• Published 3rd Jul 2012
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A Storm of Chaos: A Doctor Whooves Adventure - Shotoman



Dr. Whooves goes on a Discord Hunt.

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Prelude to Drums

Part 6

Prelude to Drums

Another rocky cavern, the Doctor thought to himself in disappointment. Why is it that all my travels inevitably end up in caverns? He turned his attention to the pegasus who was leading them deeper into the depths of the planet. “Soo, what d'we call you?” he asked. At the pegasus's glare, he added, "Well, it's not like we can just go around saying 'hey you.' Too many ponies respond to that."

The pegasus shrugged. “Sole Survivor.”

Sole Survivor?” the Doctor asked. “What sort of name is Sole Survivor? It's a very depressing name, really.”

Sole Survivor just hummed noncommittally. The Doctor's interest piqued, he paid closer study to his host. Survivor was a darker shade of gray than Derpy was, with a mane and tail a dark grass green. His body was riddled with battle scars, and his cutie mark was an image of a discharging rifle. The Doctor must have been staring at the mark, because Survivor cast an annoyed glare at him. “Hey!” he groused. “Trust me. I'm not your type.”

The Doctor started. “Oh, sorry! I wasn't staring. Well I was, but it wasn't at your... I mean, er...” Derpy smacked him upside the head, which caused the Doctor to cease his nervous chattering, though he cast a quick glare at her afterward. Turning his attention back to Survivor, he said, “It's just that nobody should have a weapon for a cutie mark.”

Survivor chuckled. “You sound like Old Hoof.”

“Old Hoof?”

“Our 'leader,' as you put it. He's a sentimental one, too. Though I suppose you're right about the cutie mark. The years haven't been good to us.”

“Yes, how long has the invasion been going on?”

Sole Survivor stopped and cast a look at the Doctor. “The 'invasion' has been over for almost a decade.”

“What do you mean by...?” The Doctor's eyes widened and his mouth made the shape of an 'o'. “A near complete Cyberfication. So you and your ragtag little band here are...?”

“Near as we can tell, the last ponies on the planet.” Derpy's eyes widened, and for once they were focused directly on the speaker. “You two are the first new ponies we've seen in, oh, three years now, so you can imagine why we reacted the way we did.” Sole Survivor cast the Doctor a shrewd look. “Why wouldn't the two of you know about this?”

The Doctor shuffled his feet nervously. “We're, ah, monks! Yes! Monks. From the mountaintops, shunning social interaction, meditating for days, the whole kit and caboodle!”

Sole Survivor felt his face stretching into a grin. “Monks?”

“Yep!”

“Who wear trench coats and have advanced weaponry?”

“Yes, well...”

The smile on Derpy's face threatened to split her face in half. “Isn't it cute how hilariously bad he is at this?”

Sole Survivor found himself sharing a laugh with his fellow pegasus. Oh, that felt good, he thought. When's the last time I had a laugh like that?

“If you two are quite done, I'd like to meet this Old Hoof before I die of old age myself,” the Doctor huffed.

“Right, right, sure, Most Renowned Master,” Survivor said with a smirk, earning a fit of giggles from Derpy. He was completely serious, however when he added, “You should know that the only reason I agreed to this is that I believe you when you mentioned you could have dispatched us with the same ease as the Cyber troop, but chose not to. Crazy though you two are, I feel we can trust you. And frankly, we need the help.”

The Doctor's mood whiplashed from irritated to happy. “What a coincidence! It turns out we have a bit of a problem ourselves that a few extra hooves might help with. Perhaps we can do a bit of quid pro quo?”

“Maybe, if you don't want anything too extreme. That'll be up to Old Hoof.”

“Then by all means, lead on.”

~DrW~

The Doctor whistled appreciatively when they entered Old Hoof's laboratory. The cavern walls were barely visible behind all the equipment, which, though outdated, was all well maintained. Along one table against the far wall lay a number of rifles and other firearms in various states of assembly, another wall was lined with monitoring equipment, and in general the room made the Doctor feel almost at home.

From behind one of the computer banks stepped a stallion that was old, but by no way feeble. His mane had long gone grey, but his yellow coat was still healthy, and he had purpose to his steps as they jingled the gold chain in his vest, which he wore beneath a lab coat. “So this must be the young stallion who saved our raiding party,” he said.

“Well, doesn't news travel fast around here?” the Doctor noted.

The old stallion gave a brief nod. “When there's as few of us as there are, it doesn't take much. Name's Old Hoof.”

Sole Survivor gestured toward the newcomers. “This is the Doctor.” The indicated stallion nodded politely. “And this is Derpy.” She waved with a big smile on her face. “They are rather strange, but they saved our flanks today.”

Old Hoof eagerly shook the Doctor's hoof. “I really cannot thank you enough for that. We've been at war with the Cybers forever it seems, and we've never been able to score a victory as decisive as yours today. If I may ask, how were you able to do it?”

“Oh, well,” the Doctor began with false modesty. “It wasn't much, really. I just used a glitter gun; well, a glitter cannon to be more accurate.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sole Survivor interjected. “You beat a platoon of Cybers with glitter?”

“What? No. No! That would be just silly!” the Doctor replied.

“Yeah! Silly!” Derpy added.

“It was gold dust.” When Sole Survivor's eye twitched, the Doctor added. “Very very finely ground gold dust, given a slight electromagnetic charge, so it'd creep into the Cyberponies' joints, mess those up to slag, while the charge would do much the same to the electronics.”

“Is there any chance you can arm our forces with these 'glitter guns'?” Old Hoof asked.

“Not likely,” the Doctor answered, causing the old stallion's expression to fall. “I don't exactly carry all that much gold on me, and I only had that one cannon for... let's just say sentimental reasons. I may be able to make you a few glitter guns for use as a last resort, but not enough to fully arm your forces. But you must have some sort of plan besides highly dangerous and costly raids against the Cyberponies. From what I gathered is happening, it can't be long before the pony race is wiped entirely clean from this planet.”

“You're a sharp one,” Old Hoof nodded. “We have something we're working on—something big—but as you might imagine, I don't feel entirely comfortable sharing that with a pair of strangers met just today, regardless of what they've done.”

“Perfectly understandable, I suppose,” the Doctor consented. “I offer my services anyway, for the moment at least. However you should know we came here on a mission of our own.”

“You came 'here' on a mission?” Old Hoof cocked an eyebrow at that. “What sort of mission? And where did you come here from?

Before the Doctor could begin, Derpy's childish voice began rattling off, “We come from a planet basically across the universe and about three thousand years in the past, on a mission of vital importance to find and retrieve the stone remains of a dangerous enemy that could threaten the way of life on our own planet and possibly the universe.”

Sole Survivor and Old Hoof looked at Derpy blankly. “What?” Old Hoof managed to say.

“Derpy, that never works,” the Doctor admonished, a hoof to his face.

Survivor couldn't keep a smirk from forming. “Actually, Doctor, I find her story to be more believable than yours."

The Doctor's other hoof joined the first and they slid down his face as he gave a long, drawn out sigh. “Whatever you believe or don't believe, understand that we came here following a very specific signal, but we were unable to pin its exact location down, and it's vitally important that we find its source.”

Old Hoof nodded with a smile. “Then perhaps we can be of some use to each other? You are obviously a pony with a great deal of technical expertise. I can certainly use the help around the lab—most of the ponies here, though brave and true, can barely use a screwdriver, let alone help build and maintain the weapons and other systems that have kept us alive and hidden.”

The Doctor smirked. “Oh, I can use a screwdriver,” he said, causing Derpy to giggle.

Old Hoof smiled, even if he was a bit confused at the humor. “In that case, if you'd be willing to help me with our general upkeep starting tomorrow, we can help you find what you're looking for. Who knows, perhaps we can help each other further as we gain each others' trust.”

“Perhaps,” the Doctor conceded as he shook the old stallion's hoof.

“Now then,” Old Hoof said. “It really is quite late, and I for one can use a good night's sleep. No doubt the two of you are in need of it, too. What do you say we start our 'missions' in the morning.”

“That will be fine,” agreed the Doctor. “We are on a bit of a timetable here, but we can afford to wait until tomorrow.”

“Then I'll have one of my stallions show you to your rooms,” Survivor said, opening the door to let in a white unicorn with violet mane. “Or is that room?” he asked.

Rooms, please,” the Doctor clarified, spots of red appearing on his cheeks.

“Oh come on, Doctor,” Derpy teased. “I don't bite. Much.”

“Derpy!” the Doctor cried in surprise as the unicorn led them back into the caverns. Old Hoof and Sole Survivor listened as Derpy's laughter faded.

“What do you think of them?” Old Hoof asked the younger stallion.

“Honestly?” Survivor asked. “They're two of the strangest ponies I ever met, and the Doctor in particular is certainly dangerous, but I think we can trust them.”

“I think so, too,” Old Hoof nodded. “There's something about this Doctor that I quite like. Something I can't quite put my hoof on. Of course, better safe than sorry; we should make sure there's somepony watching or guarding them at all times. At least until our intuitions prove true.”

“Of course,” Survivor agreed. “Good night, Old Man,” he added with a grin.

“I'm not so old I can't still kick your flank.” Old Hoof laughed as Survivor trotted out of the lab.

When finally left alone, Old Hoof retreated through another door on the opposite side of the lab to his private quarters. He removed his lab coat and hung it on a peg, revealing a cutie mark in the image of a fob watch with a cracked face. Absently he removed his pocket watch from his vest and placed it on a simple table, retrieved a bottle of burgundy liquid from a hidden drawer underneath the table and, laying down on his simple hay bed, poured himself a drink. He took a swig and sighed, reflecting upon the day and the boon it had brought. As he did his hoof unconsciously and repeatedly tapped out a four beat staccato.