Out of the darkness of a very strange dream there was a rapid, insistent electronic beeping. Melissa moaned, holding her head as she looked at her watch. About 7:30 AM.

Sitting up, she winced with pain again. “Holy shit, was I drinking?” Melissa wondered aloud, a habit she had when she was alone, “I never go to parties...Never.”

She noticed that she wasn’t in bed, but was instead lying in Oscar's trunk. Her fire department emergency blanket lay on top of her, and both rows of seats were down to form a bed. Her holster for Glamdring was casually tossed atop her N7 jacket, which was splayed out against one of the doors. The trunk door was open as well, letting in a mild cold draft from the outside. It was kind of dark, and the sun was barely up.
Outside, she noticed some buildings in the early morning light. I must’ve gone to a party, and someone spiked the punch. I’m not even 21 yet…

Melissa also noticed her popular science magazine placed carefully near the open doorway, under a weight...A wooden cup. No plastic or modern materials. A classic fantasy wooden cup.
What the hell? Did I go to the Pennsic War? Wait, that’s in Pennsylvania…

Her head throbbed for a third time, and she winced. Reaching into the glove compartment, she retrieved a bottle of ibuprofen. With some water, she swallowed one of the pills, “No, I went to see a movie...Went off the road…”

Something came back. Rainbow Dash. And Twilight Sparkle. An episode she didn’t remember, and some annoying John Crichton-wannabe...

She folded up the emergency blanket, and put it back in the battered Fire Department bag as she painfully recovered memory, “Okay...I went off the road, I got out, made an inventory of my stuff…” after that, there was nothing until... “I was doing something that involved the ponies, and The Touch was playing...”

Everything finally fit together. “Right. I’m...in Equestria.” she tried to control her breathing. Deal with it later deal with it later deal with it later...

“...I don’t remember drinking, why do I have a hangover?”

She opened up the gull-wing door next to her, and rolled out, folding the seat back up.

Satisfied, she turned back around, looking out at Ponyville. Not many were up, and it was still a bit dark. Melissa saw a familiar sky-blue pony messing around with some clouds, a pink blur on the rooftops doing...Something.

It was an alien world. Not on TV. She was here.

Glancing around, she suddenly began to feel a tightness in her chest. Her mind raced, infinite possibilities tumbling by as she rubbed her face and looked around.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity...she was barely able to stifle a whimper attempting to escape her mind.

She stumbled back against Oscar as if she had been struck physically, putting a hand to her mouth and taking several deep breaths.

The tightness in her chest grew further, and she nearly winced with physical pain. Reaching out to her backpack, she yanked out one of her water bottles, and took a long swig.

When she finally brought the bottle down, she felt something on her cheek. Melissa rubbed at it, and stared at the warm drop of water on her knuckle.

Another dripped down to join it.

No, don’t fall apart! Don’t! A little voice within her cried, You can’t!

But her eyes weren’t listening. More liquid pooled at the corners of her eyes, and she squeezed them shut.

Melissa climbed back into the back seat of the car and shut the door. She curled up into a ball and buried her face in her knees.

We can’t be stuck here...we can’t be stuck here...we can’t be stuck here…

Yet that was all she could picture. Growing old and dying in this familiar yet foreign place, unable to see home again, being buried in foreign soil decades from now or a week, depending on what might kill her.

We can’t be stuck here forever!

Suddenly, she heard a tapping from outside. Melissa quickly rubbed her red face clean of tears, calmed herself as best she could and glanced up. There was a pony silhouetted against the glass, looking this way and that into the vehicle.

She didn’t seem able to see inside, but the windows weren’t that tinted…

Melissa blinked in realization. The pony was the white and blue DJ from the previous night, the one who wore sunglasses all the time. Of course she couldn’t see through the windows.

Her name was...Vinyl Scratch. I think...

Muttering under her breath, the young woman reached over, and popped the door open.

“Yes, what d’you want?” she asked, a little harshly.

The pony winced with pain, and rubbed her forehead, “Geez, not so loud, will ya?” she spoke with a bit of a raspy yet light voice, like Nowacking, “My head’s pounding like crazy.”

“Did you want something?” Melissa asked again, a little quieter.

From some hidden pocket drifted out a little red rectangle, surrounded by the blue aura emanating from the unicorn’s horn, “You left your music box by my equipment. Thought you might want it back.”

Melissa plucked it out of the air, “Thanks.” she inspected it for a moment, and noticed that the pony was still standing there. “Anything else?”

The unicorn looked a little surprised, but shrugged, “Not really...How does that thing work? Mini decks, or something?”

“‘Decks’?”

The DJ blinked at her, “Y’know, phonographs? Vinyl records?”

“Oh...No. It’s digital circuits, run off of electricity.”

Now it was the DJ’s turn to stare blankly.

“It’s too hard to explain. Maybe I could try later with a diagram or something.”

“Yeah…” the pony agreed, but still didn’t go away.. “What other music have you got on there?”

Melissa tried not to act annoyed. Could this unicorn just not take a hint?

As her stomach lurched again, signaling the return of her fear, she managed to croak, “I’ve got a lot, and a lot to do. Let’s talk later okay?”

The pony tilted her head in concern, “You okay there?”

“I’m fine.” Melissa ground out,, “Thanks for my...music box.”

She slammed the door shut. She looked down at her hands, and realized that they were shaking.

Get a grip. Get a grip right now before you fall apart.

Almost angrily, she shoved the ear buds from the MP3 player into her ears, and flipped through the songs.

Finally, she settled on a favorite.

As the song Dimetrodon began to play, she laid back and closed her eyes.

She smiled slightly as the anxiety momentarily washed away under the assault of mediation and a decent song.

Finally, she fled to the happiest place she could think of in her mind. For once, not a fantasy realm, instead...home.

After several minutes, feeling herself much calmer now, she unplugged her headphones. Melissa squeezed through the gap between the passenger and driver seats, and carefully twisted around to the point where she could sit comfortably in the driver’s seat.

She felt something around her neck shifting, coming out of her collar. Grasping the two metal tags, she took a long look at them. They were identical plates, lined with rubber and inscribed with letters and numbers.

Melissa pushed them back under her shirt, and glanced about, making sure no one saw.

I wonder if Mom and Dad have called me in as missing yet. She had been back in Vermont for a couple weeks of vacation, and hadn’t intended to return to North Carolina until the next week, and she definitely wouldn’t have left without telling them. They probably called in when I didn’t respond to the phone.

Amber alert would come within the next day or so. Then county wide searches, and she would be another face on the missing persons list.

Heck, if she was lucky, she might appear as a footnote on CNN. More fuel to add to the anti-Bernie Sanders fire, that he couldn’t protect one little girl from his own state. Ridiculous, but why not?
Melissa snorted; she might end up on cracked.com, another one of their “strangest disappearances ever” lists.

With the same calm she had generated, Melissa pushed those thoughts away. She needed to find out what to do with herself while she was stuck here.

With longing, she looked at the darkened displays before her, the laptop carefully hidden in her backpack at full charge.
On the passenger side of the dashboard were neatly arranged her phone and tablet; charging from a portable solar panel. Emplaced upon the seat itself was a pile of gear, including all of the ammunition for her Glock. She picked up one of the handful of magazines, the rounds inside covered in an array of labels and NATO terminology. She sighed at the plastic bag containing a single spent cartridge placed next to the pile of magazines. The use of only one round felt like a punch in the gut. Though the ammo might hold out for a while, every single cartridge would be missed.

Melissa reached into her pocket and carefully inserted her car keys into the slot, turning it 1/3rd of the way through. A handful of lights winked on, displaying no GPS, no radio signal, and about 90% charge.

Her solar panel couldn’t hope to charge a Tesla. Unless she could MacGyver something to charge the vehicle, it would quickly become useless. Her laptop, with much more memory and data than any other device in her possession, would become useless.

Melissa yanked out a scrap piece of paper, still with a few available spaces despite the other scribbles from school.

She began a checklist, “Ammunition, weapons, power, vehicles, & cash”.

Charging Oscar wasn’t as big a challenge as she expected. She had a charging cord in with the jumper cables, and if she could hook him up to the hydroelectric dam, she could at least trickle-charge the vehicle. The biggest problem was the fifth category. How would she pay for anything? She couldn’t afford to trade anything from home if she couldn’t help it.

In order to get her ideas out to make money, she needed money in the first place...probably. Maybe a class at the schoolhouse, or teaching ponies how to make crystal radios.

She didn’t even consider trying to work in the physical labor department. Besides being boring, annoying, and difficult, it wouldn’t be good for the ponies to grow reliant upon her physical abilities. What would happen if she wasn’t around?

Melissa continued to ponder the various questions she had...until she heard an odd sound. A clatter against the hull of the car.

She froze in fear, realizing that she neglected to close the trunk door. What creature was now lurking behind her, salivating at the thought of her flesh ground up in its stomach?

Bracing herself, she peeked in the rear-view mirror. She was surprised to find that there wasn’t any beast, but there was a little purple tuft of hair sticking up, with a pair of wide eyes underneath peering at her.

When she whipped around, the observer had disappeared.

Intent on getting to the bottom of this, Melissa opened the door, and stepped out. There was the sound of racing feet on gravel.

Now, why haven’t they run away yet?

She peeked under the car, and saw three sets of hooves, doing their best to stay quiet. Three sets of unusually small hooves.

“Ssh!” Melissa heard one of the intruders say, and suddenly grinned.

Her earlier depression forgotten, she made as if to walk off, before quickly doing her best hood slide.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as she finally confirmed who it was. WIthin seconds, she had all three little fillies in a single minor bear-hug, and was squealing with delight.

“Oh my god you’re the most adorable little things I’ve ever seen!” were the first intelligible words out of her mouth, “I could just eat you up!”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders feelings contrasted sharply with Melissa’s. All three were struggling to breath, and hoping that this crazy human wouldn’t eat them.

Eventually, she set them down in the open trunk, and whipped out her phone.

The fillies’ fear turned to puzzlement as she twisted the odd grey square device twice as though it were a doorknob, and aimed it at them. There was a click like a camera shutter, and a blinding flash just like said camera.

The human peered at the device, and giggled with glee. She twisted it twice again, then held it out in front of her, turning her back to the CMC.

After another flash, she looked at the device again. She squealed for the millionth time, and turned the device around.
All three squinted at the picture displayed, and their jaws dropped.

“What do you think?” Melissa asked, “That look good?”

“Is that a camera?” Sweetie Belle asked in disbelief.

“No, it couldn’t be! Gotta be some magic thingamajig!” Scootaloo blurted.

“But humans don’t have magic!...Right?” Apple Bloom asked, turning to Melissa.

“No we do not. Yes, it is a camera. Also it’s a telephone, texting device, game player, voice recorder, library, audiobook library, music player, internet browser, and...and…” she grinned sheepishly at the three, “Oh my god you’re so fu...freaking cute!”

Scootaloo cringed a little, “Yeah, you said that. Can you stop?”

“Oh, sorry!” Melissa giggled giddily, and sat down between them, Apple Bloom on the left, and the other two on the right.

In the sudden silence, she had an idea. “I wonder…” She reached up, and scratched Apple Bloom behind the ears, like a cat.

As the other two crusaders stared in disbelief, Apple Bloom eyes went wide, and her arms fidgeted a little. She seemed to like it.

“What are you doing?” Scootaloo asked slowly, transfixed.

Melissa only giggled again.

“Apple Bloom? Are you okay?” Sweetie Belle asked, more than a little afraid.

“Huh?” Apple Bloom drowsily asked, and suddenly snapped out of it. A little embarrassed, she backed away. Melissa froze, reality snapping back like a crack of a whip.

“What was that?” she asked, curiosity rather than fear in her voice.

Alarm bells suddenly went off in the human’s head, Whoops.

“...Is this a no-go zone for you guys?” she asked nervously, her excitement disappearing, “Is this like bad-touch or something?”

They all stared at her.

“Oh hell…” she moaned, “Uh...is there something that your parents told you...about things like adults trying to...I don’t know, touch kids in a bad way?”

“Huh?” Scootaloo asked, “What are you talking about?” the other Crusaders shrugged as well.

“Never mind…” Melissa rubbed her face, By Cthulhu, I hope I can live through the morning…

She stood up, and felt a sharp pain in her left foot when she touched the ground. “Aww, crap.”

“What?” Apple Bloom asked.

Melissa actually chuckled, as she realized that she wasn't wearing any shoes. “You guys seen my shoes anywhere? These are my only pair of socks, and I’d rather not rip them.”

The odd incident immediately forgotten, the fillies turned around and looked into the car before them, with no small amount of investigation of her stuff here and there.

“Is this one? Scootaloo asked, holding up a white tennis shoe. Apple Bloom found the other...under the car, for some reason.

Melissa took both shoes, but hesitated to put them on; instead, she moved to the front of the vehicle.

The fillies gathered around as she popped open the front hatch, and lifted it to reveal a partially-filled front trunk.

“...Boy, am I lazy!” were Melissa’s first words.

“Oh, it’s not that much stuff,” Sweetie Belle said unconvincingly.

“What do you call that?” Scootaloo laughed, “How the hay did you forget that much stuff in there?”

“Hey, this is perfectly valid storage space! But in this case I’m glad for it!” Melissa said. She had completely forgotten about the front trunk the other night, and all of its precious cargo. Inside lay a pile of hiking gear, left behind in the aftermath of her exhausting hiking trip.

Some of it wasn’t there of course; the laundry bag was missing, as was her roommate’s pack, and most of the gear that would rot. However, what was there, like her ILBE pack and whatever else was in the handful of other boxes, was a welcome boost to her current supplies.

Melissa withdrew her pair of United States Marine Corps-issue combat boots for now, and slammed the hatch shut. She dropped one on the ground, and sat on the hood of the car, holding the second reverently.

“What are those?” Scootaloo asked, as Melissa ran a hand over her shoe.

Apple Bloom nudged her, “Boots, dummy! Applejack wears them around at home during mud season a lot.”

“I knew that!”

“Did not!”

Sweetie Belle ignored her friends’ argument. Despite having very little experience with human body language, she knew when one was sad.
“Miss? Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

Melissa didn’t respond for a long time. “Yeah…” she sniffed, rubbing her tiny muzzle, “I’m fine.”

She inhaled shakily, and shoved the boot into place, lacing it up, quickly followed by the other one.

High quality boots, they felt snug as she moved her toes. According to the online store description, they were much better for one’s feet than most standard combat boots, and were extremely durable.

My freaking shoes are more advanced. I bet even an aglet would be a big patent.

“What are you three doing out here this early?” she inquired, trying to distract herself, “Did you want something?”

Within an instant, she regretted those words. The Cutie Mark Crusaders regained their typical energy, and were upon her with questions. Things like “What’s your full name? What’s this? What’s that? Do humans have Cutie Marks?”

Melissa laughed nervously, and slowly moved around the car towards the driver’s seat.

“My full name’s Melissa Foster,” she began as she sat down, trying to recall all of the questions said at once, “This is a Tesla Model X electric automobile. And no, we don’t have Cutie Marks.”

“Really?” Apple Bloom asked, “Are you sure?”

“I think I’d be sure about something like that.”

“Then what’s that?” Scootaloo asked smugly. WIth effort, she reached up to tug at Melissa’s t-shirt right sleeve, trying to see some sort of barely visible shape on her bare skin.

Melissa lightly brushed aside the little pegasus’ hoof, and lifted up her sleeve. “That’s my tattoo--”

“Ha! Told you they had ‘em, Sweetie Belle!”

“Shut up! Why doesn’t Andrew have one? Remember he told us humans didn’t have them?”

“Just because it was something embarrassing--” Apple Bloom tried to say, before Melissa gently interrupted.

“Girls, it’s not a Cutie Mark. It’s something humans put on our skin because it looks cool.”

She turned her arm towards them, exposing the image fully. It was a logo, an eagle seamlessly blending with a planet beneath it, and a banner across the bottom of the planet with the label, “UNSC”.

‘What does…’oonsck’ mean?” Apple Bloom asked, squinting at the logo.

“It’s pronounced U.N.S.C, actually. United Nations Space Command, it’s an acronym from a video game.”

All three perked up, “Video games? Do you have one?” Scootaloo asked.

“Andrew’s games all broke when his thing broke.” Sweetie Belle said with a trace of sadness, but brightened again, “Do you have any?”

“Wait, his what broke?” Melissa inquired.

“That little black thing he had. Ran out of ‘juice’ he said.” Apple Bloom explained.

“And I bet being on fire didn’t help.” Scootaloo snorted.

Melissa facepalmed, “Great. Of course he didn’t take care of it. Freaking dumba--uh...idiot.”

“Do you have any video games?” Sweetie Belle asked again.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got a few. Can’t do any of my big ones, but I can do my little ones.” She reached over and picked up her phone.

She selected a game, and as all three fillies gathered around her, she began to play Fallout Shelter.

Melissa couldn’t even remember how many questions they asked, let alone answer all of them. In the interest of battery power, she simply added a few rooms to the vault, and fended off a raider attack before ending the game.

“That’s it for now guys, sorry.”

“Aww…”

Sweetie Belle got into the passenger seat, and looked around the interior of the vehicle. It was unlike any automobile she had seen before, both the few she had actually been in and the ones in books. The crew compartment was fully enclosed for one, which seemed odd, wouldn’t exhaust get trapped in the cockpit?
The cab wasn’t that cramped, in fact everything seemed fairly compact. The steering column was centered in a wheel that faced the operator, looking much easier to use than the typical big stick thingy used for steering. Oddly enough, there were also two rods mounted beside it, on a control panel in the center of the vehicle. One was mounted vertically, the other horizontally. Sweetie Belle reached for the horizontal one, wanting to know what the big button was…

“Hey, hey hey!” Melissa almost yelled, and slapped her hoof away. The energy in the others completely disappeared, as the fear returned.

“Sorry,” the human said more gently, trying to smooth over things, “You okay?”

Sweetie Belle rubbed her hoof, “I’m fine…” she mumbled, staring down at her feet and avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. That thing’s the parking brake, if you pulled that we would’ve gone rolling away.” Melissa apologized, and smiled weakly as she rubbed the filly’s mane, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sweetie Belle said more clearly and sharply. Abruptly, noticing something in the leg well, she leaned down and picked up an object.

Her fear disappeared again, “What’s this?”

She held up a small little pedestal, with a spring attached. Placed neatly across the top of the spring was a gently bobbing object. It had a blunt nose, a wide midsection, and a long tail. The object was painted primarily white, with two sets of swept back wings, one larger set in the front to either side of the fat midsection, and two to either side of the tail, with a tall rudder-like shape standing between them.

“It kinda looks like a bird.” Apple Bloom said, squinting at it, “But why’s it painted like that?”

“Can’t be a bird,” Scootaloo argued, “The wings are wrong, why are they swept back like that?”

“Why does it have ‘navy’ on the side?” Sweetie Belle wondered.

Gently, Melissa took the ornament back. “It’s a model of a Grumman A-6 Intruder all-weather attack aircraft. United States Navy and the Marine Corps used them from 1967 to 1997. My mom flew one over Iraq. Could carry four types of nukes, a bunch of hardpoints for a whole lot of ordnance, and is just such an odd looking aircraft.”

She pointed to the odd little blunt nose, “Look at that thing! It’s kinda...cute when you look at it. Oh, the tail! You take a look at the A-4 Skyhawk of the period, or any other plane, and they don’t seem to have that long tail this little thing has. But the P-80 Shooting Star has a similar appearance. My guess is that when they took the prop off, they didn’t know what to do with the nose, so it’s kinda blunted, and the engines were put on the sides instead of the center for a while, so the tail was really thin. Things like the F-14 have the engines in the tail and prop planes don't. Then they started putting sensors in the nose, and...I guess it just takes a middle ground between prop planes and major jet aircraft. But considering the date of manufacturing, maybe not...”

Melissa suddenly stopped talking, and looked at her audience. “How lost are you guys?”

All three blinked. “Uh…”

She sighed, and gently placed the Intruder back in its spot.

“So...What is it?” Apple Bloom asked.

Melissa resisted the urge to facepalm, “It’s an aircraft. Fighter jet.”

“An air…” Scootaloo laughed, “You’re making that up.”

“A what?” said Apple Bloom.

“I think she means that that little thing flew through the air.” Sweetie Belle explained.

Apple Bloom laughed as well, “Really? Melissa, you really expect us to believe…”

“Yes. They did fly. In fact, this is a very tiny replica, the real one was bigger than my car. They flew faster than mach 1, fought in Vietnam, and got scrambled just about every time the Soviets got surly, a pigeon got stuck in the electrical lines, or some maintenance worker didn’t tell anyone he’d put a training cartridge in and gets half of NORAD panicked.”

She reached back into the glove compartment, and pulled out an orange bottle. Emptying a single pill into her hand, she swallowed it with a swig of water.

“My medication,” she explained, failing to clear up any confusion.

Fatigue returning again, Melissa leaned back, rubbing her eyes, “What do we do now?” She mumbled aloud, “What do I do?”

The crusaders looked at each other, “Well, unless you want to do what Andrew does around town...” Apple Bloom started, with a hair of contempt to her voice. Clearly whatever he did wasn’t the best.

“What do you suggest?” Melissa was nearly deafened by the response.

“Human Cutie Mark Crusader!”

She stuck a finger in her ear to try and clear the ringing. Huh, no blood. “That cannot be a day job.”

“It can be!” Sweetie Belle cried in glee.

“There has to be something else. No offense, but I need something that pays.”

The three nearly whined with disappointment, “I guess she does like handy-mare work after all…” Scootaloo muttered under her breath.

Melissa nearly barked a laugh, “That’s what he’s doing? Please tell me handyman means something else here than it does back home.”

“Uh…”

She actually started laughing this time, “Really? You’re not kidding? That’s what he’s doing? He’s just wasting his time! Probably been screwing it up anyway.”

“Well, that’s not all he does, apparently he does good backrubs!” Apple Bloom suggested innocently.

Melissa’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. Get your head out of the gutter, I’m sure she means that literally…

“Okay then...I’m just gonna go talk to him, and see if we can get something together that’ll make more money than freaking maintenance work.”

She chuckled a bit as she stood up. “By Cthulhu, am I the only person who thinks of these things?”

Shutting the doors of the car, she waved goodbye to the crusaders. “See you three later. I got things to do,” Melissa looked at her watch, at the top of which was displayed the word Monday, “And if I’m not mistaken you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Aw, but we’ve got half an hour!” They whined in unison.

Melissa laughed again, “And I know how kids can be. Now go on!”

She clicked her key fob for emphasis, and the locks snapped shut on her car.

Slowly, the three moved off in the direction of the schoolhouse. “Kids…” she chuckled again, and cheerfully tossed her keys to herself.

Melissa walked up to the door of the Golden Oak Library, but hesitated before knocking. Heck, it’s a library, not necessarily just her house.

She pushed the door open, and peered around the large chamber, “Anyone home?”

The smell of frying eggs reached her nostrils, as well as the smell of...coffee?

A door on the staircase lining the wall eased open, and the only other human on the planet leaned out. “Oh, hey.”

“Good morning to you too. Are those scrambled eggs?”

Andrew glanced back, “Yeah, probably some--”

“I haven’t eaten anything in two days,” Melissa grinned as she rushed up the stairs, “Gimme gimme gimme!”

She didn’t see anything beyond the plate of scrambled eggs for the next thirty seconds, before seizing a mug of coffee and downing the entire thing.

When Melissa set the cup down, she saw Twilight staring back from across the table. She was squinting in confusion, and held a fork in mid-air. Finally she asked “Isn’t that hot?”

Melissa twitched, “Extremely,” she muttered hoarsely, still grinning, “Got any milk? Please?”

Andrew quickly handed her a cup, and she drained that one too.

Then she snatched up the coffee cup, staring intently at the remains of the grounds inside. “Where did you get coffee?”

“The store?” Spike suggested, deadpan, walking up with a pot in his hand.

“I know that, but where do they get it?”

“They grow it.”

“Where did the seeds come from? Where do the beans come from?” Melissa continued digging.

“Why do you want to know?” Andrew asked, confused.

“Twilight, where--”

“The beans originated in Zebrabwe,” Twilight replied, her muzzle in a book levitating a meter off the ground, “They were discovered by--”

“Yes, but how did they get to this continent?” Melissa demanded.

Twilight flipped through the pages, “Several expeditions brought the plant to Equestria a few hundred years ago, and it’s been cultivated ever since.”

“Ah. So not necessarily a big trade system.” No triangle trade might have influenced something.

She finally relaxed, and sat back, more calmly eating the remains of her meal.

“You know that was mine, right?” Andrew asked casually.

Melissa immediately dropped the odd-shaped fork, and silently moved to the next chair over.

Andrew rolled his eyes, and picked up the plate, walking off and muttering obscenities.

Melissa twiddled her thumbs for a moment, before doing a double-take. Why had it taken her so long to realize? This was a dream come true, literally sitting across from the Twilight Sparkle!

A small squeal of glee escaped, and she yanked out her phone.

Twilight’s shocked expression in each photo did nothing to dissuade the squealing fangirl, who proceeded to take a shot of herself beside the unicorn, and several more photos from other angles.

Moving from fangirl photos to scientific curiosity, Melissa grabbed Twilight’s wrist, “Would you mind spreading out your, uh, hoof? Please?”

Confused, Twilight decided to humor her. Who knows, maybe this was some sort of human ritual.
She nearly flinched at the squeal Melissa released.

Ever since she had started watching the TV series, Melissa had thought about how the pony appendages would work. It seemed her hypothesis was relatively correct. Their hooves weren’t solid. Though not as dextrous as fingers and hands, they were extremely malleable, and prehensile. The hooves were able to act vaguely like a human hand one minute, with corners of the hoof raised to form surprisingly effective thumbs and fingers, or as a foot the next.
She carefully documented as much as she could.

Her eyes locked on Spike. The little dragon immediately began seeking an exit. He had seen that look in Rarity’s eyes, that look that said she was going to tackle someone for “experimental” purposes.

Melissa’s longer strides allowed her to block the doorway, and immediately she took a dozen photos, before gently seizing Spike’s right wrist..

Dragon extremities, it seemed, were a combination of bird talons and hands. They possessed a vague curved shape, with sharp claws on the end of each digit, almost definitely made for hunting. Unlike most birds, however, Spike’s claws seemed able to retract enough for precision work; blunted enough for tool using, but sharp enough for hunting. In addition, his thumbs were clearly made for tool using, Very similar to Turians from Mass Effect.

She released him, and closed the camera app on her phone. Melissa awkwardly retreated to a corner of the room, grabbing another cup of coffee.

Andrew returned with a plateful of slightly burned scrambled eggs. He stopped for a moment, recognizing the change, then shook his head and sat down.

“So...Melissa,” Twilight began, “Do you have any books with you? In your car?”

Melissa nodded, “I have a few. Textbooks, novels, but I have a lot more on my kindle. I could bring in my books, but I’m a little worried about...” she nudged her head toward Spike, “Y’know…”

Twilight smiled a little, “Don’t worry, Spike hasn’t burned many books recently, only the one during that time travel incident.”

“Oh yeah. How'd that turn out with you here, Andrew?”

“You don’t want to know.” Andrew said, twitching. He and Twilight did their best to avoid eye contact.

“Ooh-kay…” Melissa quickly averted topics, “Speaking of books, and my car, we need to begin research and development immediately.”

Andrew groaned, and facepalmed, “This again? Really?”

He stood up, and gestured all around them, “News flash, we’re in the goddamn pony Middle Ages! How do you expect us to build engines, missiles, planes, and stuff?”

Melissa crossed her arms, and waited for Andrew to stop talking, “You done? Okay, this isn’t the Middle Ages. When I still thought this was a show, I analyzed it, and this is definitely a 19th century tech level. How the heck did you think they have steam engines, hot air balloons, and an industrial base to work? Magic?”

She rubbed her temples, “Don’t answer that. Anyway, look, we can go around in circles about this until hell freezes over, or we can get to work.”

As she spoke, Melissa held out her coffee cup at arm’s length, tilting the contents slightly to stare at it, “No, wait, it’s boiled. Never mind…” she murmured, dismissing thoughts worrying about allergens.

I gotta think of vaccines, though.

“What did you have in mind?” Twilight asked politely, “For what you wanted to build, I mean.”

The human shrugged, and pulled out her phone again. After studying it for a moment, she replied, “Uh...Okay, we need to make medicine. That’s about the easiest thing on here. I bet glue will come in handy. Aluminum’s another good one, and...paint rollers? I guess…”

“What are you reading?” Andrew asked in curiosity, moving to look at the phone.

His eyes lit up at what he saw.

“What is it, Andrew?” Twilight asked.

“It’s a poster I found online a few months ago,” Melissa explained for him, “‘So You’ve Gone Back In Time’. Heh, look, it says ‘nice one’ underneath!”

Andrew’s jaw dropped, “This...wait...what?” he kept reading down the page, “Wow…”

Melissa held out the phone’s display to show Twilight, as she gave Andrew a cheeky grin, “Something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

“Why do you have that?” he finally questioned.

“You never know! And it works in the event of an apocalypse.” she replied.

“That’s just a novelty thing, right? None of that stuff actually works, does it?” Andrew queried.

“There are a lot of technologies that are really deceptively simple. They try to make them more complicated than they seem. Don’t you have some muskets or something lying around?”

“Of course. We’ve had them for over three hundred years.” Twilight answered, “We do have a minor armory of human weapons, though they’re a bit more advanced than what the standard is. We made them with a little help from myself and some specialists around town.”

“That, and some insane school kids…” Andrew muttered, involuntarily shuddering.

It took barely an instant to know who he was talking about. “They seem pretty sane to me.”

Andrew scoffed, “Oh yeah, nearly blowing me up with a giant gun was real rational.”

“Whatever,” Melissa rolled her eyes, clearly not taking him seriously, “You probably screwed it up somehow. I know they’re the crusaders, but c’mon! How the hell did you let them get ahold of the designs for for a modern firearm?”

“You try holding up the prime directive sometime, Captain Janeway! Nowhere near as easy as you’d think! Those little weirdos snuck it right by me!”

“Uh huh...” Melissa turned to Twilight, “Do you want to borrow my tablet? I’ve got a bunch of books on it, and some other stuff. You might be able to--”

Twilight gasped, then squealed with delight, clapping her hooves, “Oh, yes yes, please!”

“Okay then,” Melissa nodded, and walked out of the kitchen with the pony.

Andrew hesitated for a moment, then followed. How come I don’t get a tablet?

Melissa unplugged the tablet, made sure the web pages open were cached, closed most of the applications, and carefully handed it off.

Twilight Sparkle took the device almost reverently, recalling the operation of Andrew’s long-disabled cellular telephone.
Unlike the phone, this device was like a leather-bound book, only lighter, with a small latch on the side that used magnets to hold it shut. Upon opening it, she found her own reflection in a flat black device on one side. A keyboard designed for humans occupied the other side, but could be folded over to the back to leave access to the primary device.

Last time she had wasted a bit of the battery life by accidentally “rebooting” Andrew’s phone, and she intended to stay as far away as she could from the physical buttons. In this case, she couldn’t help it, trying to hold it in one hoof like a book, her hoof accidentally ran over the button at the bottom.

She jumped when it lit up, fearing something bad would happen, but quickly regained her composure, realizing that this was simply a larger version of Andrew’s device.

In exploring, the systems she found the “digital” library contained within. This “kindle” was almost as expansive as that of Andrew’s phone, although filled with many more works of science fiction and fantasy than his had.

She marveled once again at the various book covers. Many of the novels had intricate and complicated designs for their covers, instead of simple shapes or words drawn onto them. The images were filled with color, depicting enormous battles, strange vehicles emitting light or explosions, and human figures standing heroically with weapons drawn.

Even the great Canterlot library had barely a handful of books with similar covers, given the amount of chemicals and materials needed, and humans were able to build them by the millions!

A name caught her eye, Arthur C Clarke. Andrew had mentioned him as some sort of great author and thinker, in one of his many cultural references..

The novel was called Time’s Eye, apparently.

Intrigued, Twilight glanced up at Melissa, expecting her to be waiting impatiently. Instead, the human was digging around in her vehicle, looking for something. I’m sure a few pages won’t hurt.
Three chapters in, just as the story started to gain momentum, the white display disappeared, to be replaced with a black screen. “Enjoyed this sample?” it queried, offering to allow her to “Buy it in the Kindle Store for only $5.89!”

“Oh, should’ve explained that.” a voice said, and Twilight jumped at Melissa’s presence above her shoulder.

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“It’s kinda like renting a book from a library. It gives you a portion of the book to see if you like it or not, and if you do you can buy it.”

An idea popped into Melissa’s head, “Holy crap! I just thought of something?”

”What?” Andrew asked, finally appearing.

“Have you ever read Time’s Eye?” She demanded of him, barely able to contain her excitement.

“What?”

Melissa rolled her eyes, “The Arthur C Clarke book? Aliens take a bunch of humans from a bunch of different timeframes, and we get Alexander the Great’s army assisted by a bunch of redcoats and a modern helicopter crew, versus Genghis Khan’s army, helped by the cosmonauts from a Soyuz spacecraft?”

“Uh…”

“Well, it’s not actually the whole Soyuz crew, see the commander was decapitated by one of the Mongols when they landed, and the astronaut was going nuts and wanted to sleep with Khan, while the surviving cosmonaut was helping out the helicopter crew…”

Twilight seemed intrigued, but Andrew just nodded slowly, in a confused fashion.

“Anyway, in that story pieces of the land were taken with the displaced. Like someone carved out a chunk of land. The helicopter crew got a bunch of AK-47s and other gear from the piece of land that came with them. Actually the guy who shot them down came too, but he got eaten by a saber-tooth tiger.”

“He shot them down? With that...RPG?” Twilight asked, recalling the ambush that the novel had been building to, “Do they survive?”

“Oh yeah, they’re fine. The helicopter even kinda comes out okay...Though it never flies again. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that we need to know if anything came with me. Like 1632, too.”

Andrew gestured to the car, “Well, that did…”

“But I was driving that when I came through. That’s all the stories, Destroyermen, Axis of Time, A Long Time Until Now, and things like that.”

“Why didn’t anything else come with me, then?” Andrew demanded incredulously.

Twilight deadpanned, “I think you were too busy being chased by that manticore to think about anything else. There may have been some artifacts, but I doubt you paid enough attention to the area you appeared in to remember where that was.”

“Yeah, that’s more The Dragon and the George than anything.” Melissa turned to Twilight, “Incidentally, that’s another book I have on there,” she gestured to the tablet, “It’s a good fantasy novel, with a modern guy getting tossed into a Medieval-style world, but Quantum Leaped into the body of a dragon. The regular occupant of the body has his own friends and enemies, and the guy has to end up getting their help to try and rescue his girlfriend from the Dark Powers. Who I guess might be demons or something--hey!”

Andrew had grabbed Melissa by the hood of her N7 jacket, and was starting to walk away with her, “C’mon Twilight, let’s go investigate.”

“What’d I say? What’d I say?” Melissa demanded.

“Shut up and let’s go before I turn into a dragon.”

Managing to dislodge herself, Melissa fell into step with Twilight. “What the heck is he talking about?” She whispered to the unicorn, who shrugged and replied, “He’s kinda paranoid. Though he does have some reason to be. Bad things keep happening to him. The doctors have been really concerned about his well-being.”

XXXXX

“Okay, everyone fan out, look for literally anything that looks weird.” Melissa ordered, standing with her hands on her hips looking out at the clearing.
She knelt, and stuck a trowel into the grass, carefully scooping up enough dirt while avoiding cutting the roots. Just as carefully, she placed the sample in a plastic bag, and sealed it.

Placing it in a pocket, Melissa glanced about, and followed the dim tracks left by her car.

Andrew was a little ahead of her, glancing around the area where the tracks began. He found an odd grey material stuck in the ground. Fairly large, several meters in diameter. There was a smooth line cut on three sides, and like a hardened liquid on the final one. Along a portion of the cut were a pair of yellow lines close together--

He facepalmed once he realized it was. It was a piece of road asphalt, from whatever highway Melissa had been on.

He turned around and noticed --of all things-- a road sign! A typical metal post, with a white shield-shaped sign bearing the words “speed limit”, and the number “50” underneath.

“Hey, guys? I found something!”

“Good. Keep looking!” Melissa replied.

The cloud covering the sun passed, and light shone through the woods. Melissa put up a hand to block some glare out of the corner of her eye...and realized that it was a reflection.

“Huh,” It looked metallic, or artificial. Probably a bit of plastic from the Tesla, but it might be something valuable.

It was out of the clearing, in some bushes in a dark collection of trees. “Where is that…? Aha!”

The light was coming from a clump. A circular hole had been torn in a large leaf, like something had gone flying in at high speed.

Melissa started to move forward, but hesitated when she realized that the area around the clump was dark. Really dark, despite the sunlight elsewhere.

She shook her head. It was just dark! What was she worrying about?

She crouched and reached into the clump, unexpectedly withdrawing a coca-cola can.

Still intact but covered in mud. Modern shape, and the date was 2010. How did this thing get here? Road sign sure, but a coke can? Perhaps it had been tossed out a window, then a passing car had knocked it into the bushes.

Suddenly, she felt a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. Melissa glanced up, dropping the can, and yanking out her pistol.

Squinting, she couldn’t see...wait. Oh hell. A pair of eyes were staring back at her.

“I fucking hate cliches…”

Melissa thumbed the safety, and tried to find the head of whatever was looking at her. She opened her mouth to call for help, but the words stuck in her throat when she realized what it looked like.

Oh hell.

It was a large bird. A bird that came up to just above her knee, just a little bigger than a turkey, but with a tail that stuck out almost equal its body length. Unlike a turkey, it had a pair of small forward-facing claws placed on the front of its chest, like a T-Rex. Considering those, the jaw must be equally fierce…

oh hell!

It opened its jaw slightly, drooling mildly out of the corner of its mouth, exposing vicious-looking teeth.

The turkey-thing looked like a velociraptor. The normal ones, not the exaggerated ones from Jurassic Park.

As that thought crossed her mind, the tactics from the movie came to the forefront. There was a lead one to distract you…

She aimed her Glock to either side, finding more eyes staring back.

Calling out might provoke them.

How could she get out of this situation? They were raptors!

Oh wait. She was a million years more advanced than them, sentient, wearing combat boots and wielding a firearm. Duh.

Andrew jumped at the sound of five staccato bangs. He began to run when he heard snarling and screaming.

Twilight joined him, and she lit up her horn to try and pierce the darkness of the trees.

Both were shocked at the sight; On the ground were a pair of large turkey-look-alikes; one writhed, the other lay still. Glamdring, Melissa’s sidearm, lay next to a coke can. Melissa herself was a meter or two away, screaming either in rage or pain as she tried to fight off another one of the creatures. It shrieked as well, blood leeching out of a hole in its wing. It seemed as though the other two had gotten pretty close, one’s claws were only centimeters from her torn pant leg.

“Get the hell off her!” Andrew cried, and rushed forward.

Before he could sink his dagger into it, Twilight beat him to the punch. Her horn pulsated, and an energy field appeared around the turkey, lifting it off of Melissa as it slashed and kicked.

Andrew shrugged, and rushed forward, helping Melissa to her feet.

“Shit! Shit shit fuck!” she roared, “Goddammit--this--christ on crutches--hurts!”

“Where does it hurt?” Andrew asked, trying to recall the handful of medical classes he had taken.

“All over the fucking place! Motherfucker, where’s Glamdring?!”

She stumbled away from Andrew’s hold, and couldn’t stand up for even a second. She curled up into a ball, holding her side with both hands now.

“What is it?”

Melissa moaned, and didn’t reply. Andrew went to his knees, and tried to pull her hands away. His hands touched something wet and sticky, Melissa’s hands were stained with blood.

Twilight gasped, “We’ve got to get her to the hospital, now!”

“Wait!” Melissa gasped, “Get...get…”

“Get what?”

She seized him by the collar, blood staining his shirt, “The cartridges you dumbass! Pick up the --fuck!-- spent cartridges, coke can, and other stuff! We need them!”

“Yeah yeah yeah--”

“Do it or I’ll rip your goddamn head off and use it as a chamber pot!”

“Okay, okay!”

XXXXX

“Will she be alright, Doctor?” Twilight asked.

“Difficult to tell, given human anatomy,” Doctor Horse replied, examining one of Melissa’s x-rays once again, “Nothing’s broken, and we don’t think she’s lost enough blood to be at risk of death. However, we don’t know if there was any internal damage, and she is still quite pale.”

He gestured to Melissa’s sleeping form in the bed. The bed was actually too small for her, two gurneys had to be used to fit her legs.

The room had been set aside nearly a year ago when Andrew had first come in; at first for research purposes, then for treating his numerous injuries.

She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but her face was ghostly white, several fresh cuts on her face. Blankets and a patient gown covered Melissa’s chest, underneath which were several bandages keeping the blood from her wounds within.

Andrew anxiously tapped his foot in the uncomfortable pony chair next to the bed. The pistol lay on the side table, the magazine removed and put atop the other three found in Melissa’s jacket. Her cell phone and car keys, miraculously undamaged, sat nearby, along with the cleaned coke can for some reason, and four shell casings. The fifth Andrew had neglected to put down, and now rubbed it between his thumb and index finger absentmindedly.

“Is there anything that you need for her?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of Melissa.

“Not really. We’ve done all we can for the moment,” Horse answered, “All we can do is wait and hope for the best. Your own anatomy and numerous visits here are partly the reason we were able to keep her alive, actually.”

“Thank you doctor,” Twilight said, noticing Andrew’s lack of reaction, “I don’t think we need anything else.”

The doctor made one final check of things, and departed. Nurse Redheart, one of the doctors very experienced in dealing with Andrew’s numerous injuries, remained outside.

Twilight reached up and put a hoof on Andrew's shoulder, “Are you going to be alright?”

He rubbed his face and nodded, “don't worry about me. Her first few days here and she's been attacked twice. Worse than what I got.”

“Don't blame yourself--” Twilight began.

“I don't!” He said loudly, “She’s braver than me for taking on freaking Raptors, but--”

They were abruptly silenced by a soft groan.

Melissa’s head rolled to the side, and she lifted her right arm to her head. She seemed to be checking her watch; it hadn’t been damaged in the chaos, but it still had its fair share of scratches.

“Nurse, she’s waking up!” Andrew cried, and moved closer.

She groaned again, and shook her left arm feebly.

Twilight stepped closer as well. “Melissa, you’ve just been in--”

Melissa grabbed her by the mane, clumsily tugging her closer, “How...Much?”

“How much what?!” Twilight yelped in surprise, trying to move away.

“How...Much...Blood?” She mumbled.

“Looked like a lot! Now let her go!” Andrew shouted, trying to pull Twilight away.

Nurse Redheart hurried in, but not two seconds after releasing Twilight did Melissa grab Andrew by the collar with both hands, “What’s your blood type?!”

“Why do you need to know?” He squeaked in a very un-masculine manner.

Melissa reached for Twilight again, but the glare from the nurse kept her away. She leaned back toward Andrew, “I need a blood transfusion! Does anyone know how to do that?!”

“A what?” Redheart asked, but shook her head, “Never mind. Mister Shepherd, hold her down!”

Melissa leaned away from the nurse, dragging Andrew closer, “Crichton, we need your blood! We’re the only humans on the ship, and in case Grif gets hit by the tank again, we’re going to need that blood!”

“What kind of painkillers did you put her on?” Andrew demanded, trying to pry the woman's fingers off his neck, one by one.

Melissa only shifted her grip, painfully squeezing his fingers together while still holding his collar. Her eyelids began to droop, and her words became slurred, “Also...Tesla...The Tesla…”

“What?!”

“Get...the Tesla charged, Madison Yazoo Leake!”

The others halted for a moment. “What? Who?”

“Fix the warthog...” she tried again.

“I think she’s referencing something again.” Twilight attempted to explain.

“Get more dilithium...Chakotay…” With that, her head slumped onto the nightstand, and she began to snore loudly.

Redheart’s brow furrowed, and she gently pried Melissa’s hands off Andrew, leaning her back into a sleeping position.

“Visiting hours are over.” she said with a sense of finality.

Andrew looked from the nurse, toward the other human. Melissa grimaced slightly, her right thumb, and then her index finger twitching, the latter several times.

He made a sideways glance at the chairs in the room, and sighed.

“Would you mind if I stuck around for the night?” he mumbled quietly, scratching the back of his head.

The nurse raised an eyebrow,(who hadn’t heard the rumors?) but maintained her professional demeanor, “You’re not next of kin…”

“Yeah, well, I’m the closest she’s got.”

I’m glad the girls aren’t here to make this awkward… Twilight thought, and stepped forward, “Would it be a problem if I stayed?”

Redheart looked at both of them, and sighed herself. “Andrew, you may stay, given your...displaced status. Miss Sparkle, I will see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” Andrew grinned a little, “I’m sure she’ll be glad for this.”

XXXXX

She squeezed the trigger, and the Talon M2A3 .45 Caliber Pistol kicked back, sending a three-round burst of anti-personnel rounds into the hybrid.
It shrieked in pain, the gaunt, limp face of the former Von Braun crewmember registering a flicker of emotion for the first time as it collapsed.

The female marine dropped her pistol, broken and drained of ammunition, and picked up the sword handle at her side.

The laser rapier sprang to life, as she stood over the creature before her. It lifted its head, tears streaming down its face, and it blinked once.
“I’m sorry…” the former engineer whispered, the deep tones of The Many disappearing into that of a young man’s, “I’m...sorry…”

The marine knelt, reaching out and closing the poor soul’s eyes. She stood up, and glanced around the junction. She saw something flash by for an instant, something blue and purple...

The jarhead kicked back into combat mode as something else appeared, down the hall; another voice, that shrieked, “Silence the discord!”

She looked up, and jumped back in fright as much as confusion. The creature was massive, but not like any monster of The Many she had seen before. It was a big snake-like creature, its height reaching that of the average human, but it had the head of a...chicken.

Her instincts screamed to kill it, but she couldn’t. Her legs felt like jelly, terror filling every fiber of her being. She swung clumsily at the monster, but it was as if the strength was being sapped from her limbs by the millisecond.

“Weak.” something else said, in the back of her mind.

Instead, she turned and ran, through the automatic door. She was confronted by several tiny birds, gnashing their teeth as they said “A thousand eyes look.”

The marine stumbled away, fear grinding away at her instincts, as she heard the door behind her hiss open.

“Pitiful.” the other voice said.

Tentacles, undoubtedly belonging to the chicken creature, reached out to entangle her, as she screamed. Other creatures, not just the birds, but large animatronic creatures as well, a fox, a bear, and a chicken, poorly maintained, all surrounded her.

The marine felt her bones being crushed, as the creatures began tugging on her limbs, tearing flesh…

“How could something like you possibly do anything?” the other voice finished, as blackness engulfed her...

Melissa’s eyes snapped open. She sat up, glancing around fearfully, and locating her pistol on a nearby nightstand. With finely-honed instincts, she snatched it up, flicked on the small laser sight, and slowly scanning the room for targets.

Terror faded, as did the dream itself, eventually. There was no noise, save for the gentle pattering of rain on the roof.

She exhaled in relief, and switched off the sight again. The flashlight above it would have worked better, but even half asleep she knew to preserve battery life.

As she relaxed, she carefully felt her chest, and other body parts, making sure all her various bits were intact. Other than some nasty, red cuts, stiches, and bandages she seemed to be fine. Relatively speaking. Someone had done a fine job keeping her together.

As her eyes adjusted to the low levels of light, Melissa observed her environment in detail. She noticed that she was wearing some sort of hospital gown, hastily sewn together and not exactly made for her, but worked for modesty’s sake.

Guess they took me to the hospital, she thought, looking around at all the equipment, and the style of the bed she lay in.

As she shifted her feet, she winced; she realized that the end of the bed was made up of something metal, rather than a cushion.

Melissa heard a muffled snort, and looked around. Andrew was sitting slumped in one of the pony chairs nearby. He was snoring gently, in concert with Twilight, who was leaning on his shoulder, a book lying on her lap.

Her eyes widened in mild surprise. She hadn’t exactly expected Andrew, who she barely knew, to stay, let alone both himself and Twilight.

Melissa smiled a little. Guess I could’ve landed in worse places…

Hesitantly, she reached out, and tugged on Andrew’s sleeve.

“Hey! Hey!” she hissed, “Uh...Uh…”

Snorting himself awake, Andrew mumbled, “Not my ferret…”

He soon snapped out of it, shaking his head clear of sleep, “Wha? Hey!” Andrew smiled a bit, “You’re awake!”

He elbowed Twilight, who came awake with a start.

“Melissa!” she said with sleepy happiness, and exclaimed, “You’re awake!”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Melissa growled, wincing, “where the hell is my jacket?”

Twilight blinked for a second, taken aback.

Andrew ignored it, and pointed, “Other nightstand!”

Melissa found her N7 jacket neatly folded, and smelling like...flowers of some kind. She snatched it up, hastily shoving the coat on over the hospital gown.

She started softly singing a Japanese song, one Andrew didn’t recognize.

“Do you need anything else?” Andrew asked, watching her hug her chest with one arm, and gently stroke the N7 logo with the other.

Twilight decided to let the earlier expletive pass, “Do you need water, or food, or…?”

“No.” she said flatly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Anything you give me will probably give me cancer.”

Andrew furrowed his brow. He’d been fine eating and drinking…

Suddenly, Melissa seemed to panic. She hurriedly sat up, trying to rise, “I gotta get out of here.”

Forcibly, Twilight and Andrew pulled her back, “What are you doing?” Twilight demanded, “You were just attacked by--”

“Raptors, yes I know. This room is more dangerous to me then they were.”

Twilight got up and sat on Melissa’s legs to stop her, while Andrew held one shoulder. Despite the drugs, the young woman was quite strong.

“What are you talking about?” Andrew asked, “You need to rest!”

“A-doy!” she said, obnoxiously smacking the side of her head, “But not in a cancer-ridden medical ward! This place is a deathtrap!”

Melissa punched the wall, “The insulation! It’s gotta be asbestos! In the water, there’s bugs and critters that our immune systems aren’t ready for! The food, same thing! I don’t even know how you’re still alive!

She shoved Andrew aside, “This whole planet’s a deathtrap. My car is the only place that’s safe, and in a couple days it’ll be dead!”

“But Twilight will find a way to charge it,” Andrew said, grabbing her again, “It’ll be fine!”

“My MREs won’t last long, and I won’t survive on just apples!” she stopped struggling, and cringed, “I only have enough pills to last the month! Oh my god, medical supplies!”

She seized Andrew by the shoulders, “What’s your blood type?!”

“Not again!”

“I think the meds are still affecting her!” Twilight determined.

“What? No, I’m fine!”

Melissa finally succeeded in getting the other two off of her, and slid out of bed...only to scream with pain and collapse to the floor, clutching her right leg. Much of the limb was covered in bandages, and crimson blotches erupted underneath.

Nurse Redheart finally arrived, “Mr. Shepherd, would you mind helping?”

Restraining Melissa, both were able to get her back into bed.

She tried to sit up again, but Redheart pushed her back.

“I gotta--”

“No,” Redheart said firmly, “You don’t need to do anything. You need to lay here quietly, and rest. You’re going to sleep, and not go anywhere, or else.”

Something in the nurse’s eyes made Melissa obey. Nodding, she sat back.

The nurse, satisfied, left the room. Andrew looked from Melissa to the door.

With barely a second thought, he sat back down. Twilight did the same without hesitation.

Melissa didn’t say it, rolling over to avoid eye contact, but was secretly grateful.

As exhaustion began to consume Andrew again, he heard Melissa's voice again. Not speaking, but singing that Japanese song again.

XXXXX

Day 2 of hospital visit:

It’s funny, y’know? Of all the places I could’ve landed, anywhere in the universe, and I landed in Equestria.

One of the nicest places to be, really. I can’t tell you how many universes would suck to live in. Jesus, the thought of being stuck in Axis of Time, or even worse, Safehold? I’d be a nervous wreck in five seconds, dead in ten.

Even with the minor differences, Equestria’s still really nice. It’s the perfect industrial base to build from, no need for bizarre coincidences to build tech or anything like that, nor am I stuck with nothing. Eat your heart out, Jim Eckert. You too Andrew.

Destroyermen would have been tolerable, but still would’ve sucked. Oh, that’s not an image I like. Being a young female surrounded by two-hundred men of WWII.

It’s nice here. Really it is. Pretty, no smog.

Never thought I’d miss the smell of smog, though.

The ponies are good people, but I’m having trouble trusting them. Got this nagging feeling in the back of my head, telling me not to trust people so blatantly nice.

Got a few visits from the CMC. Real great kids. Sweetie Belle reminds me of myself at that age. Bright but fairly anxious. She actually pays attention when I ramble. Scootaloo’s a good kid. Bit of a troublemaker at times, but she’s always interested when I talk about video games and stuff. Apple Bloom was hard to get a handle on. Always was with the show. They were still adorable though.

Rarity came in after I missed our appointment, but luckily all my clothes were still being washed, so she couldn’t get at them. She implied, not so subtly, that she would get me eventually.

...Then Fluttershy showed up. Oh sweet Cthulhu and all the elder gods themselves, Fluttershy.

So I shot a few velociraptors. After all, they tried to eat me, right? While I’m bedridden, covered in bandages, in a cancer-infested hospital ward, Fluttershy walks in completely livid, ranting about the freaking birds being dead, how I nearly killed the third, and that I need to apologize to the thing.

I need to improve my marksmanship.

Obviously, I explain very carefully that they were going to eat me if I hadn’t fired, and that both of us are predators. If she actually understood the thing(which doesn’t seem sapient), she would know that it would understand; kill or be killed. Then I explained that I wasn’t going to let the bodies go to waste either, it’s just that I wasn’t up to moving.

Here’s where it became problematic. She asked what I meant by not letting them go to waste. Eventually, I admitted I was going to eat them.

Big mistake.

Fluttershy tried to attack me. Fluttershy. I don’t know specifically what she wanted to do, the nurse tackled her before she could get me. Started calling me all sorts of things, “monster”, “animal”, “beast”, “dog”, and all that crap.

I’m surprised I’m still lying here writing this. Andrew might have told them to lay off, or Fluttershy just didn’t tell anyone.

Cthulhu, she was so nice in the show...

Nice...Now that I think about it, I don’t know what that word means anymore. Nice used to mean a fast wi-fi connection, a liter of soda, chips. Now…

I wonder how Andrew managed all this. I’m barely holding together as it is.

You know what’s worse than being trapped in TV land? When you know the plot. Never mind, by Cthulhu, I can’t even write in my journal about half my anxieties!

Wish I could keep an eye on my radio at all times. Hate to think that I might have missed a window home or another human who has since turned off their transmitter.

What does nice mean now?

Can’t sleep well anymore. Nightmares. No need for a lot of sleep. Slowing me down, time better spent designing. Nice isn’t real anymore.

Are we Time’s Eye displacement or Destroyermen? Alternate realities swinging into one another, or across time?

WHY DOES SINGING MAKE ME DRUNK?!

Can’t sleep. What does nice mean?

Noticed that the reality isn’t identical to TV land. Wonder what that’s about. Unusual, but of course a psychic link might offer only vague ideas. f%$#ing Hasbro…

What’s in these painkillers? I’m feeling kinda loopy...Christ, what have I been writing the past five minutes?

Okay, checked with the nurse, I’m taking something called “forced march”.

Man, that does not sound good.

Author’s Note
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