She glances back at the spider riding on the carry strap for her saddlebags a few times as she walks. After being inert for so long- even after Sunset reportedly turned it on- this motion it made is unexpected. It had seemed almost like a living being, for a time. Every motion it made had been calculated, though- there had been no body language for her to read. Even now, it has gone inert again, clinging to that strap.
Though, every time she thinks about it, she remembers that one little motion she had recognized. It had looked in this direction. She hadn’t comprehended any words, emotions, or feelings in that- but its message was clear to her. It wanted to go that way.
It wanted to go in the direction of the hill the Cutie Map had sent her to- the direction she’s supposed to bring it.
Before, she hadn’t understood the Cutie Map’s instructions. It had taken Rarity, Rainbow, and Applejack some time to reason it out, and Rainbow crossed the mirror with the message. Apparently, Rainbow had run into herself- but had made it back okay. Twilight had- two Twilights, she hears- had responded to the message. One of them had given Rainbow this box, with the spider in it. She’d tried to coax it to respond several times on the journey; each time, it treated her efforts with disdain, refusing to respond at all.
Now, she hasn’t a clue why it suddenly woke up on its own- but it did and, presumably without knowing the Cutie Map wanted it to come this way, it already understood the mission. Before it had gone immobile on her back again, it managed to deliver the idea that it would wake up again whenever she needed it to.
She doesn’t get the idea that it understood a word she was saying.
A rumble suddenly starts in the ground. What’s going on? She looks left and right, her breathing intensifying. What’s… Oh. It’s the monster Pinkie had warned her about, in this part of Equestria. The one Pinkie said her stare wouldn’t work on.
Two of them. She’d met two earlier, before the spider woke up; it had taken most of her strength to knock one down, then she had fled the other.
No, three. The sand in front of her is heaving as well- a fourth. Either she runs now, or she dies. She closes her eyes tight for a second, praying the metal spider on her back has a strong grip, and opens her eyes again, spreading her wings as she starts forwards.
She immediately feels it wake up. She feels its grip shift, feels it crouch closer. It’s ready.
She strokes her wings downwards, leaping into the air, and propels herself forwards as fast as she can.
She’s just in time. The fourth monster- ‘stonewolves’, Pinkie had called them- only barely misses her. Rather fortunately, she’s faster than they- and they hadn’t expected her to take off. She folds her ears against their howling and flies on, racing for her destination. She can’t keep this speed up for long- but she should be able to reach that distant hill before she has to stop. So, she sets her course directly towards it.
My alert circuits wake me up, bringing me to Normal Alert Readiness. Immediately, I observe the passing of only 37.18 minutes; I still have 2.93 hours of full activity remaining. I turn my attention to my spider, there to ascertain the reason for my awakening.
Here, it is readily apparent. The creature is spreading its wings; as I order my spider to move forwards and catch a grip on its fur, not just its pack’s strap, I swivel the optical head around. It would seem it’s being surrounded by a pack of wolves… made of stone. Interesting. I watch as, once the spider braces itself appropriately, the creature makes a downstroke- and those wings are definitely providing way too much lift for their size. I watch what appears to be a fairly close escape, before the creature directs itself towards my hull. My nanites are almost done manufacturing the parts for a full-size spider; I order them to, as soon as they finish, set to work restoring function to one of my personnel hatches, the one closest to my exposed plating. If it finds my cave, I may be able to clear enough debris- likely only after sliding my mini-spider in to assemble my full-size one- to let it in, to protect it against these stone wolves. My armor, even as deteriorated as it is, should resist the attack of a creature made of stone.
The creature has traveled a quarter of the distance to my hull, in 13.93 minutes, when I realize something. Those stone wolves had emerged from the rock- and that personnel hatch will leave it exposed to plenty of stone. If those wolves can “swim” through rock, that space will not be safe. I settle for preparing that hatch to be forced open and work on getting the next one in to operability… Wait one, that space has been breached as well, though in only one location. I do not know how much space these wolves might require to get in; I prepare this door to be forced as well, and start work on the door through my innermost- and still intact- layer of armor.
The door to my disintegrated Command Deck.
I order a section of my nanites to verify the security of my geothermal generators. I do not wish to risk their destruction- not when it has taken so long to build them in the first place. This takes an even higher priority than the protection of this creature; without those generators, I will be reduced to moments of solar once again, and it may be many thousands of solar days before I could get power running again. I resolve to, regardless of whether or not the generators are destroyed, assemble my full-size spider; this will take roughly 1.3 times the power as the assembly of the miniature spider took, though this spider is far more capable- and durable. The full-size spider, close to a foot across, should be able to stand its own against one of those stone wolves, thanks in part to its plasmacutters and its much sturdier duralloy construction.
Good news- my geothermal generators are secure. The area has not been breached, though it is up to 97.31% penetration in some areas. I order some nanites to work on evening the alloy, to strengthen these weak points, while the rest return to work on the doors. My power is secure, I can work on offering security to the creature.
She races through the sky. She’s coming up on the hill- and descends to swoop over it. Those stonewolves are still after her; Pinkie had warned them that, unless she got out of sight of bare stone, they could still see her, no matter how far away she got. She glances back towards them; it should take them a few hours to get this far. Last time, she’d been able to hide up a tree; this time, there is nothing but stone to hide behind.
From her comparatively high altitude, she searches for signs of civilization. Nothing. The spider on her back shifts- she gets the distinctive feeling it’s trying to say, here. She circles down, following its guidance- and finally lands near a cave mouth. It scrambles off her back, descending to the ground and scuttling into the cave. She follows it.
I do not know exactly how the creature understood the directive motions I sent to the spider quite so clearly; regardless, it has landed hardly 1.31 meters from the entrance to the cave my signal is the strongest in. I pray internally it is the cave my exposed plating is in as I crawl the spider off the creature’s back and run it to the cave entrance. A quick search- and yes, I see the dull glint of duralloy. I’ve found myself. The creature follows my miniature spider in, seeming worried. She’s eyeing every stone face around; I suspect this means these stone wolves can swim through stone. I order my spider to dig into the wall again, at the very spot it emerged from before; turns out the stone is softer here, thanks to my previous passage. A glance back shows the creature looking worried as I dig through it. It takes me only 10.31 minutes to penetrate the stone, and I run the spider quickly down to where the parts for my new spider are- and begin assembly.
2.37 hours pass before my regular tech spider, miniature one riding on top, forces that personnel hatch open and cuts into the rock outside. It takes me only 18.31 minutes to penetrate the rock, carving a tunnel this creature should fit through.
The final layers of stone crumble away from my new tunnel, earning me a scream. I can hear it with my regular spider; I can even respond to it. I show her the mini one, riding on top- and a sudden basso growl is heard by the entrance. One of my regular spider’s optical heads swivels to look; one of the stone wolves is standing in the entrance, and at least one more is visible.
I hear the creature say something, but cannot understand what it is. So, I motion- with both spiders- for it to follow. I also call out “This way!” in Concordiat Standard, through the bigger spider; this might gain the creature’s attention.
… Interesting. The creature has shown understanding of my message even before its head turned to face, like it understood my words. I have moved my spiders back rapidly through the tunnel; the creature crawled through after them, dropping into the interior room behind the door. I lead it down my passages, past cave-ins- confirmed, the stone here is now heaving as well. Second layer entry door forced open, I lead the creature in. The creature seems to notice the reduction in cave-ins- and I immediately spot the stone obstructing the only breach of this layer of armor. It’s already heaving. I lead the creature to the final door, which grinds its way open, and instruct it to head through the door. I tell it I will be right behind it; my miniature spider drops off of my full-size at this point and scuttles in. I estimate a 73.49% chance my full-size spider will be destroyed but, if it complies with my request, a 12.93% chance the creature will be injured. Most of that second chance comes from the absence of floor on my Command Deck; if the creature is too curious, or careless, it may fall off the edge and get hurt on the electronics below. These stone wolves stand a 0.73% chance of reaching the creature.
It obeys. It’s only halfway through the door when the wolf bursts from the rock face. The creature turns back, staring, as my spider interrupts the wolf’s approach. I repeat my request- and, when a second wolf bursts from the rock, the creature finally complies, aborting its rescue attempt and sliding completely through the door in time for me to close it. My full-size spider is destroyed in combat- but my miniature one remains intact, on my Command Deck. I start my nanites on producing more parts for another spider; estimated completion… 18.93 hours, for power requirement. I set up a small light for the creature, manufacture the parts, and divert to Low Level Alert.
She shudders on the floor. She’d been trapped in that cave- she’d known it wasn’t safe. The spider had disappeared into the cave wall- and found a larger version of itself. A larger version that, along with it, called her to follow- through the tunnel it had just carved. She’d followed, as a possible escape route. She’d prayed it lead to another cave, from which she could escape. It hadn’t- but she’d seen metal. Ancient metal, that looked like it might once have been similar to that which the spiders are made of. Were made of. It had broken open in several places- and the stonewolves had immediately started onto breaking in through that. The spiders had refused to give up, though- and brought her to a door that the bigger one forced open. It had lead her in- and a glance to the side, in the light shining from its eyes, revealed a single break- with the stone heaving its way in. The wolves were going to get in there too.
And they had. The spiders had sent her through another door. The little one had hopped off to run through itself, while the bigger announced it would be right behind her. She’d gone partway in, stopped at the blackness, and turned around to make sure it was coming.
Only, the wolves had broken through at that moment. One burst out- and that bigger spider leaped into its path, grabbing onto it. It had used some really bright thing on one of its legs on the wolf- and she’d been about to come to its rescue when a second wolf emerged. She had then found it a lost cause; the stone was still heaving for the third wolf. So, with a tear, she had stepped backwards, into the darkness on this side of the door- which had closed.
She had strained her ears since the moment the door had closed, but she can’t hear any moving stone. Perhaps they’ve found a room still clear of the rock. She’d shuddered in place, staying as silent as possible, thinking about how she’d gotten here. Praying she could somehow escape, bring the spiders with her.
Now, she blinks. Now that her eyes have adjusted, she realizes it isn’t completely dark in this room. She doesn’t see any rock- but she does realize just how small of a ledge she’s resting on. When she looks around the sides of the room, she sees what looks like other broken parts, like this great hole isn’t supposed to be here. Like her ledge is supposed to be part of a now-collapsed floor. So, of course, she looks down.
There! There’s a giant ball of something- metal, perhaps?- down there. Much of it looks to have disintegrated with time- though a patch of it is very solid, with tiny white streaks flickering across its surface. These flickers are glowing, ever so faintly- and producing the light by which she can see.
Then, suddenly, a light comes on near her. She glances up- it’s a tiny light, in the corner of the ceiling, above the door. It casts a gentle and dim white light over everything- about what she’s feeling like. A quick search of the room reveals no exposed rock- and that little tiny spider crawling away from the light. It stops to curl up on one of the other ledges- and she gets the distinct impression it means to give her another, wordless message- perhaps the little one is mute? I need to rest right now, yell if you need something. Only, she’s pretty sure it doesn’t mean ‘yell’ so much as ‘cover the light briefly’. Perhaps it’s deaf as well? That would be nothing short of tragic! … Though she’s neither a vet, like Dr. Fauna, nor an engineer like Dr. Hooves. She can’t help it.
So, she removes her saddlebags, placing them on the ledge next to her. She’s glad they’d fit through that tunnel with her- it contains all her supplies. Food enough for a few days, the light-enchanted gem Pinkie had insisted she’d need, the fireworks… Fireworks? She doesn’t remember packing any of those. She lays them on the ledge next to her, and continues digging through her supplies.
Ah, yes, her medicine. She’ll be needing that, whenever the morning comes- and she’s got a week’s worth of it to boot. Then, the book. The book Twilight had come through the portal in time to insist she take with her. The… She facehooves. The gemstone enchanted with lightning magic. Lightning is utterly useless against Stonewolves. It’s not like- Wait.
She looks over at the ledge the little spider is resting on, and back down to the gemstone. Hadn’t Twilight said something about it running on ‘electricity’- and, when she failed to be understood, rephrased that to say it ran on lightning?
She looks up at the light above her head, and reaches a hoof up to cover it momentarily. As she pulls her hoof away, she sees the little spider stand and turn towards her- and she offers it the gemstone. It shifts slightly, delivering a clear message of confusion. So, she reaches a hoof forwards and taps the gemstone very, very lightly. A tiny tendril of lightning emerges from the far side, reaching only a couple inches before it disappears once again. She offers it once again- and this time, the little spider comes running over. It reaches the ledge she’s on, pausing in front of her. She offers the gem again. She’s tempted to tap it again, but refrains. It gently takes the gem, makes a motion that makes her blush, and scurries away, running down the wall towards one of the weird ropes hanging around the space below.
As she rises to watch it, she notices, in the corner of her eye, her cutie mark flash twice. Friendship problem solved… Okay, whatever. The spider stops next to one of the ropes, holds the gemstone near it, and gives it a good tap.
Only, she sees, this tap is enough to trigger the spell in earnest. The spell spends itself into a sharp lightning bolt, shooting out of the gem and into that hanging rope… where it disappears. Initially, she worries that it’s wasted it- but then, it strikes the gemstone again, for no effect. The spell is spent. The spider returns the gem to her, making another motion that makes her blush, before disappearing down into the room below. There’s too many ropes and too little space for her to feel comfortable following, so she resolves to just wait. Whatever it’s doing, she probably can’t follow.
The light flashes on my miniaturized spider’s optical pickup; this triggers an alert sequence to wake me up. I have power for roughly 4.93 minutes of activity before I must revert to Low Level Alert; during these minutes, I will attempt to determine the nature of the creature’s issue. A quick optical check shows no immediate threats; I then shift the spider, as if to prompt it for the question… Her, I realize. Probably.
Her answer is to offer my spider a gemstone. I do not see anything special about it, so I shift the spider in what I hope is an indication of confusion.
At this, she touches the gemstone with her other hoof and offers it again. I am witness to a very small electrical surge from the gemstone; that tiny discharge, by my estimate, would run my spider for weeks- if it had the power cells to store that. I run my spider up to the platform she is on, but pause in front of her.
She offers it again- and I take it, gently. After what I hope looks like a bow, I bring it down to one of the main power feeds up from the (decayed) fusion plants on the lower deck. Here, I strike the stone, hoping this is the trigger for the lightning reaction.
Success! I absorb the bolt it generates in its entirety. … Total charge levels now offer me 5.31 hours of activity, but are well below half of available storage. I strike the gemstone again, but to no effect. Seems that was all it had to offer. So, I return the gemstone- and, after what I hope looks like deeply felt thankfulness, run my spider down to the bottom of my Personality Center Deck, where the parts for my new full-size spider reside, to begin assembly.
While it assembles, I spend 0.937 seconds in contemplation. I divert my nanites from working on my processors; enough of those are working for now. Rather, they travel down a deck and start working on new parts for my fusion plants. It will take 2.03 days for the geothermal power plants to produce enough power to attempt ignition, in addition to repair time; however, once I perform ignition, I will no longer have to worry about my power supply. The water table I pierced with the geothermal tap should provide plenty of hydrogen for fuel, just like it is providing plentiful steam for my geothermal power plants. I set the programs running and revert to Low Level Alert, to conserve what power I can; I set it to reawaken me as soon as the regular tech spider is completed.