Aliens come to Equestria! Well, one alien. By accident. Okay, he crashed, and now he can't get back.
Aliens come to Equestria! Well, one alien. By accident. Okay, he crashed, and now he can't get back.
Twilight Sparkle did not expect visiting Fluttershy to result in world-shaking revelations, and she most certainly was not ready to make First Contact with an alien race. But. She did.
Equestria's first Extraterrestrial visitor is stuck with little hope of returning home. Twilight tries to be a good friend, but he's just so...weird. So alien. Twilight may be in over her head.
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AN:// Here’s a bit of an experiment. I’m not sure how the community will take to the non-human aliens, so I figured I’d post it and the worst that could happen is nothing. I don’t own My Little Pony, but Yanvorren, Kavicans, and anything related to them are mine, mine, no share, mine.
Rating for some innuendo to come, but nothing graphic. Please at least give it a chance before condemning me to Pony Hell.
Twilight Sparkle trotted up the narrow trail to her friend Fluttershy’s cottage. The many little homes were occupied by a menagerie of small creatures that scampered about and sniffed curiously at her hooves. The lavender unicorn gently knocked on Fluttershy’s door. As expected, the timid Pegasus opened the door only wide enough for one grey eye to peer out.
“Good morning, Fluttershy!” Twilight said cheerfully. Normally, her friend would cautiously peer out to see if anyone else was there, and then slowly open the door to allow her visitor in. Today, however, she surprised Twilight by throwing the door open, leaping over her, and then practically shoving Twilight into the cottage, slamming the door shut behind them.
“I’m so glad you came!” Fluttershy exclaimed, throwing her forelegs around the flustered unicorn. Twilight, off-balance from the sudden change in position, fell over with the butter-yellow Pegasus sprawled on top of her. A blush crept across Twilight’s cheeks as Fluttershy made no move to get up.
“You, um…,” Twilight stammered, “You wanted me to look at something?”
“Oh, yes,” Fluttershy said. She beamed at Twilight and lifted off, her wings beating softly. “It’s right upstairs.”
Twilight rolled onto her hooves and followed the hovering Pegasus.
“It’s in my room,” Fluttershy continued. “I just know you’ll be able to help me with it.”
“Um…what exactly…what is it?” Twilight silently cursed the blush that was deepening across her cheeks. Surely the demure, scared-of-her-own-shadow Fluttershy couldn’t…. Then again, they do say it’s always the quiet ones.
“I mean, you do so much reading, surely you must have heard of it.” Fluttershy didn’t seem to have heard Twilight’s question. “I can’t be the only one who’s found something like this.”
They finally reached her room, where Fluttershy moved to the side of her bed. Twilight’s half-formed apology died on her lips when she spotted the form under the cover. Fluttershy gestured to it with a forehoof.
“I found it at the edge of the Everfree Forest, next to a big metal egg and a bunch of craters. It was hurt, so I brought it back and took care of it, but I don’t know what it is or what to do when it wakes up.”
Twilight nodded and stepped forward, taking in as many details as she could. It had four limbs that she could see; the forelimbs ended with grippers similar to her baby dragon’s, but with an extra claw on each, and the rear legs ended with long, flat pads with five nubs at the end that hung over the foot of Fluttershy’s bed. It was covered with soft-looking, light tan skin. The face was similar to a pony’s, but the eyes were too small, the muzzle too flat, except for the nose that stuck out. The only fur it had was dark brown and on the top of its head, small patches on the chin and over each corner of its mouth, and in light dustings over its limbs. Its torso and the rear legs were covered by Fluttershy’s delicate quilt. Twilight guessed, based on the similarities with her dragon Spike and with the Diamond Dogs, that this creature may walk on its two hind legs and use its forelimbs to interact with its environment. If that were so, then standing, it would be about one and a half times as tall as she was at the shoulder.
Twilight focused again on its face. Its eyes were closed, but it was breathing steadily. Fluttershy had wrapped bandages around its head, left arm and chest. Twilight noticed a small scar on its lip and another on its cheek.
“It also had this,” Fluttershy said, gesturing to a pile of cloth and two clunky-looking things that may have been shoes. Twilight stepped around the bed to investigate them. The cloth was obviously the creature’s clothing. The two larger pieces (Twilight was having trouble identifying the fabric—it was light and soft as cotton, but had no stretch to it) were a neutral green, while the third piece looked like a belt with several pockets sewn into it, of many different shapes and sizes. A quick examination proved it to be made of a material different from the other pieces (It was smooth, with no visible weaving—Twilight wondered how it was made) and was a glossy purple. The back had a line of markings embroidered in white. A section of it shined, and Twilight found a hexagonal badge made of a silvery metal. It was broken into four parts: one in the top only held an embossed wrench; the center featured a draconic wing with a crown and a scepter held in the claw; the right side only had a single tilted line; and the bottom had five raised bars. The backgrounds of all of them had been painted black. Twilight hummed to herself in thought and turned to ask Fluttershy where exactly she found the creature when it jerked suddenly and sat upright in the bed. The quilt fell into its lap as it whipped its head wildly, the long fur on its head flying about it.
“What the—” it said, prompting a gasp from both of the ponies. It turned to stare at them with sharp, calculating brown eyes. It spoke again, and Twilight was surprised to hear perfect, if slightly accented, Equestrian.
“Where are my clothes,” it asked, “and why are there two Technicolor mini-horses here?”
----
Eight Hours Earlier…
Redel Yanvorren climbed up the ladder to the Utility Deck of the Dufojorr Avoyigo, the flagship and personal transport of the supreme ruler of the Kavican Empire. He was the First Engineer—everything on board the ship was his responsibility, from the fusion reactor that powered her to the tiniest diode in the starboard navigation light. The ship itself was a state-of-the-art, sleek, graceful beauty designed by the best minds in the Kavican military. Four decks, the topmost more like a luxury hotel than a ship to cater to Her Majesty and any dignitaries or guests that may travel with her. The Dufojorr Avoyigo could get up to .15 light-speed in open space, and was crewed by the First Company, a hundred-twenty soldiers, engineers, pilots, and medics whose sole purpose was to protect the Empress.
Redel Yanvorren made his way to his office at the rear of the ship, adjacent to the Reactor Room. There, he activated the computer terminal built into his steel desk and scanned the day’s To-Do list. First item: install and test the new port wing servo on fighter number three.
“Redel!”
Yanvorren looked up to see Re’dan Tea’mahk, one of his engineers, at the door of his office. She was a Kavican, like everyone on the ship except for Yanvorren.
Kavicans are reptomammals, ranging six and a half to eight feet from the end of their snout to the tip of their tail. They have long, slender torsos and digitigrades legs ending in three-toed talons. Their arms are slender, with three-fingered hands tipped with dull brown claws and sharp spikes reaching back from their elbows. Long necks support heads with long pointed ears, a six-inch-long snout filled with sharp teeth, and a pair of horns that sweep back from the top of their skull. A rounded sail runs from the snout to the top of the head. Their whole body is covered in dark green scales, except for on the sail—there, a rainbow of colors changed in a constantly-swirling pattern that reflected their emotions.
Tea’mahk wore the same uniform as Yanvorren, except that her trousers were made to have an extra leg that ran half the length of her tail, and she (like almost all Kavicans) wore no shoes or socks. Yanvorren, one of the handful of humans in the Military, wore a pair of heavy combat boots. They both carried their blaster pistol on their right hip and their fighting knife on their left.
“Redel,” Tea’mahk said. “I’ve got the new servo connector ready.”
“Good,” Yanvorren said. He made a note in his log and followed Tea’mahk down the corridor. They made no small talk during the short walk and ladder climbs down to the Flight Deck at the bottom of the ship. Once there, they quickly found fighter number three and set to work.
A Kavican light fighter is thirteen feet long with a ten-foot wingspan. The fuselage was cigar-shaped, except for the bubble of the canopy near the nose. Two short tubes that looked like barbed stingers extended from either side of the canopy. A single engine discharges in the rear, the ion stream it generates passing over a hardened rudder. A pair of stubby wings held smaller engines and spun on gimbals to steer. While onboard, the twelve light fighters were kept on motorized carts that ran on tracks through the Flight Deck, allowing them to be easily moved from the storage and maintenance bay to the launch catapult.
After only a couple of hours, Yanvorren bolted the maintenance panel on the port wing shut and put his tool kit back in the rear pocket of his belt.
“Right then,” he said. “I’m going to take her out for a test run.”
“Wait, what?” Tea’mahk stammered. By the time she had crawled out from under the fighter, Yanvorren had already opened the canopy and was using the short stepladder to get in. The seat was made to be straddled like a motorcycle, and he quickly leaned forward to grip the control yokes. “You can’t ‘take her out’! You’re not a pilot!”
“I may not be as good as the hot dogs that keep messing up my fighters,” Yanvorren admitted as he started up the fighter’s microreactor, “but I’m certainly good enough to do a simple test flight. Get to the control booth and ready the catapult.”
“Redel, I must protest.”
“Don’t make me pull rank, Re’dan,” Yanvorren said sternly, shooting a harsh look at her. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s not a single ship, planet, moon, or asteroid for ten light-minutes. Just a few laps around the ship—I won’t be but five minutes.”
The two stared at each other before Tea’mahk deflated with a sigh.
“Fine,” she said. “But if the Guane calls us out on it, you’re taking responsibility.”
“I’m your commanding officer. I’m already taking responsibility.” As Tea’mahk ducked into the control booth, Yanvorren pulled the safety webbing over himself, fastened it securely, and flipped a switch to close the canopy. It sealed shut with a hydraulic hiss while he finished the pre-flight procedure. Tea’mahk’s voice suddenly came over the comm.
“Redel, the catapult’s ready and waiting. I’m moving you into the launch chamber now.”
“Got it,” Yanvorren said. He used the tiny keyboard in the middle of the console to disable the rudder—without a tail, he couldn’t operate the paddles that controlled it—as the cart carried him from the fighter storage bay to a small airlock. The door closed and the airlock cycled through before another door opened and he was transferred onto another cart on the launch catapult. The airlock door closed behind him, and he looked up to see the clamshell doors at the end of the long launch tunnel sliding open to reveal the spotted, inky nothingness of space. The fighter’s computer gave him a green light. “Ready to launch.”
“All ready. Launch in three…two…one…launch!”
Yanvorren suddenly got the idea of being a pellet in a slingshot. The catapult did exactly as its name implied and shot his fighter out the front of the Dufojorr Avoyigo. He stamped down on the foot pedals, kicking the engine into speed, and quickly accelerated away. He yanked back on the control yokes, and the fighter’s wings tilted to aim their thrust down in relation to the ship. That sent the fighter into a climb that ended with Yanvorren speeding back towards the ship. He rolled a few times before skimming over the larger ship’s hull, slipping under her wings with a playful wave at the windows. He began a slow, slightly jerky dance around the ship, putting the fighter through several maneuvers before he was almost satisfied.
“Okay, Redel. You’ve had your fun. The catcher is ready.”
“Not yet,” Yanvorren protested. “I want to make sure the new servo will still work in a hard burn. Just a dart out, u-turn, then I’ll come back.”
“Fine. But just so you know, the Flight Deck commander, the First Officer, the Guane, and Ludel Jyenozarka are all yelling in my ear about this. I told them you threatened to have me scrubbing coolant valves for a month if I didn’t…Redel? Redel. Redel Yanvorren are you even listening?”
“Sorry, got distracted. I just flew by the Empress’s cabin. She’s got a really nice ass. Good curve, very firm looking, but not too—”
“Redel!”
Laughing, Yanvorren stomped on the throttle and shot away from the ship. He waited until the little fighter was running as fast as it could, then jerked back on the control yokes as the start of a complicated set of maneuvers that any experience pilot would have called clumsy, inefficient, and downright stupid. He was pleased to see, despite his graceless piloting, no problems were cropping up with the servo. He cut the speed back and lazily aimed the fighter back at the ship, headed for the receiving bay at the rear. He nervously lined up painted-on tick marks on the canopy with the sides of the door—landings were never his strong suit.
“Okay, Redel. Your cart’s ready. So are the stocks and the paddle.”
“I do hope you’re kidding about the stocks,” Yanvorren said with a nervous laugh, “but I wouldn’t mind the paddle so much if you were the one holding it, Tea’mahk.”
“What if it’s me?” That wasn’t Tea’mahk speaking—instead, it was the rough, low voice of Guane Moeve, the commander of their company.
“Not so much, Guane,” Yanvorren admitted sheepishly. A small warning light flashed yellow on his console. “Hold up a moment… got a master alarm, here.” Several other warning lights started flashing before the whole avionics suite went black. Yanvorren flipped switches and stabbed at buttons, but nothing came back. “Guane? Tea’mahk? Prrak!”
The radio was dead, too. He was set on a ballistic course with no way to stop himself and no way to warn the flight crew—no, he still had his personal comm.! As he scrambled to pull it out of its pocket on his bandolier, he thanked his drill instructor at the Military Academy for hammering the habit of being ready for anything into his skull. He held the square black rod to his mouth and mashed the button down.
“Yanvorren to Dufojorr Avoyigo! Yanvorren—is anyone—Prrak!” he cursed again as he realized the little rod was just as dead as his fighter, and he soon would be as well.
Or so he thought—there was a blinding flash of blue-white light, and when his vision cleared, the ship was gone. In its place as a planet, blue and green and dazzling and…getting closer. Yanvorren groaned; his luck could not possibly be this bad!
But it was. The fighter was dead in space and rapidly falling through the planet’s upper atmosphere. The avionics, the engine, the wings—nothing was responding, no matter how hard he kicked, jabbed, or yanked. Streams of plasma started trailing from the edges of the fighter, but he wasn’t worried about burning up like a meteor: the ceramic hull plating on these fighters was designed to go through most atmospheres just fine.
The sudden stop at the end of his fall is what worried him.
The plasma died off once he hit the planet’s troposphere—he didn’t have long now. His attempts grew even more frantic until, miraculously, the little ship came back to life! He immediately stomped on the throttle and leveled out. Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly lowered himself until he was only a hundred feet over a dense forest. He began looking for a place to land and figure out just what went wrong and where he was when he noticed that he had started drifting to the right. He should be going straight, unless…aha. The lock he had put on the rudder had been disabled when the craft shut down, and hadn’t been put back in. There it was on the readout—the rudder had shifted five degrees to starboard. Yanvorren tried to correct the deviation with the wing thrusters, when his small well of good luck dried up and the left wing exploded.
“Prrak!” he cursed again as the ship fell into a spin. The hundred feet between him and the forest quickly became zero. Branches snapped like matches as the three-ton fighter crashed through the trees. Yanvorren was thrown about as far as the tight safety webbing would allow; he would definitely be bruised almost all over if he managed to survive this. The ship steadily slowed from all the impacts, but suddenly reached the edge of the forest and flew out into an open field. It fell and bounced once, twice then buried itself in the side of a hill. The safety webbing tightened as soon as it hit the first time, wrapping around Yanvorren and holding him still until the ship stopped.
He groaned as he felt that the fighter had come to a rest. The safety webbing slackened a bit, letting him look up to see a clear blue sky through the cracked canopy. The stubby nose of the fighter had been smashed in, and the left wing was bellowing oily black smoke. Everything hurt and his ears wouldn’t stop ringing. With a pained grunt, he jabbed at the canopy release button, but the transplast bubble stayed stubbornly sealed. A hose that had broken in the crash sprayed his back and head with hydraulic fluid. A muttered curse and twist of a safety control later, he stabbed the canopy eject button. Explosive bolts sent the canopy flying in an arc that landed it thirty feet away.
“Crap…crap…crap…,” Yanvorren moaned as he released the safety webbing and crawled out of the fighter. His head was throbbing, and a sudden bout of nausea sent him crashing to the ground with one boot still hooked on the side of the cabin. Pain shot up his leg as he held a hand to his head and clenched his eyes shut. Everything here was bright, but he could hear chirping birds, probably upset over the new gouge in the forest. He felt himself slipping away, but the last thing he saw before falling unconscious was an angry white rabbit.
-----
The next thing Yanvorren knew, he was lying on his back in a human-style bed. It was soft and warm and incredibly comfortable—not at all like his bunk on the Dufojorr Avoyigo. Even with his head still throbbing angrily (or perhaps because of it), he remembered the crash. He felt the soft sheets and realized he was only dressed in his underwear. Like a shot, he sprung into a seated position, looking around wildly and taking in a small, simple bedroom made of wood. Then he spotted the ponies.
“What the—”
The first was butter-yellow, with a soft pink mane and tail and big, expressive grey eyes. A pair of feathered wings were gently folded and held to her sides. The other was lavender. Her mane was purple with a magenta streak, and her violet eyes glinted with intelligence. A horn poked through her bangs. He spoke in English:
“Where are my clothes, and why are there two Technicolor mini-horses here?”
Sometime later, Twilight, Fluttershy, and the Creature were sitting awkwardly around Fluttershy’s coffee table. A tea set was arranged on the table, with dainty cups placed in front of each of them. Twilight stared at the Creature. The Creature stared back at her. Fluttershy stared into her tea.
“So…,” the Creature said. His accent was only slight, but reminded Twilight of dignitaries from Germaney that had visited Celestia in Canterlot. “Where exactly are we?”
“We’re just outside Ponyville,” Twilight explained, “in Equestria.”
“Okay,” the Creature said. They sat in an awkward silence, and Twilight took the opportunity to examine him. He had dressed himself before coming down: the pants went down to mid-shin; the shirt layered over itself in front like a bathrobe, but higher up, left over right, and buttoned closed under his right forelimb; the last piece proved to be a bandolier, worn from left shoulder to right hip, with the pockets and hexagonal badge on the front and the symbols on the back. A belt was attached to it and closed around his waist, with several more pockets on it. On the left side was something that could have been a knife, and the right something Twilight didn’t recognize at all. She looked up to his face and stared into the small but sharp and inquisitive eyes that seemed to be examining her just as thoroughly.
“What are you?” Twilight asked. She blushed slightly as she realized how rude that must have sounded, and quickly corrected herself. “I mean, who are you?”
“I’m human,” he said with a gentle smile. “Redel Yanvorren, First Engineer of the First Company, Kavican Imperial Military.”
“And…,” Twilight said, “how did you get here?”
“I’m still a bit fuzzy on that.” He scratched nervously at the back of his neck. “I was running a test flight of a fighter and crashed. Oh! I need to go back to it, if that’s alright.”
“It’s not far from here,” Fluttershy said softly, still looking at her tea. “I can lead you there, Mr. Redel. That is, if you like.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Though, if you want, you can just call me Yan. Redel’s my rank, not my name.”
Fluttershy squeaked in embarrassment. Twilight put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder.
“Was just a suggestion,” Yanvorren mumbled. “Though, I would really appreciate it if you showed me to my ship.”
“Of course,” Twilight said.
-----
As they walked, Twilight kept glancing at Yanvorren. She was amazed that something could walk on two legs without a tail for balance, though she did note that he needed the shoes to protect his soft feet. He also stumbled occasionally and held a hand to his bandaged head. Fluttershy walked a few paces ahead of them, but kept silent. They had walked for about half an hour before coming to the crash site.
“That…is an ugly mess,” Yanvorren said. He was right. His crash had carved a blackened trench in the soft grass, and burrowed into a hill. The canopy from it had shattered when it landed, leaving transplast shards in a dangerous circle. Yanvorren rushed forward and quickly started examining the ship.
“How did this go into space?” Twilight asked, her natural curiosity overriding any fear.
“It was carried by a bigger ship,” Yanvorren said. He straddled the seat inside it and started poking at the console. “I was testing a new part on it when I was separated from the Dufojorr Avoyigo—that’s her name. Then there was a computer failure, then mechanical…I’d need a diagnostic lab to be able to determine exactly what went wrong.”
“How did you get separated from your…herd?” Fluttershy asked. She leaned forward and watched as the lights suddenly came to life and a soft hum reverberated from underneath the seat. Fluttershy squeaked and dived behind Twilight.
“Ha!” Yanvorren barked. “There’s my girl! I knew you wouldn’t give up like that.”
Fluttershy’s question went unanswered as his deft fingers started manipulating a set of controls in the center of the console. It squawked angrily at him until he flipped a switch—then it just screamed a high-pitched whine that set all of their teeth on edge. Twilight clenched her eyes shut and tried to cover her ears with her hooves, and the whine suddenly stopped. She looked up to find that Yanvorren had turned off the part of the console he had been working with and pulled it out. He was turning it over in his forehooves with a critical expression.
“What was that!?” Twilight demanded. Yanvorren winced.
“Intership radio,” he said. “It lets us talk to each other. If I can get it working, I should be able to call my ship and go home.”
“But you’re still injured,” Fluttershy piped in, looking up over Twilight’s back. “I’d feel just awful if I let you go before you were fully healed.”
“No offense to you, Miss Fluttershy, but my crew would have medical facilities better suited for me.” He kept poking at the different controls on the console. “I might be able to fix this—she’s a sturdy little thing, and if I can get the right tools and parts—do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Twilight asked. She tilted her head, trying to listen for…whatever it what Yanvorren heard. He tapped at the screen in the center of the console, and a look of horror crossed his face. The low hum that started with the ship was quickly climbing to a high scream.
“Run,” he said—he grabbed the radio and vaulted himself from the little ship. “Run! Now, go! Go go GO!”
“What? What’s going on?” Twilight demanded as he shoved both of them away from the fighter and gave their rumps firm smacks.
“Explain later, RUN!!!” The scream from the ship slipped past the upper limit of pony ears as Yanvorren pushed them behind a hill. He jumped on both of them and his weight pushed them to the grass. “DOWN! And cover your head!”
The three stayed hunkered down. After nothing had happened for a whole minute, Twilight was about to round on Yanvorren for scaring Fluttershy (who was quivering in a tiny yellow and pink ball). Yanvorren tilted his head, apparently trying to hear better.
“Why did you drag us over—”
BOOM!
Twilight suddenly felt as if someone was pressing in on her ears with fully-laden carriages. Small rocks fell all over her back, and Fluttershy curled into an even tighter ball. After a few seconds that seemed like a few hours, Twilight was finally able to take stock of what happened.
“The damn thing blew up,” Yanvorren explained once the ringing in their ears had stopped. He and Twilight stood, shaking the dirt and dust that had landed on them off. Fluttershy was still cowering in the shadow of the small hill they had hidden behind. Twilight gently nudged her to stand—her grey eyes were still wide open in terror, with her wings snapped securely to her sides—and looked over the hill to where the ship had been.
Had been was the important part: all that was left was a smoking black crater fifty feet across and almost fifteen feet deep. Yanvorren cautiously stepped forward, craning his neck to look into the crater.
“Why…how…,” Twilight’s mouth froze as a thousand and one questions all tried to be asked at once. The grueling death-match ended in a triple knockout, so she settled on rushing forward and head-butting the alien roughly before shooting him a demanding expression. He looked down, his eyebrows furrowed together in a thoughtful frown.
“The microreactor went critical. It wasn’t able to put out all of the power it was generating, so it overloaded. Kablooie.”
“Where’s the wreckage?” Twilight asked, looking around for a metal shell or some components that had been thrown free.
“Vaporized,” Yanvorren said sadly. He looked down to meet Twilight’s purple eyes. “It looks like I’m stuck here for a while.
Yanvorren sighed and turned the radio over in his hands. It had been damaged in the crash, but he was confident he could repair it. The radio wasn’t the problem.
“So it encodes the data and broadcasts it to the other ships,” Twilight Sparkle said. “How do you tell who’s saying what? I assume you have a large number of ships out at once.”
“Our ship would send out between three and twelve fighters,” Yanvorren explained. The constant questions, those were getting to be annoying. “But before that, I was the Second Engineer on a carrier. They’d send out two hundred in a heavy combat situation.”
“But how do you tell who’s talking to whom?” Twilight demanded. Yanvorren shrugged.
“Part of it is how it’s encoded and what frequency it’s transmitted at. Mostly it’s what’s said. Like, ‘Yanvorren to Dufojorr Avoyigo, request landing clearance,’ or something similar.” He felt himself beginning to pant—this planet, wherever it was, had a stronger gravity than he was used to, though he’d guess it was almost equal to Terra. They were approaching Fluttershy’s cottage, and he was eager to get to work.
“Fluttershy, why is there a catapult in front of your cottage?” Twilight asked, pointing a hoof at the huge wooden contraption that had been erected in front of Fluttershy’s cottage. From what Yanvorren could see of it, it resembled pictures of ancient siege weapons from Terran history. What were they? Launched rocks, big swinging arm…the purple pony just said it! Catapults! They were called cat—why was the angry white rabbit aiming it at him?
“Angel!” Fluttershy shouted (that is, spoke at what others would consider a normal volume) and flew forward. The white rabbit (with a dark green helmet strapped to his head, his long ears poking out of holes in the top of it) glared up at her and pointed at Yanvorren. Fluttershy looked back at him, then at the rabbit. “Well yes, I think he just wants to use the table.”
The rabbit stamped his foot impatiently and waved his arms before pulling his lips back to reveal sharp fangs (Yanvorren wasn’t sure how—he was sure the thing had normal oversized incisors a second before) and gnashed them together. The rabbit pointed vigorously at Yanvorren again.
“Oh, no, Mister Yanvorren is harmless,” Fluttershy said. “He’s just like the other animals.”
The rabbit growled in frustration and yanked hard on a lever on the catapult. With a creak and a solid thump, the arm swung up and launched a rock the size of a football right at Yanvorren. Reflexes and years of military training took over and he dove to the side, tucking into a roll and drawing his pistol. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Twilight with her horn glowing purple and the rock floating in front of her, coated in the same purple glow as her horn. Yanvorren’s roll ended in a crouch with his pistol held out in both hands.
Step One: Disable enemy weapons.
The Rabbit from Hell was already turning a crank that was steadily pulling down the catapult’s arm. A pile of similar rocks was resting behind the catapult. Fluttershy was hovering next to the Rabbit, probably trying to negotiate. Yanvorren spotted the catapult’s weakness, aimed, fired, and fired again. Two balls of plasma the size of marbles shot from the muzzle of his pistol at near the speed of light and easily burned through the rope that connected the crank and the catapult arm. It creaked ominously and the Rabbit stopped turning the crank. He looked up to see the smoking holes in the rope and had just enough time for his little black eyes to widen in terror as it snapped. The arm jerked straight up with a heavy thunk.
The Rabbit turned the crank futilely—without a way to arm it, the catapult was useless. Step One, done. The Rabbit reached behind himself and pulled out a baseball bat, holding it above his head as he charged at Yanvorren.
Step Two: Disable enemies.
“Angel!” Fluttershy roared. She dropped to the ground between the two and stared down at the Rabbit, who stopped in his tracks and looked up to her. “What did I tell you earlier?”
The Rabbit—Angel—made a few gestures Yanvorren couldn’t see. He stayed kneeling with his pistol drawn as Twilight stepped next to him.
“He is a guest, just like any of the other animals,” Fluttershy said firmly in response to whatever Angel had mimed. “Be nice, or…or…or no sandwiches!”
That seemed to finally scare Angel into compliance. He put the baseball bat down and scampered inside, but shot a nasty glare at Yanvorren once Fluttershy had turned around.
“I’m very sorry about him,” Fluttershy said quietly. She decided she liked the alien better this way, on his knee—he didn’t tower over her imperiously. “Angel Bunny is a bit protective of me. I’m afraid he thought you might be trying to harm us.”
“No apologies necessary, Miss Fluttershy,” Yanvorren said as he thumbed the safety on and holstered his weapon. “I assure you I only want to go home.”
“What is that?” Twilight demanded. Yanvorren looked down to see her staring intently at his pistol from only a couple of inches away. He quickly stood and stepped away, but Twilight followed. Her horn and the pistol glowed purple, and the latter lifted out of his holster on its own. With a startled yelp, Yanvorren grabbed it back and rechecked the settings—narrow focus, high intensity, safety on.
“It’s a mark six pulse laser pistol,” he said quickly and re-holstered it, snapping the strap down over it securely. “Standard issue. Now where did that radio…ah, here it is. Right, then. I’ll just get to work trying to fix this, and hopefully I’ll be out of your hair—manes—whatever.”
-----
Twilight had more questions than she could count, but she recognized when someone was working and didn’t want to be disturbed. The radio was now in half a dozen pieces spread out in a neat, organized pattern on Fluttershy’s table. Yanvorren was sitting with his legs crossed over each other, a toolkit laid open beside him. One of the purple boards inside the radio was in one hand, and the other held a small tool with several probes at the end. He prodded the board, his small brown eyes staring intently at it.
“What do you think?” Twilight whispered to Fluttershy, who sat beside her. The butter-yellow mare looked away, and Twilight decided she hadn’t been clear. “I mean, he’s an alien. A real space alien!”
“He doesn’t seem like an alien,” Fluttershy said. They watched as the board sparked a few times before Yanvorren set it back down. “Even if he’s a bit…strange.”
“I wonder how he knows our language,” Twilight said aloud. She watched as Yanvorren started to reassemble his radio, but stopped when he picked up a silvery cylinder about an inch in diameter and four long, with shining knobs on both ends. He frowned at it and growled in his throat. The sound reminded Twilight of recordings she’d heard in the Canterlot Library of angry wolves and set the fur on her neck standing on end.
“Is something wrong?” Fluttershy asked. Twilight looked at her friend incredulously—the painfully-shy Pegasus seemed to have no trouble around the strange creature. Then Twilight realized that Fluttershy must see him as just another wild animal that she had taken in. In truth, he seemed to have completely recovered already, other than the extensive bruising over most of his body, but there was a reason Fluttershy was the Element of Kindness.
“I don’t have a power source,” Yanvorren said. “Normally it pulls from the power systems on the fighter, but the reactor is a few quintillion atoms spread out over a two mile radius by now. I need to find some other way….” He trailed off and glanced down at his pistol. A look of realization flashed in his eyes and he quickly pulled a triangular bar with rounded edges and a few tiny blue lights on the long side out of one of his bandolier pockets. “Pistol power cell…could work.” He quickly set about attaching the triangular bar and the silvery cylinder with the knobs together, mumbling to himself the whole while. Fluttershy stepped back, and Twilight went back to watching him intently. While Twilight was intensely curious about what Yanvorren was doing, Fluttershy only gave him a passing glance as she roamed about her house and tended to the animals there.
“There!” Yanvorren said, triumphantly holding up the radio, though it had several wires looping out of it and the “power cell” was hanging precariously from one corner. He set it back down and poked tentatively at the controls. It slowly flickered to life, and Yanvorren grinned. “Perfect! Now then…set it to emergency channel…bump up the gain a bit…and here. Record message. Nu lrao Redel Yanvorren vyo. Nu i’tanlakpen bumprijhek. Nu utmehardu mikap. There, that should do it. I don’t want to make it too long, best to keep it simple. They can follow the signal if they need to. Now to just set it…and there! Emergency beacon from scrap parts.”
“Will your people be able to hear that?” Twilight asked. Yanvorren shrugged noncommittally.
“They should. The fighter’s radio is designed to operate with a maximum range of ten thousand kilometers, so as long as they get at least that close, they should pick it up. My worry is the power cell. It was designed for this thing—” he patted the pistol at his hip “—not continued use. For now, all I can do is wait.”
“What did your message say?” Twilight asked.
“’I’m Redel Yanvorren. I crashed my ship. I need help.’”
“What language was that?”
“Kavrr. My home tongue.”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. How are you speaking our language? Did you spend months in orbit, monitoring us secretly so you could learn our ways?”
“Equestrian,” Twilight corrected with a huff. “The chances of our two species developing an identical language without any prior interaction are…well, nonexistent. It can’t happen.”
“Exactly,” Yanvorren said. “This, plus you with your glowy-horn-stuff-lifting, just proves the idea I’ve been operating under this whole time.”
“And just what idea is that?”
“You’re a delusion,” he said with a sage nod. “I didn’t really crash. My instruments went out, I had no way to get on the catcher, and—well, I guess I did crash. But in the ship, not outside the—you said it was the Everfree Forest?—and now I’m in a coma on a gurney in the infirmary, where I’m imagining all of this as a sort of pseudo-Freudian fantasy.”
Twilight stood dumbfounded, mouth ajar, left eyelid twitching.
“You think,” she said slowly, trying to make sure she heard right, “that you’re in a coma.”
“Yep.”
“And that Fluttershy and I, everything around us, is a delusion.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“And that even though I assure you I am perfectly real, you’re lying in a bed in a hospital?”
“The ship’s infirmary, but close enough.”
“Ugh!” Twilight groaned in exasperation. Of course she meets an alien, and he’s completely insane! Hopefully he’d realize his delusion theory was itself a delusion, and eventually come round. But, whether that happened or not, there was a more immediate concern. A question, the answer to which Twilight dreaded.
“Where are you going to stay, anyway?”
-----
AN:// Hello All. Experiment seems to be going about as expected--at least no one's demanded my head.
I know this is a bit slow getting into things, but is just how it goes. Comments would be greatly appreciated, even if it's just to say I missed an apostrophe. Thank you.
Pinkie Pie had been busy all day. First she had to get up early so she could help Mr. and Mrs. Cake bake all the treats they were going to sell that day. Sure, a lot of ponies would grumble if they had to get up when it was still dark, but this way Pinkie got to see the sunrise every day, and especially the smiles of the people who came early for something sweet to start of their day, which were even brighter. After all, everypony in Ponyville was Pinkie’s friend, and Pinkie loved to see her friends smile.
But today, something had been distracting her. Shortly before her lunch break, she heard customers talking about something falling in the Everfree Forest. Pinkie paid it no mind, but then something started niggling at her scalp—her Pinkie Sense was acting up again, but she had no idea what this feeling meant. Then, just before closing time, an explosion sounded far off. Pinkie wasn’t about to walk out on the Cakes, but she was itching to see what had caused it. Why was it that when you wanted something more, the second hand on a clock turned into the minute hand, and the minute hand turned into the hour hand, and the hour hand may as well have been the day hand? Not that clocks normally had a day hand.
As it was, the minute hand (cleverly imitating the hour hand) slowly crawled to closing time. Almost before the permission to leave was out of Mrs. Cake’s mouth, Pinkie had dashed out the door and was bouncing down the street. As she passed the Carousel Boutique, she spotted the baby dragon Spike heaving a full garbage bag out to Rarity’s bins. He was grunting with effort, but waved when he noticed Pinkie hopping by.
“Hey, Pinkie!” he called. “How’s it going?”
“Just great!” Pinkie beamed and came to a stop next to him. “Hey, have you seen Twilight?”
“She went to Fluttershy’s a few hours ago, but I haven’t seen her since. Why?”
“Just wondering!” Pinkie beamed and continued to where her Itchy Scalp led her, along the edge of the Everfree Forest until she stumbled upon a handful of other ponies standing near a wide, deep black crater in the ground where a hill used to be. She remembered there was a hill there because that was where she and her bestest friends had held their “Listen to Twilight talk about the constellations” party a month before, but there was certainly no crater there.
“What’s this?” Pinkie asked the nearest pony she found, who by an alarming chance happened to be Mayor Mare. The Mayor shrugged hopelessly and gestured at the other ponies.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Pinkie,” the Mayor said. “A few ponies heard an explosion, but when they got here, this is all they found.”
Pinkie “hmm’ed” for such a long time that the Mayor started to wonder how she was breathing.
“You haven’t seen Twilight, have you?” Pinkie finally asked. Mayor Mare shook her head. “Thanks anyway. Bye!” With that, Pinkie bounced away.
She would have hopped all the way back to Sugarcube Corner had her finely-tuned detective instincts not spotted a set of hoof-shaped tracks in the grass that she would never have found if those same instincts had not sent her tripping over her own hooves and landed her nose right in the middle of one. Pinkie sprung back up and stared at the tracks intently. She could make out two sets of pony hooves, and one set of longer, flatter tracks—well, half a set. It wasn’t like it could walk on two legs. Unless it was a bird! Or a dragon like Spike! Pinkie beamed to herself at her brilliant deduction and looked around her carefully. Without anything else planned for the day, she decided to follow the tracks and see where they ended.
-----
Applejack had been busy all day. She woke at the crack of dawn, and after a quick breakfast and making sure Applebloom headed off for school, she and Big Mac got to work on the farm. After a hard morning of chores, they had a break for lunch, and then got back to work for the rest of the day. Almost as soon as she had finished her work, she heard a faint explosion and craned her neck towards the Everfree forest, where she saw a plume of smoke and dust rise like an oversized mushroom.
“Hey Big Mac,” she said to her brother. “I’m gonna go see what that was.”
The thought that she should worry more about the farm crossed her mind, but what kind of pony would she be if she didn’t make sure somepony wasn’t hurt?
-----
Rainbow Dash had been busy all day. She had to wake up early—ten o’clock!—to get to work. They had a storm scheduled for that evening, and Rainbow had to work double-time to get all the clouds positioned and still have time to work on her stunts. She had perfected her Super Speed Strut, but the Spectral Corkscrew was going to need a lot more work before it was ready for the Wonderbolts. The same with her Lazy Backstroke, though that was a pretty awesome trick—of course it would take a lot of practice to get it just right before showing it to the best fliers of all Equestria.
Her duties had kept her far away from the Everfree forest, and her eagerness to practice kept her focused only on her next trick. It was late in the afternoon when she was taking a well-deserved nap on a particularly fluffy cloud. She had just gotten to sleep when the bass boom of some explosion jarred her awake.
“Ugh!” she grunted. “Can’t a mare get any sleep around here!?”
Growling in frustration, she stuffed wads of cloud in her ears to act as plugs, and buried her face as deep into the cloud as she could without poking out the bottom of it.
-----
Rarity had been busy all day. She had to finish three separate orders for very particular customers that completely drained her stock of gems. She would have to spend all of tomorrow and possibly the next day hunting for more. Perhaps that darling little Spike would help her like the last few times. He was always eager to help her, and that crush of his was just adorable! Rarity wondered if she was being a tease by not acknowledging it, then decided that if he was willing to do those favors for her, who was she to argue?
It’s not like she was taking advantage of him. The little dragon was always well-compensated with first pick of the collected gems, though she did have to remind him to leave enough for her to practice her Art. Today, however, the little dear was being so helpful at her Boutique by helping her clean up the scraps that were too small to do anything with, along with the other refuse a lady produced as a side-effect of living and working in modern times. Rarity glanced out the window and saw Spike talking with Pinkie Pie outside.
There was a pony that grated on the nerves. Rarity loved a good soiree as much as anypony, but such things were meant to have class and decorum—a sort of modest grace. Pinkie’s attitude was to have things be as loud and raucous as equinely possible, with garish colors and thumping electronic music. Rarity would take a nice dinner party with soft classics in the background any day.
“I took the trash out, Rarity,” Spike said as he entered the Boutique. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Hmm? Oh, thank you ever so much, Spike,” Rarity said with a slight smile. Seeing him gush over her filled her with a guilty pride. “I daresay I’ve taken up enough of your time, though. Why don’t you run along? I’m sure you have better things to do than cater to little old me.”
“Gosh, no,” Spike said, a dreamy look in his eyes. Rarity had to restrain a giggle at his expense. “I mean, Twilight went over to Fluttershy’s earlier, so I don’t need to do anything at the—oh! I completely forgot! I need to go get some more food for Peewee!”
“You’d better go, then. It wouldn’t do to let your first pet go hungry,” Rarity smiled and opened the door with her magic. Spike rushed past, but she was still able to brush her silky tail over his side. He stumbled as his legs turned to jelly for a moment, and he cast a longing glance back as he rushed down to the market. Rarity’s elegant smile turned to a self-satisfied smirk as she closed her door and flipped her sign to “closed.”
Rarity could live with being a tease if it left her feeling this good about herself.
-----
Spike burst through the door of the library, a heavy bag of feed almost bigger than he was nearly sending him crashing to the floor.
“I’m back, Peewee!” he shouted as he flipped the door closed with his tail. “I got that new food you really liked last time.”
Silence was the only response. Spike dropped the bag of feed and looked at Peewee’s perch only to find it empty.
“Peewee? Where are you, buddy?” Not in the main room. Not in the kitchen, or any in the upstairs rooms. The tiny phoenix chick wasn’t anywhere in the building.
This was terrible! Peewee was Spike’s first pet—what would Twilight say if she found out he had lost the little guy? She might never let him eat ice cream again! No. No, this was more important than ice cream. Fluttershy was good with animals—maybe she’d be able to help!
“I am serious,” Yanvorren said. “And don’t call me Shirley.”
Twilight blinked at him in confusion. “What?”
“Sorry. It’s an old Terran film. But I am serious.”
“I assure you I’m quite real,” Twilight huffed. It didn’t matter how thick somepony’s skin was, she could only take so much insistence of her non-existence before her patience fell through. “Everything around you is real. The only thing here not real is your idea that you’re unconscious in a hospital bed.”
“Infirmary gurney.”
“Whatever!” Twilight stamped a hoof on Fluttershy’s floor, sending a few mice skittering into their holes. “The point is that the first alien to ever come to Equestria can’t be this insane!”
“This coming from the talking pointy-horse from Terran mythology.”
“Talking…what?”
“The prosecution rests,” Yanvorren said, crossing his arms over his chest. The two stared at each other for a long moment before he spoke again. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
“But we’re real! I promise you we are.”
“I believe you entirely, though I do have to wonder what my unconscious is trying to tell me in the form of a purple unicorn with a star ass-tattoo.”
“You…I…what!?”
“Seriously, though. A star? Are you a…what’re they called…Terran religion…Drew? Don’t feel bad, I think pigs are disgusting, too.”
Twilight didn’t say anything. She just stood there and twitched randomly as her mind tried to process the sheer absurdity of the alien’s thoughts.
“That’s just her Cutie Mark!” a new voice shouted in Twilight’s ear. This startled the confused unicorn so much that she jumped high enough to bang her head on a low-hanging birdhouse. She fell back to the floor to angry chittering and Pinkie Pie beaming at her.
“Hi Twilight!” Pinkie shouted. “I’ve been looking for you. Did you see that huge crater over by the forest? I did, and I was like, Wooooowww! Oh, hi! I’ve never seen anything like you before. I’m Pinkie Pie, but my friends just call me Pinkie. Do you wanna be friends?”
Yanvorren shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
“Yay! I’ll get a party together and we can introduce you to the whole town!”
“Pinkie, don’t get too close! He’s crazy!”
“I am not, talky purple pointy-horse!”
“That’s a silly name. She’s Twilight!”
“Who’re you, then?” Yanvorren asked. Twilight, somewhat embarrassed at forgetting her manners, waved a hoof at each of them in turn.
“Yanvorren, this is Pinkie Pie, one of my friends. Pinkie, this is Yanvorren, a…well, an alien.” Dear Celestia, that sounded awful when she said it aloud. She sounded like one of those conspiracy theorists she read about in the newspaper, with the single exception that she had proof sitting across from her and drinking tea. Twilight’s small bit of introspection distracted her from Pinkie’s antics (something that was always dangerous) and she tuned into the conversation that had been going on between her and Yanvorren.
“…and then I said, ‘Oatmeal? Are you crazy!?’” Pinkie giggled madly.
“What’s wrong with oatmeal?” Yanvorren asked.
“It’s for food, not your face. Though your mouth’s in your face, so I guess it is. Maybe I should say it’s for your mouth to eat and not to spread on your face. Unless you’re a baby, ‘cause that’s so darn cute!”
Yanvorren stared at her for a long while.
“I wanna wake up,” he said.
“But you are awake, silly!” Pinkie grinned wide enough that Twilight was beginning to worry that the top of her head would come off. “Unless you’re really asleep, and talking to me. Are you a sleeptalker, Yanvorren?”
“He is awake,” Twilight firmly said before he could answer. She totally wasn’t jealous that Pinkie had gotten that trill Yanvorren used in his name on her first try, while Twilight could only make a regular “r” sound. “I think he might have hurt his head when he crashed. He thinks he’s dreaming.”
“Not dreaming. Unconscious.”
“Oh pshaw. If you were dreaming, could I do this?” Pinkie somehow managed to stand upside-down on the bottom of a hanging birdcage and twisted her head around so that it was oriented to everypony else.
“Probably,” Yanvorren said. He shrugged and put his forehooves behind his head. No, they’re hands, Twilight reminded herself. He called them hands. Hands with fingers that worked his tools with precision and grace born of years of the same level of training and practice that Twilight herself had gone through to master her magic. She noticed he was biting his lip again—it seemed to be a habit when he was thinking. “It doesn’t really matter which one of us is right. If it’s a dream, I’ll eventually wake up. If not, my crew will pick up my distress signal and come get me.”
Twilight sighed. That was probably as close to a sane answer as she was going to get from him. Pinkie suddenly fell from her perch on the bottom of a birdhouse, and any retort Twilight may have had was forgotten when Fluttershy’s door slammed open and a purple and green blur dashed into the cottage.
“Fluttershy!” Spike shouted as his eyes darted around the room. He spotted Twilight, Pinkie’s hooves (she had fallen behind the couch Twilight was using and was still on her back), and Yanvorren, but didn’t pay any attention to them. “Fluttershy! I need help. Peewee’s gone missing!”
“Missing?” Twilight demanded as she sprung to her hooves. “What happened exactly?”
Spike looked up to see the pony that was for all intents and purposes his guardian staring down at him. He quickly swallowed his apprehension at being scolded and turned to face her—Peewee needed his help. Twilight was silent as her assistant explained that his pet phoenix was missing when he returned to their home. He had come to Fluttershy’s hoping that she would be able to help him find the little fire-bird.
“Of course I’ll come help look for him,” Fluttershy said. “But I’m afraid I don’t know much about phoenixes.”
“That’s okay,” Twilight said. “I have a spell that should be able to help find him.”
“Let’s go let’s go!” Pinkie Pie shouted. She carelessly tossed her bag of popcorn behind her and was suddenly outside, urgently waving them forward.
“We don’t have any time to lose,” Twilight said as she led Fluttershy and Spike out the door. Yanvorren stood and brushed popcorn off of his uniform before quickly falling in behind the ponies.
-----
Yanvorren kept pace a few meters behind the rushing ponies. He was thankful they didn’t break into a full gallop, or else he’d never be able to keep up. Their speed was a decent trot, which wasn’t any faster than the forced marches he’d had to endure in his career. Actually, considering that he wasn’t carrying fifty kilograms of gear, no one was shooting at them, and his drill instructor was nowhere to be found, he felt that it might have been one of the most pleasant marches he’d ever been on. If he considered the scenery, then it definitely took the prize.
They hurried through the Everfree Forest, following Twilight’s glowing horn as it guided her to the lizard’s pet. Both Fluttershy and Twilight seemed nervous but determined to complete their mission—Yanvorren could respect that. He’d often felt the same way, especially in his first few years of service. The loud pink one had left to get their friends to help. The lizard—Twilight had called him “Spike”—was riding on Twilight’s back and chewing on his claws. He kept casting fearful glances at every tree or bush that even pretended to move, but sent twice as many back at Yanvorren. For the thirtieth time since leaving Fluttershy’s cottage, he checked the settings on his pistol and made sure his battle knife was in its sheath. The ponies had said there were dangerous creatures in the Forest, and he didn’t want to be caught defenseless.
“The spell indicates that Peewee’s just through here,” Twilight called back.
“Oh, I hope he’s all right,” Fluttershy said. “He’s just a baby. How could he have gotten this far into the forest?”
“Let’s just find him!” Spike demanded. “Hurry, Twilight!”
They ducked under a low branch and picked up speed, leaving Yanvorren behind as he had to crawl to get under it. He continued at the same speed, still just able to see the ponies’ tails in the dim light. After only seconds, the ponies burst through some underbrush into a clearing in the forest. The orange light of dusk filled it and gave it a warm glow. Treetops swayed in a gentle breeze. A small creek babbled merrily through the middle, surrounded by tall grass and colorful wildflowers. Yanvorren slowed and crouched behind the bushes that ringed the peaceful meadow. Even in as idyllic a scene as this, his training took over and would not allow him to charge in without taking stock of the situation.
He was glad it did. Twilight, Fluttershy, and Spike were facing a trio of larger lizards, easily Kavican-sized. They wore nothing but malicious grins as they stared down at the ponies. Spike and Twilight had frozen, either in fear or something else, but Fluttershy had dived behind them and was trying to curl into a singularity. Yanvorren’s mouth set into a grim line as he watched from the bushes and slid his hand down to his pistol.
“Well, lookie what we have here,” said the lead lizard, a tall red one with a confident smirk. He nudged the two others and they snickered like henchmen. On his left was a skinny purple one with horns that covered his eyes, and on his right was a fat green one with a club on the end of his tail.
“Looks like that runt and his pony friends,” said the purple one. “Spot, I think his name was.”
“My name is Spike! What are you losers doing here?” the tiny lizard on Twilight’s back shouted indignantly. All three of the larger lizards guffawed and stamped the ground with their talons. The leader mimed wiping a tear from his eye and clapped a hand on the fat one’s back.
“You hear this, Gordo?” he said. “He wants to know what we’re doing.”
“Ha hah. We came for a raid!” the fat one kept laughing until he suddenly belched. Yanvorren almost fell in surprise when a cone of flames shot out of the lizard’s mouth.
“Hey, go easy on the sodas, man,” the leader said before turning his attention back to the ponies.
“Oh, good. You’re not as dumb as you look,” the leader said with a smirk. He shoved the fat one away to reveal a tiny cage sitting on a boulder. The cage was padlocked shut and just barely large enough to hold the tiny orange and red bird inside it. Yanvorren’s eyes narrowed—just what was going on?
“Peewee!” Spike shouted. He threw himself off of Twilight’s back and darted forward to get to the cage. The other lizards stood in his way and he stopped short.
“Hold on there, Spot,” the leader said. “I’m not done with you. I want to get even.”
“We didn’t do anything to you!” Spike shouted back.
“You humiliated me!” the leader roared with enough force to knock Spike onto his back. “A baby dragon and his namby pamby pony friends left me with my head stuck through a tree in the middle of nowhere! I lost respect—I wasn’t king of the horde anymore! Do not say you didn’t do anything!”
“But that was because you were trying to smash a defenseless egg!” Spike whimpered from the ground. Yanvorren snarled silently and started to make his way around to the other side of the meadow, behind the lizards.
“So what? It’s them or us, Spot! The phoenixes always try to get the good territories. We have to hit them first!”
“But that’s not true!” Twilight spoke up. Fluttershy squeaked and tried to curl up even tighter. “Phoenixes are never in direct competition with dragons for any resource. You were just trying to smash their eggs because you’re mean, petty malcontents!”
“Yeah!” Spike pushed himself to his feet. “They didn’t do anything to you! And neither did Peewee, so give him back!”
“That’s not gonna happen, runt,” the leader growled. “If you want the little fire-turkey, come and get it.”
Spike gulped audibly, even from where Yanvorren was crouched behind the bushes behind the lizards. He drew his pistol and thumbed the safety off. The rules of honorable combat wouldn’t apply to these miscreants—not after their actions. He aimed carefully. Surprise was still on his side, but wouldn’t be for very long. Narrow focus. High intensity. He mashed the trigger three times and dove behind another bush. The shadows of the trees in the growing dark let him look out and watch the three blasts splash onto the back of the fat one’s head in showers of sparks. He fell to the ground and didn’t move. The other two turned, hearing the loud thump, and stared.
“Hey, Gordo, you okay, man?” the leader asked and nudged him in the side with his foot. The fat one didn’t move. Yanvorren aimed and fired again. The skinny one fell that time, but the leader had seen what happened and found the source.
“Get out of there!” he roared and spat a line of fire at the bushes where Yanvorren was hiding. The flames dissipated before they could reach him, but the angry red lizard was already running forward. Yanvorren tried to duck behind another bush, but he saw the lizard track his movement and knew he had been found. The lizard sucked in a deep breath, and knowing that fire was quick to follow, Yanvorren burst out of the bushes and ran as fast as he could toward the lizard. Just as it opened its mouth to blow flames, Yanvorren slid between its legs. He came up behind the lizard and aimed his pistol, but the lizard spun around and knocked it from his hand. Yanvorren ducked below a swipe from its tail and drew his knife. It was a single piece of high-carbon steel shaped like a stylized “9” with a leather-wrapped handle around the loop of it. The long edge was a single sharpened blade, and he held it with the point aimed away from him.
“What are you?” the lizard demanded as he took another swipe at Yanvorren. The alien ducked under it and slashed viciously with his knife. It bounced off the lizard’s scales with a sharp clang and pushed Yanvorren back. The lizard brought his claws down on Yanvorren’s arm, leaving three deep cuts that instantly started oozing blood. Yanvorren stepped back, clutching his arm. The lizard smirked and rushed at Yanvorren again. The alien waited, and at the last moment, darted into the lizard as he approached, grabbed his wrist, twisted, and threw the lizard over his shoulder and onto the ground. The lizard groaned, then roared in pain when Yanvorren stomped on his shoulder with the sickening crack of snapping bone.
“I am Redel Yanvorren,” he said as he slowly pressed his foot down on the lizard’s throat, “First Engineer of the First Company of the Kavican Imperial Military.”
The lizard grabbed his boot and tried to push it off, but Yanvorren pressed down harder, and he struggled to breathe.
“’An honorable Kavican does not harm children or eggs’,” Yanvorren said. His face showed his disgust with the lizard’s actions. He pressed down harder. Black spots started popping in the lizard’s vision. He could just barely gulp down enough air to stay conscious, but he could feel his limbs getting heavier. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to give up. That contemptuous alien face was getting blurry—everything was. Even the sounds around them were growing steadily fuzzier. Just before the darkness claimed him, the lizard heard the alien whisper, “Remember this.”
Yanvorren, satisfied that his enemy was incapacitated, stepped off of him and retrieved his pistol. He holstered it and sheathed his knife, and then checked the other two lizards—despite getting three full-powered blasts to the head each, they were only unconscious. The only visible damage was a few scorch marks on their scales. He’d have to do some checking on his pistol to make sure it was operating properly. By the time he looked up from that, Twilight and Spike had unlocked the cage the little bird was in. The bird was happily cooing as both Spike and Fluttershy coddled it and made sure it hadn’t been hurt. Twilight, however, was staring at Yanvorren—specifically his arm.
“We should get that treated,” she said. Yanvorren looked down, and the pain he had pushed to the back of his mind returned, shooting up his arm with gusto. He clutched it tightly, feeling his warm blood dripping down his arm.
“I…,” he said slowly, feeling a wave of defeat crashing over him, “I’m not in a coma, am I?”
-----
AN:// Well, this is somewhat embarrassing. Because of school and encroaching doom, further updates will be sporadic.
Please do leave a comment. They're subtle reminders to get my ass back to work.