies are using files for 'hooficures.' Now, they could be doing the hooficure in preparation to put new shoes on (I'm pretty sure there's some filing needed before putting on new horseshoes IRL, but it's not a process I've seen in in quite some time).
I also can't see Rarity wearing glass slippers over horseshoes, nor can I see her being pleased with holes in her hooves from wearing 'traditional' shoes.
Don't get me wrong--in canon they do have traditional-looking horseshoes, and I'd assume that pony hooves are pretty much the same as real horse hooves. However, I haven't come up with a good rule of thumb for who wears them, when, or why, that doesn't contradict canon.
Actually Lyra, humans are simply capable of so many sounds that trying to have a symbol for them all wouldn't work very well.
Also, no worries about being levitated. The fact an entire town of mixed ponies thought Trixie's show to be amazing demonstrates that even that basic, simple level of magic is considered a rare accomplishment. Of course, that really helps put into light just how incredible Twilight and Shining are.
3254280
In English, if I remember correctly, there are about 45 phoenetic sounds to speech (EDIT: not counting accents and such, of course). Naturally, that doesn't include other noises that we can make, many of which have meaning (groans, sighs, laughs, etc.).
Personally, I think that has more to do with Trixie's showmanship than her raw power. I enjoy watching street magicians, although I of course know that they're not privy to a special power that I lack, they just have practiced a lot. (An aside: it's kind of funny to watch performers watch performers. We make strange audiences for each other. My favorite magician at a Renaissance festival was equally amazed by our swordfighting practice drills.) I do agree that Twilight and Shining are uber-unicorns--Twilight especially. She can probably out-magic Shining.
(EDIT: fixed typos in last paragraph)
Holding my breath when the coast guaurd was around. I doubt any good will come from someone who "desperately wants a promotion" getting involved with first contact. I hope Jen is someone who can think rationally, and is able to help Dale, instead of hindering him.
Sounds a bit like Valve, except they haven't even gotten to 3 yet.
Speaking as a pilot myself... this is absolutely correct.
With their magic basically having a side affect of being radioactive, only the receiver in proximity should be affected. Transmitting from a nearby location would not be disrupted by a radioactive field unless the field was so much "brighter" than the radio transmitter. Distant receivers would lock onto the brighter of the two radio sources at whatever frequency they're tuned to.
So Jenny, transmitting from her plane should have been heard at the tower, even if she couldn't hear them. On the other hand, if the magic field was strong enough to drown out Jenny's transmission, then the Coast Guard chopper wouldn't be able to communicate, either--and lot's more people would be noticing, like most of all the Great Lake's civil aviation authorities & military, including NORAD.
Yeah, that Mudbrick Afterword is a veeery talented pony, eh? *cough* Adobe Postscript
N4796L
The only problem with how you wrote it, is they wouldn't say "forty seven... etc", it would be simply "four seven niner six Lima". Even then, first contact with ground or tower, you state your full call sign as "November four seven niner six Lima", then after that unless there happens to be another aircraft with similar tail number (which rarely happens but does) most everyone just shortens it to the last three digets.
So first contact with ground would be full call sign, "November four seven niner six Lima", then continued communication they'd usually just say "niner six Lima". It can get to be a mouth full if you're saying all the characters over and over again, considering you have to acknowledge any communication with your call sign.
9083685
I did use the shorter form later on.
I’m pretty sure I did know that--my brother’s a pilot, and I bounced most of the flying chapters off him to make sure that I had most of it right. My guess, going back to where I was years ago, was that I kept it longer so readers wouldn’t get confused. I feel like I was a bit more willing to do more of what the reader expected than what was actually correct.
Now that I’m more established, I’d rather have it more accurate, so I went through and edited it to be more better.
Also, according to my brother, you’re generally not supposed to say ‘niner’ unless it’s the last digit of the call sign, but I don’t know if that’s a universally applied rule.
[He also said that she wouldn’t be controlled by the Traverse City tower once she got out over the lake (I think he said either Chicago or Milwaukee; can’t remember which) but I kept it Traverse City just to keep the story a bit simpler.]
Okay, we know they have Calendars, and that they look pretty much exactly like ours so, should not be hard for her to recognize it right away.
Well, that isn't creepy or ominous at all, nope, not at all.....
Also very not good, but also also...where are the guards? even without any at her door watching, shouldn't they be making regular rounds? Or at least coming by to drop off food?
Just pretend you now what you are talking about till either you do, or you at least trick people into thinking you do!
Well..... there are also a good number of human meets pony stories that end up this way as well
Not that you'd know anything about ponies being in that situation at all....
Also, good to teach the humans their place quickly, Ponies are above them!
Nah, closer to cats then dogs.
Silly pony is silly.And, this is just so bizarre and yet it kind of works. First Contact, no one has any idea WTF they are doing style!
There were a LOT of omissions to your planning on this thing... a LOT!
Really, going with a teacher isn't a bad idea, but so many other things that would help so much better... like an actual linguist.
And the focus on langauge just makes stuff like this stand out all the more..... how does she know what a dozen is? Why is it twelve for them as well? Why use that wording when it just focuses attention on, this is not meant to be English, but us seeing her Ponish translated into it for us and so certain topics and ideas really are out of place.
And again, not wrong but, 1. Well do like using a non-base 10 system. 2. It's not really the most vital thing for what you all are trying to do. The way this whole thing is so ramshackle and random is at once so far from how this should be done, and yet, so perfectly fitting for what is actually happening, two beings with zero expertise or training for this trying to scramble to do whatever the hell they can think of.
The constant seeing humans as super primative thing, that does get old given all the evidence already given to the contrary.
And there we go!
I mean, needing to take off your shoes to count to twenty is a common enough joke, this one works. Be glad he didn't count to twenty one.
And every number having it's own meaning based on body parts.... are you sure you haven't read Shlock Mercenary? Cuase there's one race there that does have this... in a fashion.
Really popular area these days, I'm sure nothing bad would happen from it at all....
I mean, you already assume they are hyper advanced aliens, given all the tech they could have, a little levitation is the least of what you should be worrying about. Still kind of freaky to see happen though.
Not really, but no reason to assume a limit without seeing one.
Wow that is a hodge podge of wrong and yet, kind of what someone who's never looked into this stuff might remember. Being able to mess with ANY of the fundamental forces makes you incredably OP AF. It's why the intro to Stormlight Archives had me already eager to see how epic the powers would get given we START with someone pulling off some pretty skillful gravity manipulation.
Ummm a simple lack of gravity would not do that on it's own... but the whole glow from light speed air seems to be a misunderstanding of Cherenkov Radiation, the thing that makes heavily irradiated things, especially water, glow blue. It's the result of the radiation actually exceeding the speed of light for that fluid. (c, the universal constant for the speed of light that nothing we know of can go faster then, is specifically speed of light in a vacuum, passing through air or water does slow it down slightly, so it is possible for some radiation to go faster then the light around it, but not 'faster then light' as in higher then c)
Yeah no.... even without gravity, air friction would make that thing explode LONG before it reached light speed. And if it was a vacuum, you still need some way to impart that energy onto it... yeah that really does not understand at all what Gravity is.
This however..... you have no idea how many physicists,and every other scientific branch are about to have collective nervous breakdowns over the ways these ponies tell the laws of physics to sit down and shut up.
Interesting way to look at it.
Okay, this is another of those all over the fan works and yet not actually matching what we see so why!? moments. Ponies do not have the same 'proper/surname' set up that most human cultures do! We see NO evidence of those overall, while there are a few families that do seem to go the route of having a family name, they are all exclusively Earth Ponies, and even then it's not universal.
Ah, bringing up the thing that launched Lyra into the fandom as 'the one obsessed with humans' But yeah having chair backs really does not make a lot of sense.
Very true, and luckily they have the best of it, with an omnibenevolant demigoddess in charge...... usually at least.
All the fun, so yeah, secret ain't staying a secret too much longer.
Trying to impress them so hard with things they barely understand. Just show them an iPad, or some Taco Bell. Also, Luna might want you to help get up to her Moon... she left her favorite pair of socks up there.
No, we did not. The Nucs knew how fast the ship was going, both from being the ones manning the throttles, and also our berthing was right over the screws so we could tell the speed by how hard berthing was shaking. But where? We were lucky if we saw daylight at more then the morning meeting on the hangar bay.
Or unlucky since it usually meant we get drafted into doing some shit work on one of the upper levels.
Well, it is Lyra, she can be rather nutty..... but nah, that would be Derpy for the Ponyville Ponies.
Oh, extra good..this is good, this is fine.. this is totally going to work out just fine...
Well, good expression cuase yeah, she likely does know.
I'm telling you, and argument can be made for Ponies having a low level telepathic field among themselves that just, kind of keeps them in touch with each other's general feel.... and make spontaneous, perfectly choreographed musical numbers possible.
Yeah, she kind of deserves it after that.
So we have full contact and.... while it could have gone better, it could also have gone way...WAY worse.
I am envious that they use a base 12 counting system.
11058220
The most logical choice, since there are three distinct points on each hoof (plus it’s highly composite).
They didn’t always; the pegasi were the first to use it because the more obvious base four was undesirable for more complex math.
Ah yes, the lower horn.
11417429
I'm reminded of that scene in Futurama where Bender gets turned into a human.
"Where did my antenna go?" <checks pants> "Oh, there it is."
Silly human prudishness. Just tell her what it's called, it's not like Lyra hasn't seen one before.