//------------------------------// // Digging Up Dirt // Story: Myou've Gotta be Kidding Me // by DataPacRat //------------------------------// As the sun started lowering to the horizon, I was climbing back up the hill and away from the various pieces of wreckage, feeling somewhat discouraged. I was coming to terms with the simple fact was that there was far too much stuff to make my initial plan feasible; even spending just five seconds with every mysterious doodad or interesting-looking fragment would take weeks. (And that didn't even count breaks for lunch, or for wondering why the Warden skeleton-creatures were shaped like the skeletons of humans instead of ponies.) And even more frustrating was that I knew just how much was tantalizingly out of my grasp; if I knew just about any subject in more depth, like materials science or antenna design, I was sure I could learn a lot more. But as things were, even a single detail the size of a microchip could render the most valuable artifact imaginable into just another piece of twisted hull metal, as far as I could tell. The entire fruits of my first day was a total of three things - which I had stumbled across pretty much by accident. As I'd been wandering from one downed mecha to another, I detoured a bit to look at something around the size of a phonebox that wasn't quite between them. As an educated guess, it looked like some sort of ejectable cockpit - angled winlets, lots of see-through window-like panels, a smooth lump that could be some sort of countoured seat, and the like. No sign of a pilot, of any species; but after some poking and prodding, under the maybe-seat was a panel... and within, some object that I could almost recognize. The first thing I pulled out was a matte-black boot - I pulled it on, and it fit my left forehoof just nicely. I leaned back down to reach back in... and my hoof didn't lean with me - it was stuck where I was standing. It took me half an hour to figure out the trick to get it to detach. And another half hour to figure out how to get it off. Once I had those two pieces of information - I was willing to experiment a bit more, especially when I found its three companions... and found that when I stuck one to the top of the cockpit, any one of them was perfectly capable of holding my entire weight. So - maybe I could play Spider-cow, now. As long as they kept working - I didn't know if they used a power-source I'd need to recharge, or were based on gecko setae and would need to be kept extremely clean, or used a magical enchantment that could be dispelled... still, finding them meant that I could tell myself the day wasn't a total loss. The second thing I found in that cockpit was a pair of goggles. I tried the obvious, first - pocketed my glasses, and held them up to my eyes. There was a moment of blurriness... and then, as I blinked, my vision cleared; I could see through them at least as well as through my Equestrian-crafted lenses. Maybe even better. Given my eyes' rather extreme nearsightedness, that implied they'd just customized themselves to my particular lenses... which implied they, too, still had some sort of active capability. I wasn't sure what the third thing was - it was the same smooth, matte-black as the boots and the goggles' strap. It was shaped like a rubbery torc, and had no obvious function; but given what I found it with, I decided not to break up the set, and pocketed it for further investigation when I had the time to focus on one particular object. The rest of my day probably would have been more productive if I'd done that, instead. The best idea I'd been able to come up with for the rest of what I'd found was to slap some of the pieces of material I found into a makeshift suit of armor. So I was feeling a mite disgruntled as I left the field early enough to get my camp ready for the night. When I got to the top of the hill, I was planning on giving the field another look-see through my new goggles, to see if my distance-vision was any better than earlier... which plan was quite derailed as I saw the Mikoyan, hovering in almost exactly the spot where it had dropped me off. Which was odd for several reasons - one of which being that Red was supposed to buzz me when she came back. Of course, I had gone for a tumble or two while being shot at. I unhooked my CAT WHISKER from its carrying strap, and flipped open the maintenance hatch. The sapphires were unbroken, all the connections were solid, the battery was still charged... so, most likely, the two gemstones had been shifted away from their 'sweet spot' point of connection. I nudged them a bit - and was gratified to hear a faint buzzing sound emanate from the earphone. I closed the box up, and stuck the earplug in. The signal <> was being repeated. Translating from radio-speak, it meant, roughly, "Hey Missy, hey Missy, hey Missy! Call from Red Pepper, Red Pepper, Red Pepper. End-of-message. Reply please?" In the next pause, I tapped out, <>, meaning, "Red, it's Missy. All copied. Can you acknowledge receipt? Over." There was a good-sized pause. Then, <>. Or, not quite - the pulses of that last q-code had had kind of a stutter in them. 'QED' was the code for 'follow the pilot vehicle' - mostly for ships, but in this case, with only one vehicle around, it could be an off-hand way to invite me to head down to meet them. But, the pulse-code symbol for 'D' was dash-dot-dot, and that last dot had been late and faint, almost not there. Without that dot, that letter would be dash-dot, or 'N', and 'QEN' was the code for 'hold your position'. Something mighty odd was going on. I transmitted, <> - there were just the two of us, so I could skip the callsigns, and weren't any Q-codes for my question. <> Now that was an interesting answer - since Red's bet in the pool was for an enemy to attack us. I did a little stutter of my own; <> was the easiest interpretation, and meant 'I am not equipped to provide what is requested', an obvious response to the claimed debt. But by stretching out the first dash of the 'N' closer to the length of two dashes, it could also be interpreted as <>, 'Landing is prohibited'. Which, I hoped, could be interpreted as 'stay put'. After a few moments, I added <>, meaning 'I accept responsibility. End-of-contact.', which would work with whatever meaning was heard. Now I just had to figure out how to deal with the Mikoyan and its crew possibly being under somepony else's control. I retreated back to the nearest bit of cover on the battlefield side of the hill, to take a few moments to think without risking my head and horns being silhouetted against the sky. I considered my finds of the day - and decided to apply some best-guess conclusions, even though the evidence didn't warrant being nearly so confident in them. If that cockpit had been an escape pod... then it probably contained some survival gear in case of landing in a hostile environment... and such gear often included some absolutely idiot-proof components, which could be used even if the downed pilot had a concussion and wasn't thinking straight. Given how little of the rest of the machinery I'd been able to recognize, the fact that I'd been able to even tell what the goggles and such were, suggested that they might be just such idiot-targeted gear. They might have functions I couldn't recognize - but the boots would still be handy for climbing even if they could, oh, filter water out of thin air or something; the goggles were good as goggles; and the torc... well, there was one easy test I hadn't tried yet. I pulled it out of my pocket; and I wrapped it around my neck. Nothing in particular happened. I thought about that for a bit... then I tried squeezing the two ends together. That started a reaction. Of some sort. A sheen started spreading from the torc, along my neck - both up my head and down to my torso, sliding over my shirt collar. I squinted - and could see thousands of teensy little insect-like things spreading out, settling in a continuous layer over me and my clothes. As they spread further - the torc itself seemed to vanish, leaving me as a floating head and a partial, and rapidly-disappearing, body. I could still feel my clothes even where I couldn't see them... In moments, as far as I could see, I wasn't there anymore - I wasn't even casting a shadow. But I could still see just fine - that was probably what the goggles' main purpose was - and breathe, and wasn't feeling particularly warm. Maybe... some sort of gear for evasion in hostile territory? Whatever its original purpose was, it was likely to be extremely handy right now... The fershluggin' invisibility bug-cloak-thing quit working on me when I was halfway up the anchor chain. As the black robo-bug-things collected themselves back into the torc, I mused that I'd seen nopony at all so far, so perhaps I was still unobserved. If the climbing boots were also going to shut down on me soon, it would be better if I made it aboard first... I made it to the port observation deck without any further problems, other than having to catch my breath. As I was trying to breathe hard without breathing loudly, the speaking tubes made some noise of their own. "I'm glad to see you've kept up with your exercise routine." It was Safe Guard's voice. "That's not an easy climb," he said. "I'm not sure why you dispelled your invisibility before you made it all the way up, though." "New discoveries always have a few unexpected quirks." "What was that?" I sighed, and moved closer to the speaking tube, and repeated myself. I also added, "I'm surprised you're in the area." "Micro shrunk me and herself, and we mailed ourselves express." "I'm glad to see you're still coming up with creative solutions. ... How are Red and the crew?" "Tied up and gagged, but unharmed. How's Brick?" "... I sent her to get cured by one of the Princesses. How long ago did you leave Canterlot?" "After this ship passed by it." "... That's not good." "Are you sure that - you know - you actually did what you think you did? And didn't just imagine it?" "... Ah, so that's the line, is it? Let me make a guess - you didn't talk to either Princess in person, you just got a letter claiming to be from one of them?" "It was stamped with her personal seal." "I've got some correspondence in my document safe aboard, purportedly from Princess Luna, which demonstrates conclusively that her mail is being tampered with." "Red opened that safe for me - those letters are no proof of anything." "... Did you use a truth-wand on her for the combination?" "I used the truth wand Princess Celestia provided - not the one you stole, along with this ship." "... At least one of us is severely misinformed on a number of things." "That's true." "How about I let myself be truth-zapped, so you know I'm being honest?" "I was told that you'd found a way to get around that spell - and, besides, an insane person can tell what they think is the truth, but still be entirely wrong." "How convenient, that you've been given exactly the instructions needed to discredit anything I might say in my own defense." "How about we all go back to Canterlot to find out who's right, and which mental institution will give you the best care?" "How about you head to Canterlot yourself, and try to talk to a Princess directly. I've already had one serious attempt on my life - I doubt I'd survive another trip there, without precautions I doubt you'd be willing to take." "I'm sorry, but I have my instructions." "It seems we're at an impasse." "Not quite." "Before we stop talking - would you care to set any ground rules?" "What do you mean?" "I just came from a place full of machines of war, containing secrets that could, quite literally, destroy all of Canterlot in one fell swoop. Or, if I tried, I could just blow up this whole airship and everypony aboard. Or I could kill you. Or I could render you permanently insane, or transform you into a puddle of goo, or remove your limbs, or cause all sorts of other unusual and interesting fates. If I felt doing so served my interests. And I'm sure you've picked up a few tricks of your own, since the last time we had a good talk. So - how hard are you going to try to capture me and bring me to where I'm going to have an entirely accidental and explainable death?" "..." "Here's a suggestion - we both promise to stop fighting rather than let any innocent third-parties get caught in the crossfire, even if that means you have to let me go, or I have to let you catch me." "There aren't any other ponies within fifty miles of here." "Then you shouldn't have any problems agreeing. I mean, putting innocents at risk just to capture somepony? That's not the Safe Guard who trained me in the principles of self-defense." "Fine. But before you bother talking any further - I win." "Let me guess - while I've been distracted by talking to you, somepony has been sneaking up behind me?" "..." "Before anypony tries to jump out and surprise me - if Micro is listening, please tell her to have any shrunken ponies exit any small tunnels, such as these speaking tubes. One of the tricks I've learned is how to cancel magic - I used it while I was curing Blanche, in case nopony told you that's been done - and I imagine that it would be... messy, if I did that while anypony who she'd zapped was in a confined space." I heard a teensy little squeak, and teensy little clip-clops, as if a mouse-sized pony were suddenly running away. I notched a point to me in my mental scorecard, and, just before swinging the speaking-tube cover shut, said, "Then let the games begin."