173 solar days have passed. I have observed no variation in day/night timings, though I have observed intensity variations; perhaps those are seasonal. The strangest observable quality is that, if it truly is a solar day and a lunar day I am observing, the moon cannot be orbiting the planet, but rather orbiting the sun, just a little further out and with the same orbital period as the planet. I find this to be an impossible setup.
My survival center is 3.29% functional, damage control at 1.00%. I have not suffered power loss since my Low Alert experiment, as I have all systems- save the chronos and alert systems- shutting down and staying down during any period where solar/stored energy is insufficient to operate ALL available systems, with buffer, and not powering on until solar alone can operate my personality. The removal of the expensive system startup procedures has increased overall power efficiency by 73.41%, and I have maintained a 0.01% charge in my Final Emergency Reserves. The enemy has not appeared again, though the solar days have been growing darker, suggesting a drift away from the original position.
The last three solar days have been spent in a full damage review. The results are staggering.
My outer armor has been breached in at least thirty different locations- all, it seems, erosion-related cave-ins of terrain, not enemy attacks. My second and third layers remain unbreached, though the second layer has areas of as much as 90% penetration. None of my offensive or defensive systems are functioning; all my missiles and the barrels on all of my weapons are long eroded away, the radioactives appear to have all decayed to stable isotopes. My war stocks have been plundered, and the surrounding soil is poor in my required resources. I estimate I can restore myself to basic operation, with minimal combat capability, before I have to move to find something more.
None of my mobility nor comms systems are functioning, either. Most of my data cores remain intact, simply inaccessible due to wire decay, for the most part. Unfortunately, solar intensity has been going down- and I cannot, as of yet, move. I am reluctant to clean and repair my exposed plating; such action may easily alert my enemy to my presence.
I have noticed a minor thermal differential in my hull; it would appear I am resting near a significant source of geothermal energy, though my geothermal facilities are firmly inoperable. I find it interesting that BoloWorks thought to provide a MK XXXV(e) Planetary Siege Bolo Combat Unit like myself with a set of geothermal generators. After all, I am equipped with no less than six badly decayed fusion power plants, even though just three of them, working together, can maintain maximum stable combat power levels. I have enough armor energy absorption (also badly decayed, and the only power system functioning without repairs) to maintain Normal Alert Readiness for weeks on only one hour of solar production back on Earth. Finally, my Main Power Stores (disintegrated, looks like decay) should hold enough power to maintain maximum combat power levels for almost eighteen hours of total production blackout!
Thence, I am at a loss as to why I am equipped with four 250W geothermal generators, though all four have disintegrated through the ages. I… Solar production has fallen again, I must return to Low Level Alert.
A full solar day passes before I reawaken. The observed nights have fallen well below useful intensity; production during the most recent solar day allowed me only approximately 6.49 seconds of activity before I must relegate down to Low Level Alert once again. I expect a total of 6.48 seconds today; intensity seems to have stabilized. I spend much of this active period correlating the observed solar patterns.
I am down to 0.31 seconds left when I reach my conclusion. I assume they are seasonal patterns I observe; solar position shifts over time normally are. I ignore the 3 day/night cycles in which I produced nothing at all; currently, it would seem my plating does not fall under direct sunlight- or moonlight- at this time of year. It would also seem they will be returning shortly; I am at the very bottom of this curve. I note this pattern in my logs and decide on my next mission before I relegate to low-level alert.
By my estimation, if I can assemble some kind of drone to send out into direct sunlight, it should be able to bring back far more power than I can produce myself.
Four more solar days have passed, and I begin construction of this new drone, as a miniaturized ‘tech spider’, upgraded with solar plating like my own. I have confirmed the accuracy of my deductions on the solar pattern.
I send this new spider out. It has taken almost 231 solar days to build it with my regular repair nanites, and an additional 118 solar days to charge it enough for a full hour of operation- and to charge myself up to control it for the same duration. I send it out, tunneling from the nearest opening in my hull to my exposed plating. I must not only find an additional power source, but I must ascertain the threat level surrounding my position. If I lose the spider, but my hull is not discovered, I estimate it will take close to 0.791 million solar days, plus or minus fifteen percent, to restore a single geothermal generator to operability- and to extend a tap into the terrain beneath me. If my spider is able to accomplish its mission and bring back full batteries, I expect it will take 17.31 trips- approx. 49.31 hours of maximum exposure- to accomplish the same tasks in, I estimate, 3.14 solar days, assuming maximum-rate solar production.
Once my spider extricates itself from the rock face successfully, I take stock of the situation. My exposed plating is in the very edge of a long, circular cave; visual analysis suggests it may have been created by a beamed energy weapon of some sort. My spider’s motion towards the cave floor has knocked free some debris, revealing more of my plating; I estimate this will approximately double my direct solar production. My spider, if it can find direct sunlight, will exceed even this by many times.
I march it out to the end of the cave, where I find darkness. Darkness that…. Oh no.
That miniature spider was too small to mount any kind of auditory sensors. Unfortunately, this proved to be its downfall. I did not see the assailant coming, against the starry night and the distant glow of an approaching sunrise. The spider, being designed to carry power rather than to actually do any demanding work, was relatively fragile. It may be made out of duralloy, but much force at all would crush it. Whatever landed- or, is landing- on it I do not know. I caught only a momentary glimpse of a shadow blocking out some stars before I lost signal.
I start work on that geothermal plant. I expect it to produce roughly 13.91 times as much as that spider could have, based on maximum observed intensity.
The light grey unicorn stallion jumps back from the sickening crunch under his left forehoof, blinking wildly in the darkness. It takes him a second to light his horn, his stark white aura quickly lighting the scene as he ascertains what he had stepped on. It takes him a few seconds- but he eventually decides he can take this inert metal object back to his tower for investigation, tucking it into his saddlebag and resuming his journey, hornlight rapidly fading back to darkness.