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The Maretian

by Kris Overstreet

Chapter 133: Sol 229

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Queen Chrysalis’s capsule bobbed up and down in the Griffon Sea, awaiting recovery. The Equestrian Space Agency might prefer winged landers, but Chrysalis strongly preferred capsules. As Chrysalis had put it herself, if the thing you’re riding down from space in, wrapped by a giant fireball, is going to have the aerodynamic properties of a brick, it’s stupid to slap wings on it and call it a glider. Better to treat it as the brick it is.

Chrysalis herself sat in the capsule’s center seat, flanked by the yeti and hippogriff who had just finished their rookie flight. The descent had been uneventful from undocking to splashdown. Of course, Chryssy thought smugly, I was piloting it.

And in thirty days she’d go up and do it all over again. Thirty up, thirty down, that was to be the cycle, at least until the earliest possible day that the escape rocket in that other universe- the Mahv, or whatever- was ready for launch. Concordia would be on permanent standby on the off-chance that the universe Amicitas had landed in was found, in which case it would jump there at once and begin directly coordinating rescue plans with the natives. And if that happened, it would be either herself or Rainbow Dash in command of the mission.

Of course, once the castaways had their rescue rocket, the plan would change to immediate pickup as soon as the universe was located. But that day remained at least half a year away, according to the castaways.

With a sudden jerk the capsule lifted out of the water, no longer bobbing. Bringing a capsule down was still a little bit of a roll of the dice, but CSP had got better than hitting the correct ocean; now they could put down within a dozen or so kilometers of the recovery barge. Thus, within minutes of splashdown, the capsule now floated in the air under the telekinetic power of the recovery team, to be set down on the barge for transport back to Horseton for reconditioning.

All of that was normal, routine, business as usual. The presence of a purple alicorn on the deck of the barge when Chrysalis opened the capsule hatch, on the other hoof, was definitely not normal.

“We need to talk,” Twilight Sparkle said, without preamble.

Chrysalis looked around. The barge had a control shack, and the tugboat that towed it a small cabin, and that was all. No privacy. Not even the pretense of privacy, given that the control rooms for both tug and barge had enormous windows. “Here? Now?” the changeling queen asked, climbing out of the capsule. “In front of-“

“Something very bad has happened,” Twilight said. “It happened two days ago, but we decided not to tell you until you made it down safely.”

Chrysalis’s imagination ran wild. She understood the logic. What’s more, she understood Twilight Sparkle, a mare who by changeling standards was an uncontrolled blabbermouth. If the princess had not only held her tongue but ordered others to do likewise, on the premise that it might be a dangerous distraction from the potentially lethal process of reentry, it meant something that would make Chrysalis in particular unable to control herself. And the fact that the princess was here to tell her the very instant she got out of the capsule…

“Tell me,” she said.

Twilight told her.

It was every bit as bad as Chrysalis expected.


Teddy didn’t pace. He didn’t slam the desk. His face remained calm, composed, unruffled. But he kept knocking the end of a pen onto his desk blotter, sliding his thumb and forefinger down its length, picking it up and allowing the top to swivel down, then knocking the other end into the blotter to start the cycle again. Venkat had seen his boss as fidgety as this before, but he couldn’t remember when. “Okay,” he said quietly. “We are going to operate under the assumption that Mark will recover. What does the loss of Dragonfly do to recovery efforts?”

“Plenty,” Venkat said. “Dragonfly was their mission engineer. She was also the only one capable of maintaining their spacesuits, which have required two rounds of maintenance and one emergency repair in two hundred and twenty sols. Barring a miracle from the pony homeworld, they have over three hundred sols remaining with no suit maintenance, known wear issues on said suits, and no backups or replacements. And, of course, all work on adapting pony systems to our needs will be set back.”

“Also there’s the matter of the cocoon mentioned by the pony astronauts,” Mitch grumbled. “They say such things have never been rated for vacuum. They’re never going to abandon her while there’s any chance she’s alive, so that means they have to get her out somehow to suit her up for transfer to the rover. They’re not going to cooperate with any plan that gets in the way of that.”

“Dragonfly is the second most popular alien crew member after Cherry Berry,” Annie said. “News of this disaster hit the Net like a fucking A-bomb filled with pureed shit. The only people who blame Dragonfly for this massive clusterfuck are the same chucklefucks who wanted to let the aliens die in the first place. They’re screaming ‘we told you so.’ But damn near everybody else is convinced that she’s going to die, that Mark’s going to die, and that the others are doomed without them, and that there’s fuck-all NASA can do to stop it.”

Teddy paused in his pen-tapping ritual. “Is there anything we can do about it?” he asked.


Chrysalis rubbed her head. “Okay, Dragonfly messed up,” she admitted. “She messed up by the numbers, but I can’t really blame her. In her position I probably would have done the same thing. Except for saving the monkey, that is. I might not have done that.”

“He’s not a- ugh,” Twilight Sparkle groaned. “Mark is a person, not a monkey. And he needs our help. You can begin by telling us how to cure him.”

“There is no cure,” Chrysalis said. “Not when a changeling drains someone empty of love. Victims either recover by themselves… or they don’t.”

“No cure? But there has to be something!!”

Chrysalis considered this. On the one hoof, anything further risked giving up secrets she’d managed to protect despite the détente. On the other hoof… she wasn’t really sure, anyway. “Removing the changeling usually releases the victim,” she said, “though the victim will be weak for a while. But failing that… your brother recovered quickly when confronted with the loved one I impersonated. You remember that, yes?”

“Every time we have to work together, yes,” Twilight Sparkle said. “But I try to put it aside for the-“

“Yes, yes, harmony friendship blah blah blah,” Chrysalis interrupted. “My point is, it might help if this Mark makes contact with whichever loved one Dragonfly impersonated for her feeding. The presence, or even the image or voice, of the real thing might dispel the captivation.”

“That’s it?” Twilight asked. “No spell, no infusion of love?”

“That really is the best suggestion I have, princess,” Chrysalis snapped. “Remember, until not that long ago we changelings had no reason to care about our victims except to make sure they kept producing love for us to eat. We don’t exactly have clinical trials I could refer you to!”

“An oversight that needs correcting,” Twilight replied coldly. “But another time. How do we get Dragonfly out of that cocoon?”

“You don’t,” Chrysalis replied. “Your report specified an opaque cocoon. That’s a long-term hibernation cocoon.” It was also the kind that produced queens, but Chrysalis saw no reason to enlighten this pony. With almost no magic and definitely no royal jelly, it wasn't going to happen anyway. “Forcing it open will injure or even kill the occupant. She’ll come out when she feels safe, and not one moment before.”

“You’re not being particularly helpful,” Twilight grumbled.

“You ask me a question I’ve never needed an answer for, and you ask another question for which there’s only one answer whether you like it or not!” Chrysalis roared. “I’m doing the best I can for you, pony, for you and my daughter and my senior pilot. Cease complaining and let’s talk about a lander.”

“A what?


“I’m not on board with the idea that we have to wait for the pony homeworld to act before we can,” Teddy said. “What can we do?”

“Catatonia is a condition we still don’t understand very well,” Dr. Shields said, perched on the edge of one of the office chairs. “Mark could come out of it any moment, or he might remain that way for years. He requires immediate medical supervision, and he won’t get that until someone gets him off Mars.”

“I think we have to assume he comes out of it quickly,” Teddy insisted. “Without Mark’s skills and knowledge of Ares systems, the Purnell plan fails. And we already know from the alien castaways that their space programs probably won’t be able to make a craft that can both land and return from Mars any time soon.”


“Obviously we were wrong about our people being able to survive until rescue comes,” Chrysalis said. “We need to get there as fast as possible. How quickly can we design a lander to pick them up?”

“Are you kidding?” Twilight gasped. “Do you remember how huge your moon lander had to be? Now imagine it landing on a world with three times the gravity of the moon! Enough atmosphere to drag on the way up, but not enough for any serious aerobraking on the way down! And imagine it carrying six people more than whatever crew you send with it! And we have to be able to do that with absolutely no magic whatever, not even the telepresence spell.”

“So have the Concordia run comms relay,” Chrysalis said. “It’s got the batteries.”

“A landing and takeoff would take as much as two hours,” Twilight pointed out. “That’s not counting however long rendezvous with Concordia would require. And Concordia will be draining power all the time, until it doesn’t have enough power to make the jump home.”

“Are you saying it can’t be done?” Chrysalis asked.

“No. I’m saying it can’t be done and tested soon enough. We’d have to test it by landing and recovering it from Bucephalous, and that project could take a year even if we use Concordia to ferry the lander back and forth. We have to design the ship. We have to train crews. We have to do unmared landings to make sure the craft won't kill the crews. And then we do the piloted landing and ascent. All of that takes too much time. It’s faster to just use the human ship.”

Chrysalis snorted. “Not acceptable,” she said. “Dragonfly is going to die in that hell-world if we don’t get there quickly. And I’m the only one who can coax her out of that cocoon.”

“We can’t even find them yet,” Twilight pointed out. “And until we do find them, even if Discord gave us a lander gift-wrapped with a certificate from the legendary Queen Majesty herself- and even then I wouldn't trust-"

“Enough!” Chrysalis turned her back on the princess. “If all you can do is find reasons why we can’t do things, what good is an alicorn princess anyway?”

“Chrysalis, my student is there. My first student.”

“And so is my daughter. One of many, but still mine.”

“I know. And that’s why, when we go rescue them, we have to be sure it’s going to work. We probably won’t get more than one chance.”

Chrysalis wanted to argue the point, to attack the logic, to impugn the motives of the princess… and couldn’t. They needed to get there soon… but they absolutely had to get it right, first. “I know,” she said, and silently she cursed herself for allowing a bit too much genuine feeling into those syllables. She could feel pity pouring off the idiot genius already.

“Chrysalis…”

“Leave me,” the queen ordered. “This audi… this… conversation is over.”

“Leave you?” Twilight gestured. “We’re on a barge.”

Chrysalis looked around, realizing how many eyes were on the two of them. Wonderful. I just humiliated myself in front of an audience. “Leave me anyway,” she muttered. “Take your pity somewhere else.”

“No. Friends don't leave friends alone at times like this.” Twilight Sparkle made her point by walking over to Chrysalis and sitting down next to her.

And that was that, apparently.

Sparkle, Chrysalis noted, had more sense than to put a comforting foreleg or wing around her. That was as well, for if she had, détente or no, she would have ripped it off.


“We can ask the alien crew to discuss it with their superiors,” Teddy said, “but for now hoping for an alien rescue mission is futile. What can we do, right now, to help?”

“Ideal treatment for catatonic shock begins with putting the victim in a place where they feel safe and secure,” Dr. Shields said. “We aren’t going to get that on Mars. Next comes pharmaceutical intervention to counter any imbalance of brain chemistry. Dr. Keller and I are reluctant to recommend that, since the ponies have no way of testing neurotransmitter or endorphin levels, and we'd rather they not experiment with the contents of the medical kit. Electroshock therapy, of course, is right out."

The other people in the room nodded silent understanding.

"The next best thing," Shields continued, "is contact with loved ones, people the victim trusts, assuming they weren't the cause of the catatonic episode. Perhaps Mark’s parents and the Hermes crew could record a series of short messages to be sent over the Pathfinder channel.”

“Audio only,” Venkat said. “Our data transfer rate is about 750 bits per second and dropping. That’s a megabyte every three hours. Video is absolutely out of the question. Even audio messages will have to be short and very low-quality.”

“Voice and a small picture, then,” Dr. Shields suggested. “It won’t be as good as full video, but it will help. Text messages are useless in these cases- no sense of direct connection.”

“Do it,” Teddy said. “I’ll call the Watneys myself and make the arrangements there. Mitch, handle the Hermes crew. Venk, if you know of anyone else-“

Venkat shook his head. “Mark was married to his work,” he said. “He had a couple of girlfriends during training, but they didn’t last long. The closest people to him are his parents, the Ares III crew, and the ponies.”

“Don’t forget his geek factor,” Mitch put in. “Mark loved superhero movies and science fiction. Maybe we could tap some of his favorite actors for that.”

“Get me a list,” Annie said. “I’ll make it happen. Most of Hollywood is beating down my door asking how they can help.”

“All right, then,” Teddy said. “Let’s show Mark how much he’s loved.”

Author's Notes:

Before I go to bed, the buffer will be back to one whole chapter, plus maybe the first part of the next.

Now is as good a time as any to say that I planned on this whole sequence- Dragonfly getting magic-starved, going feral, draining Mark, and fleeing to perma-pod herself- pretty much from the beginning. The original game plan was to have this happen as a consequence of losing the cave permanently, but despite my best efforts, the cave and its farm both lived.

But why have Dragonfly go berserk? Because, although this is a universe with a little magic, it's a barren wasteland compared to the world(s) of Equestria. The creatures there evolved to run on magic to greater or lesser degrees... and changelings, being shapeshifters, are more dependent on magic simply to keep existing than practically anything else we've seen except Discord. Magic deprivation sickness would hit Dragonfly first and hardest.

At no time have I ever considered, not for a moment, making Dragonfly a queen. I completely ignore the comics origin of the changelings that has Chrysalis as the sole queen of all the changelings, and without that the background and even biology of changelings is ignored in the canon. Nonetheless, I'd mentioned royal jelly in a silly footnote as a key requirement, and another key requirement would be not dying of magic withdrawal.

Anyway, with the cave surviving I had a problem if I wanted to keep this sequence in the story. Starlight Glimmer is building up magic battery stocks, so after a certain point she'll have enough batteries for a daily half-hour of magic field- and a magic field of an even shorter duration, I'd already established, is enough to offset physical cravings for magic to a sufficient degree to call it therapeutic. Furthermore, Chrysalis was going to be back in direct communication with our castaways fairly soon, at which point she would blow the whistle on the danger involved, for Dragonfly's own good if for no other reason.

In short, the window for the plot point to kick in was about to shut very hard.

It took me several days to think of the rocket test going awry, and the exact nature of the accident took another couple of days to work out in my head. In the meantime I crammed in Sojourner's revival to get it done with (and to further develop Dragonfly's misplaced optimism that she'd turned the corner).

And that's how we got here. For today you see the high brass on both homeworlds trying to find some way to help the survivors get out of this hole.

There are several causes for what used to be lumped together as catatonia, but in this case the closest human medicine would have for what Mark has is catatonic depression. And since it's magically induced, antidepressants probably wouldn't touch it.

Next Chapter: Sol 230 Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 38 Minutes
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