Author’s Note: There is some original text/dialogue in this chapter lifted from Hands that I claim no credit for.

The next day, at a nearby diner, the humans, dragon, and ponies ate their breakfasts. Seven spoke animatedly of the wedding, while two virtually silent.

Andrew was quiet to begin with, and was even less encouraged to join as Twilight got more and more aggravated in discussing the behavior of her brother’s fiance. Her attempts to coerce him into joining only made things worse.

Melissa hadn’t spoken other than to order food, and get her sign/countersign responses back from everypony. She had switched from her casual outfit to her fatigues once again. There were bags under her eyes, several cups of coffee nearby, and she was busy sketching out a blueprint.
“SA-23E Mitchell-Hyundyne Starfury” was written at the top.

She’d been ignoring most of the conversation, when Twilight’s words caught her ear. “...You mean you all haven’t noticed anything?”

Rarity said, “The princess is about to get married. I'm sure any negative behavior she might be displaying is simply the result of nerves.”

“Really?” Melissa looked at her, “I don’t think nerves are a good enough excuse for a complete personality change!”
She realized she had spoken, and winced, avoiding eye contact. The marine went to work finishing off the starfighter’s cockpit.

“Coming from the mare who has two restraining orders, and attacked somepony!” Rainbow Dash grunted ignoring or not even seeing Melissa’s body language, “And yet you’re fun you be around!”

Andrew spat into his drink, “What?! Restraining order?! When did this happen?”

“Have any of you ever met Cadence before?” Applejack asked, ignoring Andrew, “Who are we to judge? It’s been a decade since you’ve met her, Twilight. Ponies can change in that time.”

“But...I thought I knew her…” Twilight shook her head, becoming angry again, “That doesn’t excuse her behavior! Have you all been so caught up in wedding planning that you haven’t even considered the possibility that there shouldn’t be a wedding?!”

Applejack was surprised, “You ever think maybe you’re being a tiny bit possessive of your brother?”

Melissa huffed, “Is that even a thing? Azathoth above…” she winced again, and went back to her drawing. The plasma cannons were simple enough to sketch.

“Melissa, you’re with me on this, right?” Twilight demanded, much to the marine’s dismay, “You can see something’s weird, right?”

Melissa rubbed her face, and took a deep breath. “I...suppose.”

Twilight tilted her head in concern, “Are you okay? What have you been doing that’s been keeping you up? This isn’t like you.”

“Nothing.” Melissa went back to detailing the thruster tines. They didn’t look just right...

Rarity put a hoof on her paper to get her to look up, “Melissa, we’re your friends. If something’s wrong, tell us!”

“Yeah! Is it something to do with that super-secret mission?” Pinkie Pie asked.

Andrew spoke up, “I thought you’d be all over this sort of thing. Aren’t you gonna use your superior Earth knowledge to fix this?” he half-heartedly smiled.

Melissa inhaled deeply, “Weddings aren’t my forte.”

“But relationship advice is? The other day you dragged us up to Shining Armor to fix our problem. Why not this? Isn’t this sort of behavior...I don’t know, a sign of something?”

The marine slammed a fist down on the table, “Everybody shut up! I’m fine, damn it, I’m fine!”

The Maximal in her field of vision looked at her doubtfully, then nodded to Rarity, “Madam Rarity, I do believe she is lying.”

“Shut the fuck up, you traitor!” Melissa snapped, pointed angrily at him, “I thought we agreed!”

“Agreed on what, darling?” Rarity asked.

“Silverbolt--!” Melissa snapped, but he quickly cut her off.

“Melissa, do you not hear yourself? I recommend you take a moment to calm down. Remember what Dr. Wolf said.”

Melissa angrily took yet another deep breath, then rolled up her blueprint. After a visit to the bathroom to cool off, she was a little less angry.

The others were quiet as she approached the table again.

Andrew was the first to speak, “So...what’s this about a restraining order?”

Melissa tiredly waved it off, “Last month. Some dick was letting his dog take dumps in my yard, someone else kept harassing me...it took some sorting out. We filed restraining orders.”

Andrew relaxed somewhat, “That almost sounds reasonable. What’s the twist?”

“Do you always have to expect the worst of me?”

He smirked a little, his eyes narrowing.

Rainbow Dash butted in, “She didn’t hit one of those guys, but she did punch a hippogriff in the face!”

“Hippogriff? What, like those creatures in Harry Potter?”

Melissa nodded, “Yeah. Only more like a glorified pigeon and just as annoying.”

“Pigeon…?” Applejack muttered, “He didn’t have a yellow beak, brown feathers…?”

“...brown hindquarters...?” Twilight asked.

“...a white tail...?” Pinkie added.

“...and a white feather cutie mark!?...did he?” Fluttershy mumbled.

Rarity’s eye twitched, “Yes, he had all of those. Might I guess you know who we’re talking about?”

“...Silver Quill.” the Mane Six said together.

Melissa tilted her head, smiling a little, “I didn’t know all of you knew him!”

Fluttershy scrunched herself up, “Um...yes...we...know him.”

“Know him? That’s an understatement.” Twilight said with a toss of her eyes.

“I’ve taken him to court numerous times for harassing Ponyville residents,” Rarity explained, “He appears to be mentally unstable, and it takes days to find an impartial jury for him. It seems his hobby is harassing ponies.”

“This still doesn’t explain why you punched him in the face.” Andrew pointed out to Melissa.

“For the record, I punched him in the stomach, then I headbutted him in the face.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s an asshole.”

Andrew rubbed his face, “That cannot be the only reason.”

“He was on my lawn.”

“...And? What was he doing?”

“He was yelling a lot of stuff, but I wasn’t listening. I was defending my property though!”

“...he’s also known for his durability,” Rarity added.

“I’ll say. His scar tissue has scar tissue, it was like hitting an actual punching bag. Dude must visit the hospital more than Andrew.”

“Hey!”

The conversation was interrupted by someone approaching from a direction behind Andrew, Presumably it was a member of royalty, as the ponies bowed. It clearly wasn’t Celestia, Melissa got up and saluted. On the other hand, she’d stopped cursing out the queen recently, so it could have been Celestia...

Andrew couldn’t tell at all. His ears were ringing after an incredibly loud noise went off next to his head.

He turned around as he tried to clear his ears, and realized the cause.

Queen Luna was standing there, her mouth moving without a sound reaching his ears. She gestured to him and Melissa, asking a question.

“...a time? ‘We’ have classified information to discuss.” the ringing decreased enough for him to hear.

Twilight and Melissa agreed to whatever Luna had asked, and the queen of the moon seemed satisfied.

She looked at Andrew, “Are you alright, Mr. Shepherd?”

“Mawp...mawp...what just happened?”

Melissa was sticking a finger in her ear as well, “Well. Always wondered how that felt.”

“How what felt?!” he said loudly, still barely able to hear.

“Royal Canterlot voice!” she said, pulling him closer, “Come on! We are following her! Just the two of us, no Mane Sixers!”

“What for?!”

“Reasons! I don’t know! I don’t get paid to think! I don’t want to have to yell this shit across the city!”

They followed the queen out of the diner to a group of Luna’s guards, armed with Springbok rifles.

When asked, Luna replied, “I do not normally take a security escort with me. I feel it separates me from my subjects. ‘Tia-- Queen Celestia was quite insistent this time.”

The humans followed Luna across the city to Canterlot Castle itself, going deep into the lower levels, where newly-installed light bulbs burned.

They made their way through an underground complex filled with doors, vaults, chambers, and all sorts of things that made it look like a primitive version of Stargate Command.

Finally they stopped at a particular door, again similar to one from the SGC.

“S-13” was written in large white letters, but in cursive font. Instead of an electronic key lock like in most fictional underground bases, the lock embedded in the door looked like some sort of puzzle.

Luna turned around and dismissed her guards. Andrew noted Melissa’s breath quickening, and saw her reaching into her jacket.

Luna channeled energy into her horn, and pointed it at the lock. It rotated this way and that, clicking and clacking, before falling into place. The door lock shifted, and Luna pushed it open, the entrance splitting down the middle.

The double doors opened into a much wider and dark space. Melissa’s pistol was at her side.

“Behold,” the queen announced, “The deep archives of Canterlot! Well, Section 13 specifically.”

“There isn’t much to see…” Andrew commented dryly. He stepped out into the chamber.

Luna huffed a little at the hole in her drama, and she pulled a heavy switch to the side of the door. With loud clacks that rattled off further and further away, lights snapped on, row by row.
Andrew yelped and nearly lept out of his skin, falling on his rear when the silhouette of a massive warrior appeared holding a sword about ten centimeters away from his head, “Yagh! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”

Taking pleasure in a little revenge, Luna dryly pointed out, “It’s a statue, Mr. Shepherd.”

Andrew relaxed, embarrassed, and got to his feet. Dusting himself off, he did a double-take of the details of the statue.

It was a statue of a Roman legionary in full body armor. A human statue.

He was nearly deafened again by Melissa’s screech of “What the fuck?!”

Beyond the statue was a massive underground warehouse that stretched far into the distance. The rows of shelves that occupied the space were spread out to the left and the right, creating many aisles packed with artifacts, many of which were contained in energy fields to preserve them.

It was a warehouse of human artifacts

Thousands of artifacts from civilizations of bygone ages, ages spawned from Earth.

Earth.

Sol. Terra. Home. The distant mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam, that suddenly felt so much closer.

Andrew looked around, in a daze, “How...how did you get these?”

This was no ruined bunker with a meager handful of wreckage, this was a museum of intact odds and ends from everything humanity had produced.

He and Melissa began examining the closest artifacts; scrolls, boxes, furniture... historical junk, but priceless in their own right.

Luna explained, “They presumably came in the same manner you did. For the past thousand years, we have found artifacts of alien origin, and there have been legends of strange creatures like yourself who have appeared and gone on to help shape our history, for good or for ill. We have arranged them in chronological order, and by nationality as best we can tell. The closest are the furthest back in time, and arranged according to nationality.. They have appeared at random intervals and at no specific location.”

She paused, “...with one single exception. The start of these appearances. It occurred around the time of the Uncertain Years. That was a tumultuous time, the rise of Discord, the Sirens, Tirek, King Sombra, my...rebellion...a period of great chaos and destruction, with many records destroyed. What we do know is, a wide variety of humans from several different time frames, rather than a transfer from the point in your calendar that would match up with ours. There were heavier-than-air vehicles and spearmen for example. Curiously, after that initial transfer, all displacements matched up with the natural progression of time up until this point. Reports of spearmen increased, before all human activity began to decrease massively.”

Andrew scratched his head, still somewhat dazed, “So after the initial transfer, anyone who came over a thousand years ago would be from around 1066 or something? And anyone who came over now would from now back home?”

“Yes, and it has been theorized it would progress naturally from there. However, we have yet to encounter any living human specimens beyond yourselves, and unfortunately, most of humankind’s exploits here after their arrival have survived only in the form of legends.”

Andrew found a torn and tattered american flag, resting his hand on it. Where did you come from? From home, or were you made here?

He rubbed his eyes with one arm.

Melissa was silent. Her initial shriek had given way to shock. She couldn’t process it. There was a distinct amount of surprise, not merely at finding the human relics...but something else. A different emotion.

After several minutes, Luna nudged them along, trotting through the center corridor, and by far the widest. The humans followed slowly, looking around at the odds and ends of history.

Andrew fought back tears as he took in the room of humanity, examining racks of Roman armor displayed as a soldier would have worn the attire almost two thousand years ago.

“So this is where you were hiding everything, this was where everything went!” his voice was somewhat accusing.

Melissa's stance shifted suddenly, her boots scraping against the grit and dust. “Care to explain, ma’am?”

Luna looked to the side, “It was not my decision to do so, or to hide the evidence. My sister and I only recently agreed to allow you to see this gallery. It was only recently I was given access. Apparently, some members of the military and intelligence committee felt I was some sort of security risk.”

Melissa relaxed, somewhat satisfied. She picked up a gladius hanging by a belt from a Hastatus uniform, running her hands along the energy field that protected it from the elements and the oils of her skin. “It’s real,” she breathed, “It’s not a dream.”

The scabbard was battered and torn, the right side of the opening torn as though the user had pulled the sword out too fast. He must have been left-handed.

There was more. Zhou armor, Greek armor, loose equipment from a hundred nations. Some of the equipment was damaged, the back of one helmet was caved in, likely from a club.
Andrew inspected the fabric of one suit, contained in a glowing magical field and was amazed to find it wasn’t cloth or chainmail or what-have-you, but linothorax.
“The secret’s been lost for thousands of years, no examples have survived! Your highness, are you sure this stuff is real?”

She nodded, “As sure as we can be.”

Andrew reached out to touch it, but reluctantly did not. “An actual piece of linothorax...and it’s right here. We found it.”

Luna began to move on, but stopped, looking back and cocking her head, “Did you say thousands of years?”

“Yeah, this stuff is super old…”

“I think you are mistaken. The oldest of these artifacts are only a thousand. From the Uncertain Years, the time surrounding my...my rebellion, and the period of Discord and all the other creatures.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, “No...we’re pretty sure. The Triarii armor is from at least 200 BCE, twenty-two-hundred years ago.”

Luna was puzzled, “How strange.”

Andrew waved it off, “Ah, it’s probably just a mistake. Your people’s archaeological dating systems are far less advanced than ours.”

Luna nodded slowly, a strange look in her eyes, “Yes...yes, that’s probably it.”

“Do you know how humans got here?” Melissa asked.

"Through some sort of portal," Luna said, "They were strangers to our world, but ingenious and tenacious. I never met any before they disappeared. They were healers, and doctors, and leaders and scholars and heroes of the land. According to legend, they founded great nations that could make even the dragons quake in fear, some earning the respect of even the griffins and the monsters of Tartarus. Some fought for good, others for ill. The stories vary wildly, but it was so long ago history turned to legend.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” Andrew asked.

Luna looked at the pair, seeing the pleading hope in their eyes, “We...don’t really know. As I said, from around the Uncertain Years, the greatest point of human activity, few records have survived. I was not lucky enough to meet any of your people in person. Some say they returned home, others say that they left on great ships to the stars, or...went extinct. All we know now is that we cannot find any surviving communities.”

She paused. With great reluctance, she added, “That is not entirely true. I am still finding projects and documents my sister neglected to release to me, and there are certain subjects I am not at liberty to discuss with you. I think she is worried about my connections with you two.”

“With us?” Melissa asked, “What about us? I’m just a combat engineer, nothing special. And Andrew is...Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t comment.

“You are humans, that makes you special. Don’t you see? You have confirmed dozens of scientific and historical theories, revolutionized our science! You’re legend in the flesh!”

“But...we’re…” Melissa was struggling with something, “We’re unique in our own way, but just because a few guys from the 21st century showed up a while back doesn’t make us gods. Us being human doesn’t make us gods. Anyone on a roughly-equal technological level could do what they had done, that’s what we’re doing right now! Our achievements don’t undermine your own!”

“I never said that, Corporal Foster, I was merely--”

“Humans are special in our own way, but that doesn't mean we're better than you. Don't forget that.”
Andrew coughed, “Um...I...so you don’t have a way back to Earth, then?”

Luna cast her gaze downwards, “...I am sorry. I am so very sorry.”

The humans stepped away from the alicorn, Melissa with a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

When it seemed that they managed to pull themselves together, Luna approached, “If you’re feeling ready, I have more to show you.”

Melissa glanced at Andrew, who nodded glumly.

As they explored, they found numerous artifacts that drew their attention.

There was ancient Persian armor, Egyptian, Chinese, a bunch of other nations neither human could recognize.

Among the artifacts were toys, personal effects, jewels, art, clothing, cutlery, furniture. Wooden chairs, tables with legs of ivory, stone slabs inscribed with information, parchment, depictions of gods and battles carved out of stone, the attire of warriors and kings, stretching across history.
As they followed the queen, the times began to change. More advanced materials appeared, newer concepts were developed. Swords were smoother, lighter and more powerful, art pieces rather than simple weapons, then went back to stab and slash. Fashions changed, from modest to grand and back again.
Newer types of spears appeared, armor became thicker and tougher.

They began to reach past the year 1000 CE, and clothing began to take a similar shape to their own. Not the same of course, but the general shape of shirts and pants entered the designs.

Western European memorabilia began to decline in quality, while other regions continued their development.
They started reaching out of the Middle Ages, into the second half of the 1000 millennium. Shakespearean attire, bows and arrows were more refined, armor quantity declined to more simple chainmail or cloth uniforms with iron helmets.
First Nation civilizations, who had maintained their quality for several shelves, suddenly spiked sharply downward. Ornate outfits turned to simple effective protection against the elements.
“Smallpox time, I guess. Their entire industry must’ve collapsed,” Melissa noted, and an expression of horror dawned on her, “Oh crap. Queen Luna, have there been any encounters with illnesses from any of these artifacts?”

Andrew jumped away from one of the shelves, holding up his hands, “Whoa! You’re right! They could have every deadly plague known to man in here!”

“We did have some accidents, yes, long ago according to records. We have isolated those artifacts found to be contaminated by disease. You are safe.”

Both humans relaxed slightly, but quickened their pace. The 20th century awaited down the line, with its wealth of vaccines and lack of flesh-eating viruses. Mostly.

Napoleonic-era clothes, and equipment. Tiny wooden replicas of soldiers, elaborate and beautiful furniture, paper skyrocketed. Books, now, arranged in alphabetical orders.
“No firearms…” Melissa noted, picking up a sword with cyrillic inscriptions on it; it looked to be from Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, judging by the French swords around it.

“No. All firearms have been placed in a separate archive for study.” Luna rolled her eyes, “Yet another archive that has lain dormant for decades. This whole project -- reverse-engineering all the advanced materials -- was considered unimportant for a long time. At first because some of it was too far beyond our own science, and then out of laziness.”

She scowled, “A great many sorrows could have been avoided if we had an understanding of some of your technology.”

“Well, clearly they were doing some research,” Melissa commented, “I was wondering how those scientists were understanding the architecture so easily…and some other stuff too...”

“That’s correct, some experimentation was done, but mainly on the items that were well-within our understanding. Reportedly however, some scientists working for Bureau 13 -- the unit responsible for securing these artifacts -- have been using some of your knowledge to unlock a few of these secrets. I can have the findings sent to you, I in no way approved of this and wish to improve our relations--”

Melissa nodded rapidly, “Thanks, that’ll be fine. Dickheads.”

Blue and grey uniforms, some with bullet holes or bloodstains, were passed. Cyrillic and Japanese scripture adorned sailor outfits.
The 20th century had come.

A very long section of the aisle was filled with World War I equipment. Uniforms, British and French, Belgian and German, Russian and Austro-Hungarian. Gas masks, shovels covered with spatters of blood and dented from rocks, Helmets of all sorts, pickelhaube, Adrian, and Brodie.

Andrew slowed down at one of the shelves of Brodie helmets, and reached out to inspect one. Melissa grabbed his hand, “There’s asbestos in there.”

“What.” Andrew stared at her.

“I’ve heard that It’s recommended that one does not pick up WWI helmets until someone more qualified comes along. With an airtight box. Don’t touch it.”

Andrew pulled his hand back, “Right. Wow.”

Photographs, tools, toys, and furniture from the inter-war years. World War II came around, and warfare returned.

The equipment was similar to the World War I gear at first, before shifting over. M1 combat helmets, Soviet uniforms, French canteens, tools and equipment from across the entire planet.

The Cold War appeared, uniforms less like sunday suits and more like casual wear. Jumpsuits, jackets, shovels, radios, boots…
Melissa’s eyes were purely on the military gear, but Andrew’s focus was on it all. Appliances, magazines, furniture, fashions decades apart. There were video games, there were rows of rolled up posters and blueprints and stacks of paper, there were toys, there were clocks, there were boxes of widgets, there were mattresses, there were towers of coins...
It would be an impossible task to name it all.

Melissa considered one shelf of video games, idly picking one up.

Andrew saw which one it was, its plastic cover glinting in the light, “No!”

With a blur of motion, Melissa had his wrist in an iron grip, “What?”

“It’s Final Fantasy X! Don’t you know what that does to people?!”

Melissa threw the box at him, “Holy shit, forget I asked!”

“Don’t give it to me!”

“Well, someone’s gotta reshelve it!”

Luna was that someone, giving the humans an odd look as she did so. “Is it some sort of dangerous artifact?”

Andrew laughed, “No, it’s just...it’s just a really bad game. It was kinda a joke…” his expression hardened, thinking of yet another thing from home gone. All the pain he’d had the first few months threatened to bubble back up.

“Ah...I am inexperienced with human humor. Please forgive me.”

They walked on.

Andrew halted to consider a shelf of binders and documents. Few were actually bound, most were stacks of paper stapled together in various ways.
Most were inconsequential. Receipts, letters, office documents, more than could be described.

Something caught his eye, though. Written hastily on a binder cover containing white paper he could just barely make out the words “Babylon 5” among the mess of illegible words that adorned the cover.
Investigating further, he found a series of notes outlining plot details from season 4...but far more extensive and drawn out than they had been in reality, and The Deconstruction of Falling Stars was missing. There even seemed to be elements of the fifth season, but different. They didn’t seem like notes from a fan…

On the inside cover, he found a signature, “JMS”.

Melissa peered over his shoulder. Her eyes widened, and she snatched the binder out of his hands. Flipping through it, her grin grew wider and wider, and she finally exclaimed, “Holy shit! Dude! Do you know what that is?”

“No...who’s JMS?”

“Dude!” she repeated, smacking her face, “I thought you watched Babylon 5! He’s the mastermind behind the whole thing!”

“Well, I don’t normally read the credits.”

Melissa shook her head, “Whatever. Don’t you know what this is?”

“Um…”

“Babylon 5 was meant to have five seasons since the start, but there was a cancellation issue during season 4, and had to cut everything short. It got all fixed, which is why we have the season-that-does-not-exist, instead of the proper season 5. However, we’ve been missing the structure for that lost season because JMS’ notes accidentally got thrown out!”

He processed the information, blinked several times, then gaped, “You...what...you’re saying...these are real notes from the show?”

“More than that, this was how the show was supposed to be!”

“I gotta admit, season 5 wasn’t that great…”

Melissa bopped him on the arm, “Haven’t seen it in years. Don't remember most of it, and don't make me remember.”

“Is this the only gallery?” Andrew asked Luna, moving along to consider an old Star Trek: The Next Generation model kit.

“No. There are others for weapons, human remains, food, and more like this one.”

Melissa noted Andrew’s point of interest, and looked at the pile of toys he’d picked it up from. She grinned, and dashed off into the darkness, shining her flashlight on several shelves.
A whoop of glee echoed through the chamber.

She came back grinning ear to ear, carrying a remarkably-preserved cardboard box. Luna pointed her light at it when Melissa held it up, to display an older style toy box cover. It displayed a long white boxy craft, flying over Earth. To the side, three spacesuited-astronauts stood in action poses, one pointing a weapon off to the side. Andrew recalled seeing the shape of the vessel, but didn’t know what it was. Huh. I’ve seen that a lot actually...
“Check it out!” She said, practically squealing.

The other two stared blankly. “Is it a...spacecraft?” Luna asked, hesitant.

Melissa laughed, “‘Is it a spaceship’...Andrew, tell her what this is!”

“Sure,” he nodded, “Love to. What is it?” Wisely, he stepped back.

She twitched, and her grin faded from her eyes. “Surely you know it. It starts with an ‘E’...”

“Enterprise?”

Her grin widened again, “Oh my god. You two are in for a treat.”

She went over to a nearby table, laying the box down, “This is the Eagle Transporter of Space: 1999, the modular vessel used by Moonbase Alpha after Breakaway. They’re the workhorse of the series, and one of the most iconic spacecraft in history.”

She furrowed her brow, and brushed dust off the sides, “Oh man, not just any Eagle, this is...This is one of the vintage 1976 Mattel Eagle 1 toys!”

“And that means...?” Andrew asked, and she whirled on him, seizing his coat.

“Are you kidding?! This might be the only remaining unopened one of these left! They haven’t been made since ‘77, and they sell for big bucks on ebay! This one is mine! All mine!”

Andrew raised an eyebrow as she cackled evilly, interspersed with occasional squealing. He asked “How old are you again?”

“Don’t change the subject.” She held Andrew’s coat at arm’s length, suddenly remembering that Luna was standing there, “Uh...Do you mind if...?”

Luna blinked, and shook her head, “Take it if it makes you happy. There are several similar boxes that we did not open. They didn’t contain anything of value, mostly toys.”

“It’s not offensive? Or theft?” Andrew asked, surprised.

“No, of course not. It’s not anything of military value anyway, and all of this is your people’s. It belongs to you.”

Melissa dropped Andrew, and snatched up the box, embracing it like an old friend she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“This is not all I have to show you. Shall we move on?” Luna asked.

Melissa put the box down, “Alright. I probably shouldn’t carry this around. I’ll get it on the way back.”

Once Luna started to walk away, Melissa grabbed Andrew’s arm. “Hey, I need you to do something.”

“What?”

She passed him four green plastic sticks. It took him a moment to recognize the items as glow sticks.

“Hold onto these until I tell you you can put them down.”

“Why--”

“Ssh!” Melissa took off to catch up with the Queen of the Night.

Andrew furrowed his brow, considered the glow sticks for a moment, then shrugged and put them in his pocket.

Luna led the way into a separate chamber, not as large as the first but no less densely packed.

“This section is where we store recovered vehicles,” Luna explained, pulling another switch and lighting up the room.
Carts, small boats, and sleds were arranged in the same way as before.

“What’s that big one?” Andrew asked, pointing to a long dark shape on the end. It looked like a pencil, with a pair of odd-looking rudders on the “eraser” end, and a small cupola on the top.

Melissa’s eyes widened, and she grinned. Rushing up to the scaffolding on the side, she reached into the barely-visible force field to wipe grit off the side. “USS” was written on the side. “Called it!”

She used her sleeve to wipe off more grit, to reveal “USS Alligator”, written in an older form of cursive.

“Is that theAlligator?” Andrew asked.

“It has proven quite useful for our navy. Our entire submarine service exists because of this vessel.” Luna explained, “One of the few cases of research that I mentioned before.”

Melissa’s face lit up with triumph, “I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

Andrew paled, “Oh...Is there anyone...in there?” He gulped.

“Don’t worry. The H.L. Hunley was the one that actually managed to do something. She’s in a museum back home, apparently got wrecked by its own torpedo.” Melissa said, but very hesitantly took the small light on her keychain and flashed it inside. “Still a bit damp, no rotting corpses though.”

“What brought the Alligator here?” Luna asked, and Melissa laughed.

“That’s a funny story actually. She was completely sealed and being towed around Florida to use against the Confederates. Ran into a storm, and they had to cut the line. Either she sank immediately, or the more likely candidate, drifted for a while because of all the air, before sinking.”

Her boot made a clang clang on the hull, “...Or before being brought here.”

“How is that amusing?”

“The submarine wasn’t lost in combat or anything, just sank while being towed. Trust me, it’s a lot funnier than the H. L. Hunley, the Confederate submarine.”

“That is not all we have recovered,” Luna stated, “Follow me.”

They moved on, passing more recent vehicles, mainly carts or boats. Unusually, there were no 20th or 21st century vehicles in the area.

“I woulda thought there would be tanks or planes or even a Willys jeep..” Melissa muttered.

Luna looked back at them, “The self-propelled land vehicles are stored in another archive, with the exception of the one we are about to see.”

“What vehicle?” Andrew asked.

“It is better to show you.”

They moved into another chamber, without lighting, and the queen moved over to a small silhouette nearby. It glowed with energy, then what sounded like gunfire resounded through the room, making Melissa jump behind the doorway. The bangs settled into a smooth droning sound.

“Warn me next time you’re gonna do that!” she shouted over the noise.

“My apologies,” Luna said, adjusting the motor that had been revealed in the light from several light bulbs arranged around the chamber, and the droning became quieter, “These generators produce a lot of noise. I don’t know how you humans stand it!”

“We manage, I--”

“Melissa…” Andrew mumbled, staring at the center of the room.

“Hold on a second, mommy and daddy are talking--”

“Melissa! Look!” he shouted, and Melissa did.

She blinked several times. “Is that--?”

“A Sierra Nevada Dream Chaser!” Andrew cried out, a smile breaking out across his face. Sure enough a large, beautiful shape known as a Sierra Nevada Dream Chaser space plane sat in the center of the room raised on landing gear. It was slanted forward, with its front landing gear battered, scratched, and the tires somewhat deflated, but that did not detract from the emotional impact.

It was a lifting body design with a pair of stubby upward-swept wings to either side of the delta-shaped fuselage. The upper hull was painted in white, and the lower hull in black, as per US spacecraft style. An american flag was painted on one side, with, strangely enough, a United States Air Force roundel placed where the Sierra Nevada company logo should have gone.

She was battered and scorched, but the space plane still was a sight to be seen. Windows set high up on the hull offered a near-180 degree view. Melissa and Andrew moved around it, examining the craft with glee. They found a pair of primary thrusters located aft, with a sealed hatch between them.

There were some modifications and differences that contrasted with the sleek images both humans had seen before. The belly, and some of the upper hull, was scorched and burnt as though it had gone through reentry. Upon closer inspection, they found several almost-melted rails on the wings and bottom of the center hull, that looked like hastily-added missile hardpoints. The cargo compartment was mostly welded over, scorched danger signs were painted at specific points, though what danger they meant couldn't be read. The remaining parts of the bay not welded over contained a pair of cameras-looking devices that broke up the smooth silhouette, pointing forward along either side of the craft.

There was something off about them though. No spacecraft like this needed cameras that big. Where have I seen these before? Melissa wondered.

“You recognize this craft?” Luna asked.

“Oh yeah…” Andrew managed to stutter.

Melissa opened her mouth, but then Andrew burst out, “It’s a space plane! A company in Colorado, my home state back on Earth, builds them! Once got a tour of their manufacturing place.”

“What?!” Melissa shrieked, glaring at Andrew, “You not only know what this beautiful lady is, but you got a guided tour of the goddamn factory?!”

“Yeah…?”

“I want to poison your next meal I’m so jealous you lucky bastard!”

“Can you tell me precisely what year it was from?” Luna inquired, ignoring the internal dispute.

“Kinda. They started development back in 2011,” Andrew answered, “They managed to get production going in 2014 a little while before I left.”

“What--but I--Ugh, you’re driving me nuts! I’m the spacecraft nut, you son of a bitch!” Melissa cried.

“Hey, what are those?” Andrew asked, diverting her attention by pointing to a pair of odd pipes, which were strapped to the wings, breaking up the elegant silhouette, “Those weren’t on any of the models I’ve seen…”

“Thank you! Something I can trump you with!” Melissa moved over to study the pipes.

“They look like exhaust pipes on a hot rod engine.” Andrew mused.

“What was the intended power source?” Luna asked, trotting closer.

“Batteries, I think.” Andrew answered again, “The engines were hybrids, they ran off of some rubber and nitrous--something for an oxidizer.”

Melissa cursed, “Dude, you are ruining me here! Go back to being useless!”

Smirking with amusement, Andrew directed his speech to Luna, “Why’d you want to know about the power source?”

Not answering, Luna drifted into the air, and hovered over the hatch above the windows. Andrew clambered aboard, watching as she slowly pulled the release from one side to the other.

He stuck his head inside the compartment, finding that it was more cramped than usual. Several seats, apparently pilot and co-pilot, remained, but the other four had been removed and replaced with a large rounded cylinder in the back of the vehicle. Beams, wires, and other connections held it in place precariously above the crawlspace that led to the rear hatch. Andrew’s eyes bugged out at the yellow and black symbol emblazoned at one end of the cylinder, above the words “Caution! Radioactive materials!”

“Holy crap…” he whispered, sitting up and looking at Luna in shock, “This sucker’s nuclear?”

“What?” Melissa demanded, crawling up the hull to see for herself, “Oh sweet Cthulhu…”

“It is indeed. We are not familiar with the elements involved, though this is not surprising given our lack of experience in the field of atomic research. However, from what we can gather from the documents and symbols we have discovered in this vehicle, we have found a symbol that matches one from your periodic table. Americium-241.”

“241?” Melissa wondered, pulling out her phone to check the periodic table, “Uh…”

“It’s a byproduct of nuclear fission, used as a kind of atomic battery because it gives off so much heat.” A flicker of a smile appeared on Andrew’s face for a brief instant.

“Explains those things then,” Melissa commented, gesturing at the pipes along the wings, “The batteries always need a lot of coolant. How’d you know about that?”

“My dad worked with nuclear technology. Fat lot of good that knowledge did up to now…” When Melissa didn’t interrupt him again, he continued, “Why stick it on a ship like this? The European Space Agency wanted to put this stuff in probes, but not manned ships. Well, there was a shortage of Plutonium-238 last I heard, but you’d only put this on here if you needed to power something very big…”

“Something big, such as weapons?” Luna inquired.

Melissa frowned, then looked back at the cameras. She jumped down, and flicked on a flashlight, peering into the gloom of the reflective tubes, “Big as in a pair of Laser Weapon Systems.”

“Two what?” Luna queried, drifting down to see what she was looking at.

“These aren’t gunpowder based, or railguns. I just remembered why these things are so familiar.”

She ran a hand along the barrel of one weapon, “A few years ago, the USS Ponce was issued a prototype weapon, the AN/SEQ-3 Laser Weapon System, or LaWS. First directed-energy weapon on a US Navy ship. It was supposed to be put into production by...2021 or something! Ponce was the only ship in the fleet with one, let alone two on a platform this small! How advanced are these things? Cthulhu’s testicles, how advanced is this reactor? It can’t just be 241, RTGs don’t normally have the power output, there’s gotta be something else...”

“We shall find out.” Luna said ominously, and without warning used her magic to lift both of them up, “Please enter the craft.”

“Hey--!” Andrew protested, “What about radiation?”

“Dude, NASA’s not in the habit of killing its astronauts. Soviet space program is the one that does that. It’s gotta be shielded...Probably.” Melissa’s comment did nothing to help. “Please put us down.”

“Radiation?” Luna asked, her horn growing inactive and allowing the humans to land on solid ground, “We haven’t detected anything. You are perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have any nuclear experience! You can probably pick up some types of radiation, but you don’t have geiger counters.” Andrew pointed out.

“Actually…” she trotted over to several tables and shelves arrayed against a wall. They were absolutely covered in equipment, apparently recovered from the craft. They recognized maintenance equipment, flares, emergency kits, manuals, documents, water packets, life jackets, clothing, and much more. Some of it was in pieces, carefully taken apart. It was being analyzed apparently. Logos and insignia, many of which were NASA or USAF, covered the various objects and devices.

Melissa, digging through the equipment, took notice of several empty packages and vacant molds in some of the kits. Several were in the shape of ammunition magazines, and two were in the shape of pistols(likely SIG Sauer P226 by the shape, sidearms in air force issue). One of the cases was different, however. Slightly larger, and longer, and labeled “SU-16 Survival Rifle”.

Now that was odd. She recalled a rifle series called SU-16, but the air force hadn’t issued a rifle in their survival kits since the 70s, let alone this variant.

The empty case revealed no answers. All the maintenance parts, ammunition, and the weapon itself had been removed.

Luna searched through the loot for a moment. Apparently finding what she wanted, her horn began to glow, and from a nearby shelf came a utilitarian box. A probe of some kind was attached to the box at the end of a cord.

“Geiger Counter, USN Property” was written on the side, and a dial coated in various labels occupied most of the top.

“We have our own radiation measuring equipment,” Luna explained, “but they are not as able or as compact as this.”

“Oh.” Andrew mumbled, embarrassed. He took the device, and stuck it inside the hatch. There were a handful of ominous clicks, but nothing too bad.

“It is as I said,” Luna commented, and telekinetically nudged them closer toward the hatch again.

Regardless of their concerns, both lowered themselves into the craft, glancing around at the dark interior.

Melissa turned on her flashlight again, and found a panel labeled, “Emergency lighting” along the ceiling.

With a click, a handful of lights came to life, a few dozen electroluminescent lights sending out a blue glow across the cabin.

Looking around at the interior, Andrew found it decidedly military. Many of the friendly inviting lights and panels that were visible on that long-ago tour had been removed or were never installed. The acceleration couches looked like every over-engineered fighter jet seat he’d seen. Military labels, simple spartan environment, and a rush job too. The paint was spotty in places, and some welds looked poorly made. It was nothing like the one he’d seen back home.

“Ah, look at all this!” Melissa exclaimed in dismay, “What was wrong with them? It’s a rush job! Since when does NASA leave a ton of loose wires like this?”

She moved back to the battery, and found even more spotty welds along with a lack of paint, and other signs of a hurried job, “Jeez...just look at what they did to her!”

She crawled back toward the aft hatch, cursing all the way, leaving Andrew to check out the cockpit.

Sitting down in the pilot’s seat, he took in the control panels. Three darkened touchscreen displays were dominant, one for the pilot, one for the co-pilot, and one central screen. A central throttle, and joysticks were arrayed around the seats, while buttons, recessed switches, and knobs lined the areas around the displays. Their numbers seem to have multiplied since the prototypes, the Dream Chaser was supposed to be all digital. Redundancy perhaps?

Despite the temptation, Andrew tried to keep himself from touching anything in the atomic-powered spacecraft. Key word tried. All he did was tap one of the touchscreens.

To semi-relief, he found that they did not respond. No damage, they just seemed inactive. It must have been turned off.

Looking around, he tried to locate some sort of activation mechanism, peering around,, and poking his head under the console.

“What the--Hey, there’s an Xbox 360 in here!” He called, finding the familiar black shape hooked up among the rest of the equipment visible under the control console.

“What the fuck?” Melissa cried back, then murmured, while presumably stroking the machine again, “ Cthulhu, what did they do to you, girl?

“Are you familiar with this technology?” Luna asked, sticking her head in the hatch.

“Yeah…” Andrew muttered, reaching for an honest-to-god iphone plugged into the side of the console, and holding it up, “Pretty sure. Interface isn’t too different from what I’ve used before.”

“It is from around your time, then.” she concluded.

Tilting his head in curiosity, Andrew negligently reached for the throttle. Perhaps that would get something out of it, given that it was a manual switch…

Both he and Luna jumped in surprise at how quickly Melissa had virtually teleported over. Her hand was crushing his, and she had a cold stare on her face, “Don’t. Touch. Anything. Don’t you ever watch movies?”

“Yes...please let go of my hand I think you’re breaking it.”

“Miss Foster, please do as he asks.” Luna firmly said, wincing as she saw Andrew’s fingers turn white.

“You gonna touch anything else?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“No…Please let go, ow ow ow!”

“Okay then.” She released him.

“How are we going to know if the thing’s still functional, though?” Andrew inquired, rubbing his nearly-numb hand, “Nothing works in here!”

“That is what we found as well,” Luna agreed, “all attempts to activate this vehicle met with failure.”

Melissa rolled her eyes, “Doesn’t anyone know anything? ‘Scuse me, don’t answer that. Haven’t you ever seen the Tintin movie, Andrew? You don’t push buttons at random, you find the owner’s manual. If we’re gonna do this, we do this right.”

Minutes later, she had a pile of binders and manuals at her feet, as she carefully read through an electrical startup procedure.

“Didn’t you try this before?” Andrew asked Luna.

A little embarrassed, Luna looked off to the side, “I was not involved in the research process...though I believe that it simply did not occur to our scientists. We relied heavily on Twilight’s notes, but they were virtually useless in this area. Anyway, I was busy dealing with preparations for…” she halted, “Excuse me, that’s classified.”

Melissa wasn’t listening, “Battery on, standby power on, guard closed, lights on, fuel pumps off, that thing’s off, keep that other thing on, perform fire and extinguisher test...” she muttered, sending several sounds through the ship at certain points, “And...there!”

With a turn of a switch, The spacecraft smoothly powered up around them. There was no shudder of an engine, barely even a whisper from the batteries. Displays flickered to life. and the harsh red emergency light replaced with pleasant and warm lamps all around the cabin. The light revealed painted on the ceiling something resembling WWII nose art. A naked red-head anime woman sitting on a missile, with the word “SOPHIA” written below.

“Wow…” Melissa whispered.

“Cool.” Andrew muttered.

“Good work,” Luna congratulated, “By the stars, that’s further than anything we’ve been able to do! We thought it was non-functional!”

“Glad I know how to read a manual…” Melissa commented dryly, “Okay, fuel’s at 50%, hull’s intact, most systems seem to be functional. RTG’s got full integrity, LaWS--Hah! Called it--are operational…” she flipped through the touchscreen displays, slapping Andrew’s hand when he hovered it over something, “weapon hardpoints? Depleted, of course. All missiles launched.”

“What’s this thing doing with missiles? What’s it doing with laser guns? Hell, what’s it doing with a freaking atomic battery powering it?” Andrew demanded.

“I’m guessing none of this equipment was on the…’Dream Chaser’ you saw before?” Luna inquired.

“No, no of course not. It was just supposed to be a space taxi! Wasn’t even supposed to fly for another year or two.”

“So this thing’s only a few months into the future, parallel with the time I’ve been here--Hold on.” Melissa swiped the screen and brought up another display. “MISSION CLOCK”.

Looking at her watch and the display, she furrowed her brow and held her mouth open for a moment, “That’s odd. This thing’s a bit fast.”

“What?” the other two asked.

“My watch, there’s a time difference between what it says and what this mission clock says.”

“That is odd.” Andrew commented, “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“It means that combined with the months here... something could have happened back home. Something that necessitated quickly-made spacecraft, the best weapons we can build…”

Suspicious, Melissa abruptly stood up, and deactivated most of the systems aside from the lights. She retrieved the geiger counter, and moved out the door. The other two followed, finding her pointing the geiger counter at various parts of the craft.

“Hoo boy…” she muttered.

“You checking what I think you’re checking?” Andrew asked, his heart sinking.

“Yep. Not too dangerous, but there’s definitely radiation spikes. Smells like a nuke to me.” the counter clicked again, “...Several, in fact.”

“What? Radiation? Our scientists…” Luna trailed off, shaking her head, “Amazing.”

“So, back home…” Andrew considered slowly, “Nuclear spacecraft put together in a hurry, laser guns, nukes…”

Melissa rubbed her forehead, “Oh shit. Cthulhu and all the Elder Gods themselves…It was...”

“War.” Andrew finished with a grimace, “Some really big one.”

“That was what we’d feared,” Luna said, “I do believe you two were lucky enough to escape a massive war on your homeworld. A war that required the use of your race’s most powerful weapons. Do either of you know what might have caused this?”

“No...no, there was nothing! Nothing!” Melissa said, her voice distant, “At least nothing Earth-based, aside from Syria, North Korea, or Trump being president...He’d probably start a war over his hands.”

“Stop it,” Andrew barked harshly, “That’s not funny right now.”

“Sorry…”

“Think it was World War III? We’ve got all those satellites, maybe they sent it up to blast them…”

“No, that’s what I was saying! Even given how long we’ve been away from home, we’d know if there was a war brewing. Aliens, definitely.”

“You were invaded?” Luna inquired.

“Best option.” Melissa grunted, kicking the floor.

“Damn it...” Andrew walked away, rubbing his face.

“I...I am so sorry.” Luna said, “...That is all I can say. I am sorry.”

Melissa sighed, trying to remain calm. She didn’t know what to do next. What now?

Andrew, with haggard breath, came back. He still needed answers, he couldn’t keep going otherwise, “Uh...Where’d you find it?”

Luna closed her eyes briefly, sighing, “Months ago, there was a shooting star reported over Dodge City and several other southern desert cities, and a series of sounds like thunder, later identified as sonic booms. No impact was felt, but a scientific expedition was lead in the direction of where it went down, hoping to recover the remains of a comet.”

“And you just...found it?” Andrew asked.

“Yes. The happy couple, Shining Armor and Princess Cadence, led the expedition, and found the craft abandoned in a dry lakebed. I am sorry, but we found no trace of the crew. However, we did find In the area a several-day old fire, and evidence of a camp. Maintenance had been done on the craft, and in the survival equipment, we found several missing items. They apparently tried to walk out.”

“So, you have no idea where they are. They could be dead for all you know!” Melissa cried, her voice breaking slightly.

“Yes. I am sorry. The area they were in was very wide, any tracks were destroyed by the wind. They could have gone anywhere.”

“Great…” Andrew grumbled.

“Why’d you hide this beautiful lady from us anyway?” Melissa demanded.

“Well, we didn’t exactly understand it. We waited to tell you until we had some knowledge of its workings…”

“You were afraid of us?” the marine guessed.

“Perhaps that had some element to it, but as I’m sure you can understand, bureaucracy had a great deal to do with this as well.”

Melissa snorted with amusement, even as her sadness increased. They still didn’t trust her and Andrew. “Bureaucracy, tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t offer more information. This is all we have…”

Melissa furrowed her brow again. “What is it?” Andrew asked.

“Maybe it’s not the only info we have. Princess--fuck, queen--dammit, your majesty-- did you recover any kind of big and orange box from...Sophia, here?” she gestured to the craft.

It took a second for Luna to understand what she was referring to was the ship, “No, we did not. Why?”

The human did not answer. Moving to the rear hatch, Melissa hauled it open. Climbing inside, she peered around for a moment, before turning around and reaching up to something on the ceiling. She had apparently found what she was looking for.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked.

“Gimme a minute…” there was a clack, and a clunk, “Ow! Fuck!”

Nursing a thumb, Melissa emerged with a white and orange-striped box, and several flash drives, “Least this will help us find out what happened.”

“...And if we’re the last humans alive…” Andrew muttered gloomily. Holding up his hand, he stared at the iphone he held, retrieved from the Sophia.

“What is this device? Where did it come from?” Luna queried of Melissa, trying to distract and being genuinely curious at the same time. “We have never seen it.”

On the side was printed “Flight data recorder do not open”.

“They’re usually stored in the tail section of an aircraft, cockpit voice and flight data recorder. Designed to record information from the flight. Might be able to figure out what happened to them.”

“You deal with that.” Andrew muttered, “I’m gonna go.”

He wandered away aimlessly, back through the archives.

Luna and Melissa quickly caught up with him. He didn’t seem to react, his face haunted and gaunt and pale.

Along the way, Melissa stopped back at one of the shelves. The 21st century American military exhibit. She browsed through them until she found one in particular. A United States Marine Corps Enhanced Combat Helmet(ECH), desert MARPAT camouflage covering it.
Just like the one she’d trained with, lighter and more balanced than her fire department helmet. They called them K-pots(“K” for kevlar or kraut) or Fritz helmets due to their resemblance to WWII German Stahlhelm. She picked it up with reverence and care, turning it over. A simple piece of kevlar.
Recent arrival, the manufacturing date was 2007.

Melissa stared at the helmet. A simple piece of thermoplastic polymers.

There had always been something particularly sad that struck Melissa about helmets or other equipment that turned up like this, in fact or in fiction. It was a window into the past, once a dime-a-dozen standard-issue piece of equipment common to everyone in the army that manufactured it, but now possibly the only surviving example. A simple helmet.

Far from home, out of its time, it’s original designers far gone or far away. How would they have reacted to their legacy? How would the soldiers this equipment belonged to have reacted?
A simple helmet. Designed to protect a man or woman from shrapnel and light small arms fire.

A simple helmet that represented a history, a people, a nation, a military, a branch of service, duty, honor, technology, a culture, a type of conflict, a way of thinking, a history, a world. It was an anchor to days gone by.

It was so much more than a simple helmet.

A piece of history was what it was. It was an idol.

Melissa reverently turned it over, and placed the helmet on her head. It was a loose fit, adjusted for someone with a bigger head than her own.

She readjusted it, and put it back on. It fit like a glove this time, exactly like the one she’d been issued.

A bead of liquid dropped onto her hand. She looked at it, fascinated, before she realized it was a tear.

She touched the area under her eye, and found more moisture. She was crying.

What had hit Andrew hit her as well. The marine sank to her knees, making a low keening sound. More tears came, as she buried her face in her hands.