[FLUTTERRAPE] Aliens Are More Trouble Than They're Worth


                                            >The flying saucer -- you still haven't thought of a name -- zips over the landscape.

                                            >Everything is quaint. The mountains, the hills, trees, clouds.

                                            >It's all thoroughly magical.

                                            >Literally, the instruments went nuts as soon as you reached planetside.

                                            >The measurement for latent magical energies, represented on an antiquated arrow-dial, rammed into the far-end of the scale immediately and stayed there, shivering.

                                            >Your colleague, Incognito, gives the glass over the readout another tap and shakes his head.

                                            >"Definitely not a fault, it's still showing the same. She ain't much, but this place has magic off the scale."

                                            "We knew that before we came."

                                            >"Yeah, but seeing it on the long-range is different from seeing it up close."

                                            >You shrug.

                                            "Not the first magical planet we've been to."

                                            >"No, but the magnitude of it's pretty insane for somewhere so underdeveloped."

                                            >You grunt an affirmation, keeping your eyes on the passing scenery.

                                            >The saucer is only big enough to hold you, Cog, and your supplies.

                                            >One of the two beds crammed into the back of the saucer is calling your name, but you'll ignore it until your shift is up.

                                            >Something beeps thrice, and Cog hums.

                                            >"Short-ranges aren't finding any artifice. The whole planet's clean."

                                            "So it's all latent?"

                                            >"Seems that way."

                                            "Don't buy it. We'll keep checking."

                                            >"Not wanna sleep?"

                                            "I don't want the boss bitching at us for doing 'half a job' if it turns out the core's an engine, or something."

                                            >"Core engine?"

                                            "Well back in the thirties there was that planet that looked normal, but some higher race had swapped out the molten core for some big fuck-off engine that--"

                                            >"Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah, that. The magic was only a by-product, though."

                                            "Yeah, but here it's latent."

                                            >"How will we know it's a core-engine?"

                                            "Scanners'll find it, just need to give them time."

                                            >"That'll take a while, Anon."

                                            "So?"

                                            >"So get some sleep, I'll take over."

                                            >You yawn, mumble a "thanks", and drag yourself off to the glorified broom closet you call a bedroom.

                                            >"Hey, by the way," he says to your back, "How about Boxxy?"

                                            >You squint at him through near-shut eyes, his meaning lost on you until your mind catches up.

                                            "I wouldn't call my toaster that, let alone a ship."


                                            *


                                            >Someone slaps you awake.

                                            >You blurt an expletive and sit up with your arms raised over your head.

                                            >"What are you, deaf? Come check this out."

                                            >Incognito stands over you, half-in-half-out the closet, glaring as usual.

                                            "What?"

                                            >"Just come on, fucking hell."

                                            >You slither out of bed, an unmotivated slug of a man, and follow him to the bridge.

                                            >The 'bridge' being about ten steps away from where you were sleeping.

                                            >Everything on the saucer, the saucer itself, really, could fit in the floorspace of a regular house.

                                            >As far as science vessels went, your team (read: duo) was given the scrapings not from the bottom of the barrel, but from somewhere under it amidst the wet mud and earthworms.

                                            >Cog stands with one hand on his hip, another holding a cracked mug, glaring -- as he often does; like existence itself is a personal affront -- out the window.

                                            >There, far below, in the basin of an unremarkable valley, nestled against the inner curve of a broadly meandering river, is a thatched-roof town.

                                            >You rub your eye with the palm of your hand.

                                            "Alright? A town. What's up."

                                            >"The readings went fucking nuts when we passed over it. I had to slam on the brakes and U-turn to try and find it again."

                                            "You braked?"

                                            >"Thought it'd have woken you up at least."

                                            "I sleep like the dead."

                                            >"I know."

                                            "What speed did we pass it?"

                                            >"Mach six."

                                            "And you caught the alert?" You eye his almost-empty black-stained mug. "How much of that shit have you had?"

                                            >"We've got to check it out."

                                            "Is it just the town? Not some other structure? Subterranean?"

                                            >"Got some other readings from another place not far, think it's somewhere in that mountain range, but we can swing by that later. I want to see what this town's all about."

                                            >He glares at the console, the images of the settlement feeding through from the sensor array on the underside of the saucer scrolling past several monitors.

                                            >The residents are clearly visible on the screens, viewed by cameras so powerful they could watch gnats from orbit, and you huff through your nose.

                                            "They look like little horses," you say flatly. Not surprising, the universe is full of uncanny resemblances.

                                            >"Sure. With little horns as well."

                                            >A cloud passes between the ground and the camera array, and both your brows raise.

                                            "Was that cloud being pushed?"

                                            >Cog takes manual control of one of the cameras and carefully nudges it after the cloud.

                                            >A pastel-blue figure, with feathered wings eagerly flapping away, pushes the cloud through the sky. You're reminded of a giddy child pushing a shopping cart.

                                            >"Wings and everything," Cog swallows the last of his drink. It isn't coffee, you're not sure what it is, even the computer isn't sure. "Cute."

                                            >You yawn again and find yourself gazing at his mug, lost in thought.

                                            "Alright, get me some of that heart-attack juice and let's see what we can find."


                                            *


                                            >Cog leans over the back of your cockpit seat, arms folded behind your head.

                                            >"So it's moving."

                                            "Looks like. See, there, just gone past the central plaza."

                                            >"It's one of them, isn't it."

                                            "Yeah. Could be a problem."

                                            >"Visual confirmation?"

                                            "Only near-certain, but I think it'll be..."

                                            >You delicately edge the camera into position, magnifying the ground too much and briefly getting a screen-full of mint-green whiskered horse face before you pull back out and pan over the town. There's an knack to controlling powerful cameras at extreme ranges that you haven't mastered yet, not like Cog has.

                                            >Gradually, you come to focus on one particular horse.

                                            >A mulberry coat, a fetching horn protruding from a mess of striped hair, and a conspicuous starry marking on its flank.

                                            >You lean forward in your seat, Cog leaning with you.

                                            >A few books casually float alongside the creature, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

                                            "I think that's our beacon."

                                            >You both glance back at the hysterical magic sensor, cross-reference the coordinates with those on the camera, and lean back again with mutual grumblings.

                                            >"Lotta magic inside that thing," Cog mutters,

                                            >You turn in your seat and frown at him, or through him, for a moment. He holds your gaze, tight-lipped.

                                            "Boss'll want samples."

                                            >He sighs through his nose.

                                            >"We'll wait 'til night. Easier that way, less chance of local retaliation."

                                            "You think they'd attack?"

                                            >"I didn't until I saw them flying, and I don't like this much inherent magic being locked away in one of these little bastards. Plus if they dent the saucer it's coming out of our salaries."

                                            "It's not just that one, though, we could pluck one of the others."

                                            >"Sure, but the others are only, like, light-bulbs. That one's a flood-lamp."

                                            >You both watch the bright spot on the sensor drift around the town, overpowering the weak dots that signify other pockets of localised magic like a flashlight passing over fireflies.

                                            "Or a lighthouse."


                                            *


                                            >Darkness sweeps the land, though the saucer remains hanging in the air on purring anti-gravs, a silent silver island, and Cog checks the time on a screen.

                                            >"Based on the moon, this'll be midnight."

                                            "We'll have to check the moon out as well at some point, before we leave, I mean."

                                            >"I know. It sure as shit wasn't natural."

                                            "Nothing here is. The whole place is just... -saturated- in magic."

                                            >"The sun also. This system is a disaster waiting to happen."

                                            "Think it'd be sectioned?"

                                            >"Probably. Dunno what that'd look like, though."

                                            "They'd strike it off the relay network. Make sure no one stumbles on it or tries to colonise it."

                                            >"Is that standard procedure? Would it work?"

                                            "Space is fucking huge. No one's accidentally finding a tiny one-planet star system on the far tip of an outer arm. All the fun stuff happens near the galactic core. If it's off the network, it's basically lost. Not standard, though, last time was... can't remember, but it's been a while. Might have had something to do with grey goo."

                                            >"Well, let's get to it then."

                                            "Alright, I'll take us in, you good on the traction?"

                                            >Cog's already stood and shuffled over to a console on the opposite end of the saucer.

                                            >"Just let me know," he calls, and you tilt the saucer forward to take her closer to the surface.


                                            *


                                            >There's a tree of considerable girth in the middle of town.

                                            >Your purple lighthouse has gone in and out of it a few times, so you're assuming it's where the creature lives.

                                            >Like everything else down there, living in a tree is so adorably rustic and cute it's hard not to smile at it.

                                            >Underdeveloped worlds are the norm, and the sense of wonder wears off after the first dozen, but every so often you'll find one that piques your interest.

                                            >The cameras sweep the tree, sensors reading everything from the internal temperature to the estimated number of leaves.

                                            >There are two figures showing on the thermals. One is your lighthouse, the other is tiny and unimpressive, maybe a pet.

                                            >The lighthouse moves up the tree and, as luck would have it, exits out onto a balcony.

                                            "Hello..." you murmur, and zoom in, getting a screen full of moonlit magenta eye before grumbling and zooming back out a tad.

                                            >The horse is stood in clear view, with nothing obscuring it from the sky.

                                            >It pulls a charmingly old-fashioned telescope closer and peers into the viewer.

                                            >Then, twists the tool on its pivot and points it directly at the saucer.

                                            >You find yourself smirking.

                                            "Whoops, you got us. Curious little thing, ain'tcha. Well, tonight's your lucky night, kiddo. Cog?" You raise your voice.

                                            >"We green?"

                                            "Little bastard's right out in the open."

                                            >You glance one more time at the cameras and grin.

                                            "Grab it."

                                            >The saucer shudders as Cog throws the traction beam's lever forward, and your mark is doused in a pillar of blue light.

                                            >Naturally, it panics, but though it tries to gallop it doesn't move.

                                            >Body both suspended and held in place by the gravitic field, the creature is immobilised as it begins to rise from the balcony and up the blue pillar.

                                            >You smile at the scene.

                                            >Abductions like this are rare, and it's always the look of sheer bafflement that tickles you.

                                            >You keep one eye on the camera feed, and another on the sensor array.

                                            >The grav-field is steady, everything is stable, although...

                                            >A light tremor rattles the ship, and one of the overhead lights flickers.

                                            >"Woah, getting some feedback here, Anon," Cog calls.

                                            >Your eyes narrow and glance at the magic sensor.

                                            >The day was mostly spent attuning it and everything else to the planet's baseline, but even with the new normal taken into account the needle is rising again.

                                            "Yeah, it's our friend."

                                            >"Can we handle it?"

                                            >The saucer trembles again, then a single violent shudder rocks the vessel as though something in the drive reactor is trying to punch its way out.

                                            >You stagger sideways in your seat, but shuffle forward with a grimace.

                                            >"Anon, fuck, man, have we got this?"

                                            "Easy, just keep her steady, I'll juice her up some more."

                                            >A few redundant systems perish as you reroute their power to the tractor beam, and after a moment's hesitation and lip-biting, you engage the point-defence.

                                            >"I'm seeing PD's, what's up?"

                                            "Just gonna give it a slight... love-tap."

                                            >The saucer rattles again. The springy hula-girl on the dashboard oscillates her hips.

                                            >"What, with a fucking railgun?"

                                            "With a stun gun."

                                            >"I didn't know we had one."

                                            "Technically it's an anti-shielding measure."

                                            >"At what output?"

                                            "Point zero-one percent."

                                            >"Is that the lowest it'll go?"

                                            "Yup."

                                            >"Won't that kill it?"

                                            >You stare at the camera. The horse's terrified face gawks up at the saucer, far above the clouds. It's got a way to go yet.

                                            "Probably not. Hopefully not."

                                            >"What if it does?"

                                            "Drop the body, high-tail it to that other alert in the mountain ranges, and try again."

                                            >The horse wrenches its neck back and its eyes bulge when it sees how high off the ground it is. It would be comical if the ship wasn't currently vibrating apart at the welds.

                                            >The magic sensor howls as another surge of energy rocks the vessel.

                                            >"I don't know what the fuck it's trying to do, but the tractor beam does -not- like it."

                                            >You furrow your brow, a finger resting against your lips.

                                            "It's not trying to -move-. Trying to do something else. Something that needs a shitload of energy to pull off."

                                            >Another alert sounds. The needle lunges ahead. The horse's face is visibly strained, and now clearly very angry.

                                            >"Anon?"

                                            "Alright, that's enough out of you," you mutter to your horse.

                                            >You flick the point-defence at the target, the computer gives you a firing solution, and you set the voltage, current, and pulse duration to the lowest possible settings.

                                            >The magic spikes again, and you fire.


                                            *


                                            >The horse groans.

                                            >Cog grunts like she made a valid point.

                                            >"How's it looking."

                                            "She's contained."

                                            >"She?"

                                            >You tap the console beside the specimen cage. Cage was always a strange name for it; it's a translucent blue forcefield curved around a circular cell not much bigger than your own bedcloset.

                                            "System's had its way with her. Female reproductive organs, a near one-to-one match with Earth equines. It really is an incredible coincidence."

                                            >"So the lesson we've learned is that horses are aliens."

                                            "Sure."

                                            >"Boss'll be proud."

                                            >The horse's eyes flicker open and she rises on wobbling legs to her feet -- or hooves.

                                            >After a moment's stunned silence, she wets her lips and glances around at her cell.

                                            >For such a markedly alien being, her facial expressions are uncannily human. From her knitted brow to the curl of her mouth, it's easy to tell what she's thinking.

                                            >' Where am I and how can I get out? '

                                            >You bring up the magic sensor and look between it and the horse warily.

                                            >The horse screws her face up. Her horn -- to both yours and Cog's surprise -- glows with a shimmering violet light.

                                            >The anatomical window on-screen vomits exclamation marks all over itself, and the horse's spinal cord, brain, and the nerve-clusters spiralling along the interior of her horn all light up like a cosmic flare.

                                            >Immediately, the forcefield walls pulse a darker shade with a soft but deep 'thum', and she inaudibly yelps, clutching the side of her head and sagging to the floor. The readings drop back to baseline with a relieved chorus of beeps from the system. She doesn't try again.

                                            >You share a relieved look with Cog.

                                            >"Perfect."

                                            "That calm you down?"

                                            >"Yeah. Alright, I'm hitting the sack, wake me if anything fun happens."

                                            "Don't want to talk to the alien horse?"

                                            >"Interrogation's your thing, I never have the patience. G'night."

                                            >He lumbers into the closet and pulls the sliding door shut behind him, it locks with a click.

                                            >You drag a chair from the nearest wall and set it before the forcefield, settling into it with a hand terminal interfaced with the cell.

                                            >The horse approaches the field and taps it with a hoof. It ripples where touched like still water.

                                            >You turn on the coms, a bark of feedback eliciting a flinch from your captive.

                                            "Good evening," you say with a slight bow in your seat.

                                            >She stares at you, looks around, then cocks her head.

                                            >"Hello?"

                                            "I am to inform you that you have been abducted for a few tests. You will be returned to your people once the testing is concluded. Might you have a name, title, or guttural pronunciation I may address you by?"

                                            >You're inwardly hoping it's not a guttural thing. You've spoken to too many aliens that demanded to be called something like 'Ugh-huhgh-hugh-UUUGHghughghugh'. It gets tedious fast.

                                            >"My... my name is Twilight Sparkle."

                                            >You bob your head. Far from the worst name you've had to work with.

                                            >"Are... you an..." she swallows and takes a deep breath, turning around on the spot -- her hooves making an adorable clip-clopping -- and a shaky, nervous smile stretches across her face. "Are you an alien?"

                                            >You glance around at your space-ship and back to your prisoner.

                                            "Yes. I am, in fact, an alien."

                                            >Twilight Sparkle stares at you for several seconds, motionless.

                                            >Then, she screams.

                                            >A loud, piercing, hysterical scream. You fumble with the terminal and cut off the coms, then watch her shriek in silence with something between amusement and bemusement.

                                            >She stamps her hooves, jumps up and down, and for a moment even collapses in what looks to be manic laughter.

                                            >After a minute of this, she rears up against the wall, pressing her forehooves and face to the field and speaking rapidly.

                                            >For a few seconds you try and lip-read until you remember to reactivate coms.

                                            >"--ad to be something out there, it was -impossible- for there not to be! Finally! -Finally-!"

                                            >You give her your best 'I'm tolerating you' smile.

                                            "I take it you've considered the possibility of alien life before?"

                                            >"Are you -kidding-? I have -so- many books, comics, and graphic novels, I am a-- well, if I may, I'm a -massive- xenophile."

                                            >You quirk an eyebrow and mask your snicker behind a practised poker face.

                                            "I... see. So you're a fan of the idea of alien life?"

                                            >She grins, pressing her face harder against the field.

                                            >"I really, really, -really- like aliens. They're my... I just like the look of them."

                                            "Although, you've never seen one before?"

                                            >"Uhh, I've seen... concept art. Artist's interpretations of possible anatomical layouts. Biological studies, purely speculative."

                                            >Her eyes drift down over your front, along every limb, and back to your face.

                                            >"Doesn't compare to the real thing," she says with a weak laugh.

                                            >Twilight backs away and attempts to correct her mane, glancing around for something but not finding it.

                                            >"Do you, um, have a mirror?" She pants on her hoof and sniffs it. "And maybe something minty to eat or drink?"

                                            >She shudders. Her tail bats at the air.

                                            >"I'm sorry, I've never been on an... -actual- space ship before. -Is- this a space ship? Can we... fly up there? Can--" she gasps so loudly you instinctively start for the coms again. "Can we go to the moon?!"

                                            "This, ah. I'm afraid I must disappoint you, this isn't that kind of visit. This is a scientific mission, we're here to take samples, perhaps probe you a bit, and study. Once we have what we need, we'll put you back where we found you, safe and sound."

                                            >You're tempted to end with a "probably" just to scare her, but you'll need her cooperation.

                                            >Twilight's eyes dart about.

                                            >"Sc... science?"

                                            "Yes. My colleague and I are scientists."

                                            >That isn't strictly true; you're both pilots first, and Cog's an engineer. At most, you dabbled in amateur science and computing enough to be able to bullshit your way into a decently-paid exploration detail.

                                            >A part of you considers that the higher-ups probably saw that you weren't what anyone would describe as a 'first-rate scientist', which is why you're not on one of the exploration leviathans, like the Light of Understanding, or the Aristotle, where the actual geniuses hang out and indulge in luxuries like hot showers and fabrication printers.

                                            >So instead, they gave you a last-gen saucer and told you (in government-speak) to fuck off to the outer-arm.

                                            >Still, it pays better than a fry cook at SpaceDonalds.

                                            >Twilight licks her lips. She doesn't wet them -- as she did previously -- she drags her flat tongue over her upper then lower lip whilst staring unblinkingly at you.

                                            >"Alien scientists. Abduct -me-. And bring me aboard their ship. To -test- me."

                                            >She swallows a lump in her throat, sucks in a deep breath, and mumbles to herself (presumably words of encouragement) before looking to you again.

                                            >"Okay. I'm ready. You have -no- idea how many times I've fantasised about this."

                                            "Uh... huh. Right, well, first of all, what is your full name again, and what are your people called? Don't think too hard about why we're speaking the same language, by the way, it turns out everyone in the universe speaks English. Who knew."


                                            *


                                            >Cog swaggers onto the bridge, stopping by the "coffee" dispenser on his way to refill his cherished mug.

                                            >"Mornin'. How'd it go?"

                                            >You spin the pilot's seat and regard him with weary eyes as he raises his mug to his lips. The mug has 'Ask me if I'm an engineer' on it, and you instinctively want to punch him, which is a good warning for how tired you are.

                                            "Our alien's a fucking weirdo."

                                            >He pauses as he sees your face. You haven't spied a mirror in seven hours but you think you might look exhausted.

                                            >He takes a slow sip, then lowers the mug again.

                                            >"Well okay then. How does it differ to ordinary alien weirdness?"

                                            "She won't--"

                                            >"Hello? Is someone else out there?"

                                            >You bite your tongue and curse yourself. You left the coms on.

                                            >Cog's eyes bulge and he twists about.

                                            >The corner (as much as a circular saucer can have 'corners') with the specimen cell is hidden behind a partition, but the faint blue glow from the active forcefield reflects off the metallic surfaces opposite.

                                            >"She's still here?!" he hisses.

                                            "She won't leave!" you whisper back.

                                            >"What the hell? Just chuck her out!"

                                            "We can't, she's wise to our bullshit."

                                            >Cog marches across the ship. You trail after like a sulking basset hound.

                                            >He passes the partition and stares grimly at the little unicorn -- which is what she calls herself -- in the cell.

                                            >She's lying on her belly, back legs stretched behind her.

                                            >She grins up at him. Her tail flags and drifts from side to side. You know what that means now, and it disturbs you more than Cog's inhuman snoring.

                                            >"Oh, hello there, are you Anonymous' colleague?"

                                            >"Yeah, I am. Name's Incognito."

                                            >"-My- name is Twilight Sparkle. Are... you here to -test- me as well?" She rests her chin on a hoof and bounces her 'brows at him over half-lidded eyes.

                                            >Cog turns to you with a stony expression.

                                            >"Anon, is that fucking horse trying to flirt with me."

                                            "Technically she's a pony."

                                            >"Technically I want her off the ship. It's too early for alien seduction, and we have deadlines."

                                            "I agree, but I've tried to do it like seven times already, and can't."

                                            >"I told you to wake me up for anything fun."

                                            "Nothing about this freak is fun."

                                            >"Freak?" Twilight says. She seems taken aback, but then giggles like a drunk and lazily kicks her back legs around like a teenage girl on her bed. "Yeah, I guess I'm into some freaky stuff."

                                            >"Cool," says Cog, and slams an open palm on the cell console.

                                            >The bottom of the cell opens like a camera shutter, and Twilight Sparkle the freaky unicorn drops out the ship with a scream.

                                            >The rushing wind can be heard over the coms, and Cog turns to you with an unamused look, seemingly unconcerned about venting a creature without wings to the surface of the planet a mile below.

                                            >"Wow. Really hard, Anon."

                                            >You watch him with folded arms and pursed lips as the cell floor cycles to close again.

                                            >A second later, there's a flash of violet, followed by a responding thrum of blue and a pained grunt.

                                            >You purse your lips harder and nod at the sound.

                                            >Cog glacially turns back to the cell.

                                            >Twilight Sparkle beams at him.

                                            >He down looks at the console, then up at the pony, then at you.

                                            >His lips part, but he doesn't speak.

                                            "She can fucking teleport," you say for him.

                                            >"Oh. Oh my God."


                                            *


                                            >"So the cell's definitely got her contained, right?"

                                            "Seems like it. On one attempt she said the only bit she can 'reach' is the interior of the cell."

                                            >"But it's magically sealed."

                                            "Not while the floor's open."

                                            >"That's a massive, massive security flaw."

                                            "That's what happens when you get given a ship four generations old. This thing was built for cows and cow-analogues, not teleporting magicians."

                                            >"Is it actually teleportation? No bullshit?"

                                            "Check the cameras under the ship, you can see her dropping like a stone, then a flash of light and she's back in the cell. If that's not teleportation I don't know what is."

                                            >"But she's alive."

                                            "I know."

                                            >"Teleportation obliterates the mind."

                                            "It does."

                                            >"The brain ceases to function even after reconfiguration. The neurons are dead. There's no fucking way to do it in a way that doesn't kill you instantly."

                                            "Well aware."

                                            >He stares at you.

                                            >"But she can do it."

                                            "And if she can, maybe others can too. Maybe the whole God damn planet is full of teleporting ponies."

                                            >"The implications would shake the galaxy."

                                            "Good thing we're here to form an opinion and advise the board."

                                            >"The fuck do we do? Take her with us?"

                                            "We could. That's definitely something I've considered."

                                            >Cog runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing. You can speak clearly now, the coms are definitely off. You triple-checked, much to Twilight's annoyance.

                                            >Every so often, pulses of blue light can be seen from around the partition wall, refracted by the interior and reminiscent of a heartbeat.

                                            >Cog sees this, and shoots you a worried look.

                                            >"That's the wall, right?"

                                            "That's the wall negating her magic whenever she tries to do something."

                                            >"What's she doing?"

                                            >You sip your own coffee. Each gulp is like swallowing medicine, a punch in the throat and a kick to the stomach, but it's exactly what you need.

                                            "Checking it for weak points."

                                            >"Oh fucking Hell."

                                            "Yeah. I reckon we're on a timer until she figures out a way past it."

                                            >"But how can she? It's a magical barrier."

                                            "It's not. It's designed to cope with magic, but it's not specifically a -magic- barrier."

                                            >"So?"

                                            "So it's like a magic barrier at maybe five-percent strength. If that."

                                            >"Then we reattune it, like we did the sensors."

                                            "Yeah, we could do that, absolutely."

                                            >Cog waits for you to finish your thought with a sour expression.

                                            "Though we'd need to take the barrier offline to tinker with it."

                                            >"Fuck's sake. Then what, man? Why won't she go home?"

                                            "Why do -you- think?"

                                            >He stops pacing and slumps into the co-pilot's seat.

                                            >"She's... horny. Pun intended."

                                            >You sag into your own seat beside him and rub your eye with the back of a hand, suddenly feeling your age.

                                            "Basically, Cog, here's what we've done. We've trekked two months from Dresnycka to one of the outer arms of the Milky Way. We've arrived on the -one- planet in the entire galaxy that's more magically charged than anywhere else on record, both natural and synthetic. We've bumbled our way to the -one- part of that planet where a one-in-a-million prodigy lives, and the one, the -one-, alien we happen to abduct--"

                                            >You down the rest of your mug -- four heavy gulps -- then slam it on the arm of the chair.

                                            "The -one- alien we abduct is the girl who's been fantasising about getting abducted and anally probed by aliens her entire life."

                                            >Cog emits a barely audible "Oh".

                                            "You cannot -fathom- how horny that pony is." Cog meets your eyes and can't seem to look away. Your gaze bores into his. "This is like the Pope being visited by Jesus. It's like a kid meeting the real Santa Claus. It's like my dad coming back with the milk. This is -it- for her. Her one shot to make her octillion-in-one-chance fantasy happen."

                                            >You slouch in your seat.

                                            "She's not going -anywhere-."

                                            >Cog's fingers restlessly knit and unknit.

                                            >"So what, do we fuck an alien?"

                                            "Be my guest. I'll be quarantining you behind the wall to protect myself from whatever native contagions she'll be carrying, but go for it."

                                            >He grimaces.

                                            >"This is fucked."

                                            "It is."

                                            >"But we -could- take her with us."

                                            >You shrug.

                                            "Sure. Wouldn't be the first time. Take her back to base and give her to the lab boys. They have kit for exactly this circumstance."

                                            >"Horny aliens?"

                                            "Uh, well, that probably, but I mean the magic. They've got shit these days that can nullify anything. But that's a five-month trip, and she'll figure out the wall before then."

                                            >Cog cracks his neck.

                                            >"I'm not fucking an alien, Anon, and I'm not waiting for one to break out of prison and fuck me either."

                                            >He catches your eye, and you know his look. He's worn it more than a few occasions in the time you've worked together.

                                            >"Alright. We'll kill her and dump the body."

                                            "It's... looking like that's what we'll have to do, yeah."

                                            >"Best get to it then."


                                            *


                                            >You flick through the labyrinthine menus on the cell's console.

                                            >Twilight watches you with her irrepressible smile. There are patches of clear moisture dotted around the cell that the computer tells you isn't waste or excrement. You didn't wait for it to tell you what the stuff actually is.

                                            >"There, try there," Cog mutters.

                                            "No, that's maintenance again."

                                            >"Yeah, but surely there's something."

                                            "I've already said, Cog."

                                            >"I know but maybe there's another--"

                                            "These older gen ships don't have purgation functions. That's only the later models. At best we can give her a cold shower."

                                            >You glance again at the clear moisture.

                                            "Might do that anyway, to be honest."

                                            >Cog looks around at the clean, sleek interior of the saucer.

                                            >"We really were given a piece of shit, weren't we?"

                                            "Yuh huh."

                                            >The console is a bust, so you wander out of view of Twilight.

                                            >She scurries around the edge of the cell, keeping her eyes on you for as long as she can before you pass out of sight.

                                            >The pony says something, shouts it, but coms are firmly disabled, so she can't fill your ears with anymore vileness.

                                            >"Did we take the samples at least?" Cog says.

                                            "Got all that. Blood, saliva, all that jazz. She was cooperative. Disturbingly so."

                                            >"But now she won't leave."

                                            "She's waiting for us to march into the cell, hold her down, and anally probe her."

                                            >He runs his tongue over his teeth.

                                            >"Where does that leave us?"

                                            "You know where."

                                            >He shifts his feet and chews the inside of his cheek.

                                            >"That's fucking messy, man."

                                            "Sometimes the job is."

                                            >"The fuselage can take it."

                                            "It'll take a few shots, but we can patch up anything that breaks."

                                            >You wander to the 'security' section of the saucer.

                                            >Which is just a locker next to the bedcloset with 'security' scribbled on the white-painted door in black marker.

                                            >Inside, two rifles rest neatly in magnetic seals, with dozens of magazines packed as tightly as possible along the inner-side walls of the locker.

                                            >"We've done this before," Cog says, not reaching for the guns.

                                            "We have."

                                            >"The elephant-thing."

                                            "The elephant-thing, yeah. It was a danger to us, so we pre-emptively defended ourselves."

                                            >"But the elephant-thing couldn't talk."

                                            "Look," you turn to him. "Do you wanna get raped by an alien and get loads of weird diseases? Because that's what'll happen. Some of the shit she was coming out with last night was nuts, she wants both of us to fuck her in the ass at the same time. She practices. Fantasises about aliens anally pounding her, and in preparation she stretches herself out. She's a desperate, lonely, alien anal size-queen. Do you want to fuck an alien size-queen, Cog?"

                                            >"I do not."

                                            "Do you want to wait for her to break out of the cell and use her magic to tear us and the ship apart, or worse, force us to take part in her fantasies?"

                                            >"Nope."

                                            "Then--" you press a loaded rifle into his arms, "--check the charge and get ready to shoot the--"

                                            >The ship howls.

                                            >You're hurled back and forth, staggering to keep your feet.

                                            >You fall against the locker and knot a few magazines loose. Cog stumbles backwards onto his bottom.

                                            >A keening shriek echoes throughout the ship, loud enough to stab your ear-drums, and a flood of blue light washes out from behind the partition wall.

                                            >Then, it cuts out, along with the ship's interior lights and the howling.

                                            >Eerie seconds pass in darkness.

                                            >Your heartbeat is in your ears. Cog's unsteady breathing is near.

                                            >A few more heartbeats, and the emergency lights fade to life, a faint orange luminance lining the edges of the floor and ceiling, but leaving most of the rest of the ship cast in shadow.

                                            >You glance at the cockpit window.

                                            >It's still dark outside, the sun hasn't risen, but you're also not falling. The clouds remain where they are instead of rushing up and past the plastiglass.

                                            >"Anon," whispers Cog, "is your weapon charged?"

                                            >You check the charge on your mag-rifle.

                                            >The faint white screen beneath the ironsights reads a hundred percent, and with thirty slugs loaded you feel much safer.

                                            >A violet glow emanates from behind the wall, and then a voice. Distorted no longer by the crackling ship coms, it washes over you and sets you trembling.

                                            >As with all magical creatures, you have no idea what she's capable of. If teleportation is on the cards then you might as well be dealing with a Clearegis Ascendant, and you've heard tales of those things telepathically pulling a man's brain out through his nose.

                                            >"Uh, whoops," says the unseen Twilight. "Hello? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break your ship! I was just testing the forcefield. Is it magic? It didn't feel like it, I'm not sure what it was, so I gave it a shove and, uh. Well, I'm..." you hear her suck in a quick breath. "I'm coming out!"

                                            >The violet light moves, and Twilight Sparkle appears from behind the wall, her horn glowing like a nightlight in the darkened ship. In the penumbra, her toothy, hopeful smile is cast as a lunatic's grin.

                                            >Two things happen.

                                            >The first, she sees you and Cog.

                                            >The second, she sees the rifles pointed at her.

                                            "Now!" you yell.

                                            >Fingers clench, and the rifles roar. Sixty slugs, accelerated via magnetic rail to hypersonic speeds, shriek forth.

                                            >At ten slugs a second, it would be enough to tear chunks off a dinosaur.

                                            >Your rifle clicks desperately to inform you that it's empty, but you don't release the trigger.

                                            >You're too scared to do so, and your jaw is clenched hard enough that you feel a tooth crack.

                                            >Twilight remains.

                                            >She's flinching, cowering. Eyes clenched and hoof raised to protect her face.

                                            >Around her body, a dome of violet luminance glistens and pulses with vigour.

                                            >And suspended in the field are sixty slugs. Stopped dead the moment they made contact with the shell.

                                            >Cog scrambles back, pressing against the wall and fumbling with his rifle. He rips out the old magazine, shoves in a new one after a failed attempt, and empties it in Twilight's direction.

                                            >All three of you watch the slugs freeze as they grace Twilight's shield.

                                            >The unicorn gulps and wipes her forehead.

                                            >"Wow, uh, that was... are those your weapons?"

                                            >She lets out a nervous laugh.

                                            >"I'm glad I was ready. Another second and I think I'd have been mulched."

                                            >The pony looks between the two of you.

                                            >"So... how do you want to do this? Is here fine, or is there a bedroom?"

                                            >"What-- what the fuck?" Cog breathes.

                                            >"I'm still interested, so don't worry about all this," she gestures at the suspended slugs. "I'm sure it's just all been a misunderstanding. I don't mean you any harm, honest! I'm just... -really- into aliens, and I'd like to let off some steam, if you know what I mean. I told Anon earlier, but this is something I've been wanting for a really, really long time."

                                            >She licks her lips.

                                            >"And my teacher, Princess Celestia, said that I should never let rare opportunities go to waste, so here I am."

                                            >Twilight takes a step forward.

                                            >She squints at the rifles, and her horn sings again.

                                            >The weapons are wrenched from your hands and hurtle to the back of the ship, impossibly out of reach, not that they could help you.

                                            >You edge towards the locker, but Cog lunges away, scrambling to the cockpit area of the open-plan saucer's interior.

                                            >"Stay away!" He shouts. "You'll give us diseases!"

                                            >Twilight huffs.

                                            >"Excuse me, sir, but I'm perfectly clean, thank you very much. We ponies pride ourselves on cleanliness."

                                            >Her horn flares, and the dome shield fades, but Cog is dragged by his legs closer towards her.

                                            >He thrashes and yells every expletive he can think of, but Twilight is undeterred.

                                            >"I think I'll start with you," she says. "Once you become acquainted with me I think we'll become fast friends. Now, just hold still there..."

                                            >Still using magic, she pins him to the deck of the ship, immobilising him completely.

                                            >She smirks down at the man.

                                            >"Not so fun now, is it? Anonymous told me -you- were the one operating the beam thing that dragged me up here. On the one hoof, I should punish you for scaring me so badly. On the other, I should thank you for bringing me here and giving me this opportunity. Either way, it's the same thing for you."

                                            >She stands over him, her hind legs on either side of his head, and flicks her tail to the side.

                                            >Cog swallows and gazes up at the looming pony genitals above him.

                                            >"Anon for God's sake," he says hoarsely.

                                            >Twilight's anus clenches, its pink interior faintly visible in the sparse light.

                                            >"You're going to apologise to me, and I'm going to reward you," she begins to steadily lower herself, "by allowing you to kiss my--"

                                            >She spasms.

                                            >Her muscles lock, she gnashes her teeth, and her eyes shrink to pinpricks.

                                            >And like a fainting goat, she topples to one side as rigid as can be.

                                            >Cog scrambles away from her and glares at you with all the fury of an engineer who's been told that engineering really isn't that impressive.

                                            >"Could you not have done that sooner, you fucking faggot?"

                                            >You keep the taser you'd plucked from the security locker trained on the alien, ready to zap her again if needs be.

                                            "You were keeping her distracted. I had to line up my shot."

                                            >"Like Hell you did. Fuck, I can -smell- her." He puts more distance between himself and the twitching alien. "What now?"

                                            >You raise an eyebrow and glance at the tractor beam chute next to the cage.

                                            "Isn't it obvious?"


                                            *


                                            >You watch the balcony door open through the cameras, and a small reptilian biped waddles out wringing its hands.

                                            >An utterly -- to a frankly unnecessary degree -- tranquillised Twilight Sparkle lies in the most ungraceful position imaginable on the decking hanging off the tree home, her unnervingly long tongue rolled out to one side and a puddle of drool under her chin.

                                            >The reptile glances around and pokes its owner with a digit. He pokes her again, then flees back inside.

                                            >You snicker, and Cog grunts.

                                            >"Ought to have killed her."

                                            "I figured I'd rather not clean horse gore off the deck of the ship."

                                            >"I'd have helped."

                                            >You give Cog a look. He smirks.

                                            >"So what's the plan?"

                                            >The console beeps once and you spin the cockpit seat around.

                                            "There's still that signature in the mountains to check out."

                                            >He scratches his stubble, looking away from the local topography to the mountains through the domed glass.

                                            >"Yeah, for a while, maybe, but we're not bringing anymore of these fucking things onboard."

                                            "Seconded. Just have a peek, then maybe at the moon and sun, then we'll clear off. Deal?"

                                            >"Deal."

                                            >You glance back at the cameras and nudge him.

                                            "Hey, check that out, her pet lizard can write."

                                            >Sure enough, the stumpy creature is furiously writing away on a piece of parchment. He's even using a red quill.

                                            >"Did we actually kill her, or something?"

                                            "Nah, just knocked her out for... I dunno, a fucking week, or something."

                                            >"Nice."

                                            >The lizard rolls up the parchment, takes a deep breath, and reduces it to ashes, which blow away on some unseen cosmic wind.

                                            >Cog scratches his head.

                                            "Local custom, maybe," you offer.

                                            >"Weird fucking custom."


                                            *


                                            >The ship creeps across the sky towards the mountains, and the farther along it gets, the more trepidation you feel.

                                            >Cog keeps shifting in his seat. He doesn't like what he's seeing, and you don't blame him.

                                            >"It's bigger. Way fucking bigger."

                                            "No shit," you say distantly, more focused on the screen.

                                            >The signal coming from the mountains, specifically the tallest peak, is magnifying.

                                            >As you crawl the saucer around in a wide arc, Cog murmurs.

                                            >"Would you look at that."

                                            >A whole city, largely built in line with the contours of the mountain itself, partly hangs off the side of it, artificial waterfalls cascading from a broad outcropping into the valley and river below.

                                            >"Like a fairy tale."

                                            >You're not interested in fairy tales.

                                            >You're interested in the hairs on your arms standing on end as you realise the signal isn't just magnifying, but that it's coming apart slightly.

                                            "C... Cog," you swallow, the dryness in your throat making your voice catch.

                                            >He glances away from the cameras and stares in bewildered horror at the magical sensors.

                                            >You enter its settings and scale them back to a tenth of what they ought to be, but the readings keep on rising, far beyond the planet's baseline, far beyond Twilight Sparkle's lighthouse.

                                            >A second sun eclipses the chart, joined by a third.

                                            >"There's two of them," Cog's voice sounds far away.

                                            "What the hell is this place."

                                            >The ship beeps. It beeps again. And then proximity alarms spasm and transition into a klaxon.

                                            >"Jesus fucking Christ-- they're closing!"

                                            >The twin suns on the sensors are making a beeline for the ship, their travel vectors and intercept course alarmingly clear.

                                            >She takes the opportunity to kindly remind you with several obnoxious pop-ups that you have both an assortment of military countermeasures at your disposal, as well as a fully-primed faster than light drive.

                                            >It strongly recommends making use of the latter.

                                            "Nope. Nope, fuck that, fuck this, fuck the sun and moon, we're bailing."

                                            >Cog necks the rest of his drink and tosses the mug away.

                                            >"Bringing the PD's online."

                                            >With a grace borne of years of piloting, you spin the saucer around, tilt it towards the stratosphere, and accelerate.

                                            >The lower atmosphere's air pushing against you and the gravity well pulling you back down slows the ascent. Ordinarily it's quick as you please, but right now each second feels like ten.

                                            "Thirty seconds 'til we're in orbit."

                                            >Cog glances at you. You catch his worried look.

                                            >"Will that help?"

                                            >You grimace and turn back to your screens.

                                            >The cameras on the array pivot around to look behind you, but you overshoot and curse.

                                            >Cog takes over and nudges them into position.

                                            >Two figures are surging straight after you.

                                            >Completely unlike Twilight, they're wreathed in so much magic you can see it on the cameras, and whatever -- whoever -- they are, they're completely obscured from view.

                                            >One, dressed in a golden corona of what could be pure sunlight, the other doused in near-impenetrable shadow.

                                            >Regardless, they're gunning for you, and the sensors won't stop screaming.

                                            >"They're closing."

                                            "Better dissuade them then, Mister Cog."

                                            >"Aye aye," he brings the point defence around and the computer locks. "We doing this?"

                                            "No second chances, it's us or them, bring them down."

                                            >Cog tenses and two dull thuds sound through the vessel in sequence.

                                            >The undercarriage railguns each bark once, and two tungsten rods are the bellowed response to the approaching targets.

                                            >You watch grimly as both rods make contact with one of them before the saucer has even finished vibrating.

                                            >The ship's computers, firmly entrenched in battle protocols, spit an instant replay at you in another window, slowed so you can see what you already know happened in a fraction of a second.

                                            >One of the rods is deflected as if it was a mere arrow off a kite shield, spiralling off to God knows where.

                                            >The other is absorbed by the golden corona and the target veers off to the side.

                                            >"It's a hit," Cog doesn't sound enthused.

                                            >The golden target staggers, meandering down and back to the surface like a confused housefly.

                                            >But before you can consider it taken care of, it redoubles, and with a terrifying flash of sunlight which sends the sensors to new heights of hysterics, it thunders after your ship with the shadowy corona leading it with a vengeance.

                                            "Think you pissed them off, pal."

                                            >"Time 'til exit?"

                                            "Now."

                                            >The surface of the planet drops away suddenly, and the welcoming embrace of the eternal midnight sea envelops you.

                                            >The ship trembles twice, and two more slugs fire back at the targets.

                                            >"Missed," he sounds emotionless, and waits for the guns to reload before the ship trembles twice more. "Deflected. I'm gonna pop a few missiles--"

                                            >The sensors scream, the loudest yet, and blinding light douses the cockpit through the plastiglass.

                                            >It fades, and before you, keeping pace with the saucer as it races into the void, two figures float.

                                            >Ponies. Similar enough to Twilight that you can identify them as such, but far beyond her.

                                            >Their manes effused with raw magic, massive wingspans spread wide and towering horns aglow with energy, their faces bear the fury of Olympian gods, and you slink back into your seat.

                                            >"They're too close for rails or missiles," Cog says simply.

                                            >They're dressed in ornate regalia, and the crowns perched on their heads -- and stubbornly refusing to budge despite the absence of gravity -- paint a picture in your mind of their stature in pony society.

                                            >"What are they? Gods?"

                                            "Who knows, but we're not dead yet, and I don't think I like that as much as I should."

                                            >The smaller of the two ponies, the dusky one, looks around at the ship, clearly more curious about it than the larger, near-white one. It swims out of view, no doubt crawling all over your precious piece of junk.

                                            >The larger pony remains glaring straight into the glass, its nuclear gaze pinning you to your seat.

                                            "I think it's mad."

                                            >"I did shoot it with a railgun."

                                            "Any ideas?"

                                            >"One, but if it doesn't work we'd be better off crash-landing this thing planetside and hiding in the woods as fugitives. Or getting spaced when they pry the ship open."

                                            "I'll take that over what I'm thinking."

                                            >The smaller pony drifts back into view with a beaming smile. It speaks to the other one, gestures at you, and a coy smile works its way onto the larger one's lips.

                                            >The fury is gone, replaced by something else. Something curious, and playful.

                                            >A cold chill passes through you.

                                            >The same gaze the two ponies are now directing at you is the same one Twilight wore.

                                            "I'm getting -bad- vibes, Cog, do the thing and do it now."

                                            >"Just wait, I've got to bypass a fuckload of safety redundancies here."

                                            >They land on the ship's front and walk to the glass, tapping on it with their hooves.

                                            >They put their heads together and speak some more. You can't read their lips, but the sunny one keeps eyeing you up where you're sat and after Dusky finishes speaking, Sunny licks her lips.

                                            >Dusky glances away and draws her eyes up and down Cog.

                                            >You think they've decided who they'll be taking.

                                            "Man."

                                            >"Shut up, Anon, I'm nearly done."

                                            >Sunny lights her horn. The ship's exterior glows with a soft golden light. The sensors would be deafening you if you hadn't muted them, and you watch with growing dread as your forward velocity begins screeching to a halt.

                                            >Cog glances away from his work to the same screen you're gawking at, he looks up at the ponies, sees the golden glow, sees Dusky undressing him with her eyes, and furiously mauls his keyboard with hastily muttered "nope-nope-nope"'s.

                                            >The saucer turns on its axis, and the planet comes back into view. You grip the steering column and try to wrest control of your ship away from them, but the pit in your stomach grows as your ship is gently guided back towards the planet.

                                            "Do you think we'll go to Hell if we shoot ourselves with the magrifles--"

                                            >The ship jolts.

                                            >Every light on the dashboard dies. The ship's interior goes pitch black save for the light of the planet. The reactor growls like a caged beast beneath your feet.

                                            >And then an explosion of arc lightning lances straight into the ponies.

                                            >For an instant, it is as though the entire outside of the ship is blanketed in a storm, and jagged daggers of white electricity stab into your assailants.

                                            >You see their screams, but you don't hear them. You're too shocked to say a word. In the back of your mind, you struggle to understand how you're even seeing lightning in a vacuum.

                                            >They become limp, and float off and away from the ship, tumbling back down the planet's gravity well.

                                            >You stare at this in mute shock for a few beats, then:

                                            "The... -fuck- did you do?!"

                                            >"Bootleg EMP?" Cog shrugs weakly.

                                            "Are... is she still alive? The ship?"

                                            >"Uh. Probably?"

                                            >He pokes a few buttons. You try the steering column and tap some of the overheads.

                                            "Oh fucking hell, Cog."

                                            >"It took care of the aliens, at least."

                                            "If it even did. Wait here, I'm gonna check on the reactor."

                                            >"I'm sure it's fine," he calls after you as you rip off a floor panel and crawl into the ship's underbelly. "If the reactor was compromised we'd be dead already!"


                                            *


                                            >The ship purrs, and you speed along through the oceanic expanse of space.

                                            >Cog fills his mug and slumps into the copilot's seat.

                                            >"So that was a nightmare."

                                            "There was a ninety percent chance those god-ponies were gonna rape us."

                                            >"How'd you figure?"

                                            "I just do."

                                            >"So, what's the verdict? Sectioning the place?"

                                            "With my highest recommendations."

                                            >Cog nods and sips his coffee. After a time he gives a slight shrug.

                                            >"Kind of a shame, really."

                                            "Why?"

                                            >"Their whole species will be confined to that single star system. They'll never be visited again. Until they figure out space-travel, they'll be completely alone out there."

                                            >You both sit in silence and think about that.

                                            >There's something melancholic about the loneliness of space. A loneliness humanity itself once felt, thousands of years ago. Perhaps, in another timeline, things might have worked out better...

                                            >...

                                            "Good."

                                            >"Yeah, fuck 'em."

                                            "Let's get outta here."

                                            >"Hey, I thought of a name for the ship."

                                            "Yeah?"

                                            >"Well, when she's not scaring the shit out of me for fear of blowing up, she's captivating me with how impressive it is that she hasn't already killed us."

                                            "So..."

                                            >"So, Twilight?"

                                            >...

                                            "Twilight."

                                            >You both nod.

                                            >Twilight purrs. With a smile you engage the FTL drive, and she plunges toward the galactic core.