//------------------------------//
// Upgrade 
// Story: Gear in the Machine 
// by SFaccountant 
//------------------------------//

Gear in the Machine


Chapter 5
Upgrade


****


Ferrous Dominus – sector 4
Dark Mechanicus data-crypt Primarus


+Let it be recognized by the order of the Dark Techpriests and the Infernal Device: upon this day a new vector has been established.+
A dozen Techpriests stood in a circle around a sunken pit in the metal floor, chanting in bursts of crackling static. Numerous tubes and clusters of piping descended from the ceiling and into the pit, and steam streamed upward from the interior. From within the pit came the hum of machinery and the hiss of welders.
+Chaos has been granted a boon. The Dark Gods reward those who serve them well. In blood and fire, the sacrifice shall be redeemed.+
Warpsmith Kessler, the Iron Warrior temporarily in charge of the 38th Company’s city, stood just inside the circle. He peered down into the steaming pit, his optics slowly rotating.
+Pain. Suffering. Death. The frailty of the biological is a curse that few transcend. Today we record one such ascendance. In fire, we are purified. In iron, we are reborn.+
More jets of steam blasted up from the pit, and several motors started up. Below the floor, a heavy grinding noise greeted the prayer circle while the floor of the pit began to rise.
+Let this conclave of the Omnissiah’s chosen bless this unit. As it has proven itself worthy, let it wear the steel and insular shrouding of the technologist elite. Machine and man alike shall serve the Singularity. Warp and Materium shall be made to serve the Cult of the Infernal Device.+
The lift within the pit kept rising, eventually revealing what was on it. Gear works laid on a round metal table, his legs shackled to the surface. A pair of Dark Techpriests were putting the finishing touches on the collection of mechanical inputs that now comprised Gear’s face. Their servo arms churned and squealed, applying the final seals and welds to the mask of plasteel and iron. An automated servo arm plugged away at his rear augmetic leg all the while, sealing the openings exposed by the repairs.


The chorus of Dark Techpriests kept on chanting as the work continued for several more minutes. Then Kessler suddenly lifted his power axe. The rolling bursts of static screeched briefly, then cut to silence.
The Dark Techpriests working on Gear Works quickly turned away from the stallion, facing Kessler and bowing their heads. Then they scuttled backward, joining their peers in the circle.
The Warpsmith approached the table. Gear Works turned his head up, staring at the armored giant. An arch of glowing green optical sensors, eight in total, now replaced the visor that had been broken in his attempt to save the manufactorum. A larger, thicker respirator mask now replaced the stallion’s muzzle, and a thick tangle of cables and hoses ran down his neck and into the numerous inputs on his chest.
“Gear Works of the Dark Mechanicus,” Kessler began, speaking in deep, growling Gothic, “stand before your master.” He waved his hand over the platform, and the shackles opened.
Gears quickly pushed himself upright, his many new optics fixed on Kessler.
“In the short time you have been under the wing of the Dark Mechanicus, there have been many concerns raised about your membership,” Kessler continued. “You are a xeno. Weak, unfit, and hailing from a primitive society of insipid beasts.”
He paused, perhaps giving Gears the opportunity to object. Gears did not.
“And yet, to be Mechanicus is to overcome the frailties of the flesh and the useless sentiments of your brethren. To give yourself entirely to mechanical perfection. To be devoted to the entire machine, rather than your particular part.”
Kessler started walking around the platform that held Gear works. His mechatendrils remained fixed on the pony as he turned, rearing back like snakes’ heads.
“The Iron Warriors know better than any other Astartes the importance of the Mechanicus. Our flesh, mighty as it is, is vulnerable. Our faith, terrible as it is, is fickle with its gifts. It is to the machine we rely upon, again and again. Powered armor. Boltguns. Tanks. Void ships. These are the true foundations upon which our victory is built.”
The Warpsmith completed his circuit around Gear Works, and then stopped in front of him again. The stallion continued staring silently.
“And so it is that the machine is dependent upon its components. But rarely does such a small part salvage the entire device. You, Aspirant Gear Works, have prevented the destruction of the manufactorum at significant physical cost to yourself. Were it not for your intervention, the Mad Angel would have destroyed our production facilities on a whim.”
Kessler’s voice turned into a crackling growl. “Unfortunately, Lord Tellis is beyond retribution. But your own initiative has been noted, Aspirant, and your suffering is now rewarded.”
The Warpsmith raised his power axe, and then lowered the blade so that it almost touched Gear’s forehead. “As acting Commander of the 38th Company’s planetside forces, and agent of the Dark Mechanicus, I grant upon you the rank of Dark-“
“NOOOO!!”
Kessler and Gear Works snapped their heads to the side. A familiar robed figure was dashing toward the ceremony chamber, screaming and flailing his arms.
“Acolyte Sheraan?” Gears asked. “Is something the matter?”
Two combat servitors stood guard at the entrance to the chamber, and as soon as Sheraan reached the threshold they swiveled to grab him. Hydraulic pincers seized the Dark Acolyte’s arms, and he shouted in pain before he was pulled backward and pushed to his knees.
“You have to stop this! He’s a horse! He’s a BZZRT horse!” Sheraan screamed, dropping a Binaric insult in the midst of his shouting. “This is an affront to the Mechanicus! This-“
Kessler drew his plasma pistol, and the Acolyte’s voice cut out with a sound like a record scratch. The Iron Warrior turned his head, calmly and silently, and then aimed the weapon straight at the cyborg’s face.
“Lord Kessler,” Gear Works interrupted, “if I may ask a personal favor?”
The Warpsmith hesitated, turning his helmet to face the pony. His arm remained rigid, pistol still aimed unwavering at Sheraan. “Speak.”
“I beg that you spare the Dark Acolyte’s life for this disturbance, please.” Gears bowed his head. “Such emotional outbursts are unbecoming of an Acolyte of the Mechanicus, obviously. But I owe much to my colleague, and wish him to survive to learn from this incident.”
Kessler remained silent for several seconds. Then he lowered the pistol. “Very well. I grant you this boon.” Then he waved his axe at the servitors.
“Wait! He didn’t even save the manufactorum! It was the yellow one!” The combat servitors began dragging Sheraan back into the hall, ignoring his struggles. “This is madness! It took a DECADE for me to reach this rank!”


The others waited patiently as Sheraan’s voice faded into the distance, and then Kessler pointed toward the door. The blast shutters hissed and then slammed closed.
Many of the other Tech-clergy in the room sympathized with Sheraan’s objection, but none of them dared speak up. They knew better than the younger members not to defy a Legion Warpsmith. The insult of Gear’s promotion was a matter of stung pride, and nothing worth dying over.
Gear Works looked up at the Iron Warrior. “You have my deepest gratitude, my Lord. However, you ARE aware that Fluttershy did, in fact, stop the ultimate destruction of the manufactorum, yes?”
Kessler looking down at him, and the triangular array of bionic optics spun in its socket.
“Uh… Fluttershy is ‘the yellow one’,” Gears clarified.
“Ah. It is true, yes. But Tellis and his cowardly pet were responsible for the problem to begin with. It was evidently your intervention which preserved our facility,” Kessler explained.
Then he holstered his plasma pistol and reached out to the stallion, placing a bionic finger under Gear’s chin and lifting the pony’s head up.
“I have therefore decided to grant you the rank of Dark Acolyte. I am aware that your ascension is unexpected and unusual. I see this as an advantage. Had the Dark Techpriests heeded your warning that you dispatched before stopping Lord Tellis, little damage would have occurred. It is time they learned from your devotion to our cause, and reflected upon their hubris.” He let go of the pony and stepped back. “In the name of the Dark Gods do I bless you with this register. Tirelessly you shall serve the forces of Chaos and uphold the duties of your rank. Otherwise, you shall be destroyed.”
“Of course, Lord Kessler,” Gears breathed, “I will not fail!”
“Good.” The Warpsmith gestured to a Dark Techpriest that was holding a black rubber shroud. “Clothe him. Then you may return to your duties.”


As the Techpriests rushed to comply, Kessler turned around fully and spoke to the unicorn mare sitting behind him. “How was that?”
Hope Springs shook her head. “Totally wrong mood. This is a promotion ceremony, isn’t it? You could afford to leave out the condescension when comparing him to a machine. And what was with that threat at the end?”
“You’re never happy,” Kessler mumbled, passing by the mare and heading down a rear hallway.
“If you’re going to be making public speeches like this more often, you need to improve! Creating a favorable impression of the Iron Warriors is crucial in supporting a consensus for your rule and legitimizing administrative control!”


The pony’s lecturing faded into the distance while Gear Works wiggled into his new robe.
+Does anyone know why that diplomat horse is still here? I was under the impression that her duties were complete,+ buzzed one of the cyborgs. +We have enough of the useless beasts already.+
+Analytical: continued deference by Warpsmith Kessler suggests admission that she provides a necessary skill set,+ suggested another.
+I believe she’s become trusted enough by the Company leadership to act as a proper liaison to Canterlot and the Princess,+ Gears offered. +The Elements of Harmony are too deeply involved in front-line combat to concern themselves with diplomatic concerns, despite their personal links to Equestria’s leaders.+
The Dark Techpriests stared down at him mutely for several seconds.
+Rumination: I keep forgetting that he can understand us.+
+Annoying.+
As if on an unspoken signal, the tech-clergy turned away from Gear Works at once and left the ritual arena. None gave any particular attention to the newly promoted stallion, much less any orders for him to follow. Within seconds, he was alone in the room, accompanied only by the gentle thrumming of the power conduits and the hiss of hydraulics.


Gears kicked out slightly to adjust his new robe. The last one had been a crude reproduction of his own design; something he had created on a whim before he’d seriously considered that he might get to be Dark Mechanicus. This new shroud was a proper robe of vulcanized rubber with a treated exterior, adjusted for the unconventional body shape of an equine.
Jumping down from the platform, Gear’s new tail lashed from side to side. There was far more weight on the extremity now, thanks to a dataspike attached to the end of it. An extremely useful tool and, in a pinch, a brutal weapon.





“Perfectly balanced!” Gear Works said gleefully as he strode down the hallway on his new augmetic limbs. “These are SO much better than the old legs! Low heat buildup, better shock absorption, and higher reflex rating!”
He giggled to himself as he passed through the hall. “Oh, I know! I should go find Fennin! I have access to much more data now that my registry has been updated! I can finally complete my schematics! Maybe he can help me get a production forge prepared if the design is finished…”
Gears continued talking to himself while he plodded down the hall, eventually turning into a small alcove. Several servo skulls were stored within large holding sockets in the wall, and he quickly spotted Striker being held within one set of holding clamps.
“With every trial, we become stronger. With every error, we become wiser. With every injury, we are rebuilt a step closer to mechanical perfection.” Gears stepped up to a lever, and his servo arm swung forward to grasp it. “Come, Striker. We have much work to… hm?”


A slight scraping sound was all the warning Gear Works got. A body dropped from the ceiling, twisting in the air and landing solidly on Gear’s back. The Dark Acolyte’s new tail whipped around and stabbed upward, only for the dataspike to be deflected by a hoofblade.
Gears let go of the lever with his servo arm, but the moment he did the weight on his back shifted. A kick threw the newly promoted Acolyte into the wall, and he collapsed with a grunt of pain.
“Geez, Gears! Calm down!” said the attacker with a hearty chuckle. “It’s just me! Little on edge, aren’t you?”
Gear Works turned his head slightly, and one of the glimmering green lights from beneath his cloak locked onto Dusk Blade. The batpony was smirking at him with his rebreather hanging around his neck and a hoofblade drawn to parry.
“Whoa, what’s with the new eyes and tail? Did you get wrecked again?” Dusk asked, taking a step forward.
“… Yes. Yes, I did,” Gears mumbled, standing up.
“Sorry to hear that, man. At least you got fixed up in time!”
Gears turned to face the batpony, peering out from the shadows of his hood. “… In time for what?”
“For the next phase! I’ve got a plan for the Element of Whiny Unicorns today! Need you to back me up!” Dusk chirped, flapping his wings. “I made sure to confirm where she is this time, so it won’t be a wash like the yellow one!”
“So you REALLY have no idea what happened after you left? I’m pretty sure it was reported…” Gears mumbled.
“What, with the protest? Nah, I’ve been busy. Why, did the DarkMech actually cave?”
Gear Works pulled down the lever he had been working before Dusk has ambushed him. The lock hissed and swung open, and Striker’s optic sensors flickered before it popped out of the alcove.
“No... No, we did not.” Gears turned his head to face the other stallion. “But what about Miss Fluttershy? You’re already moving on without even meeting her?”
“Yeah, I think that was a poor choice to start with. Hard to find, unsociable, dim… not my kind of pony. I mean, I assume she’s not, since I still haven’t actually met her.” Dusk shook his head. “I’m hoping the prissy white one is more on my level.”
“And why am I still involved, exactly? Do you still need plausible deniability for this stunt?”
“No, I need an excuse to get in with Delgan’s crowd and mingle,” Dusk replied, throwing a wing over the other stallion. “You see, when she isn’t fighting, the white one-“
“Rarity. Her name is Rarity,” Gears interrupted.
“Right! Thanks. I should know that before I meet her.” The batpony chuckled. “See? We really do make a great team!”
“I make a great team on my own. You’re an anchor around my neck,” Gears growled.
“Like I was saying, Rarity does a lot of work with the merchant corp when she isn’t fighting. Buying and selling stuff for the fleet, you know? As a Lunar Guard, I don’t really have much of a reason to meet with her normally, so I need you!”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“You’re going to pitch a product!” Dusk said, pulling the other stallion close again. “I need you to make a thing, or a plan for a thing or whatever, and then bring it to Rarity as if you want them to sell it! I’ll act as your business partner and get chummy with the diva while you’re droning on about polymers or engines or something. No drama or confrontation like last time. It’ll be easy!”
Gears tilted his head to the side. “You want me to pitch a product? Like what?”
“I dunno. You’re the one into human tech, right? Come up with something.” Dusk shrugged off the question. “It doesn’t need to be good. In fact, since this is just a ruse to get close to Miss Marshmallow, it’s probably best that it gets rejected right away. But I can’t crash a merchant corp dinner without a cover story, you know?”
Gear Works considered the request for several seconds. “Well, that does seem less banal than the protest. I might have some ideas.”
“Awesome!” Dusk patted Gears with his wing, and then stepped toward the exit. “The dinner’s tomorrow at six. It’s formal wear, so… I dunno, put a bow tie on your robe or something.”
“Wait, tomorrow? I have to come up with this in one day?” Gears asked in alarm.
“Don’t worry about it!” Dusk laughed. “Like I said, you don’t need to sell this for real! Just enough so that I don’t look like a total mule in front of the drama queen! Meet me at the Chez le Saddle! That’s where they’re hosting it! Catch ya later!”


Dusk Blade galloped down the hall, leaving Gear Works alone with his servo skull. Gears glanced up at the ceiling, loading his service schedule.
“… Well, it looks like my meteoric ascent through the ranks hasn’t encouraged my superiors to actually entrust me with any more work. I have a maintenance call for Poison Kiss and a repair request from…” he trailed off, and then his opticals flickered. “Princess Luna?”
He stood in the alcove entrance for several seconds, dumbfounded.
Upon that brief reflection, it actually didn’t seem very strange. Princess Luna lived in Ferrous Dominus. She had her own weapons and quarters that might need Mechanicus attention. None of her actual servants could complete basic repairs, and Gears had been explicitly told that he’d be handling requests from ponies. Having lived in Canterlot all his life, he’d only had occasional sightings of Princess Celestia, and had never seen Luna except in pictures. But here in Ferrous Dominus, it seemed his new job gave him access to some remarkable equines.
“Well, that’s no problem. An atmospheric shield is on the fritz. Easy job.” He sent a list of likely parts to his servo skull. Striker bobbed once in the air, as if nodding, and then the macabre drone twisted around and hovered away to retrieve the components.
“Now, then… I need a product to pitch to Miss Rarity. And I think I may have just the thing…”


****


Ferrous Dominus – Sector 20
Nightwatch


Gear Works couldn’t help but wonder how great a part Princess Luna had personally played in the construction of her fortress spire. The architecture was radically different from the rest of the base, exchanging the blocky metal enclosures for a thin, hive-like tower full of holes and boasting long, needle-like protrusions and banners. There was nothing else like it in Ferrous Dominus, although pict-records from other worlds had shown similar constructions.
“Such an inefficient design… and only one lift! I understand that most of the denizens fly and can access the tower from outside, but did they even consider maintenance access?” Gears complained.
Striker beeped. The servo skull had a small metal case hanging from its claw, swinging gently from the motion of their ascent.
“I suppose the Tau would find repairs simple enough, given that their engineering teams use free-floating drones almost exclusively… I wonder if someone has looked into that. This entire structure was made with sub-standard alloys and isn’t nearly as corrosive resistant as the rest of the city. Without consistent maintenance or a substantial reduction in atmospheric toxins, I give Nightwatch five years before it collapses.”
Striker beeped again.
“Well, of course it was on purpose. The Dark Mechanicus doesn’t like being pressed into service for Equines. They didn’t even get anything out of this project, if I recall correctly. I wouldn’t be surprised if my estimate is long by a year or so.”
The lift finally reached the top floor, and the door slid open.


Gears approached the heavy double doors of Luna’s bedroom, and then activated the intercom vox.
“Princess Luna, I am here to conduct repairs in your suite. Permission to enter?”
He waited patiently for a minute, and then a response came from the vox on his side.
“Excellent! We hast been greatly troubled by the damage! Enter, Priest!”
The doors hissed and slid open, and Gear Works beheld Princess Luna, second diarch of Equestria. She also beheld him, and it was abundantly clear who was more awed by the confrontation.
“By the Ancients!” Luna recoiled, her eyes wide. “Who… Who art thou?!” Her question seemed vaguely hostile, although the Moon Princess was slowly backing away. She wasn’t wearing her armor, Gears noticed, or even her usual array of royal accessories.
“I am Dark Acolyte Gear Works, Princess Luna.” Gears walked past the Princess and into the main room. His numerous glittering optics nodes swiveled in different directions, taking in the interior. It had the distinctly modern-Gothic feel that characterized much human construction that wasn’t strictly controlled by the Dark Mechanicus and its ruthless adherence to raw efficiency. Moon motifs were common, and on one wall there were numerous mounted weapons and pieces of armor that seem to have been taken from defeated Orks. A trophy display. Interesting.
Luna seemed flustered as the cyborg pony observed the room. “We were not aware the Dark Mechanicus employed equines.”
“Many are not aware. But I’m not new to the Cult.” Gears didn’t turn toward Luna as he spoke, but faced the door to Luna’s bedchambers. “The malfunctioning device is in there?”
“Aye…” Luna mumbled reluctantly. She found the stallion disconcerting enough on his own, but was also mildly annoyed that he showed no more respect and deference to her than any other Techpriest. “’Twas subjected to a great shock, and the device failed. Our bedchambers hath been uninhabitable since.”
“Acknowledged. I’m reading very heavy contaminant levels in the bedroom,” Gears agreed. “Striker, I want you to…”


Gear Works trailed off, and his head swiveled around. His optics sensors flickered.
A red stallion with freckles and a straw-colored mane was leaning his head out of the kitchen. Much of his body was obscured by the room partition, but Gears could see part of his chest hatch. A signum ID tag, installed directly into the pony’s augmetics, offered a final confirmation.
“Ah, Macintosh. This-“
Luna was suddenly cut off by an ear-rending scraping noise, like a rake being dragged across sheet metal. Both she and Big Mac flinched, and the Princess whirled back toward Gear Works.
“Ironside! Ironside Apple!” Gears said, his vocal settings having switched to a static-laced fanboy squeal. “Oh my Machine God! I had no idea you were here! This is an honor, Sir!”
Big Macintosh and Luna stared, utterly perplexed.
After a few seconds, Gears seemed to calm down. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I’m being rude! My name is Dark Acolyte Gear Works! But you can call me Gears! All my friends call me Gears! As well as some other ponies that aren’t my friends but pretend they are in order to exploit me for free labor!”
Big Mac nodded. “Ah’m Big Mac.”
“Of course! It’s wonderful to meet you! An honor! An incredible honor!” Gears gushed, walking up to the other stallion. Then he started walking around the farmer, taking scans and pict-captures of the augmetic components. “You are a legend, Sir!”
Mac tilted his head to the side in confusion.
“Oh, yes! I met several other technophiles when I was in Canterlot! There isn’t a single one who hadn’t heard of Ironside Apple!” He paused to switch his optics mode while staring at Mac’s chest cavity. “The very first equine to be given bionic components and the prototype Centaur-pattern power armor! All crafted by the Warsmith himself! I can’t even identify some of those energy wavelengths! I’ve never seen anything so fantastic!”
Gears heard a throat clear behind him. He twisted his head around to see Luna glaring at him.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re fantastic too. Well, I assume you are, at least. You did nearly destroy the world,” the Acolyte offered.
Luna’s eye twitched. “’Twas not our grievance, Acolyte. We simply desire thou swiftly complete thy repairs such that our quarters may be accessible once more.”
“Oh. Right. Yes.” Gears started to step away, but then hesitated. He continued staring at Big Mac, who stared back into the arch of glowing green sensors.
“Can I see inside your chest hatch?” Gears blurted out.
“Nnope,” Mac replied curtly.
“Right. Sorry! That probably came off as a little creepy, didn’t it? Definitely creepy. I mean, I’m literally asking to look inside you. Ha! Even though I-“
“Acolyte!” Luna snapped suddenly. “Cease harassing our guest and go about thy task!” Her horn sparked, and a blue electric arc ran up its length.
Gear Works bolted for the door latch, and Striker spun around in the air dizzily. Pulling the door open, a puff of soot-fouled air wafted into his face.
“I’ll be right on it! Won’t take an hour, I assure you!” Gears held the door open long enough for Striker to float in over him, and then slipped inside the Princess’s bedchambers.


Once inside, Gear Works quickly shut the door behind him.
“Tch! Rude. I wasn’t going to leave without completing the repairs…” He looked about the bedroom, taking in the interior. It was a mess, as expected, with a thin layer of particle sediment on the otherwise fine carpets. The bed sheets were torn and corroded, and there seemed to be a dead bat lying on Luna’s dresser.
The ceiling was curved, rising up toward the side of the room that held the entrance. A trio of large holes marked the openings that were normally protected by atmospheric barriers.
“What an absurd design decision,” Gears scoffed aloud. “A simple set of shutters would work better than the field. Or would at least make an effective back-up system.”
Striker hovered up higher, poking a servo arm at the projector itself. It was a large bowl-like object with a cluster of metal spines sitting in the middle. A large black streak ran over it and the adjacent patch of ceiling, marking the damage that he had been brought in to fix.
“Looks like a raw magic discharge. That burn isn’t thermal,” Gears mumbled while Striker started unfastening the projector. “Strange… I see a few more marks up there. Is the Princess firing magic blasts into the ceiling, for some reason?”
Striker finished removing the last bolt, and the projector fell. Gears snatched the edge of the dish with his servo arm, and then placed the device on the edge of the bed.
“Let’s see here…” Gear Works began a deep scan of the projector to identify which parts would need to be replaced and which could be repaired. Before the analysis was complete, he noticed an incoming noosphere message.
Gears: finished prototype battlesuit frame. Material specs attached. Need specifications for power supply and UI inputs. -Fennin
Gear Works read the text even while he stripped the ruptured ionizer from the projector assembly. He opened the attached data file to look over the contents, and then lifted up his bionic hoof.
A thin, needle-like probe slid out of the tip. He started drawing across the damaged pieces of the projector, cutting the broken parts loose. While he did so, he authored a reply to Fennin.
Fennin: I require a 66-HOR energy core and a battery unit. Use the Xelon-pattern power cells; very easy to build.
Gears finished cutting out the damaged component, and then started sealing a breach in the dish. The reply message from Fennin popped up a minute later.
Understood. After you get the UI together, we can begin prototype fabrication for the components, assuming we can get enough supplies together. The frame may be difficult to build, though. Unless you can use your new rank to get a forge. Congratulations, by the way!
Gears formed his reply at the speed of thought.
Thanks. Meet with me in an hour in my quarters. I want to have a complete preliminary schema by tomorrow.
Again, there was a pause of a few minutes before Fennin’s reply came. Gears couldn’t help but marvel at how inefficient typing messages out was, now that he had access to better options.
Why the deadline all of a sudden? We still haven’t worked out the weapons loadouts. We can’t finalize the power systems or servo mount yet.
Gears snatched a part hanging from under Striker, and then fit it into the projector dish.
Opportunity has arrived, it would seem. We’re pushing up the time table. If all goes well…
Gear Works paused in his message, inserting an ellipsis, and then added to the end.
Wait, what is Ironside doing in Princess Luna’s quarters in the first place?
Gears turned toward the door, and several of his optical sensors blinked off and on again. A moment passed before a reply came back.
What was that last part? Who’s in whose quarters?
Big Macintosh “Ironside” Apple. He’s one of the heroes of the Battle of Canterlot! He’s here, in Luna’s chambers!
Another pause.
The big red one? The other augmented horse?
Yes! Him! He’s here! With Princess Luna! Why?! Gears stressed.
After a few seconds, the next reply came.
Probably breeding.
Gears recoiled. A purely reflexive action, since the only image to recoil from was fixed to his face.
Don’t be absurd! I hold the royal diarchs in less esteem than most, but for the Princess of the Night to have an intimate relationship with an apple farmer is just ridiculous!
With a snorted puff of gas from his respirator, Gears finished soldering the last of the replacement parts into place. He held it up with his servo arm and then inspected the device.
If you say so. Who cares?
Gear Works made a show of rolling his optical sensors despite there being no one around to witness it.
Fine. Whatever. I’m actually almost done here; the damage wasn’t as bad as it looked. Meet me in half an hour.
Gears terminated the noosphere connection and turned toward Striker. +Connection A-selif, C-zerot, then secure the points I’ve marked.+
The servo skull swooped down and clamped onto the edge of the dish. Then it floated upward toward the power coupling hanging from the ceiling.
+All right… good. A little to the left… Perfect. Lock it down, Striker,+ Gears bleated in Binaric Cant. He uplinked with the room’s cogitator and redirected the power flow.
Then the stallion fell back into a seated position and clapped his front hooves together.
+By the power of the machine spirit and the most holy Omnissiah, I hereby bless this device. What was once ruin has been made whole once more, returned to a state of purpose. Activation sequence engaged.+
As Striker finished securing the last of the bolts, a humming noise started coming from the projector. The rods within the dish flickered, and a glowing energy field seeped out of the them into the dish proper. A few seconds later, the three holes in the roof were each covered by the atmospheric energy shields, blocking the flow of polluted air.
“There. Done.” Gear Works beckoned Striker down with his servo arm, and then turned toward the door.


“Princess Luna, I have restored the atmospheric shielding in your bedchambers,” Gears announced as he stepped out of the doorway.
Luna was at her dining table, in the midst of eating a hot apple fritter. She seemed surprised at first, and then quickly levitated a napkin up to wipe her mouth.
“Superb! Thou hast accomplished thy task with haste!” the dark Princess said brightly. “Thou hast our utmost gratitude, Acolyte!”
It was quite a reversal from Luna’s earlier cold irritation, and it surprised him slightly. She must have been quite tired, although Gears didn’t understand why she hadn’t found some other place to rest.
“You’re most welcome, Princess. The damage was less serious than it appeared. Additionally, although the shield is functional again, your bedchambers are quite filthy from the accumulated pollution. I can dispatch a servitor to clean-“
“’Tis no need,” Luna interrupted, pausing to gulp down the rest of her snack. She licked her lips, and then stepped away from the table. “Our magic shalt cleanse the dwelling with ease!”
“Oh. Well, yes. I suppose that would work too,” Gears mumbled as the Princess walked past him. “Was there anything else you needed, since I’m here? Any maintenance or upgrade requests? For example, I really think that a set of shutters on-“
“Many thanks, Acolyte, but We art quite satisfied with thy labors,” Luna interrupted. She was at her bedroom door now, holding the door open with a wing. “We hast much to do, and We art certain thee hast other tasks awaiting. Fare thee well, Acolyte!”
“Ah. Well, okay then.” Gears started to leave, then noticed Big Macintosh walking past him, toward Luna.
The Princess stepped aside for Big Mac, and then shut the door with her magic as soon as he was inside.


Gear Works silently stared at the door to Luna’s bed chambers. Striker beeped at him, and bobbed up and down in the air.
A few seconds passed – still with no progress on him leaving the room – and then Gears heard a deadbolt lock secure the entrance to the bedchambers.
“…… Nah.”
Gear Works beckoned to his servo skull and trotted out the door into the hall. He still had a lot of work to do.


****


Ferrous Dominus – sector 25
Chez le Saddle


“Wow. This place is WAY classier than I thought. Didn’t even know we had a place like this in Dominus.”
Dusk Blade took a moment to marvel at the restaurant interior after stepping through the access airlock. He pulled his rebreather from his muzzle, and then tossed it up onto one of the hooks hanging from the wall. The batpony had a dirty cloak on as well, and he hung it under his mask. Beneath the shredded and filthy cloth was a crisp white shirt and blue tie, unsullied by the pollution outside.
“Hello, Sir. Welcome to Chez le Saddle,” greeted a waitress unicorn. “I am afraid the main dining hall has been reserved this evening. If you wish for a private room, there is a waiting time…”
“No, I’m here for the main event. The merchant corp dinner,” Dusk replied. “I have an associate coming, as well.”
The unicorn quirked a brow, and then levitated a dataslate from the nearby lectern. “Attendance is restricted. Your name, Sir?”
Dusk Blade hesitated. He wasn’t expecting to have to check in on a guest list, and hardly knew any ponies in the merchant corp.
“Oh, it isn’t in my name. My associate is listed. I can wait until he arrives before entering,” Dusk explained with a calm smile. If he could get her attention diverted elsewhere, then he could steal and dispose of the dataslate, or find some other way to get in.
“Okay… what’s your associate’s name?” the waitress asked.
Dusk Blade had to admit he probably should have seen that question coming.


As the Lunar Lieutenant pretended to clear his throat in order to stall for time, the airlock shifted open again. Much to Dusk’s relief, Gear Works stepped into the restaurant before he had to stretch his silence for too long.
“Ah, and there he is! Just a moment!”
Dusk practically bolted away from the waitress, and then quickly slipped a wing over Gear’s withers. “Okay, good! You’re here on time! Good!”
He paused to look over the Dark Acolyte. Gear Works was wearing his black rubber shroud, as usual, but with a red bow tie attached to one of the tubes that now comprised his throat. “For Luna’s sake, Gears! Is that what you're wearing? Didn’t I tell you this was a formal thing?” Dusk hissed.
“What? I put on a tie magnet, like you asked!” Gear Works replied defensively.
“It’s not even on straight! And don’t you have any robes that aren’t partially shredded? You’re going to embarrass me, here!” The batpony started fiddling with the bow tie, trying to fix the angle on which it hung.
“Can we just get on with this? I worked all night in order to have everything prepared on time.” Gears shifted his servo arm to tap against a saddle bag hanging on his side.
“Right. Good. Okay.” Dusk glanced behind him, frowning. The waitress was still where he left her, regarding the new arrival with an arched eyebrow.
Dusk lowered his voice even further. “The thing is, we’re not actually on the list to get in.”
“The list? You mean a actual, itemized list, presumably on that dataslate the hostess has?” Gears asked.
“Yeah. So, what I was thinking, I’m going to go-“
Gear’s optical sensors flickered, and then he interrupted the other stallion. “Fixed it. Let’s go.”
“Wait, what? What did you fix?”


Dusk watched in confusion as Gear Works stepped up to unicorn holding the dataslate.
“And you must be the gentlecolt’s ‘associate.’ May I have your name, Sir?” the waitress drawled. It was quite clear she wasn’t expecting a valid reply.
“Gear Works. And I believe I am registered to bring an acquaintance,” the Acolyte replied.
She looked down at the dataslate, and then squinted her eyes. “Ah, wait… okay. I see, now.” She quickly cleared her throat and gestured to Dusk Blade. “And, your friend’s name?”
“My name is Lieutenant Dusk Blade,” the batpony answered eagerly, stepping forward. “Sorry, I should have said that earlier.”
The unicorn quietly added the name, and then put the dataslate aside. “Quite odd to have a Lunar Guard out at this time of day. And I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a pony Techpriest before.”
“I’m a Dark Acolyte, not a Techpriest,” Gears chided, “although I get that a lot.”
“I see… Follow me, please.”


The two stallions trotted into the main dining room, passing through a privacy curtain on the way.
Dusk Blade almost stumbled in surprise once he got a good look at the holovid screens set to look like windows. One entire side of the restaurant opened up to a view of the sky, and a blanket of roiling clouds. On the other was a snowy landscape covered in snowponies and an ice sculpture of a dragon.
Gear Works was not especially impressed by creative use of simple technology, and he focused on the people and ponies in the room. They were scattered among some dozen tables, either chatting or quietly eating; many were tagged immediately as members of the merchant corp, but Gears also detected numerous guest registrations among them. Several of the ponies were wealthy merchants or executives, no doubt.
At one of the larger tables, Gears spotted their target. Norris Delgan was listening politely to a pegasus stallion in a exquisitely tailored suit, idly sipping a glass of Equestrian wine. Rarity was seated at the table opposite him, reading a dataslate.
“There they are,” Gear Works mumbled, jabbing his servo arm forward.
Dusk nodded. “Excellent! So, are you ready for this? I’ll lead, but obviously you’re going to have to explain the thingy to them.”
Gears glanced behind him, toward the entrance. “Well, I would have preferred to wait, but okay.”
“Wait?” Dusk asked. “Wait for what?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”


“… so you’re telling me there’s no possibility? At all? I can pay top bits! Really, money is practically no object!”
Delgan shrugged and sipped again from his glass before answering the pony. “I must apologize, Mister Clouds, but that quantity of hardware simply isn’t available to me. The vast majority of our wargear stocks are donated to Iron Warrior warbands and fortresses, as you may know. Much of the remainder that isn’t earmarked for our own forces have been sold to Canterlot.”
Rarity looked up from an inventory dataslate. “Plasma guns in particular are in VERY short supply. I’m afraid we will not be able to meet your weaponry needs, Sir.”
The stallion pursed his lips, irritated. After a few seconds, however, he sighed in defeat. “This is very disappointing. My clients were counting on a substantial hardware upgrade. Spears and such are rather… hard to take seriously these days, as far as weapons go.”
“I understand completely, Mister Clouds. I hope that I can provide such equipment in the future,” Delgan said somberly. “However, the weapons are only half of any given tactical solution. Superior armor and communications are VITAL for a successful security team.”
Dark Clouds sighed and turned his head, considering the offer.
It was about then that Delgan noticed a pair of unusual equines slowly approaching his table.


“Well, well, this is odd. A member of the Lunar Guard, out and about at this time of day?” Delgan put his glass down while idly scratching at his mustache.
Rarity looked over to the pair of stallions, and then gasped lightly in surprise. She recognized Dusk Blade immediately, of course, but she was shocked to see a heavily augmented pony wearing the dark robes of the Mechanicus behind him. She was also quite surprised to see a pair of strangers at their banquet, since she had written up the guest list herself.
“Master Delgan! Hello! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure!” Dusk stepped up and lowered his head into a bow. “My name is Lieutenant Dusk Blade, Lunar Guard division 6.”
“I’m familiar,” Delgan replied curtly, “your battle group has quite a reputation for Ork hunting. Some three hundred confirmed kills over the course of the war, yes?”
“Yes, well… something like that.” Dusk grinned bashfully, fiddling with his tie. He wasn’t used to being praised for his actions, and was quite surprised that Delgan knew of his combat record. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir!”
“And you as well. If you manage to secure any unique artifacts from the fallen, I would pay well for such articles. I hear the Lunar Guard has a fondness for trophies.”
“Really? What would you consider a ‘unique artifact?’ With Orks, it’s hard to tell the trash from the treasure, you know?”
“Ah, true. But some items do stand out. Wargear from the Meks and Weirdboyz are usually worth a look. Provided they don’t explode. But really…”


Rarity smirked slightly as Delgan went on about the different sorts of xeno artifacts and their relative value. Dusk was totally hooked, and seemed to have forgotten what he had even intended to talk about, if he had even approached with a topic in mind.
That still left Rarity slightly concerned about what the batpony was doing here, though, as well as who the stallion in the robe was. It wasn’t as if the guest list was maintained for security reasons, but she did expect that anyone trying to take up Delgan’s time tonight had actually been invited.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant?” the unicorn interrupted.
Dusk seemed annoyed for a split second, and then quickly schooled his expression. “Oh, sorry! And you must be Rarity! The Element of Loyalty!”
“Generosity,” Gears corrected swiftly as Rarity arched an eyebrow.
“Generosity! Right! Sorry!” The thestral chuckled lightly. “Really, the Elements of Harmony are so comprehensive in your good nature, it’s easy to get your particular values mixed up! You DO seem very loyal to our Company’s merchant class!”
“I can assure you, she’s more generous with my resources and authority than loyal to it,” Delgan quipped.
“As befitting my elemental prerogative, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rarity smirked at her employer, and then fluttered her eyelashes at Dusk Blade. “In any case, now that we’ve been introduced, I’m wondering how you got on the guest list. I thought I would have noticed your addition.”
Dusk paused uncertainly, quickly thinking up an excuse. He wasn’t fast enough.
“Oh, I circumvented that,” Gear Works said, swiveling his servo arm around. “Security precautions for a banquet are not especially impressive.”
Dusk flinched slightly when Rarity’s other eyebrow rose. “Pardon, but I don’t believe we’ve met. You are?”
“Dark Acolyte Gear Works,” the cyborg pony replied. Rarity was apparently expecting something more to follow that introduction, and an awkward silence ensued.
Dusk seized the opportunity. “I suppose you’re wondering why we’re here! In fact, my partner Gears has this GREAT product idea, thanks to his study of human technology!” He leaned against Rarity’s table, chuckling. “Unfortunately, the Dark Techpriests are a little… hostile to pony innovation, you might say.”
“One of them attacked my promotion ceremony to try to stop it,” Gears interjected.
“Right? Awful! They won’t give Gears the chance to see his vision come to life! So then I had an idea!” Dusk pointed a hoof at Rarity. “The merchant corp commands substantial resources, right? I thought maybe he could make a deal with you! If you could help him secure a manufacturing base and materials, then he could provide units for you to sell!”
“What kind of device are we talking about?” Delgan asked, looking mildly intrigued.
Dusk Blade stepped aside, sweeping a wing toward Gear Works. The Dark Acolyte stepped forward, and his servo arm dipped into his saddle bag.


“When considering wargear specifications, the disadvantage of ponies in weapon handling has always stood out. Your guns and armor are excellent, but it is difficult to adapt them to pony use. Makeshift solutions like the ballistic harness and exceptional wargear like the Warsmith’s Centaur-pattern armor are useful for getting around the problem, but I thought it was high time there was a dedicated combat system for a pony, by a pony.”
Gear’s servo arm placed a small tablet on the adjacent table on its side. “To this end, human technology is still quite difficult to adapt to this cause. Power armor and integrated weapons systems work, but they aren’t feasible on such a scale for – let’s be honest – lackluster warriors. You’d be better off armoring your human troops. In order to make it cost-effective, they would need to multiply combat effectiveness substantially, rather than just protecting the user.” His servo arm touched a switch at the edge of the tablet, and it split apart into four screens spread on thin filament rods.
“And did you accomplish this?” Delgan asked, scratching his chin.
“I believe I have,” the Acolyte replied. “Thanks to a technology base even more dedicated to compensating for the frailties of its users: the Tau.”
The tablet screens all turned on at once, displaying a series schematic images and one cogitator-generated image of a pair of large, pony-shaped machines running along a few pony soldiers and Iron Warriors. Rarity, Delgan, and Dusk all leaned in closer to see. Even the stallion that had been talking to Delgan previously wandered over for a closer look.





“Is that… a pony battlesuit?” Dusk mumbled, forgetting to pretend like he had seen and reviewed these schematics before. Each of the diagrams detailed a four-legged armored machine. The body was a hefty armored block with a pair of smoke stacks in the rear, while the head was clearly modeled on the Tau Crisis Suit. The device ultimately looked like a cross between a Tau battlesuit and an Imperial Sentinel walker.
“May I present the Strider scout battlesuit,” Gears said, jabbing a servo arm at the display. “Barely larger than a Space Marine, the Strider affords the wearer comparable protection and greatly enhanced firepower. The sensor suite – developed with the Tau’s peerless electronic warfare technology – enables swift target acquisition and data analysis, while the four-legged chassis enables far superior mobility compared to two-legged walkers.”
Gear Works tapped one of the screens, shifting it to a wire-frame diagram of the Strider’s cockpit interior. “The key advantage of the Strider, of course, is it being specifically built to suit equine biology. Indeed, the unique control scheme, which allows the battlesuit to mimic the pilot’s cockpit movements directly, means that two-legged species would be quite unable to utilize it. A pony pilot, on the other hand, would find its use to be practically second nature, give or take some HUD training and a firing mechanism.”
“I’m interested,” Delgan said simply. Rarity blinked, surprised by such a forthright answer from the Trademaster. “What weaponry loadout is being considered?”
“Heavy laser weaponry is the most obvious choice. The power supply is also sufficient for a plasma cannon, but I designed the Strider to be suitable for cheap mass production. All but a few components are readily available amongst our manufactorum supplies.”
“And the armor plating?”
“A convenient blend of duralloy frame with ablative polyceramic layering. Its protective qualities would be at least comparable to that of the XV series Tau battlesuit with a fraction of the production costs, thanks to the lack of complex aerial mobility.”


Delgan continued asking questions, digging deeper into the design that Gears had displayed. Dusk Blade was quite interested himself, but he had another objective.
“It was a good idea to bring him to see you,” the Lieutenant said brightly, scooting up next to Rarity. “I knew that you guys could help him. It really is a shame the way his associates in the Dark Mechanicus treat him.”
“Oh? Is it that bad?” Rarity asked, immediately perking up at the prospect of gossip. “I knew that they were unfriendly, of course,  but to one of their own…”
“Sadly, many of them don’t think of poor Gears as one of them. They just won’t take him seriously! I’m glad the merchant corp is more understanding.”
Rarity giggled under a hoof. “Those inclined to business don’t often care where the money comes from,” the unicorn mused with a smile. “I’m not the greatest fan of greed, but it’s a rather… egalitarian sin. The Mechanicus dogma is simply ruthless. And I say that despite having a very good friend in Dark Techpriest Gaela.”
“Ah, I’ve met her! Only briefly, though. She seems very hard to make friends with,” Dusk remarked.
“Oh, very much so. But she’s worth it!”


Dusk Blade was pleased. Gears was killing it in his presentation. He was connecting easily with Rarity (dull as the conversation was). Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Suddenly, Rarity turned her head sharply, her eyes narrowing. Dusk was confused, at first, but then realized she was staring toward the entrance.
“Is that…?” Rarity trailed off, looking concerned. “What is Fennin doing here?”


Dusk Blade didn’t know that name, and he twisted his head around toward the entrance. He was quite surprised to see a squat, male Tau was pushing through the privacy curtain into the dining room. He was wearing a dark gray jumpsuit with blue stripes, and there was a symbol on the breast that doubtless only made sense to his species. On the collar, however, there was a small black bow tie; a small indication that he didn’t wander in by accident.
While the alien was observing the room, the hostess suddenly rushed through the curtain behind him and then circled around to stand in his path. “Sir! You are not allowed into the main dining hall! It’s been reserved!” the mare snapped.
He looked down at her. “I was invited.”
She sniffed, and her eyes narrowed. “I HIGHLY doubt that, Sir. I didn’t see any grayskin names on the list.”
“Fio’el Fennin. Check,” the Engineer retorted.
The hostess huffed, clearly annoyed that she had to indulge the Tau. After a moment, however, she levitated the dataslate over to her and began scrolling down the list.


“Fennin? You know that creep?” Dusk asked, scowling.
“Know him? I’m the one who first captured him!” Rarity tittered.
Dusk Blade furrowed his brow. “And you invited him here?”
“Absolutely not. He’s not on the list,” Rarity admitted. Then she smirked at him. “That doesn’t stop everyone, though.”


“Mister Fennin, I’m afraid I’m not seeing your name on the list,” the unicorn hostess said with a hint of smugness.
“I’m not?”
“No. I’m afraid that this is a private event, accessible by invitation only. You’ll have to come back at a later time,” the mare insisted.
“That can’t be right. Let me check.” Fennin reached out and took the dataslate that held the guest list. Then he tossed it over his shoulder and walked past the stuttering mare.
“Gears! I’m here!” Fennin called out to the Dark Acolyte. “I checked out the materials fabricator specs at Black Point. It will do the job.”
Rarity and Dusk Blade recoiled in surprise. Delgan tilted his head to the side slightly, scrutinizing the Engineer as he approached. Gear Works twisted his head around.
“Ah, good of you to join us, Fio’el. Master Delgan, you may not be familiar. This is Fio’el Fennin, currently one of the highest-ranking Earth Caste workers in Ferrous Dominus.”
“Please, Gears, just call me Fennin,” the Engineer insisted, unpacking a dataslate from a satchel over his shoulder.
“Excuse me!” The hostess galloped up to the intruding alien, scowling angrily. “Sir, you cannot-“
“Leave him be,” Delgan interrupted, waving his hand to the side. The mare froze suddenly, and her expression fell while her ears flipped down. She turned around and left, defeated.
“As the Strider uses a mix of Tau and Company technologies, Fennin and I have worked together on developing the prerequisite design of the Strider to maximize field capability while minimizing production cost,” Gear continued.
“Wait, WHAT?!” Dusk shouted, suddenly jumping down from his chair. “When did this-“
Delgan held up a hand toward Dusk. The Lieutenant quickly fell silent, but Rarity couldn’t help but notice that the batpony still seemed to be very agitated, for some reason.
“Please, go ahead,” Delgan said with a nod. “What do you need from me, and what stake could I expect in the project?”
“We need assistance with the production of a prototype,” Gear Works said with a nod of his head. “After it is developed, field-tested, and the schema ready for regular production, I will submit the schema to the merchant corp. As the Dark Mechanicus is… reluctant to manufacture and provide equine wargear, I expect anyway that you will find the best way to put these new weapons to use.”
“I find them absolutely fascinating!” The pegasus that had been speaking to Delgan before chimed in, raising a wing toward the Trademaster. “If these battlesuits do become a regular product, they would do nicely in lieu of the more human-centric weapons I requested earlier!” Dark Clouds chuckled. “I’d like to see a diamond dog stand up to one of these things!”
“I can assure you, although the Strider is designed for combat scouting, it can easily perform as a basic utility and security walker when faced with non-military resistance,” Fennin took over the explanation, and then held out a dataslate to Delgan. “These are the estimates for our prototype development, as well as an outline of our production plan.”
The Trademaster took the tablet. “Thank you, Mister Fennin.”
“Fio’el to you, Trademaster.”
There was another moment of awkward hesitation at the correction.
“My friends use my given name,” Fennin explained. “Well, them, plus that blue pegasus who keeps yelling at me. You may refer to me by my title, as that is the only status of interest to you.”
“Fair enough,” Delgan said simply. He started reading the dataslate.
“Fr… Fr… Frie…” Dusk sputtered to himself while the Trademaster reviewed the plans, and Rarity frowned in concern. The batpony’s wings were rigid, and his teeth were clenched in a manner that showed off his fangs to an uncomfortable degree.


The Lieutenant managed to restrain himself until Delgan looked up. “You’re going to make these units at Black Point?”
“Yes. We have many facilities dedicated to maintaining and repairing battlesuits there. Thanks to your army, we’re running low on battlesuit units, so many of the machines are just collecting dust right now. They can easily be refurbished to assemble the components and complete the frame armoring.” Fennin crossed his arms over his chest. “Between you and Gears, we should be able to overcome enough Mechanicus resistance to complete the prototyping stage.”
“I like what I’m hearing,” Delgan tapped the tablet that Gear Works brought, and the extra screens slid back into place. “I’m going to send these in for a review. I’ll have a final decision soon, but I don’t mind saying that if this is viable, I want to be invested.” He held out his hand toward Gear Works. “I look forward to working with you, Dark Acolyte.”
Gear’s servo arm swung forward to complete the handshake. “Thank you for offering me this chance, Trademaster. You have my gratitude.”


Gear Works waited until Delgan had left the dining hall, and then turned swiftly to Fennin. “He agreed! We did it!”
“Nice work,” Fennin grinned, holding up a hand. “The last obstacles are falling away. We could have working Strider units in a matter of weeks.”
Gears reared up to clap his hoof against the alien’s hand.
Before they could make contact, a flying roundhouse kick impacted with the side of Fennin’s head.
A chorus of gasps rolled through the dining room, and Gear Works lurched back. Fennin spun from the blow and collapsed to one side, nearly falling on Dark Clouds. Dusk Blade, who had launched the attack, flapped his wings sharply and backflipped in the air before landing in an offensive crouch.
“What the BZZRT! was that?!” Gears demanded, rounding on his “partner.”
The Lunar Lieutenant spread his wings and bared his fangs in an instinctual pose of aggression. “Gears, who is this guy?! He said he was your friend!”
“He introduced himself earlier! And Fennin IS my friend!” the Acolyte retorted hotly. His spike-tipped tail whipped about behind him in agitation.
Dusk took a step closer. “You’re friends with a grayskin?! What the hay is wrong with you?!”
“Yes, I’m friends with a grayskin! What of it?” Gears snapped back, taking his own step forward.
Dusk took another step, though this one was more hesitant. “They tried to kill us all, Gears!”
Gears showed no such hesitation when he moved forward as well. “Water under the mag-bridge,” He scoffed. “Besides, they weren’t TRYING to kill us all, it was an unfortunate side-effect!”
“Looking less unfortunate by the day,” Fennin grumbled, slowly standing up.
“Lieutenant, really, what is the meaning of this?” Rarity chided the batpony, stepping down from her seat. Dusk didn’t even acknowledge her interruption.
“They’re our enemies, Gears!” Dusk continued. He didn’t take a step forward this time. “Sure, they’ve been pressed into helping us, but only to save their own cowardly hides! How can a monster like him be your friend?”
“Monster?” Gear Works took a final step forward, touching the very edge of his rebreather mask to Dusk’s nose. “He displays more basic empathy and humility than you do! He doesn’t keep slaves or stalk his associates! He was working to help me with my personal projects while you called upon me to waste my valuable time to manipulate other ponies! Tau or not, he’s ten times the friend you are!”
Dusk Blade recoiled, stumbling backward until he bumped into Rarity’s chair. “You… You don’t…” His snout scrunched up, and he started blinking rapidly.
“What? What is it?” Gear Works demanded, his servo arm snapping its pincer open and closed. “You impose upon me whenever you wish, drag me on your idiot ventures, and even now that everything is going perfectly and we’ve all gotten exactly what we want, you’re getting upset that I invited a Tau along?! Seriously? Stop wasting my time, you malevolent clod!”


Gear Works wasn’t totally surprised when Dusk lashed out with a hoof, but the Acolyte couldn’t hope to counter the thestral’s speed and reflexes. Dusk Blade struck him on the chin, and then spun and kicked out with a back leg, pitching Gear’s head to the side. The cyborg pony was promptly sprawled onto the floor, a new dent adorning his cranium.
“Lieutenant Blade! What is the matter with you?!” Rarity demanded angrily.
Dusk Blade, for his part, ignored her. His attention was fixed on Gear Works, and he sniffled and rubbed his muzzle with his foreleg. “You jerk!” he complained, his lower lip quivering. “You… You said I was your best friend!”
“I’ve never said that…” Gears groaned.
Rarity couldn’t help but feel her anger and indignation bleed away into confusion. “Lieutenant Blade… are you… are you JEALOUS?”
“SHUT UP!!” Dusk suddenly snapped, causing everyone nearby to recoil. “YOU METAL MULE! I THOUGHT WHAT WE HAD WAS SPECIAL!!”
The batpony whirled around and galloped toward the exit, leaping over the surprised hostess in his path. He didn’t even bother to collect his rebreather before slamming a hoof onto the airlock switch, and the metal door quickly cut off the sound of Dusk’s mournful sobs.


The dining hall was utterly silent after Dusk’s exit, with the numerous patrons watching Gear Works slowly pick himself up off the floor. Rarity shook her head and used her magic to assist him. “I am SO sorry, Acolyte. That was just terrible,” she said with concern.
“Not as sorry as I am,” Gears grumbled once he was back on all fours. “I do hope that unpleasant incident doesn’t affect our agreement. I really am looking forward to working with the merchant corp in developing the Strider.”
“Not at all, darling,” Rarity shook her head. “Really, though! I wasn’t expecting the Lieutenant to be so volatile! Nothing but a lowbrow thug with a uniform!” She frowned deeply, turning to glare at the exit. “I could have him detained for assaulting a guest!”
“Now, hold on,” Gears interjected quickly, “Dusk Blade is wrong, surely, but I believe I went too far in provoking him. This was a crime of passion, not malice. Let’s keep this between me and the Lieutenant.”
“What about me?” Fennin asked, tenderly touching the bruise on his temple.
“What ABOUT you?” Rarity drawled. She jabbed a hoof toward one of the tables. “There’s ice for the punch over there. Help yourself, Fio’el.”
Then she returned her attention to Gear Works. “I should go check up on a few of the other guests and explain the disturbance. They were also expecting to meet with Mister Delgan, and it may be some time before he’s finished with your proposal.”
“Of course, Miss Rarity.” Gears bowed and stepped back.
The unicorn started to trot away, but hesitated and glanced back over her shoulder. “And in the future, Dark Acolyte, you need only contact me if you wish to join our events, rather than sneaking in. We do need to keep the riffraff out, you understand.”
Rarity turned away again and trotted off without waiting for a response.


Gear Works sighed, and a puff of misty gas spurted from the side of his respirator mask. He seemed surprised by the leak, and he raised a hoof to where his jaw used to be.
“Oh, blast. I think that Lunar lunatic knocked something loose,” he complained.
“This it? I found a screw on the floor.” Fennin approached again. One hand was holding a plastic bag of ice to his head, while the other one was offering up the missing piece of Gear’s mask. The engineer tossed the screw, and the Acolyte pony expertly snatched it out of the air with his servo arm.
“Thank you, Fennin.” The servo arm swiveled around to insert the screw into place, and then started rotating the pincer claw to secure it. “Sorry about Dusk. I had no idea he’d react like that.”
“It’s not exactly a rare attitude,” the Tau admitted. “At least, the complete contempt for me isn’t.” He paused for several seconds before he spoke again. “So, is he your mate, or what?”
Gear Works recoiled. “What? No!” His servo arm finished fixing his mask, and the Acolyte quickly trotted toward the exit. “Why would you think that?”
“You don’t really seem like the type to inspire much passionate loyalty in others,” Fennin admitted before following the stallion.
“Takes one to know one!”
“Well, yes, actually. That is why I’m surprised.”
Gear Works groaned, and his servo arm hit the button to open the exit airlock. “Right. Fine. It’s somewhat complicated, actually. But in any case, I’m not attracted to stallions.” The heavy doors hissed open, and the pair stepped inside.
“Just checking. You Mechanicus sorts are more into toasters, right?”
“Oh, buck you, Fennin.”
The airlock slid shut behind them.