After stealing a powerful artifact from a rival mercenary group, an alien creature finds himself stranded on a primitive planet with even more primitive beings. As he searches for a way to rebuild his ship, he comes to find that perhaps not all creatures in the galaxy are criminals and wretched scum.
Falco shivered in the snow as he surveyed the compound through his binoculars. It was the only building around for miles. Had it not been for the hills and dormant vegetation, he'd have no cover at all.
"Lame or not, we're getting paid three million credits each to steal this thing, and you drew the short straw." Fox's voice rang in his ear over his headset as his beak chattered. Avians were not meant for cold weather.
"Thank you for the reminder," he hissed. His active camo blended perfectly with the snow white landscape as he made his way toward the perimeter fence. For something so valuable, the security around the laboratory was pretty lax. He'd been briefed on the object he was to retrieve, and from what he cared to listen to, it was quite valuable. And volatile.
“Stop complaining and get in there,” Fox replied. “That thing is scheduled to move today, and this is our only shot at taking it.”
Upon his drawing of the short straw (which he was certain Fox had somehow rigged), he had been instructed to handle the item with extreme care. Codenamed Drive, it was apparently some new type of propulsion system, though how it worked and what it used as fuel were known only to those who had discovered it. That's what the nerds who hired his mercenary team said, anyway.
As he began cutting through the links of the fence, the crunching of snow attracted his attention. Thinking quickly, he dove back into a bush as a guard patrolled near the fence. Once he'd passed, Falco removed himself from the near-frozen shrub. "Tell Slippy he owes me a drink for not telling me about the guards!"
"Intelligence isn't an exact science, Falco!" the toad's voice chimed in over the radio.
It isn't in your case, is it? Falco thought.
"Did you really expect something this valuable to be unguarded?" Fox asked.
"Forget it." Falco snapped. "Are there any other surprises I should know about?"
"Nothing that wasn't in the schematics I briefed you on already," Slippy replied. While he was an ace mechanic and inventor, Slippy was sometimes lacking as an intelligence gatherer. He would much rather spend his time in the maintenance bay modifying the Star Fox team's Arwing space fighters than looking up blueprints to some hole-in-the-wall science lab on Xenu-forsaken Zeras 12's polar ice cap.
Now freezing and wet, he resumed cutting through the fence. In a matter of minutes, he made his way through the hole he'd cut and into an access duct.
"Before I get any deeper into this place, you want to tell me what this duct is for?" Falco whispered, careful to avoid blowing his cover. A few seconds of silence allowed him to further himself from the cold air outside as he began to peer through the grates to check his progress inside the building.
"Looks like it's used to vent exhaust gases from the research labs," Slippy replied. "Chlorine gas, mostly."
"What?!"
"Calm down!" Falco could hear Slippy's fingers typing away at his station as he pulled up more info on the building he was infiltrating. Information he wondered why he wasn't given before he chose to explore the poison gas pipe. “The duct is only active from 0600 to 1500 hours!”
Falco checked the time: 1400.
Great...
“Okay, you’re coming up on the lab now,” Slippy added softly, as though his voice would give Falco away. “It should be through a grate and air filter on your right-hand side.”
Removing the air scrubber, he spotted a hare in a lab coat scribbling on a notepad beyond the grate. Behind him, on a pedestal of some kind, sat the metallic, nine-billion-credit box. No more than thirty centimeters in length, width and height. Easy enough to carry, but impossible to conceal. Nothing about it seemed extraordinary. It certainly didn’t look like it was worth a few million galactic credits.
Falco grabbed his blaster from its holster, selecting its ‘stun’ mode to neutralize the scientist. Though Slippy may not be much of an intelligence gatherer, he was an incredible inventor. As he readied himself to remove the grate, he heard a heavy door swing open.
“Dexter, you hungry? I was about to grab some dinner.”
Falco held fast inside the duct as another hare entered the lab.
“Yeah, I’ve been cooped up with this thing all day. Let me just set the alarm.” Dexter and his friend left the lab, but not before activating a laser security grid around the item in question. After the scientists had left, Falco removed the grate carefully before griping to Slippy once more.
“Lasers? You didn’t say anything about lasers!”
“What do you want from me?” he protested. “These schematics are four years out of date!”
Falco rubbed his temples before dropping into the laboratory to examine the security. As he stepped up to the pedestal, he retrieved a can of fine powder, spraying its contents to reveal the lasers guarding his objective. Plucking a feather from his head with a wince, he released a bit of his plumage into one of the laser beams. He prayed this was simply an alarm-grade lens, and not the flesh-melting variety. When his feather remained intact, he breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short-lived. His test-feather had disrupted the laser beam, causing all manner of alarms to wail.
Falco snatched the drive off its pedestal as the grate he had come through filled with an unknown gas, and a large blast door began to close over the lab entrance. With a quick sprint and a slide, he barely missed being cut in half by the closing doors as he escaped the lab with the drive clutched in one arm. His blaster in his other hand, he sprinted down the hallway as security guards gave chase.
“Slippy, how do I get out of here?” he asked urgently, nearly sliding around a corner as lasers began impacting the wall behind him.
“There should be an exit coming up on your left!” The door in question was still a few meters ahead as he continued his sprint. He glanced over his shoulder to see the security guards leveling their laser rifles at him.
'This is why I prefer the sky!'
Aiming his blaster over his shoulder, he fired wantonly, hoping to keep them from shooting him in the back. After a few bursts, he lowered his shoulder and prepared to ram the door to freedom. He bounced off of it, the drive skidding away from him as he fell flat on his back.
“It’s... locked...” he gasped, scrambling for the drive.
As the hum of the guard's laser rifles filled the hallway, a scientist threw himself in front of the guards. “Don’t shoot, you idiots! If you hit that thing, we’re all dead!” Thinking quickly, Falco scurried to the drive and held his blaster to it. As he hoped, the security lowered their weapons.
“Slippy, the door’s locked!” he growled into the radio, buying precious seconds as the guards creeped closer.
“You’ve got a blaster!” he replied. “Freaking shoot it!”
Falco blinked, before blasting the keypad locking mechanism and kicking the door open, sprinting into the open snow and leaping over the three meter perimeter fence as the alarms continued to wail behind him. “Tell Fox to get down here and cover my extraction!”
“Way ahead of you!” Fox said, his sleekly shaped Arwing hovering above a clearing where Falco’s began to slowly fade into view from its camouflaged state. Falco’s fingers tapped repeatedly on a screen mounted on his wrist. The cockpit of his spaceship popped open with a hiss. A few more taps and a small cargo bay opened beneath the cockpit. Falco stored the drive in the cargo hold and jumped into his spacecraft. Before the security forces could give chase, the two mercenaries were rocketing through the atmosphere and back toward their mothership; the Great Fox.
“Boy, it’s a good thing those guards were so under-equipped!” said Slippy as they left the planet’s upper atmosphere.
“Why’s that?” Fox asked, his Arwing pulling alongside Falco’s.
“Your laser cores haven’t been charged in days!”
“What?” they replied in unison.
“That seems like something you should have told us, frog-boy!” Falco snapped.
“Well, in my defense, you wouldn’t have gone on the mission if you’d known that, would you?”
Forget a drink. That toad owes me breakfast, lunch, and dinner!
“Uncharged laser cores?” A familiar voice came over the radios. “How unfortunate for you.” The inherent sneer behind those words could belong to only one pilot: Wolf O’Donnell.
“Agh!” Falco moaned. “Not now! I knew this thing wouldn't be so lightly guarded!”
“I’m afraid so. If you simply hand over the drive, my team and I will be on our way,” he suggested. “Perhaps we’ll even allow you to live.”
“Not a chance, Wolf.” Fox replied, the tags of the enemy fighters beginning to appear on his long range radar.
“Very well,” Wolf sighed.
“Falco, switch to com channel two,” Fox ordered.
“Okay, we’re both out of ammo and I’m almost out of fuel,” Falco said bluntly. “What now?”
A moment of worrying silence fell over him as Fox radioed his mothership. “Slippy, are there any ion storms near us?”
The soft clicking of keys beneath fingers echoed back in their headsets as Slippy searched. “You’re in luck,” replied Slippy. “This planet’s star is giving off coronal mass ejections as we speak. The next wave will be on top of you in thirty seconds.”
“Falco, do you have enough fuel to start your warp drive?”
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
“Well... yeah, but I’d be completely out afterwards!” he shot back.
“I realize that,” Fox said calmly. “I’m gonna follow you into the storm and engage mine back to the Great Fox. The ions from the star will keep Wolf from tracing your jump and getting the drive.” Falco could see the idea behind Fox’s plan. Though it seemed crazy, he knew his friendly rival was a great strategist and the best pilot out there. Besides himself, of course.
“Okay, but if Wolf can’t trace my ions, that means you can’t either.”
“I know. We’ll follow your emergency location beacon.”
Falco sighed, massaging his temples. “You know it’s called an ion storm for a reason, right?”
“Yeah, you’ll just have to trust me on this,” Fox assured him.
“Ten seconds until ion impact.” Slippy reminded them.
“Ready?” Fox asked.
Falco charged his warp drive, the frost and cold from the planet below now long since melted away. “Yeah.”
In a flash of light and super-charged particles, the two fighters disappeared amongst the pinpoints of light.
Falco watched as the gauges in his cockpit slowly flickered before reading ‘zero’. As he engaged his ship's reverse thrusters, he checked his surroundings. Nothing he could recognize, but a single planet within reachable distance had already begun pulling on his spacecraft. A warning flashed across the screens of his instrument panel.
Re-entry imminent. A soft computerized female voice announced. After a few quick keystrokes, his computer analyzed the available data regarding the planet he was about to crash land on.
“Ninety-nine percent oxygen probability, ninety-nine percent chance of liquid water...” he mumbled to himself, looking past his reflection onto what appeared to be the surface of a planet filled with green plant life. “Could be worse...” Falco readied himself for what he hoped would be a soft landing. Within minutes, the rumbling of re-entry buffeted his fighter as the exterior began to glow bright white.
“Hold together for me, baby,” he exhaled through gritted teeth, fighting with the manual controls to keep the wings level. As he lost speed and altitude, he noticed a dense forest rising up to meet him. Within moments, he was skimming the treetops, the sturdy wooden shafts strengthening the lower he went.
His cockpit screens began calling out their warnings as the hull integrity of his ship beginning to rapidly deteriorate. “Geez, what are these trees made of, lead?” Before long, both his laser pods had been stripped away, and the deafening screech made by the trees he was decimating confirmed one of his worst fears; he would have to bail out on an alien planet.
Falco grabbed his survival gear in one hand and gripped the ejection seat handle in the other. For a moment, his thoughts turned to the precious yet volatile cargo in the hold. Deciding it would be better to survive and recover the drive than to die with his ship, he yanked the striped handle upwards, sending the canopy of the Arwing flying off over his head. Unfortunately, only half of the rockets in the seat fired when they were supposed to, pushing him only halfway out of the spacecraft. As he tumbled out of his ship, his parachute snagged on a jagged edge of the fuselage.
Thinking quickly, he produced a superheated thermal blade from its holster with his free hand and began sawing frantically at the constricted fabric tying him to certain death. Once free, he realized all too late that he was falling with only half a parachute. Cursing his species for evolving beyond the ability to fly, he flapped his arms wildly to try and slow himself down.
He hit the ground feet first, a bolt of searing pain shooting through his right leg as he landed awkwardly on his arm before losing consciousness completely.
Apple Bloom and her fellow crusaders sat idly in their treehouse, tediously planning their next attempt to earn their cutie marks. The walls of their home away from home had been decorated with hoof-drawn pictures of ponies they idolized, things they liked to do, or things they wished they were able to do. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo rested their chins on their forelegs as Apple Bloom paced before them. "Ah dunno, Ah don't think you can just 'become' a psychologist," she said skeptically. "Ah'm pretty sure that's somethin' ya have ta go to college for."
"Well I haven't heard any suggestions out of you!" Sweetie Belle replied.
"We've tried almost every other job in town!" Scootaloo chimed in.
"Ah'm just sayin' we probably shouldn't do anything that might get us in trouble with the—"
A rumble shook the treehouse as Scootaloo hurriedly trotted down the ramp in time to hopefully catch the after-effects of a sonic rainboom. "I bet Rainbow is practicing for the Wonderbolts!" she said happily, scanning the skies for the signature rainbow.
She was joined by the other crusaders on the ramp as they too, scanned the skies.
"Cool!" Sweetie Belle gasped, "A shooting star!" She pointed her hoof to the heavens, a fiery comet with a smoking tail scarring the otherwise clear blue sky.
"Wow..." they said in unison.
"It looks awfully close..." Apple Bloom said as they watched shards of the meteor break off from the main body in the atmosphere. Within seconds, it was below the tree line, followed quickly by a dull thud.
A brief silence followed before Scootaloo spoke up. "It sounded like it landed close!" she said happily before turning to her friends. "You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom exchanged nervous glances.
"C'mon you guys!" Scootaloo insisted. "Don't be scaredy-cats!"
"Okay, let’s go check it out..." Sweetie Belle groaned.
"That's what I'm talkin' about!" Scootaloo cheered.
"CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS METEOR MINERS, YAY!" they shouted together, bounding out of the clubhouse and following the gentle smoke plume rising from the treetops.
After a few minutes of trekking through the Everfree forest, they came upon a massive trench dug by the falling object. The ditch was easily three Applejacks wide and at least two Big Macintoshes deep. The crusader's eyes widened as they came upon the clearing.
"Whoa," they gasped, looking into the crater. Apple Bloom slid down down into the trench, dirt and rocks sliding with her.
"Are you sure it's safe to go in there?" Sweetie Belle whined. "It could be radioactive or something!"
"Radio-what?" Scootaloo repeated as she followed Apple Bloom into the trench.
With a reluctant sigh, Sweetie Belle followed suit, entering the divide with her friends. "If I grow an extra head because of this, I'm coming after the two of you," she threatened as they followed the path dug by the falling object.
"Don't you mean, 'we're?" Scootaloo replied, earning a chuckle from Apple Bloom.
The trench seemed to stretch for miles into the forest before the fillies came upon what had created it. A smoking hunk of twisted white and blue metal sat smoldering, buried halfway by uprooted trees and dirt.
Apple Bloom approached the object cautiously, though not cautiously enough for Sweetie Belle's liking.
"That doesn't look like a meteorite," she warned, though her pleas fell on deaf ears as Scootaloo joined Apple Bloom in investigating.
"You guys... I think this is a spaceship!" Scootaloo declared, climbing atop a mound of dirt in front of it to view the vacant cockpit.
"A spaceship? As in, a-aliens?" Sweetie Belle asked, backing away from the strange object.
"Yeah!" Apple Bloom said, joining Scootaloo on the dirt pile. "Don't worry Sweetie Belle, the spaceship is empty."
Sweetie Belle carefully climbed the dirt hill and peered into the cockpit, sweeping over the dead instruments and empty hole where she guessed whatever had been flying this thing sat. "See? No aliens," Scootaloo assured her.
The color drained from the unicorn's face as she turned to her friends. "So if the alien isn't in its ship, then where is it?"
The three adventurous fillies pressed their backs against each other, scanning the woodline for anything not of their world.
"Y-You don't think it's an evil alien, do ya?" Apple Bloom stammered.
"I hope not," Scootaloo replied, just as a high pitched beeping nearly deafened the crusaders. Flattening their ears against the sharp screech, they tried to discern its source.
"Oh Celestia, what's that noise?!" Scootaloo shouted, though she was barely heard over the racket.
"Ah, Ah think it's comin' from—"
As quickly as the terrible noise had come, it was gone, replaced by a softer, fading beep that seemed to slowly die. The sound appeared to be coming from behind a thicket of bushes. Nervously, Scootaloo stepped off the dirt hill and headed toward the shrubs.
"Scoots, what are you doing?!" Sweetie Belle whispered urgently.
"I think the alien might be back here," she shot back, her sense of adventure not spoiled by the ear-splitting screech it had just made.
"So you're gonna go find it?" Sweetie Belle asked incredulously.
The curious filly ignored her friend’s warnings and proceeded to push the bushes back with a hoof. She had expected to see some kind of monster with tentacles for legs and a million eyes, or a blood-thirsty beast from beyond the stars. Instead, she found a scruffy looking wounded creature, which had similar coloration to a blue-jay.
Scootaloo motioned for the other crusaders to join her as she carefully stepped closer to the unconscious creature.
"I think it's asleep," Scootaloo whispered, not wanting to wake it incase it was evil.
Sweetie Belle noticed the creatures leg was bent in an awkward position in comparison to the other one. "I think it might be hurt, too."
After a moment's pause, they stepped a bit closer.
"So... what is it?" Apple Bloom asked.
"I dunno..." Sweetie Belle replied, finding her courage and approaching the alien. "It looks kinda like a bird. I think its leg is broken."
"What are you, a doctor?" Scootaloo teased, joining her.
"No,” she snapped, “But I'm pretty sure legs aren't supposed to bend that way," Another pause came between them before Apple Bloom spoke up. "Should we help it?"
"Help it how?" Scootaloo asked incredulously.
"Ah dunno, take it back to the clubhouse Ah s'pose."
"But what if this thing tries to eat us when it wakes up?" Sweetie Belle replied.
"Ah know! We'll go get my brother and sister! They'll know what to do with it!"
Apple Bloom bounded off the ship and headed back toward her house, followed quickly by the other crusaders.
"Applejack! Applejack!" Apple Bloom shouted as she burst through the screen door, her friends close behind her.
Her older sister turned with a start from the lunch she had been making for herself and her brother, while Mac awoke from his nap on the couch.
"Hold your horses sugarcube, what's got y'all so excited?"
"We were in the clubhouse, and we saw a shooting star in the daytime, only it wasn't a shooting star, it was an alien spaceship!" Sweetie Belle explained breathlessly.
Applejack raised an eyebrow. "An alien spaceship, huh?" she asked, glancing skeptically at Macintosh.
"Yeah! With a real live alien and everything!" Scootaloo chimed, hovering a few inches off the ground in excitement.
"Uh, you sure you girls ain't had any of Pinkie's super sugar punch lately?" Applejack asked.
"We ain't foolin' around Applejack! We can take ya to where it crashed!" The youngest Apple pled, her friends nodding in agreement behind her.
"Ah got chores ta do, why don't ya take Macintosh with ya, just in case the 'alien' tries ta suck out your brains," she giggled as Mac lifted himself from the couch and donned his yoke.
"C'mon now," he said, motioning towards the door. The fillies filed outside as Mac joined them on the path to their 'alien'.
The damaged cockpit of the Arwing flickered to life as the computer AI began running post-crash diagnostics. A multitude of screens opened and closed on the display panel before the ship slowly began to dissolve into the background of the forest. After a few seconds, all that could be seen was the trench dug by the falling craft.
Falco's eyes fluttered open after his stasis suit returned him to consciousness. "Uh... what the..." He raised himself up onto his elbows, his right arm faltering, leaving him reliant on his left to keep his head out of the freshly turned dirt. He looked to his right, seeing that his ship—what was left of it—had already engaged its auto-cloak.
He glanced down at his leg and recoiled. Definitely broken. On his sleeve were the controls to his stasis suit. It indicated multiple hairline fractures of his right arm, and a severe compound fracture of his leg. What was worse, the opiate reserves in his suit were running low. Soon, he would be screaming in pain, if conscious at all.
Thankfully, he had followed the standard procedure of the Star Fox team and brought exactly one Osteo-pak with him. Retrieving the glowing blue syringe from his pocket, he stabbed the needle right above his twisted appendage.
He gritted his teeth as he felt the bones begin to reset in a matter of seconds.
"Ah, this is always the worst part!" He grunted as the snap and twisting of bones echoed through the forest. The few seconds it took his leg to heal felt like hours before his limb finally resembled the unbroken one next to it. Breathing a sigh of relief, he was suddenly aware that he was, in fact, breathing. Though the computer had predicted oxygen on the planet’s surface, it had been wrong before. He brought himself to his feet. Both legs seemed to be working properly, though his right arm was still useless.
Using his good arm to search his pockets, he retrieved his communicator. The small silver orb pulsed a steady red in his palm. "No signal,” he sighed. “Covers the whole galaxy, they said." Cursing the fast talking salesman who'd talked Fox into buying these for the crew, he shoved the inactive device back into his pocket, taking in his surroundings. Forests weren't uncommon, but they usually indicated a fairly underdeveloped planet.
Falco figured he'd be rescued as soon as the Great Fox picked up his Emergency Location Transmitter beacon. Had he installed it.
He slapped his palm against his forehead in disgust at his own laziness. Fox had warned him against leaving the ELT behind in case he crashed on an unexplored planet. He even recalled his reasoning for not taking it: 'When was the last time we even left the Lylat system?'
He could hear Fox's scolding now. Falco hated being wrong, even more so when others were obviously right. He figured they'd eventually come looking for him, but he had no idea how long it might take. The temperate climate of the forest suited him well, though he knew he couldn't live out here. All manner of dangerous wildlife could inhabit this planet, and would think nothing of making a meal of him.
Reaching back into his pocket, he produced a small contact lens case, placing the contents onto his right eye. The outline of the crashed ship came to life as he walked towards it to inspect the damage. "Fox is gonna be pissed..." he groaned, noting the bent and mangled state of his once-sleek fighter.
Climbing onto what was left of the wing, he retrieved his laser pistol, an emergency survival kit, and accessed the ships navigation computer. As he scrolled through the screens, he came upon his ship's last known trajectory.
"Of course..." he sighed, discovering he had in fact tumbled into a restricted sector of an underdeveloped solar system protected from contact by advanced life forms by Directive 995. The Galactic Council doled out severe punishments for any beings caught breaking this law, and unless he had irrefutable proof his crash was unavoidable, he'd be in big trouble. According to the map, this planet didn't even have a proper name. Simply dubbed, X-ray 243.
"Well, at least the ion drive is stable... for now." The indicator screen for the ship's main source of power seemed to be functioning at ninety-five percent cooling rate. Not an optimal rate, but close enough for Fox to rescue me before it reaches a critical fifty percent. he thought.
He powered down the computer and hopped off the ship. He placed his contact back in its case to conserve the battery. He would need to find shelter before nightfall, assuming this planet actually had a night. Some he had visited did not, which made sleeping rather difficult.
Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he set off into the woods, being careful to remember where his ship had crashed so Fox could salvage what they could after they found him. He was nearly out of sight before he remembered the drive! He turned around, heading back towards his ship when he heard bushes rustling in the distance. He took cover in a growth of shrubs and activated his suit's camouflage. He blended perfectly against the leaves as he had earlier on the frozen planet Zeras 12. Patiently, he waited for whatever was approaching his position to be on its way.
"It's just a little further!" Scootaloo said, leading the way as Mac followed behind the three fillies. She reached the hedge line and pushed the branches aside with a hoof, presenting their discovery to Mac. Or, so she thought.
"Well that's a mighty fine trench,” he said, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “But Ah don't see any aliens,"
"What? What do you mean you don't..." All three crusaders were dumbstruck. They'd just been climbing on the darn thing! The alien was gone too!
"But... but it was right there! The alien was laying over here!" Apple Bloom said, scampering to where she recalled the bird-like creature having been sprawled out. Scootaloo joined her, sniffing around for anything of the alien's that could lead them to him.
Macintosh sighed. Sometimes these filly's imagination just got the better of them. He didn't mind. Heck, he remembered when he would make up all kinds of fanciful stories to entertain his Ma and Pa.
"If y'all are done draggin' me all over creation, Ah gotta help Granny and Applejack get started on dinner."
"But—" Apple Bloom protested.
"That don't mean y'all gotta stop playin', just keep an ear out for the dinner bell," he said, heading back to the farmhouse as the distraught fillies followed him.
Sweetie Belle looked back one last time at the huge trench something had dug outside of Apple Blooms farm.
I know what I saw... there has to be an alien around here somewhere!
Falco observed four horse-like creatures enter the clearing. One was quite large—he assumed he was the alpha male. It was possible that the smaller ones were his offspring, or perhaps, his herd.
They seemed to communicate with each other through a series of body and ear gestures, whinnies, grunts and sharp exhalation through their nostrils. It appeared they were intelligent enough to communicate, indicating they had at least tribal level culture. With all of his advanced technology, Falco figured he would probably be looked at as a god to these creatures.
The idea made him grin, but he figured that very thought was one of the reasons Directive 995 was passed. In his survival pack, he fished around for a small earpiece. A universal translator, preloaded with a computer capable of deciphering almost any previously unknown language after listening to only a few sentences.
He quietly installed the device and soon the nonsensical noises the horses seemed to be making morphed into comprehensible speech.
"That don't mean y'all gotta stop playin', just keep an ear out for the dinner bell."
Falco raised an eyebrow. He was correct about the larger horse's role, though the smaller ones seemed to be pre-adolescent versions of the big one. A family, perhaps. As soon as they left the clearing, Falco deactivated his camo. His suit would need to recharge before it could be used again. He knew it would be a miracle if this primitive planet just happened to have a simple fusion reactor lying around.
Luckily, they didn't appear to have noticed his ship. He quickly walked back towards it, reaching a large gash where the cargo hold would have been. “Oh come on!” he grunted to himself. Cursing his luck, he trekked back into the woods, intent on finding shelter before nightfall. He would have to postpone his search for the drive until tomorrow. He prayed nights here didn't last weeks like they did on some planets.
As he wandered, he came upon a vast expanse of trees, neatly aligned and all bearing a fruit that appeared to be a variant of the common apple. He jumped and plucked one from a low lying branch. Opening his survival pack once again, he produced a small, square device with a needle on one end and a digital display on the other. Stabbing the apple, the screen flashed green and emitted a pleasant tone, indicating it was safe to consume.
"Alright, this may not have been such a bad place to crash," he said to himself, taking a bite and continuing on his way. Noting the neatness of the rows, he assumed whatever species dominated this planet had at least discovered agriculture. Falco's lucky streak continued as he came upon a small house situated between the branches of a large tree. Without the use of his camo, he'd have to engage the inhabitant directly. He had a spare translator, though he knew convincing a creature to put something an alien had given them in their ear may prove to be a bit of a challenge.
He slowly climbed the ramp to the tiny house. Peeking his head inside, he was relieved to find it empty. There wasn't much furniture inside, and there even seemed to be a few childlike drawings hung on the walls. Outside the glassless window, he noticed the sun beginning to set. Apparently this planet did have a night, one Falco was certainly looking forward to after such a hard landing. He removed his pack from his back and set out his compressed sleeping space. It was no neuro-bed, but it was much better than the wooden floor. This children's playhouse would have to do for the time being.
He settled in for the night, moving an old desk in front of the doorway to keep any hungry wildlife from attacking him in his sleep. Content with his security measures, he laid himself down, carefully listening for any noise that would indicate danger. He set his pistol and thermal knife down beside him as he lay down. One last time, he retrieved his communicator. "Still no signal..." he sighed, putting it away and trying to ignore the pain beginning to set in from his broken arm. By morning it would be considerably worse, but he managed to bury that thought. Right now, nothing was more important than rest, something he was all too willing to embrace as he promptly fell asleep.
A soft rain fell on the roof of Agent Bentgrass' stately mansion in the swamps of New Mareleans. Being the sole heir to his family's vast fortune certainly had its benefits. As an agent of their Majesties 'special services' division,(known colloquially as 'Division 6') he was rarely afforded time off. Not that he ever wanted any. His current vacation had actually been forced upon him by the Director of Special Services herself, after it was brought to light that he hadn't taken a day off in five years. It was an order he had no choice but to obey, lest he lose his job.
On his fourth night, (or perhaps his fifth, he wasn't sure) he found himself in his lavish study. A fire crackled and popped merrily as he sat in his favorite high-backed chair. Strains of soft Ave Mareia echoed off the polished cherry wood paneling as he sipped a vintage port while studying a first edition of Aristrotle's most famous work: Nicomachean Ethics.
A knock on the door pulled him from his literature as his stalwart butler Farnsworth appeared at the doorway. "Master Bentgrass, a Deputy Director Notch here to see you."
Bentgrass sat his book next to him with a sigh. "Show him in."
Farnsworth bowed. "Of course, sir."
In a few moments, a piebald unicorn in a sharp black suit shook his mane gently as he strode towards the main room. "Ugh, this weather! Does it do anything besides rain? How do you stand it, Agrostis?"
Bentgrass gave a half smile, holding out his hoof. "Simple. I stay inside."
A sharp laugh came as Notch gently tapped the outstretched hoof with his own. "First vacation in five years, and you spend it indoors—" he leaned down to inspect the cover of the book Bentgrass had set beside him, "—reading philosophy?"
"If I cannot better Equestria, I might as well better myself." He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, if you're going to force me to take a vacation, the least you could do is leave me alone."
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut your vacation short—not that you'd mind," Notch replied, reclining on an elegant victorian couch across from Bentgrass.
He smiled. "You know me well. Please, sit," Bentgrass insisted. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Scotch, no ice." Notch answered, much to Bentgrass' surprise.
"Off the wagon again, I see."
"If you dealt with half the crap I do every day, you'd do it too," he shot back, reaching into his jacket and retrieving a plain looking file folder. Farnsworth returned with a glass of vintage scotch on a silver tray.
"Will you be needing anything else, Master Bentgrass?" he asked curtly.
"No, take the rest of the night for yourself, Farnsworth."
"Very good sir." After his butler had left, Deputy Director Notch got down to business.
"This assignment came straight from the top."
Bentgrass arched an eyebrow, picking up the file stamped 'Most Secret' before him and looking its contents over.
"We've had reports of an alien spacecraft landing near a small town south of Canterlot. Ponyville, if I remember correctly."
The agent set the file on his lap to scrutinize his superior. "Aliens?" he repeated dryly. "Are you sure this isn't some sort of punishment?"
Notch smiled, reclining on the couch and sipping his scotch. "Not at all. The princess asked I put my best stallion on it."
"And why is wandering about in the middle of nowhere, investigating what was most likely a meteor of top priority, exactly?"
"Flip to the back," Notch said. Bentgrass moved passed the initial reports until he came upon a collection of photographs. "These photos were confiscated from two pegasi testing out a new camera they’d bought when the event occurred.” Notch explained. ”They’ve already signed confidentiality agreements."
Bentgrass raised his eyebrows in amusement as he continued looking over the images. What they contained was certainly no meteorite. He closed the file and set it on the table in front of him. "So what exactly is it you want me to do?"
"Go to Ponyville, interview witnesses, and, if possible, investigate the crash site. A team of agents has already been dispatched to find and secure any and all debris from the craft, though they haven't been able to locate it yet."
"A dozen stallions in suits searching the woods around town? Have you forgotten the meaning of the word, inconspicuous?"
Notch threw back the rest of his scotch, setting the empty glass on the table. "Your train for Ponyville leaves at seven a.m. tomorrow," he said, tossing a one way train ticket onto the coffee table. "Don't be late."
The chirping of what he believed were birds woke him. Checking his watch, it appeared this planet rotated about its axis once every twenty four point six hours. He certainly was thankful, recalling other planets his mercenary team had made stops on having nights and winters that lasted years. The temperature was also quite comfortable. One thing that wasn't, however, was the now throbbing pain in his right elbow and forearm. He could practically feel his heartbeat in his injury as he quickly re-routed the remaining bits of opiate painkillers to his arm. Soon his stasis suit would be depleted and out of power. The survival kit had a solar panel for recharging the suit, but depending on the strength of this planet's star, it could take anywhere from a few hours to a few days.
He squinted at the light, getting to his feet and peered through the window. The red horse from the day before walked beside another one he didn't recognize. It seemed to be wearing a cowboy hat.
This is a weird planet, he thought. He snapped down beneath the windowsill, dodging the stare of the red horse as he looked in his direction.
Before long, he could hear the snorts and whinnies of the two horses beneath his makeshift home. He reached for his earpiece and soon the indecipherable noises became comprehensible speech.
"...Ah dunno, all this talk about aliens has me thinkin' Ah need ta limit her comic book readin' time."
That sounds like a female... Falco thought, staying crouched beneath the windowsill.
"Might be somethin' to consider." That was the red one he recognized. "Say, you seen where I left my tool belt?"
"Ah thought Ah saw Apple Bloom with it. Might want to check in the treehouse."
Falco's eyes shot wide open. Hoofsteps pounded up the ramp as he scrambled for his pistol.
"What the... why's all this junk piled up here?"
In one fell swoop, Falco's barricade was pushed aside.
"AJ... you might want ta have a look at this!"
Fox bathed in the light of the bridge inside the Great Fox. He'd been scanning interstellar space for the better part of sixteen hours.
"You need to get some sleep."
The voice brought his ears to attention as he lazily turned around in the captain's chair. He glanced back at the unresponsive monitor that had been laughing at him all that time.
"Yeah, I guess I should," he yawned. He could have kicked himself for telling Falco to blast of blindly into hyperspace without a way to track him. There was nothing else I could have done, he reassured himself. If I hadn't let him jump, we'd both be dead and the Drive would be with Wolf.
Fox stood up from the chair and headed past Peppy toward the chow nook.
"I'll watch the monitors for ya."
"Thanks, I'll get some rest." Fox said over his shoulder. The dim and narrow hallways of the Great Fox did little to comfort him. He also wasn't too fond of lying to his teammates, either. As he stepped into the galley, the stale scent of whatever Slippy had eaten a few hours earlier curled his nose. As an amphibian, Slippy was prone to eating things the rest of the crew wouldn't touch with a two parsec pole.
Fox stepped up to the Foodmotron and looked over the menu, even though he had it memorized by now. Brazed jackelope, that sounds pretty good, he thought to himself, pressing the button.
Sold out flashed across the screen in bold red letters. "Of course," he mumbled, opting instead for the protein noodles.
After preparing his food, he sat at the table and turned on the viewer. Flipping through the frequencies, he came upon the news station covering this quadrant of the galaxy. A very attractive vulpine in a smart blazer with a lion-ish co-host began recapping the days top stories.
"... In other news, a daring robbery at a theoretical science research lab funded by the starship fuel giant, the Altimont corporation, has led to a massive interplanetary search for a top secret research project known only as 'the drive'. Implicated in this plot were the once former employees of the Cornerian armada during their campaign to rid the galaxy of the infamous terrorist Andross. When asked, general Pepper cut all ties to the mercenary group, and condemns their actions."
"Sure he does, he doesn't have to work for a living," Fox sighed.
"The CEO of Altimont, Barrister Arkham, held a press conference to address the concerns of financiers and shareholders."
The camera feed cut to a tiger in a suit, flanked by two rhino body guards. The tiger at the podium cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and began to speak.
"Let me start by assuring you that the drive will not stay missing for long. We have our entire battle fleet out scouring the outer systems for these cowards, and when we find them, we will ensure justice is done. We have even pressed our newest flagship, the ASF Leviathan into service to expedite this process and deal with any trouble these mercenaries might present. Thank you." Fox turned off the viewer, finished his dinner and headed to his neurobed. Sleeping in zero gravity was one of his favorite things about being stuck aboard the Great Fox. He settled in, the additional weight of being chased by a well funded, well armed, and well trained corporations private army, as well as their continent obliterating starship, settled heavily on his shoulders.
As he readied himself for a few hours of shut-eye, the intercom next to his bed sprang to life. "Fox! come to the bridge!!" Peppy's voice came crackled through the speaker. Fox tumbled out of bed and dashed sown the hallway. Once he reached the bridge, he stopped to catch his breath.
"What... what's the matter?" he panted.
"I've located his ELT."
Fox perked up. "You did? Where is it?"
"In his locker."
Fox pounded his fist into the wall. "That idiot!"
"But, I've got some good news. I managed to recalibrate the ion tracers to their maximum sensitivity. I found an ion trail that might be him."
"Might be?"
"Might be, but it's the only thing we've got."
"Alright, let's see where it goes."
"That's going to be a bit of a problem... the trail goes cold near a restricted star system."
"Restricted? For what?" Fox knew it could be any number of reasons. Harmful parasitic alien life, radioactivity, nearly anything unpleasant.
"It's an underdeveloped system."
"Shit..." Fox sighed. It wasn't enough that they were already being hunted across the galaxy, now they had to violate an even stricter galactic law by entering an underdeveloped star system.
"Any known sentient creatures?" he asked, rubbing his fist and stepping beside Peppy to view the monitor.
"None on record, it looks like there's only one planet in the habitable zone."
If the planet was uninhabited, he had a shot at getting down there, rescuing Falco and the Drive, and getting out before anyone was the wiser. The downside was if there was no life, then there'd be very little to sustain him down there. Peppy turned to him, the glow of the bridge casting a shadow over the eldest member of the team.
"What are your orders, Fox?"
He rubbed his eyes.
"Take us there, and tell Slip to ready my Arwing."
"Sir, the ship is ready to depart to the Star Fox team's last known location."
Barrister sipped a cocktail as he stared out at the assembled fleet from the bridge. "Good."
"Also... sir? Wolf O'Donnell here to see you," his secretary said meekly.
A snarl crept onto his face, though he kept his gaze out toward the corporate frigates and destroyers floating gracefully in formation outside his own massive flagship. "Send him in."
"Who they hell do you think you are?" Wolf growled, pushing past Barrister's secretary. "You think you can just take our money over one slight miscalculation?"
Barrister crushed his martini glass between his paws before glaring at the defiant mercenary. "You call losing the only thing you had to protect a miscalculation?"
"The deal was we didn't get paid if we failed, not you drain our bank accounts if we failed!" Wolf shouted back.
A calm fell over Barrister's face. "You're still under contract. You will get your original sum, and your payment in full, once you retrieve the Drive." He paused to clean his paws with a nearby towel. "Until then, you work for me. Now go get my Drive back, or you and the rest of your team will find yourselves deposited on a neutron star!"
With nothing but an extended glare, Wolf took his leave. "Maryanne, inform the captain I'm ready to depart."
"Yes, sir," she said, fetching a broom to sweep up the broken glass.
"By chance, do we know where they went?"
Maryanne hurried to her desk and opened the file marked most secret in red ink. "An undiscovered planet, X243."
Barrister hummed. "And we have our full complement of infantry divisions?"
"Yes sir, all battle groups are at ninety-nine percent combat readiness."
"Excellent. I want that planet torn apart until I find that Drive." He turned in his chair. "And dear, would you bring me another martini?"
Hat horse followed her companion up the ramp and peered over his shoulder.
"What in tarnation..."
"Stay. Back," Falco said clearly and concisely. Despite his enunciation, both horses looked at each other in confusion.
"What language is that?" Red horse asked.
"Ah dunno." Hat horse took a step forward. The click of his blaster being unholstered stopped her as he pointed it at the two of them.
"What the heck is that thing?" Red horse asked, stepping forward.
Falco fired a warning shot over their heads. The singed wood and bright flash of light was all the warning they needed. "Let's git!" Mac shouted as they both stumbled over each other and down the ramp, galloping toward the house.
He quickly gathered his gear and made a break for the forest. To be seen is to be caught he remembered from his survival training.
Applejack and Macintosh burst through the screen door of their home, startling Granny Smith and her houseguest, Princess Twilight Sparkle.
"What on Celestia's green earth's got you two so upset?" the old mare asked, nearly falling out of her rocker.
"Somethin' weird is livin' in Apple Bloom's treehouse!" Mac replied breathlessly.
"Ah can tell ya right now, it ain't of this world!" Applejack added.
"Not of this world?" Twilight asked, setting down her quill and ink. I guess the study into the founding of Ponyville can wait.. she thought.
"Was it Tirek? Discord? Did you guys pass any poison joke on your way here? It's been known to posses hallucinogenic properties—"
"No, t'ain't nothing like that!" Applejack panted, catching her breath behind her brother. "At first Ah thought Apple Bloom had just read too many comic books and drank to much soda, but we saw it with our own two eyes! It shot some kinda crazy magic at us!"
"Magic? From a non-unicorn?" Twilight asked.
Mac's pupils shrank to the size of dimes. "Applejack, remember when Apple Bloom told us she thought she found an alien?"
"That must'a been it! There's an alien on our farm!"
Twilight held up a hoof to contain her laughter. "Applejack, there is no scientific proof that aliens exist! And even if they did, what would they want with us?"
"Apple Bloom said he crashed here," Mac added. "She took me to a crater in the woods, but there weren't nothin' there."
"Twilight, ya gotta believe us! You know I wouldn't make up a tale for no reason!" Applejack insisted.
Twilight thought for a moment. She knew the element of honesty wouldn't lie to her, so they had to have seen something.
"Okay, take me to where you last saw this 'alien' of yours."
Macintosh led the way as they galloped back to the treehouse, intent on finding the alien of sweet apple acres.
Falco had made short work of packing his belongings, and hustled down the ramp. He had to make it into the forest before those horses come back with more horses. Once he made his way to the forest, he hid carefully in the treelike. His broken arm was quick to remind him that he couldn't move too fast.
Before long, he heard the hoofbeats of more horses. He turned back toward his former home to see yet another horse, this one purple with what appeared to be a horn and a set of wings. He had heard of unicorns, but had no idea what to make of a flying unicorn.
"All this proves is that Apple Bloom and her friends are in serious need of a maid." Twilight said, examining the scattered furniture he'd used for his makeshift barricade.
"Well what about this, huh?" That was hat horse. Falco slapped his hand against his forehead. The burn mark where his blaster had struck the wood! Leaving evidence was a major violation of tactics in an evasion situation.
As he drug his hand down his face, he realized the conversation had stopped.
"Did you hear something?"
I gotta stop making noise! he admonished himself, freezing in place. As if on queue, the communicator in his pocked beeped loudly, indicating it had finally received a working signal.
No way they didn't hear that! he thought, getting up to make a break for the shelter of the deep forest. Just as he turned to sprint, he found himself paralyzed. He frantically looked around him. It seemed there was a violet glow surrounding his body.
Slowly, he found himself floating out of the woods, his hand on his blaster, which was still stuck in his holster.
He was turned around to face the horses he'd met briefly before.
Fox strapped himself into his Arwing as Slippy and the rest of the crew saw him off.
"You sure you want to go it alone, Fox?" Slippy asked through the comm channel.
He nodded. "I'll be alright guys, I'm just going to do a low orbit scan of the planet. If he's not there, we can at least get out of this sector before anyone notices."
"Your funeral..." Slippy mumbled, disconnecting the fueling and coolant hoses from his spaceship.
"And have those laser cores charged by the time I get back!" Fox said before his Arwing was catapulted off into the darkness of space, the lush planet looming in the distance.
Alone with his thoughts, Fox watched the world grow larger in his canopy. "Looks like we've got clouds, seemingly mundane weather patterns... Let's see what ROB found on this rock." Fox pulled up a screen in his cockpit, filled with sparse details about this unexplored, unnamed planet.
"Geez, not much to work with... dominant species: unknown, tertiary life forms: unknown..." Fox continued to scroll through the list, but wasn't finding much useful information. On the last page of the report, however, the probability of Falco's ship crash landing here was 87 percent.
"Well, I like those odds," He said to himself. "Alright guys, I'm initiating an ion trace, standby."
Another page popped up on his screen, with a progress bar. The scan would take a while to complete, so he settled in, staring at the unassuming planet below him. "You better be down there you dumb bastard."
He had no idea how, but he found himself completely paralyzed. His blaster sat stubbornly in its holster, no matter how hard he strained against whatever held him in place.
What sounded like hat horse was the first to speak up, though since he had his back to them, he could only guess.
"That's it! Thats the thing that shot magic at Mac and I!"
Falco felt himself turn around in mid air, still frozen. The unicorn-ish thing brought him closer, staring at his forehead for some reason.
"I don't see how, he doesn't appear to have any magical appendages..."
'That's not what the ladies of the Lylat system said,' He thought to himself. He would have smirked, if he were able.
"I-it was speakin' some crazy language before it tried to zap us. Maybe it was like a spell or somethin', like them ones Zecora uses!" Big red suggested.
Purple shifted her gaze from his forehead to his eyes, then at his dirty and torn uniform. He was trying to look intimidating, but unfortunately she had managed to paralyze him with a shocked and startled expression that he was helpless to change.
"Oh my gosh, the poor thing looks scared!"
Falco wasn't even allowed the dignity of an eye-roll.
"Do you speak? Can you understand us?" Purple asked.
Suddenly, he felt from his neck up regain movement. Figuring trying to talk to them in the dominant galactic language was a lost cause without a translator in their ears, he simply nodded, hoping that meant yes in their strange language of whinnies and grunts.
"I think he does!" Purple said excitedly. "Okay, I'm going to let you go now, we aren't going to hurt you. Are you going to run away if I release you from my magic?"
'Magic? What the heck kind of planet is this?' he thought. Building on his previous knowledge, he shook his head 'no'.
The purple glow disappeared and he found himself mobile again. Falco looked at the horse-like creatures standing before him, silence between them all.
Without warning, he tried to dart back into the safety of the woods.
"Wait!"
There would be no waiting for him, as Falco sprinted as fast as his tired legs could carry him. He had almost made it to the woodline when the ground came rushing up to meet him.
Falco's head and arm were throbbing. He let out a slight groan, putting his hand gingerly to his forehead. He cracked open his eyes, his world slowly coming into focus. He was on his back, lying on something incredibly itchy.
"Twilight! Twilight, it's waking up!" a voice said from beyond his peripheral vision.
He took his hand off his head and rested it at his side. He grabbed a handful of his makeshift mattress and held it up.
'Hay?' he thought.
As he let the stalks fall weakly to the floor, he heard footsteps coming towards him. He managed to shift his head to the right in time to see the trio of horses from before walking up to him.
"W-What happened?" he asked softly, almost any noise creating a pounding between his ears.
"There he goes talkin' that gibberish again," Big Red commented.
"It may be incomprehensible to us, but it does seem to follow typical speech patterns," Purple said.
As the seconds ticked by, and Falco regained more of his faculties, he remembered the other universal translator he had on him. As he reached a hand in his pocket, the horses took a cautious step back.
Slowly, he fished out the silvery earpiece. His captors seemed to relax a bit. Figuring Purple to be the brains of the outfit, he pointed to the similar one in his ear, then pointed to her, before offering it towards her. If he could at least get one of them to wear the translator, he might be able to smooth things over, and possibly coordinate a rescue.
As he feared, they simply stared at it. He gestured towards them again, a little more aggravation in his movements.
"What is that thing?" Hat horse asked.
"I don't know..." Purple replied. "But I think it wants us to have it."
The earpiece floated out of his hand and up to Purple as she squinted at it, Hat horse and Big Red gathering around her.
"What is this?" she asked, looking back to him. Falco did the best he could to turn his head. He removed the translator from his ear and showed them, before putting it back.
"It goes... in your ear?" Purple asked skeptically.
Falco nodded, praying she would hurry up and put it in her ear so he could stop communicating through gestures.
Hesitantly, she allowed it to float near her head before placing it gently in her ear. A small light on the earpiece turned green, and Falco spoke.
"Can you understand me?" he asked. Purple's eyes widened.
"Y-yes, I can!"
"Thank God," Falco sighed, as he collapsed back onto the hay pile he was laying on.
"What did he say, Twi?" Hat horse asked.
"He asked if I could understand him, and I could!" she announced happily.
Falco could tell, she seemed like one of those 'smart' types. He'd likely be explaining a lot to her.
"What is your name? What are you? Where are you from?" she asked, rapid fire.
"One at a time, lady, geez," Falco snapped. "Firstly, the name's Falco, secondly, I've got a broken arm and probably a concussion, so if you don't mind, I've got a bit of writhing to do before I pass out."
"Oh! You're hurt? I'll go get a doctor—"
"No!" he replied quickly. "I don't need anyone else knowing I'm here, I'm... not really supposed to be here."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It's... a long story," he replied.
"I see. So, is it true? Are you an alien?" She asked quietly.
Falco rolled his eyes. "I mean, technically, yes." The term 'alien' really loses some of its impact when you visit a different planet specifically to get donuts.
The purple horse seemed to start hyperventilating.
"Are you okay?' He asked.
"T-this is the greatest scientific discovery since... EVER!" she squealed.
'Oh boy,' He thought. A beeping from his stasis suit drew everyone's attention. Falco looked at the display on his injured arm. The 'low battery' alarm was flashing, as well as the low opiate alarm. Soon, the pain in his arm would be overwhelming.
"Listen, I'll answer all of your questions, but you have to promise me two things," he said.
"Of course!" Purple replied, probably to blinded by her pure curiosity to really think through what she was about to agree to.
"Good. One; no one other than you three can know about me. Two..." Falco winced as he felt the pain amplify with the gradual reduction of opiates. "Find me something to fix my broken arm!"
His plea seemed to snap Purple out of her scientific stupor. "Right! Applejack, can you get us a first aid kit?"
"Uh, sure. Mac, keep an eye on 'em." Hat horse left the barn, while Big Red and Purple stayed behind. Thankfully, they hadn't taken any of his gear, nor did they seem to rummage through his stuff. He was certainly appreciative of that. Falco had plenty of nasty surprises in his survival kit that the uninitiated might hurt themselves with.
"Falco, my name is Twilight Sparkle, Princess of friendship."
Falco raised an eyebrow at her introduction. "That's kind of a mouthful isn't it, your highness?"
"But my friends call me Twilight." She took a seat by the hay Falco was laying on and continued her inquiry. "So... since you are 'technically' an alien, to use your words... where are you from?"
Falco sighed. he supposed he had agreed to this. But, that didn't mean he had to tell his whole life story. "I'm from space. My ship crashed in the woods, and I really need to get back to it before it... well, nevermind."
"What's he sayin' Ms. Twilight?" Big Red asked. He had briefly forgotten that only Twilight had the translator.
"He says..." She considered her next words carefully. Dare she reveal to Macintosh that they had a real deal alien on their hooves? She figured he and Applejack had already assumed as much anyway. "He's from outer space, and his spaceship crashed in the woods outside your farm."
Mac's gasp drew her attention. "So... the girls weren't lyin. I just thought he was a weird runt of a griffon or something."
"Does he know I can understand him?" Falco asked with annoyance in his tone.
"Oh! How rude of me!" Twilight replied. "Falco, this is Macintosh Apple, he and his sister Applejack run the orchard you, uh... crashed in to."
"Applejack is the one with the hat?" he asked.
Twilight nodded.
"Well, can you tell them I didn't mean to shoot at them earlier." His words piqued Twilight's interest.
"Macintosh, he says he apologizes for your first meeting," she said. "But, if I may ask, how did you cast magic? Is your kind able to use it as well?"
Falco vaguely recalled some famous guy saying something along the lines of 'science is the same thing as magic' or something like that.
"It's not magic," he said, drawing his pistol from his holster on his thigh. "It's like... science or something."
Agent Bentgrass stared listlessly out the window as the scenery passed by outside his window. How in Celestia's name did he go from investigating changeling incursions and threats to the kingdom to chasing down UFO's. The thought alone put a sour taste in his mouth.
"Ponyville, next stop!" The conductor shouted.
He gathered his things and readied himself to depart. He was at his wits end being stuck on this train for six hours.
The engine released a billowing cloud of steam as it pulled into the rural station. He was greeted by a pony in a suit and sunglasses.
"Special Agent, I'm here to escort you to our field headquarters."
Bentgrass sighed. "Very well."
He followed the stallion to a waiting cab. Once inside, his enigmatic guide gave him yet another dossier. "This is what we have on the rogue object so far. Evidence suggests that it wasn't just a meteor."
Bentgrass reviewed the file in front of him. "Forgive my skepticism, but how do we know these aren't just doctored photographs?"
"Well sir, these were taken directly from the camera of the mares that were in the sky that day." he said calmly. "We still have the negatives."
He raised an eyebrow as he continued to pour over the files.
"So, you're telling me that we may have an actual alien in our midst?" Bentgrass asked.
"I'll go get some food and water, you sure you'll be okay by yourself with this... what was its name again?" Big Mac asked.
"Its name is Falco, and I think its a he," Twilight replied, glancing back toward their new friend. "Right?"
The young starship pilot was not amused. "Yeah," he snipped.
"Yes, I'll be okay." Twilight added as Mac left the barn.
Twilight marveled at the device in Falco's hand and he held it up to her.
"This device..." She began, taking it in her magic. It was quite bulky looking, and seemed quite a bit heavier than she expected. "This produces magic?"
"It's not magic, it shoots lasers." Falco said.
"Lasers?" She repeated, not taking her eyes off the weapon, examining its every inch. "What are those?"
"Uhm..." Falco began. This was a question more suited for Slippy. "It's like... light, that's really hot, and it burns through stuff."
"Fascinating..." She whispered. "And your kind created this 'laser'?"
"Well, not my race but... somebody out there did." Again, he was well out of his depth.
Twilight instantly dropped the weapon from her grasp, her curiosity piqued by Falco's choice of words. Unfortunately it landed quite heavily on his groin.
"Your race? There are other alien races?!" She asked, her eyes positively shining with interest.
Falco finished coughing, the nausea slowly subsiding as he holstered his pistol. "Yes..." He replied through gritted beak.
"How many more?" She asked excitedly.
"I dunno... couple hundred maybe?"
"Couple... hundred..." Twilight muttered weakly as her knees grew weak. With little grace, she collapsed in a heap beside Falco's makeshift bed.
"Hey, hey!" he snapped, trying to rouse her.
Seeing no movement other than her steady breathing, he fell back onto his bed, putting his uninjured hand over his face. If the Galactic Council (GC) ever found out he spilled the beans about galactic civilization to an underdeveloped planet, he was certain they'd shoot him into a star.
"Alright, alright, enough complaining!" Wolf shouted over his team, firing his pistol into the air for effect. "I know those corporate scumbags have us by the tail, but the sooner we recover the drive, the sooner we can get paid and be on our way."
For the time being, that seemed to silence the dissent as they dispersed back to their rooms aboard the Black Wolf.
Wolf turned back to the bridge of his starship, looking out over the armada of ships outside his window. He and his crew only had a standard galactic week to find and recover the drive, or have their contracts terminated. Not only would that put a black mark on the Star Wolf team's record, but it would also hurt there future prospects. After all, why hire a mercenary team if they can't get the job done?
The radio on the bridge crackled to life. "Bravo Whisky 117 you are cleared to depart Altimont battlespace."
"On the move." Wolf replied, entering the coordinates for the last known location of his rival mercenary team. The Black Wolf's engines hummed to life as the ship accelerated to interplanetary speed. I would be a week or more before they arrived, as wolf set the course and gave flight direction over to the autopilot. He had thankfully negotiated that time to find the item he was tasked to deliver, but he new Altimont would be right behind him.
'Those amateurs better still have that device,' he thought angrily.
Agent Bentgrass followed his escort to the center of Ponyville, stopping outside of an innocuous government building.
"This is it?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes, sir. Our ad hoc headquarters for the time being." his escort replied.
"This is the post office." He admitted dryly.
"With our budget cuts, we've had to make do where we can sir,"
Upon entering the building, his initial assessment seemed correct. Inside, postponies went about their jobs sorting, processing and delivering mail to the citizens of Ponyville and beyond. Bentgrass cut his eyes at his escort.
Feeling his gaze, the suited pony motioned for him to follow. Down a narrow hall sat a door with a piece of paper taped onto it, the hoof-written letters spelling the acronym A.F.E.D.
Bentgrass' stomach fell, but only for a moment. An anger rose in the back of his mind that he was doing everything in his power to suppress. Was he being punished? Pranked, perhaps? Was it really a crime not to have taken a vacation day in five years in service of their majesties?
He took a deep breath and motioned for the stallion to open the door. In what could only be called a medium sized closet, two stallions and a mare each sat at a small desk, each facing a wall. Each looked up from their work as they heard them enter.
Bentgrass surveyed each of his new 'colleagues'. One seemed barely out of colthood, his rather tasteful spectacles sitting just a little too far up his nose, magnifying his eyes only slightly noticeably. The mare seemed to be of middle age, her blue mane held in a tight bun atop her head, her lab coat embroidered with the name 'Stargazer, PhD' on the breast. The last stallion was a square jawed type, in seemingly decent shape, save for the swollen lip and black eye.
"Agent, Bentgrass, this is the Agency For Extra-terrestrial Discovery." His escort announced.
Bentgrass had heard of this department. A fringe department ponies only read about in small articles and false alarms. A department deemed so non-essential to the greater state apparatus that whenever a budgetary belt needs tightening, their budget was usually first on the chopping block. In fact, Bentgrass was surprised it was even still an agency at all. He was sure they would have been shut down years ago, with the propensity of larger threats constantly looming in Equestria. It would certainly explain the skeleton crew before him.
"Agent Gemeni," The young colt with the glasses said, extending a hoof. "I've heard all about your exploits sir, it's an honor to meet you!"
"Glad to make your acquaintance," Bentgrass smiled before moving on.
"Doctor Stargazer," The mare said in sequence. Bentgrass repeated the motion and smile.
"Agent Orion, sir," The stallion with the facial injuries said softly.
"Good to meet you agent," Bentgrass met his eyes, only to have him look away. "If you don't mind my asking, what happened to your face, son?"
The stallion nervously brushed his blonde mane out of his face before explaining. "Well, sir, the confiscation of the citizens camera for evidence didn't go as smoothly as I thought."
Bentgrass raised an eyebrow. "You were assaulted?" He turned to his escort. "Assault on an agent of the crown is a very serious crime!"
His escort's expression flattened. "Allow him to continue, sir."
Agrostis returned to the stallion. "What happened?"
"I confronted them, and asked for the camera in the name of her majesties. They refused, and so I told them who I worked for, and they didn't believe me."
So far he had heard nothing that didn't warrant a prison term for his assailants.
"I was going to show them my badge, but then I realized I left it at the hotel... I was told I had to recover the evidence without fail!" he added quickly. "It just... got a bit rougher than I thought."
Bentgrass let out a small sigh.
'Some crack squad I've got here' he thought.
"But you did recover the evidence?" Bentgrass asked.
Orion's expression brightened. "Yes sir!"
"And the owners of the camera?"
"We confiscated the film and gave them back the camera. Dr. Stargazer administered an erasure spell and they were sent on their way." His escort answered.
"A category three spell?" He turned to the mare in the lab coat. "There are only eight agents in the world with category three authorization."
"You're looking at number eight." Stargazer replied proudly. "Passed the qualifications course with flying colors."
"And you," Bentgrass said, turning to his mysterious handler. "What was your name?"
He smiled. "I am your liaison to the headquarters in Canterlot, but you can call me Echo."
Fox's scan complete, he was confident this was where Falco ended up. Turning his ship back to the Great Fox, he had time to think about the potential situations Falco might find himself in. This planet had oceans, and although the Arwing had multiple survival platforms, huge bodies of liquids were the last place you'd want to crash, assuming you survived.
The questions weighing on his mind at the moment were grim. Was this to be a search and rescue, or a salvage operation? If the Great Fox was even spotted in this sector by a GC patrol, everyone on board would be implicated, and due for some extremely strict punishment.
"What's the story, Fox?" Slippy asked over the radio as he began his final approach for landing.
He was positive the rest of the crew was waiting on the bridge listening. They all knew there was a chance the planet Falco crashed into could have been uninhabitable, or a Jovian giant, or any number of cosmic terrors.
"Good news is the planet is habitable." Fox began. "The bad news is, the solar wind from their star pretty much wiped out the rest of his ion trail. Do you think we can ping his communicator if we get close enough?"
Silence filled the cockpit as he was certain Slippy was attempting to figure out a way to do just that.
"Well... we can, but you're not going to like how," he replied.
Fox was almost hesitant to ask. "How?"
"We'll need to get closer to the planet."
"How close?"
"Clooooooose." Slippy replied seriously.
He thought about it for a moment, even though he already made up his mind. "Well, in for one credit, in for a thousand," Fox answered, touching down in the docking bay of the Great Fox and beginning the shutdown sequence for his space fighter.
"Hey. Seriously, erm..." Falco thought for a second, "Twilight! You gotta wake up! If your friends come back and find you like this they'll think—"
A gasp drew his attention as the horse in the hat stood in the doorway, wearing a first aid bag across her barrel.
"What in tarnation!" She snapped, angrily striding towards him. He had to think fast.
"Hang on, she just fainted!" he said, realizing his words were figuratively falling on deaf ears. Luckily for him, Twilight had fainted with the translator sticking out of the ear not pinned to the floor of the barn.
Falco pointed desperately to his translator, then to the one in Twilight's ear, then to her. Hopefully his wild gesturing with his unbroken arm was enough to overcome the language barrier.
Applejack glanced down at the device in Twilight's ear, then back at Falco.
"I'll bet this is some sorta alien trick!" She said, taking another threatening step towards Falco. "You probably sucked out her brain with that thing, and now you're looking for mine!"
"You've got to be kidding me!" Falco snapped back, exasperated. "If wanted anyone on this primitive rocks brain, I promise it isn't yours!" Angry outburst aside, he had to convince her to use the translator before things got out of hand. He had no idea when Twilight would come to, so he went with the method that generally seemed to work in his experience.
Applejack froze as she looked down the barrel of his laser pistol. Falco's sidearm in his good arm, he kept it trained on her as he reached over to take the translator out of Twilight's ear. The simple act of grasping it was terribly painful as he clenched his beak to keep from wincing.
He held out the translator in his unsteady palm.
Applejack was still petrified by his weapon when a shout startled her from her daze.
"Take it!"
It was all he could do to keep from walking over and putting it in her ear himself.
With great trepidation, she took it in her mouth of all things, laid it on the bed and slowly lowered her head down to it until it fit snugly in her ear and activated. Falco would have thought that he'd just asked her to pull the pin on a live grenade.
He lowered his pistol.
"Can you understand me?" He asked, relieved to have his injured arm by his side again.
"Ah... wow, Ah can!" Applejack replied, just as amazed as Twilight before her.
"Okay, now let me explain," Falco began, trying to sound as calm, and more importantly as believable as possible. "Your friend here fainted."
"How come?" She asked, still eyeing him with suspicion. as though in the next second he'd use his otherworldly alien powers to do the same to her.
"Because I told her that there are other alien races out there than just my kind."
"Oh, is that why?" For the first time since they'd encountered each other, he saw her smile. "Yeah, she gets that way when she gets into something scientific."
"Huh," Falco replied. "Well, listen, before anyone else faints, that thing in your ear isn't going to suck out your brain, it's a translator." He pointed to his ear. "I have one, and whoever I need to talk to has the other one, but this is the only set I have."
"Wow... so it's true what Twilight said?" Applejack asked. "You're from outer space?"
She approached him and opened the first aid bag she wore, tensions now defused.
"Yeah." He replied, sitting up with his back against the barn wall. "Sorry about earlier, I just didn't want you to think I hurt your friend."
"Well..." Applejack began. "Ah'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. Just cause you ain't from around here doesn't mean you're dangerous."
She unfolded the pack and set it out next to him. "So, what hurts?"
After a quick explanation, she set to work on a makeshift sling for his injured arm, and wrapped his head in a bandage. He seemed to have quite the knot on the back of his head, though whether or not it was normal was beyond her.
"That oughta hold for now, just don't go running any marathons," Applejack said, admiring her work.
"Thanks..." Falco said, still ignoring the dull but ever-present pain. "Is she gonna be okay?" He asked, referring to Twilight.
"Yeah, I got the cure for that," Applejack said, rummaging through the kit until she found a small vial. She placed it on the ground in front of Twilight's nose and stomped on it. The smell it released woke her right up.
"Huh... What..." She raised up on her haunches as her eyes focused on Falco.
"It wasn't a dream, you're really here!" She gasped.
Just as she had regained consciousness, Mac entered the barn with food and a jug of water. "I managed to find some leftovers from the other night," He said, sliding the plate covered in some kind of foil off his back and towards Falco.
He certainly couldn't ignore the fact that his stomach was running on fumes, since all he'd eaten since crashing was an apple or two. He silently prayed that it wasn't a plate of hay or an assortment of yard waste.
Falco opened the foil to reveal what appeared to be a slice of apple pie, a bit of apple cobbler, and an apple tart. He wasn't thrilled about another round of eating apples, but he was thrilled to eat.
"So, what other kinds of aliens are there? How does your spaceship work? What other beings move their stars and moons?" Twilight asked, picking up right where she left off.
Before Falco could answer, Applejack saved him the trouble. "Ah think we should give him some time to eat, C'mon y'all." She motioned for the door, practically dragging Twilight behind her. "We'll keep the barn door shut, nobody should bother you in here."
"Thanks." Falco replied.
"We'll knock before we come in, that way you'll know it's one of us." Applejack said as she closed the barn door.
Alone at long last, and somehow still breathing after an encounter with wildlife that could apparently use magic, he had some time to think. He needed to do something about his ship, and he also needed to find a way to signal the rest of his team that he was alive down here. On top of that tall order, if they even managed to find him, they'd have to sneak out of this sector without being spotted by what he was sure were multiple entities looking for him and his team.
After finishing his meal, he rerouted the last bit of opiate in his suit to his injured arm so he could get some sleep. It would hurt like hell in the morning, but that was at least eight hours away.
