It was the oddest feeling of deja vu. Manehattan of Equestria looked just like Terran New York City. Melissa had been to New York back home a few times, and it felt as though she could recognize some of the streets.

The air was much colder than it would be this time of year on Earth, probably due to a lack of climate change, scarcity of powerful heating systems, infancy of industry, and the buildings being smaller and unable to trap as much heat.

Given how everything else was trapped in the Victorian age with the ponies, a decrease in temperature was unsurprising. There didn’t seem to be a mini-ice age as on Earth in the 19th century, though.

Manehattan felt like New York too. Same old urban landscape, same old obnoxious people, same old rich culture. Unlike Ponyville, there weren’t only ponies all around. Instead there were many creatures, zebras, ahuizotl bears, gargoyles, griffins, minotaurs, even a handful of dragons.
Only a handful though. Most she had seen during lunch. The group had taken a break from sightseeing to get a lunch, and Melissa, completely out of raptor soup, had had enough of veggie glop.
After getting over her...issues with the staff, they managed to get a meal.

The rest of the group was revolted, of course. Ponies were omnivores, but had many cultural taboos against eating meat. However, despite this, Rainbow Dash and Twilight were actually willing to try some. Twilight had decided to do as the romans do, and Dash… “I’ve had worse.”

To the surprise of all, both actually liked the meat.

As they neared the end of their sightseeing, the group prepared to head to the Manehattan university, where, according to Twilight’s research, a scientist by the name of Shadow Lightning was working. This was the most likely location for the signal origin.
The campus was just as widespread as the one back home, and it was very difficult to find the correct building.

This offered ample opportunity to take photos, uncannily similar to those from the late 19th century.

Taking a photo of one nearby statue, she checked to make sure it was of good quality. “There’s similarities, there’s coincidence, and then there’s just...this,” she said to Andrew, holding up the phone, “How is all this possible? There’s gotta be more than a coincidence at work here.”

Hesitating, he glanced over at the ponies. They were busy examining one tourist attraction or another, and were out of earshot.

“I know. Statue of Liberty, ‘Mane’hattan, new yorkers…”

As if on cue, they heard the distant call of “ey, I’m walkin’ ‘ere!” blocks away.

Andrew continued, “Cultures may develop along similar lines, but the odds of them being even remotely this similar are…”

“Astronomical. I mean, this is straight out of a Guardians of the Galaxy comic!” Melissa exclaimed.

“Huh? I don’t remember anything like that in the movie…”

She nibbled on the bottom of her lip, and ground out, “Original comic. The new guys got their name from Major Vance Astro of the original team. At one point the original team runs into an alien prison planet that developed exactly like Earth of the 80s. Apparently the wardens didn’t do anything, but somehow they became New York on their own.”

“Well...okay,” Andrew admitted, “...but that’s fiction. This shouldn’t be possible. Period. Should not. Unless…”

“Unless what?” she asked, squinting.

“Unless that ‘psychic connection’ stuff is deeper than we know. Think about all the legends and mythology we have, and look at how close they are to the reality here!”

He pulled her away around the corner. He didn’t want to attract Twilight’s attention. “I think humanity may have influenced them, and they us, more than we know.”

Melissa shrugged off his arm, returning to her camera. Several photos of the street filled the limited void of data storage. Rubbing her eyes, she looked back at him with exhaustion clearly visible in her. She sighed, “You ever been to New York, Andrew?”

“only once or twice.” he admitted.

“I have quite a few times. My dad has family around there. The people here are different, obviously, there’s no modern architecture, but the feel is still there. It’s not just a similarity, the feel of New York is here. I can almost imagine my uncle turning that corner. You’re right, it’s far too big of a coincidence.”

Several ponies walked by, staring at the pair talking. Melissa shook her head, “Can’t talk here. Later.”

They separated, and Melissa wandered into the edge of an outdoor restaurant area. She slowly stepped back trying to take a picture of the office building on the opposite side of the street.

Her backwards progress ceased when she bumped into something large and soft. There was a splash of liquid, and her phone clattered to the ground.

“Aah, watch where you’re going, idiot!” A familiar voice groaned, as Melissa retrieved her device.

Curiosity piqued, Melissa turned to find herself face-to-face with Gilda, the Griffin from season one. She appeared to be the ideal version of that sort of creature, with a brown coat of fur, a head covered from the neck above in white feathers, and bronze claws with a golden beak. The only difference was Gilda’s attitude. She also had bags under her eyes, she seemed to slouch in an odd manner that seemed almost militaristic, and her head feathers were patterned in a military cut.

At present, the griffin held an empty cup. She stared into it, as though the liquid might jump out of her feathers and back into the cup if she stared hard enough,

“You spilled my drink you stupid little pony--” She sputtered, before her jaw dropped as she saw the woman before her. For a moment, complete shock filled her eyes, before they became slits.
“A two-legs?!” she demanded in disbelief.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Melissa said insincerely, “I’d get you another, but that just sounded like a slur.”

“Good! I don’t take drinks from two-legs!” she hissed, dropping the cup, and shifted into what looked like a battle-ready posture. Melissa stepped back, getting into a proper stance with her fists at the ready. Gilda’s eyes were challenging, calm and collected, not the unbridled fury Melissa expected. Again, as though she’d served in the military.

“Shoulda stayed in the trees where you belong. Or did they throw you out because you didn’t have a tail?”

Melissa blinked slightly, That...that was a good one. Guess the griffins have some legends about us too. That was another thing to bring to Twilight. Why were human legends so buried in archives with ponies, and so open with the other races? “Bring it on, Rita Hayworth. I got some gold with your name on it!”

“You sure it’s not iron pyrite? I hear you two-legs need glasses to see anything at all!”

“You know, back home, eating eagle or lion is illegal...I think. But no one said anything about eating both at the same time.”

“Eating monkey’s illegal too, but no one said anything about hairless apes who stand on two legs!”

“Eagles are an endangered species back home. I wonder if maybe it’s because they kept picking fights with United States Marines!”

“Oh, you’re a marine are you? Little out of your territory, huh? Don’t you need a ship to be a marine?”

“Don’t you need to be a whiny bitch to join the air force? Or did they just keep you because of your little wings? My guys actually need training, you just get thrown out the damn window and told to shoot something!”

“Least I don’t need to cheat to get in the air! This is all natural!” Gilda flexed her wings a bit for emphasis.

“Oh, ‘cheating’? We use our intellect, not brawn, to conquer the land, the sea, the air, and space!”

“You’re cheating, you two-legs belong on the ground! Leave the flying to the real--”

Melissa roared with rage, finally snapping, and rushed forward without thought.

Gilda merely stepped to the side, hitting her in the back with an elbow, knocking her into a snow mound.

Melissa swept a leg under Gilda’s, taking her to the floor in surprise, and rolled atop the Griffin, raising a fist.

Andrew finally managed to fight his way through the crowd, and grappled with Melissa, trying to hold her back, “What the heck--”

His efforts to stop the fight failed miserably. Melissa was already ducking away as a wild fist caught the notch in his jaw.

Immediately, he collapsed, stunned. The fight went on.

After more fists and kicks, Melissa found herself face down with a heavy weight on her back; Gilda had Melissa’s arm behind her back, and her head pinned to the pavement. Something wet and sticky clung to her chin. “Huh. Thought you two-legs were something special. But you’re just a weak little runt.”

Melissa felt some of the weight shift, and Rainbow Dash’s voice. Presumably Dash was pulling on the Griffin, “Gilda, get off of her!”

“Dash? What are you doing here?”

“Shut up and get off of her!”

Melissa rolled her eyes at the sound made, as if she could hear the Griffin smirking, “This thing? What’s she to you?”

“Get off of me and maybe I might tell you.” Melissa grumbled.

“Oh, pipe down you dweeb.” Gilda snorted, “She a friend of yours, Dash? This one’s even weaker than the butterball! And she’s uglier than a dragon in the morning.”

“Real original,” the human shot back, “I coulda sworn we were exchanging actually intelligent barbs not five minutes ago. Guess you ran out of material. But if that’s the way you want to play, so be it. Your feathers stink like hell, your claws are disgusting, and frankly you look like something the cat brought in as an offering.”

The satisfaction was worth getting her chin punched into the pavement again.

“Stop that!” Rainbow growled confrontationally, “Or you’re gonna have to deal with me!”

Melissa suddenly began gasping and struggling, “C-c-can’t...b-b-bre-e-eath…!”

The weight suddenly left her, “By Boreas! Is she--”

The marine’s trick now successful, she rolled to her side like a bowling ball, slamming into the griffin as she stood unbalanced on her hind legs.

Gilda fell into a roll herself, coming up into another tackling attack and catching Melissa off guard.

She brought up a knee into Gilda’s gut, and shoved her off. Melissa jumped up as Gilda stumbled back, and tried a left hook. It missed.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa!” Rainbow barked, moving between the two. When that didn’t work, she did the next best thing. Punching her way out.

Gilda and Melissa found themselves on the ground, nursing several fresh bruises. “Now, you two gonna stop beating yourselves up?” Dash demanded, flexing her wrist, “Or are we gonna have to get dangerous?”

Melissa spat out crimson liquid onto the street, and wiped off her chin. “Tell her that.”

“Me?” Gilda didn’t elaborate further. She wiped her own face, and flicked blood of her own onto the ground next to Melissa’s.

“Gilda, what in the hell are you doing here?” Rainbow demanded, “Why did you attack her?”

Ignoring the odd word, Gilda retorted, “None of your business. You must’ve seen what she did though!”

“I coulda bought you another one!” Melissa said loudly.

“I don’t take drinks from hairless apes, and especially not from dog faces!”

“Why you--”

“Whoa there, sugarcube!” Applejack tugging on Melissa’s hood signaled the arrival of the rest of the Mane Six.

“Andrew!” Fluttershy cried. Andrew was still lying on his back, blinking up at the sky. She swooped down to lift his head up, “Speak to me! Are you okay?”

“Get the number on that truck that hit me,” he moaned, shaking his head, “Then put me out of my misery.”

“He’s fine,” Twilight concluded, before trotting over to the finished brawl. “What is going on? Rainbow, Melissa, what did you do?”

She glanced at Gilda, “Oh...hello, there.” clearly she did not recall who the Griffin was.

“Uh...hey?” Gilda replied, raising a confused eyebrow. She did not remember either.

“Okay, this time none of this was my fault! Wasn’t hers either!” Melissa extended a thumb toward Dash, “I bumped into this feathery bitch of a Griffin, and she decided to attack me! I was just defending myself! Andrew has only himself to blame, and Dash was only trying to help.”

Twilight wasn’t entirely doubtful of their word, but the two had been getting into fights an awful lot recently. Twilight looked at Gilda, “What do you say happened?”

“This stinkin’ two-leg spilled my drink!” as if that was all the information needed.

“Uh-huh…” she turned toward her boyfriend, “Andrew?”

Nursing his jaw, the man replied, “I don’t exactly know. All I saw was a crowd of people, and these two fighting. Tried to stop it, but next thing I knew I was on the ground.”

Melissa explained, “Gilda was aiming for me, hit him instead.”

“You really thought it was that bright of an idea to stick your tiny nose in our business?” Gilda snarled at Andrew.

“She has a point.” Melissa mumbled.

Because a marine had the audacity to agree with her, Gilda attempted to start the fight up again. Dash and a few members of the crowd managed to hold her back.

“Leave it be, Gilda!” Dash ordered, “Just walk away!”

The griffin threw off those holding her back, and went to all fours. She glared at the marine a moment more, but relaxed, and walked away. The crowd dispersed quickly.

Applejack helped Melissa to her feet, and had to hold her back from chasing the griffin down, “You can let it go, too!”

Melissa shrugged her off, “Damn turkey…” she checked to make sure none of her teeth were loose.

“Melissa?” Andrew began, looking at her.

“Andrew?”

“Third time in two weeks.”

“Yes, and well-deserved each time.”

“That’s not really the point here, is it?”

Melissa shrugged, “Okay then, I didn’t start any of them.”

“You’re still beating people up.”

“Self-defense.”

“Same here!” Rainbow added, “Gilda always did look for any excuse...”

Andrew opened his mouth to deliver a counter of some kind, but sighed, and closed it.

They proceeded to their next destination, a magazine publisher famous across the nation. The building was composed of brick and stone columns, with wooden doors set between the pillars. Very little could be seen of the interior. No clear glass, no steel, no revolving doors typical of Terran New York. A sharp reminder of where they were.

Melissa and Rarity went inside, leaving the rest of the group to do as they wished. This would take a while.

The reception area was much smaller than those on Earth, both for the proportions of the creatures who built it, and a lack of technological and social development.

The air was warmer than the outside, but extremely dry. A fire roared in the corner, before several cushy chairs. Benches and chairs were arrayed elsewhere in the chamber, dimly lit by primitive lightbulbs, none occupied.

Melissa grimaced at the artificial lights, definitely not incandescent. At least not the right model.

The receptionist’s desk lay beyond the waiting area, the clacking of a typewriter echoing through the lobby.

Melissa walked up to the mare, and politely smiled at the now-common expression on the mare’s face, “Yes, I am an unusual specimen. I am a human being, but I think and speak as you do. But surely that doesn’t matter in business, now does it? We have an appointment. Probably under the name of Rarity...Rarity something...”

She stuttered to a halt when she realized she didn’t know Rarity’s last name. Or rather, she knew of a possibility, she just did not wish to embarrassingly make the wrong guess.

Luckily, her friend easily spotted the trouble. She trotted up, and gave the receptionist her last name.

The receptionist broke out of her stupor, and ran down the list, “Ah, we’ve been expecting you. I will inform Ms. Sky that you are here.”

Minutes later, they were led up a flight of stairs and into a small office. Fairly standard, a desk, shelves, chairs, and a window overlooking the street below.

The mare occupying the room was ready for them, sitting with her arms crossed looking at them as they came in. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Rarity replied, taking a seat, “We wish to publish several stories in your magazine.”

“That is easy enough--’we’?” Ms. Sky looked up at Melissa, who was trying to get comfortable in the chair scaled for ponies. “That’s not your pet?”

“No, I am not.” Melissa confirmed evenly, “I am in fact, sentient. Melissa Foster, a human being.”

“Human? Those old fairy tales?”

Melissa nodded, “Yes.”

Ms. Sky stared a moment more. “Uh-huh…” and turned back to Rarity, “Can you provide a manuscript?”

Rarity shook her head, “Oh no, I didn’t come up with them.”

Melissa unzipped her backpack, and withdrew several stapled-together stacks of paper. “This is gonna be a great deal for you,” she said with a grin.

The publisher picked them up, finding each one to be a manuscript. “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court”, “The War of the Worlds”, “The Dragon and the George”, “Little Wars”, “The Mysterious Island”, and “The Time Machine” were among the titles.

“These are a bunch of books where I come from. I don’t know how much of a profit they’ll get, but who knows? War of the Worlds was published a hundred-and-twenty years ago, and it’s still pretty well known.”

The publisher flipped open the one she spoke of in curiosity, reading the first lines.

“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water.”
If it was good enough for aliens to last more than a century, perhaps her own magazine might have a similar legacy.

The publisher placed it back on the stack, reading the first pages of some of the others. Her smile made Melissa tense in hope.
“I think we can make room in next month’s issue for a few of these. Who shall we make out the author to be?”

Melissa shook her head, “Oh, no no no. Leave the authors as they are. HG Wells, Mark Twain, Jules Verne...keep their legacy going. You could add an additional credit, there’s some room at the beginning of each one, but I don’t intend to infringe on copyright.”

“‘Copyright’?”

“Never mind. Just forward my payment to this address.”

This scene was repeated across Manehattan, through different magazines and different book publishers. Some were duplicates, some were not, just in case.
Melissa needed a way to make some money fast. Even if most of them failed to be popular, every little bit helped.
Publishing her novels was only part of the equation. They also paid visits to playwrights, before both she and Andrew made a visit to the patent office.

“Why did you never try this before?” she asked him as they left.

“That’s a good question. Let’s pretend I already feel stupid enough for not doing this to begin with, shall we?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault paint rollers weren’t invented until 1940!”

Most of what they patented was easy stuff. They utilized the time travel poster Melissa still had on her phone, as well as a mix of both humans’ knowledge. Among other things, they patented paint rollers, the Allin trap-door breech loading conversion, penicillin, brass cartridges, paper clips, krazy glue, insulin treatments, the incandescent light bulb, morse code, and wired telegraphy.
Then there was what Melissa called her insurance policy. Designs of fixed-wing aircraft, crystal radios, radar, sonar, and a wealth of other things she felt were coming soon in development.

Once they were done, they had one last thing on their list. The whole reason they’d been drawn to Manehattan in the first place.
The signal.

Weeks earlier, while preparing for their expedition to find the human “temple”, one of the crystal radios she’d constructed had begun making strange sounds. All their transmitters were deactivated, so there had to be something else.
They’d dismissed it as atmospherics, at least until somepony noticed the sounds were modulated.
There was someone out there with a transmitter.

XXXXX

Shadow Lightning was definitely the culprit. She was a middle-aged unicorn covered in a white coat of fur and a black mane, with some streaks of grey going through it, dressed in a suit.
Twilight knew her for her company’s work in electric current, self-propelled vehicles, electric lighting, and metallurgy, and believed that of all the inventors known in Manehattan, Lightning would be the the most likely candidate.

And were they right as ever. Shadow Lightning proved to be very cheerful and outgoing, taking the existence of humanity rather well.
“What a marvelous opportunity!” she’d described it as, studying Melissa and Andrew’s appearance.
The mare had been particularly fascinated by their clothing, nothing like it existed in Equestria, “The wonders your people have created. A zipper you say? How intriguing.”

She was even more fascinated by Oscar, the instant she noticed it out her window. The copious amount of titanium, steel, composites used in the vehicle’s construction were interesting enough, but the aluminum was of the most interest.
“This is a rare vehicle, I take it?” she asked Melissa as she wandered around the vehicle inspecting every detail.

“Here? Nothing like it. On Earth? About a couple thousand, at least.”

“Ah, so is this an example of most vehicles on your world?”

Melissa shrugged, “Kind of. Most are internal combustion, Teslas are among the first to have efficient electric motors.”

“Electric locomotion? Purely? How odd. What a waste of money.”

“Well, Tesla Motors sees it a different way. Internal combustion puts out a lot of smog, and oil’s a limited resource. This is way better in the long run.”

Shadow Lightning smiled in an odd manner, “Your people certainly have some strange notions. I’m sure they’ll pass in time. Now tell me--is this real aluminum?”

“Yeah…”

“But you said it wasn’t rare.”

“Aluminum’s not rare. We can manufacture it.”

“Manufacturing aluminum--?” Lightning’s face lit up, and she bounded up to Melissa, “How is it done? What’s the secret? You must tell me!”

“It’s a trade secret. No one outside the industry knows it.” Melissa lied, leaning away from the grinning wide-eyed face before her. In reality, she did have some clue as to how aluminum was made, it being far from a trade secret and possibly may have been secured within her time travel poster.
She just didn’t want to tell this pony. There was something strange about Shadow Lightning that told her she should hold onto some secrets, a sense of uneasiness the marine felt toward her.
The worst part, it was a familiar sense of uneasiness.

The unicorn relaxed, “Oh...that’s unfortunate. Well, I could always have this automobile taken apart. We could reverse-engineer it and figure it out that way.”

“No! No, that’s okay. It’s far beyond your science.”

Lightning smiled in a different, unsettling way, “Oh, you’d be surprised at how bright our scientists are.”

Melissa facepalmed, “I don’t want anyone taking it apart, it’s kind of important to me, and it’s vital to maintaining some of my equipment.”

Lightning sighed disappointedly, “A shame. It could make quite a tidy profit. Now, you wanted to see my hertzian wave device?”

The hertzian wave device, or radio, was located inside a lab at the edge of the university campus. Thick power lines fed directly into the building, which had a large antenna jutting out of the top.

While primitive, it was certainly an impressive radio. It was also a surprising jump, given that there seemed to be no form of wired telegraphy available. That could have been explained by the fact that their most rapid form of communication was wireless, and it just never occurred to them to do otherwise. Perhaps there were some versions of wired telegraphy that had been researched, just not patented, as had occurred historically.
Either that, or they were reverse-engineering a human radio set.

When asked about this oddity, Shadow Lightning’s response did nothing to eliminate these suspicions. “We began our research based on some papers out of Canterlot. We don’t know why they weren’t used before now, but it will certainly turn a tidy profit.”

Even Andrew was feeling something was off about this pony. They decided to hold back on showing most of their patents to her, scheduling another meeting for the next day.

They departed the radio building, headed back to the car.

Pinkie Pie broke the silence first, “So...radio. What a cool idea!” “I’d love to be able to send messages home really fast!”

“It would certainly help with economics, it could revolutionize trade.” Twilight said.

Applejack nodded, “Yeah, would make it easier to report a food cart as being late to arrive. You wouldn’t believe how often apple deliveries go missing.”

“Forget trade,” Rainbow interjected, hovering in the air above the rest of the group, “How about defense? We could coordinate an offensive against the bad guys and counter their every move!”

Andrew quickened his pace to walk next to Melissa, and lowered his voice, “It’s an interesting feeling, seeing them take their first steps into the 20th century. Don’t you wonder what they’re going to be like in a hundred years?”

“Pretty advanced, especially if we have anything to say about it.” Melissa replied.

His mouth twitched, “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“So talk.”

“I don’t know if we should be giving them so much tech so fast. I’m worried about what it will do to their culture.”

Melissa kept her eyes forward, not looking at him, “Screw the Prime Directive. Humanity got along just fine with a lot of new tech real quick.”

“Debatable. But these aren’t humans, they’re ponies. We don’t know what these inventions will do in the long run. Maybe we should use the Prime Directive!”

“We don’t know what the introduction of human culture will do either, but you don’t seem worried about that.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened, “Of course I am. But I’m not forcing my culture on them. There’s some exposure sure, but I think you’ve done it more.”

Melissa scowled at him, “And I’m forcing my technology on them? How? This is stuff they’re going to invent in the next few years!”

“And take something away from them. How would you feel if you discovered aliens had given us computers? Wouldn’t you feel cheated?”

Melissa noted the ponies behind them had fallen silent. She didn’t care. “For computers, yes, because we’ve been told all our lives that we developed computers on our own. However, if aliens gave us warp drive, and we were told that they did, I wouldn’t really care. Having the capability to go to the stars is more important than who invented it. It’s for the better, they’ll probably be thanking us in the future!”

Andrew stared at her with horror, “Oh my god, did you just hear what came out of your mouth? ‘It’s for their own good’, sounds like. You gonna ‘civilize them’, too? This is why the Prime Directive exists! To stop people like you from playing god!”

Melissa stopped walking. “That was uncalled for. You know I have no intention of doing anything like that. I’m just helping them out.”

“Helping them to do what?” snarled Andrew, “Lose their cultural identity? How important are inventors to our culture, huh? Really freakin’ important! It’s a part of who we are! Do you really want to take that away from them?”

“I’m not taking that away. How do we know they’d invent half this stuff? The future’s not set, we don’t know what could happen. My gifts of knowledge now might help prevent their extinction in the future! Look at the Native Americans. They could have survived if they’d known germ theory!”

“What do these ‘gifts’,” he held up both hands and drew air quotes, “Do to the culture you gave them to? Ever read Footfall? In the book, there’s a bunch of alien elephants that invade Earth, and they got all their technology from another alien race, and built their entire culture around the manuals!”

“Yeah, I know! I read the book! And they couldn’t develop new ideas because of that, and couldn't adapt to humanity! But this is different!”

“How?”

“I’m not giving them a freaking bible to follow. I’m nudging them along in the right direction. There are dead-end technologies they should avoid, and other tech that will have consequences a hundred years from now. They can avoid climate change if they develop electric cars instead of internal combustion. Coal puts out way more smog than oil, which is more efficient, so if we encourage them to go for the latter, it will buy them more time to develop alternatives. Imagine if they discovered something on their own without help, especially considering their magic. They might blow themselves to pieces without us!”

“Don’t we get a say in this?” Fluttershy interrupted.

Both humans tilted their heads, and remembered the Mane Six were standing right there. All were glad there was no one around on the campus at the moment. It would have been a nightmare had they had this argument in the middle of the day.

“Shit.”

“Your fault.” Melissa accused, fuming as she turned to the rest of the group.

“What’s the Prime Directive?” Rarity asked.

“And what is all this about technology and cultural corruption?” Twilight questioned, her eyes boring into the humans.

“The Prime Directive is one of Starfleet’s guiding principles. It says they can’t interfere with the development of species and societies, even if that interference is well-intentioned.” Pinkie Pie explained, finishing with a grin.

Melissa shook her head at Pinkie Pie, “I don’t even care... We were discussing the future…”

“...And how Captain Janeway over here wants to screw the Prime Directive and just go for broke.” Andrew grunted.

“Okay, the Prime Directive isn’t an actual rule, so I can’t actually--”

“Both of you! Stop!” Twilight barked, “What about cultural corruption?”

Andrew began, “Historically, there have been cases of--”

Melissa mimed a mouth with her hand, “Blah blah blah racism racism racism--”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Make me, dipshit!”

“Quiet!” shouted Twilight again, “One at a time! Andrew, you go first. Cultural corruption?”

With a glance at Melissa, he began again, “Historically, there have been examples of cultures that have been changed or damaged by invasive more-technologically-advanced groups either meeting or even invading them. We don’t know what effects human culture and technology will have on your world, and I’m worried something may be lost along the way.”

Twilight nodded at Melissa, who looked like she was about to explode, “Your turn.”

“While there are certainly cases of cultures being ruined by others, I believe that that’s the result of invasion. Of people purposefully attacking and destroying the local culture. This is different. For one thing, we’re not invading. For another, saying that simple contact between cultures will cause damage is pretty inherently racist. ‘Incompatible cultures’ has been used by horrible people to justify racism. There’s a difference between that and what happened to the Native Americans.”

“Which was…?” Rarity asked.

“Well, first the Europeans, probably because they realized they couldn’t beat the natives, infected them with a plague that wiped out half the population. There are accounts of there being too few people to burn the bodies. Then, they steamrolled over the remaining people, who didn’t have the numbers to fight and their civilization collapsed. It’s an invasion in the same way aliens taking over after I am Legend would be an invasion.”
Melissa growled for a moment at their blank looks, and Andrew took up the tale, “Long story short, the Europeans, and later the United States, started killing off the natives, then herding them into reservations.”
Melissa added, “There they were isolated from their culture, and their kids kidnapped and sent to special schools to brainwash them into forgetting their culture, attempting to wipe it from existence. The last of these schools was shut down in 1998. About twenty years ago. No one’s proud of it, and I like to think we know better now. If not, we at least don’t approve of it anymore.”

She looked up at the rest of the group. Andrew had visibly paled, and the ponies were in various states of shock and horror.

“By Celestia…” Applejack whispered.

“Monsters!” Fluttershy squeaked.

“That’s downright evil!” said Pinkie Pie.

“Evil bastards.” Rainbow Dash snarled, eliciting no reaction from the rest of the group.

“That...I...what?” Andrew stuttered, “But...how…? No...That date can’t be right. Couldn’t have been that late.”

“It’s true. A friend of mine, she lives on a reservation. She was shocked I even knew about it. It’s horrible shit.”

Twilight shook her head, “Surely, there is a difference between our situations. Aren’t there any historical accounts of cultures gelling well together?”

Melissa looked at her in surprise, “I...well, at least one I know of. You still want to know? Aren’t you horrified at us now? Aren’t we monsters in your eyes?”

Rarity replied with a question, “Did you commit any of those acts?”

“No…”

“History does not reflect the people today. We know you’ve never tried anything as horrible as that. Now, explain.” she ordered firmly.

Melissa shrugged, “Okay...I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but I know Japan managed to stay independent. They’re an island nation, and when the Europeans came, they realized they had to adapt. They saw the wheels of time in the European ships and guns and technology, and started building their own industrial base. They maintained their culture, adapted, and survived, growing into a major power, and kicked the Russian Empire’s ass, one of the other European nations.”

Andrew added, “Granted, they became one of the biggest bad guys and war-crime-perpetrating nations in the Second World War, but I guess the tale still stands.”

Twilight put on a thoughtful expression, “Alright then. Two directions, Japan and Native America.”

“Native Americans. General term. There were a lot of different nations in fact, it’s quite--” Andrew was silenced by an elbow from Melissa.

“You two both have cause to be worried. Melissa, you’re afraid of what may come, and us not being prepared, correct?”

Melissa bit her lip, “...Mostly. Who knows what will happen if another nation you’re not prepared for comes along? What if we regain contact with Earth? What if the Martians invade?”

“Andrew, you’re afraid of us losing our culture by being helped along.”

He nodded, “Of course. The Prime Directive. It seems like a good idea, now that I’m thinking about it. I don’t want to see you--your culture-- lose its...innocence.”

“How would we lose it? What exactly are you referring to when you say that?”

“Well, your kind and good-natured society might lose those parts along the way, if you’re exposed to some of what we’ve invented, or do some of the things we’ve done.”

“Are you saying that your people are monsters? Evil creatures?” Fluttershy mumbled, joining the conversation again, “Turned into that magically by your past?”

“Well no!...but, sometimes we can be evil, I mean, look at the Holocaust. Six million people murdered…”

Melissa explained, “He’s worried about what will happen to you guys if you’re exposed to that stuff.”
She turned to Andrew, “Andrew, I get what you’re saying, but giving them paint rollers and radio won’t cause that.”

“Of course not, but what will happen further along? You’re a soldier, a freaking combat engineer. You’re going to give them weapons technology. You already have. No matter how well-intentioned, interference with another culture could cause untold problems! Some cultures just aren’t ready for some new tech!”

“I don’t believe that,” Melissa snapped, “I never bought into the Prime Directive. I am not abandoning my humanity for some bullshit rules! I cannot abandon people who are in need! My duty, as a soldier, and a human being is to help! Penicillin, think of how many people it could heal!”

“Airplanes, immediate war applications!”

“Communications, connect an entire nation!”

“Coordinate entire fronts against an enemy!”

Twilight barked “Quiet!” again.

“Now,” she began, “you are both right...and you are both wrong.”

“What?” the humans demanded.

“Melissa, you are not wrong in using your knowledge to try and help us. But you may not be prepared to deal with the consequences. If you give us too much, we will become overly-reliant. Give us too little, some might become resentful. Giving us certain technologies when we’re not ready could result in catastrophe.”

Melissa conceded that, nodding, “There are a few fictional examples of this. In Larry Niven’s Known Space, a warrior race known as the Kzinti were contacted when they were cavemen, and seized a starship with all its advanced tech. They carried a lot of their cavemen tendencies to the stars, genetically modifying their females to be breeders only and making the men super aggressive. However, I don’t believe a culture will stagnate like that in most cases. Their brains were already under-developed, I don’t even know if they created writing, and the genetic enhancements only exacerbated that. Tech can freeze, but not necessarily the culture around it. Look at Ancient Rome, not much new tech developed over the course of their rule, but they went from republic to empire, rule of the people to an aristocracy...I think, and all over the place.
“And to believe that a leg up from another society will make a culture freeze is just...silly. The culture would change, they would adapt.”

“But what if that culture shouldn’t have those things? What if someone gave the Nazis nukes?” Andrew demanded.

Melissa scratched her head, considering the matter, “Well, okay...yeah, you’re right, there are some exceptions. You ever seen the anime Zipang? No, of course not. Japanese warship from modern day goes back in time to World War II, and the ship has weapons that can completely wipe out the contemporary United States Navy, but the crew only wants to stop the war while Japan is still intact. Unfortunately, Imperial Japan doesn’t care about casualties, and only watch with glee as they force the future crew to kill. There’s also Axis of Time, modern fleet in WWII, and both Japan and Germany get ahold of some future ships. The potential for doom, the Gestapo getting the NSA’s spying equipment, Japan and the sub-nuclear munitions…”
She slumped, “This is harder than I thought.”

Twilight spoke to Andrew, “Andrew, you do have good points. Cultures need to be allowed to develop on their own, without interference.”

She held up a hoof when he smiled at his small victory, “However, you are no better than she is.”

“We’re not naive,” Applejack said loudly, “We can see what’s right and what’s wrong.”

“But what if you don’t know the whole truth about what some ‘friendly’ alien tells you?” Andrew pointed out.

“Well then it’s not related to cultural stuff. The problem is that they’re lying.” Pinkie said.

Twilight glanced at the pink pony, surprised at the insightful point, “Forcing us to accept new ideas and cultures while losing our own, and being completely isolated from any other culture, are two sides of the same coin. On one side, invasion might destroy a culture, while new technology might corrupt one, or worse, interfere with the others around it. On the other, by keeping things from us, one is playing god on a different level. If your technology could prevent a catastrophe from occurring, or could save thousands, but you do nothing, you are still choosing who lives and who dies.”

“And in protecting a society from another invasive one, you are still interfering.” Rarity said, “You’re coddling them, treating them like children and refusing to let them grow up.”

Andrew’s eyes flashed with memory, “The Ocampa…”

“The who?”

“A species from Star Trek. This alien, the Caretaker, was protecting them from some bad guys because...reasons…”

“He and his girlfriend accidentally fried the atmosphere and broke the water cycle.” Melissa explained.

“Right...they were being protected from some baddies, and managed to survive, but they weren’t developing. They were actually going backwards. It was found that the Caretaker was dying, and he left enough power for their shield for about five more years, and pretty much gave up, saying that they were children who would die without him. And he was right. If Voyager hadn’t informed them, they probably would’ve all died. No weapons, no soldiers, nothing to protect them. That’s not exactly non-interference, but I guess I understand the coddling thing...”

“Both sides are playing god, just in different ways.” Twilight said, “No interference is just as bad as total guidance.”

Melissa nodded, “Like Stargate. We give tech to those who are good people, but avoid giving them unfair advantages. Only medical stuff, or things that’s just above their current stage of technology. Also, don’t give it to Nazis.”

“Giving a leg up is better than jumping to the information age, eh?” Andrew became thoughtful, and gave a conceding shrug, “You’re right, SG-1 and the Kelownans. No weapons technology, because of how it could be misused, but they weren’t non-interference either, or unwilling to give people tech in general.”

“That is kind of where I’m getting my points from.” Twilight muttered sheepishly, grinning, “I started watching the show a while back. The SGC doesn’t use the Prime Directive, but they’re still careful about who they give their technology to.”

Andrew couldn’t help but laugh at that, “I guess you’re right. Thanks.”

“So...I can keep doing my thing?” Melissa asked, feeling the conversation coming to a close and wondering how it could have been done so fast.

“Yes, darling. Everything’s fine.” Rarity reassured her, patting her as far up the human’s arm as she could reach.

“Alright...that’s dinner then. Who has the map?”

Though anti-climactic from an outside observer, the conversation ending well made all those involved incredibly relieved.

They made their way back to the car, and drove out into the street. There was a nice restaurant across the city that made meat for griffin or dragon diplomats; Rarity was sure she could convince them to make some for the humans.

Fate laughed in their faces, unfortunately.

Speeding through a road along Manehattan’s coast, Melissa furrowed her brow at a strange sound in the distance.

Her car’s sound system wasn’t malfunctioning, and it didn’t sound like her brakes…

“Does anyone else hear a whistle?” she asked.

Andrew shifted in his seat, looking behind them. His eyes widened and he groaned, “Aw, crap. It’s the cops! Pull over!”

Flipping on her turn signal, Melissa pulled over to the side of the road. “How have they not caught us before?!”

“Shut up before you get us arrested!”

A pegasus in a blue uniform zipped by the driver’s side window, unprepared for the sudden deceleration.

He landed a bit ahead of them, and quickly trotted back. It was a little awkward, the bottom of the window being about where the top of his head was.

Melissa leaned out, keeping her hands in plain view, “Is there a problem, officer?”

For the first time, there was a pony who didn’t seem surprised by the fact that she was an alien life form. Being a police officer in the pony equivalent of New York, that wasn’t actually a shock.

He looked to be a middle-aged pony, a sergeant if she understood the pony ranking system correctly. Lines crisscrossed his face, and his muzzle was bent slightly out of shape as though it had been broken. Clearly a lot of experience. His eyes locked on Melissa for a moment, but not with the usual emotions behind it.

The moment passed, “Miss, do you have any idea how fast you were going?”

“24.5 miles per hour.” Melissa said in a confused tone.

“Twenty-five--” the cop groaned, “Tourists…” and face-hoofed. “The speed limit for the city is ten. How did your automobile even get to that speed?”

“It was designed to.”

Grimacing at the answer, the cop flipped out a notepad, “License and registration, please.”

Melissa flipped down her sun visor, and handed out the registration form, then her license.

The cop showed some sign of surprise this time, raising an eyebrow at the strange materials. 21st century paper and plastic.

He stared at them for a long time, glancing from one to the other.

“You aren't from Equestria, right?”

“That's correct, officer.”

The officer scratched his head, “ma'am, I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me.”

“Might I ask what I am being charged with?” She inquired.

The cop blinked in surprise, “‘Charged with’? Oh, miss, I'm not arresting you, the station just needs to verify these documents. I need to know if these qualify as legal documents here. Just follow me down to the station, and we'll get this all sorted out. You can drive yourself, in fact.”

He walked away to in front of them, and flapped his wings. She pressed the accelerator and began to follow the cop.

Melissa realized Andrew and the ponies were staring at her, “What?”

“Why can't you be more polite like that all the time?” Andrew inquired bluntly, “you've been really nice all day, and yet you're still kind of a jerk!”

A long silence followed.

She couldn't ignore it, she would have to deal with it sometime. With a heavy sigh, she began, “I'm sorry if I come off as an asshole, everyone. I don't mean to. I've been under a lot of stress recently, and I can be hard on those around me. These damn migraines, the mustard gas, the fact that I'm marooned far from home...I don't know why I've been so aggravated, maybe everything's just piling up. I’ve been told I demand a lot of myself, so maybe that's another factor. I'm a handful to deal with, an asshole, and under a lot of stress. I am sorry.”

“You're not that bad.” Rarity attempted to soothe, “sure you can be a bit rude, but it's no worse than…”

“Dealing with Rainbow.” Applejack said with characteristic bluntness.

“Hey!”

Andrew scratched his head, “You can be a handful, to be sure, but it's nothing I haven't been through. Guess I forget that sometimes.”

“You weren't exactly the most diplomatic of people when you first appeared,” Rarity pointed out.

As Rarity attempted to keep the situation calm, while Fluttershy and Twilight glanced at each other in the back seat, their own feelings toward the marine floating to the surface.
Twilight and Melissa had never really talked much after the incident at the hospital, and had in fact been evading each other.
Fluttershy hadn’t forgiven Melissa for any of her behavior before the dragon incident, and her feelings had only soured after the discovery of what the secret ingredients in her soup was. And why several velociraptor skulls had turned up in garbage disposals around town.

Pulling into what served as the parking lot for the station, the group emerged from the vehicle and followed the sergeant into the police department.

The lobby was fairly standard, albeit more primitive than human ones and did not feature much in the way of waiting area aside from a few benches. No magazines or anything for those bored. An exhausted-looking mare sat at the main desk, staring at a book without moving her eyes.

The sergeant took Melissa’s documents further back into the station, directing the group to wait in the lobby. while the cop went in back to examine her records.

By her clock, and the primitive one in the station, it had been an hour before he returned.

With friends.

Several angry cops entered the lobby, a dozen more from the entrance.

They brandished pistols, batons, and horns, all directed at Melissa.

She cursed, and reached for Glamdring. Andrew withdrew his L9A1 from his waistband, both sought targets.

“No! Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” Twilight cried.

“Sunset Shimmer!” one of the cops yelled, “Put down the repeater and lie down with your hoof--things in front of you!”

“Repeater? Sunset Shimmer?” Melissa demanded, looking at Andrew.

He shrugged, as bewildered and confused as she was.

“There’s no one here by that name!” Melissa replied. She figured “repeater” meant her pistol.

The sergeant from earlier stepped out of the crowd, “Sunset Shimmer, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. I know that hair anywhere. C’mon, you know me. Surrender, and we won’t have to hurt you.”

Melissa’s trigger finger twitched, “Officer, I have no idea who you are. I have no idea who you think I am. I am not her. Who the hell is she?”

The cop sighed, “Sunset, we don’t have time for this. We’ve known each other for years, you can trust me. I don’t want to have to order them to take you into custody.”

“They won’t take me alive.” Melissa growled, “And I only met you today!”

Andrew went the more intelligent route, “Don’t you have to charge someone before you arrest them?”

“Yes, that’s an inalienable right!” Rarity and Twilight said synonymously, and looked at each other in surprise.

“You know exactly what you’ve been charged with, Sunset.” the sergeant said, “Don’t make us resort to force.”

“You’ve given her too long already sir.” another cop growled, “I say we take her right now.”

“Over my rotting corpse!” Melissa leveled her pistol.

The doors to the police station flew open once again, light as bright as day filling the night.

Most of the cops, the Mane Six, and just about every other type of pony in the room bowed immediately.

Melissa’s pistol, so long a source of power and comfort, felt like a paperweight. Princess--Queen--whatever she was, Celestia was standing in the doorway. A handful of royal guards, clad in the armor they had been for over a century, quickly followed. Of note was the fact that they had eschewed their ceremonial spears for actual weapons; muzzleloading rifles, breechloaders hadn't quite gotten through to a major manufacturer yet.

Twilight’s brother, Shining Armor, Captain of the Guard, stood beside Celestia, wearing a sidearm holster in place of a sword.

“Queen Celestia!” Twilight gasped, looking up from her bow.

“Your highness!” the police sergeant gasped.

Celestia gave an affectionate nod to her student, but held up a hoof to silence her. Her eyes locked on Melissa.

Beside her, Melissa noted Andrew had subtly put his pistol away. She did not. Though it felt like a paperweight, who knew if the show was a totally accurate measurement of the Queen's power? A well-placed shot at the right time…
Melissa shook her head, what the hell was that? Why would I want to kill her?

Keeping her hands in plain view, she slowly put her sidearm back in her holster, hoping it would earn some points with the queen.

Celestia slowly trotted forward, looking Melissa up and down. Her eyes were clouded, unreadable.
"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" She finally asked, softly.

"Uh... Ma'am?" Melissa asked in confusion.

"After all that's happened, all this time, you still wanted revenge? You know that if you had just turned yourself in, nothing would be held against you."

Melissa stepped back, "Excuse me, ma'am, but I think you may have mistaken me for someone else."

Celestia's eyes remained calm, "Sunset, do not play this game. We know it's you." She looked Melissa up and down again, "what have you done to yourself?"

Melissa looked to Andrew, who shrugged in bewilderment. "...I haven't done anything to myself. Okay, I lost weight but..." Celestia's gaze narrowed into a glare, "... aaaannd you don't care. But I have no idea who you're talking about.”

As she spoke, she looked up directly into Celestia’s eyes. Instantly, all thoughts vanished with a blinding-pain through her skull. She reached up, massaging her temples...before blackness overcame her.

XXXXX

The marine opened her eyes, on her back and staring up at a stone ceiling. She sat bolt upright, trying to get off the wooden cot she found herself in.
She cried out in pain, falling to the cobblestone floor face-first as she tried to stop moving and agitating her injuries.

Okay. Injuries. Ow, ow, ow, and oh look! Fucking ow! It would be easier to make a list of things that didn’t hurt.

She lifted her head, Yay, that doesn’t hurt!

She was in some sort of cell, stone all around with a wooden door, iron bars in the small window. Bars also blocked another window that let some light in from the outside above the wooden bed.

Knees function now. She struggled to a sitting-up position, and checked to see how much blood and teeth she’d lost. It felt like she’d been through a night of drinking in Metro 2033, only with a lot less liquor and more hangover after blackout. Her head was hurting from inside, not just bruises. No lost teeth though.

Shit. Her phone was missing. She still had her winter gear, her blue caboose hat, scarf, N7 jacket, gloves, and combat boots. But she was missing not just her phone, but her watch, Glamdring, combat vest, flashlight, swiss army knife, and her wallet…

“My wallet.”

Melissa jumped to her feet, and staggered over to the door. “Hey,” she called out, spluttering a little, “Hey, you fuckfaces! Where in the bleedin’ hell is my wallet?!”

“Quiet down, over there.” a voice replied distantly. The guard most likely.

“Can it, you rhizopod, and get me my wallet before I come over there and tear out your tongue with a rusty nail!”

A heavy sigh, then in a lower voice the guard asked “She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?”

“Shut up you stupid fucking...fuckwhistle!” Melissa screamed, “I have ears!”

Another guard hissed, “She heard that?”

“Yes you shit-eating asshats! Despite what conclusions you may have drawn about my ears, they’re no less capable than yours! So stop talking about me, get over here, and give me my wallet back!”

More sighs. The first ruffled a newspaper by the sound of it, “I’m sure she’ll calm down eventually. You know how some of them are.”

The second said, “Yeah, but she’s crazy or something! You heard what she did!”

“Oh my god, you moronic pestilential pachyderms made of idiotic walruses! I didn’t do anything!”

Silence, for the first time.

“Cthulhu’s balls…” she whispered, facepalming, “You dipshits think I did something. What the fuck could I possibly do?! I haven’t done anything! Unless you count the fights and--oh shit, you think--”

Melissa slammed into the door again, “You dumbasses think I’m a shapeshifted pony?! Are you high?! What did she do, anyway? Murder? I thought you guys were all above that, ‘n’ shit!”

One of the guards finally came to the outer door, a concerned expression on her face, “Ms. Shimmer, this won’t be that bad if you calm down. I’m sure Celestia will be forgiving--”

The marine slammed into the door once again, and screamed, “What the fuck did I do?!”

The second guard arrived, looking in. The first asked, “Should we call somebody? She doesn’t seem well.”

The second seemed less friendly, “Hard to tell if she’s well or not, physically I mean. I’m sure it’s just denial. She’ll burn herself out in a few minutes.”

Through gritted teeth, Melissa hissed, “I’m. Right. In front of you. You asshole.”

“Oh, calm down--”

“Calm down? Calm down?” The marine roared, kicking the wall with her boot, “Look where I am, shit-for-brains! I black out, and wake up to find I’m in the middle of a goddamn cell in a goddamn 19th century judicial system with a bunch of fucking ponies and a monarch who’s pissed at me for no goddamn reason!”

The first guard tilted her head, “Well, you did give her that black eye--”

“I did what?!” Melissa shrieked, sending the metal in the cage ringing.

“Left eye. Clocked her right there.” the second guard said, pointing to his face, “Guess you were too busy trying to claw the cops’ eyes out to notice.”

“Oh shit...oh shit shit shit shit shit…” Melissa grumbled, pain reaching her nerves again. “No! No no no!”

With great effort, she blew air out her nose, and regained some self control, “Give me my wallet.”

“I’m sorry, miss,” the first guard explained, “we can’t do that.”

“Give it up, right now, or I start busting heads!”

The second rolled his eyes, “C’mon, let her burn herself out.”

Melissa cried out in anguish at the guard, and began thrashing, throwing herself against the bars, the walls, smashed the wooden bed, destroying everything she could get her hands on.

“No! No! No! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do it! I’m innocent, do you hear me? Innocent!”

The first guard watched Melissa’s outrage with a mix of fascination and horror, not replying to Melissa’s demands that they give up her wallet when her reeling mind came back to that.

Eventually, bruised and battered and exhausted, Corporal Melissa Foster sank into a corner, curled up in a ball, sobbing.

Eventually, somber and struggling through tears, she sang softly the same Japanese song that perplexed all in Equestria who heard it.
The Galactic Pilot.