//------------------------------// // Training // Story: Fortress Equestria // by computerneek //------------------------------// “Gah!” She flinches as she feels the weapon slicing through her neck, decapitating her cleanly. Then her head lands back on and the battle is over. She rubs her neck at the line that monster had just sliced through it.  She knows it’s not a real monster, or even a real neck- but it still feels real.  It’s always disorienting when that happens. “Ouch.  What’d I miss?”  She looks around, stepping to the side as she watches the battle replay itself perfectly.  She watches herself smashing these monsters- generic, generated thugs- back into the bits they’re composed of. The answer comes from the stallion that hadn’t been standing next to her a moment before.  “That one was hanging from the ceiling when you came in,” he states matter-of-factly, watching with her. She scowls up at him.  “You didn’t tell me there were any climbers in this one!” “I also didn’t tell you there weren’t any.” Her scowl becomes a pout.  Pouting never works on him- he only finds it amusing.  “Why do I never win these challenges?” He smiles at her.  “Because I make them progressively more difficult.  You’ll notice you almost win every single one.” Her eyebrows fly up, her pout disappearing.  “Oh? How hard can you make it?” He raises his eyebrows.  “A lot harder.  I’ve been limiting these challenges to no more than a hundred hostiles a piece, with a pony-level intelligence guiding each one throughout.  It’s just the types, action plans, and initial placing that I put my facilities into planning out. If I were to put even a single pacer on my tactical subprocessors during the simulation, you’d never beat it.” Pacer being the weakest category of monsters, consisting of eight-legged fuzzy creatures that could poke and prod…  But their only weapon is really their ability to throw her from a high place, or sit on her. They’re not particularly strong, nor overly fast; they can’t even climb on the wall. She groans irritatedly.  Another thing that only serves to amuse him.  “How realistic are these ‘challenges’, anyways?” “Not very, honestly.  They’re supposed to be challenges, after all.” “What’s a real battle look like?” He looks at her straight-faced, all trace of humor gone in a picosecond.  “Death and destruction everywhere. I’ve seen more battles than you’ve lived days.”  She shakes his head lightly. “Though I do have one you might be interested in.” “Huh?” Immediately, the indoor scenery the challenge had taken place in disappears, replaced by… She sees them.  Enormous numbers of…  things.  They don’t look like any of the monsters she’s been fighting, but she gets the distinctive feeling they’re…  Unfriendly. She shudders. He notices.  He notices everything. “Something wrong?” he asks. “No…  I don’t know.”  She points a hoof.  “They aren’t like anything you’ve put against me, but they just feel…  bad.” He nods.  “Not surprised.” She tilts her head.  “Why?” He looks forwards.  “Watch.” The scene suddenly starts moving.  The… things- she resists labelling them monsters, these were real- seem to be charging down a hillside.  There’s a few large parties of them, each about the same size as an entire ‘challenge squad’ like the ones he’s been throwing at her.  There’s an even larger army off in the distance, gathering together, building up, and moving down, towards them. Between them, the ground seems to be made of metal. She looks in the direction they’re all moving.  There’s one, at what looks like a dead run. It passes through one of the smaller parties, carrying-  Wait! Everything freezes in response, and she blinks herself over to look at the purple thing it’s carrying.  “What…?” He appears next to her.  “Yes. That’s you. This recording is all I have of who you are to them.” She nods slowly, looking up into its face and snuffing out the sudden surge of fear before it can even start.  “What’s it running from?” The two ponies blink back off to the side, and he points to the advancing party it had passed through.  “Watch.” Everything continues. She recognizes the magic being used.  It’s a fairly simple spell- but it sends them to the ground like a load of bricks.  As the last one falls, the pursuing unicorn becomes visible. A single, green unicorn.  Light blue and white striped mane and tail.  Musical instrument printed on her flank. But she sure crushed these monsters. They both watch as she charges forwards, crushing several more waves on her way. She watches the one carrying her younger self stumble on a shifting missile launch cell hatch. Everything pauses again, as she turns to look at him. He nods, indicating the metal ground.  “That is me.” She looks back forwards, and everything resumes.  She watches her younger self tumble from its grasp and turn to flee.  Away from the desperate unicorn. The unicorn that’s clearly trying to save her. “No!  Go back to her!”  The filly ignores her just as completely as it ignores the green unicorn’s calls. “Twilight!  This way!” Her ears perk as her head snaps around.  It’s… Just the green unicorn. The memory.  She looks back down at the filly, but it hasn’t responded at all. More of the monsters die, but they’re starting to flow in en masse.  She can tell they’re starting to overwhelm the green mare. She tilts her head, and everything freezes. “If…”  She tilts her head the other way, considering for a second.  “She could have taken on twice as many, easy.” “My estimate is that she could have taken approximately 2.31 times as many,” he states, standing next to her.  “Had she spent just two more seconds considering her tactics.” He shakes his head. “Had she the same skill you have now, she could have taken the entire army without issue.” Everything resumes again. She watches the chase go on.  She watches the filly continue to flee.  She watches the mare grow more and more desperate. “Couldn’t they have…?” “Given the same amount of additional thought to their tactics and actually accomplished their goal with less than a quarter of the losses?  Yes. Surprise does tend to engender this kind of panic.” She watches the duralloy hatch open to drop the filly inside.  She watches the mare try to reach it, the hatch snap shut before one of the monst- things can get in. She hears his voice rumble up from the ground. “She is safe with me.  Save yourself.” The mare immediately reverses her charge and flees. She watches as the badly deteriorated nuclear warhead is used to clear the area of… “Call them ‘The Enemy’.” The enemy.  She tilts her head.  “The enemy? Why?” He lowers his head.  “That’s how I considered them at the time.”  He sends a quick glance in her direction. “I still do.” She scowls.  “What…?” “Are they really called?  I don’t know. I only know they have continued to earn designation as the Enemy…  but haven’t shown enough strength to warrant the use of my firepower.” She looks at the smoking crater surrounding the slightly shinier lump of alloy in the ground.  “And that?” He smirks.  “Was overkill.”  He smiles at her, and they both blink over to the top of the hill the unicorn had fled over, everything rewinding past the blast and resuming normally.  “What would have happened had she not been behind the hill- or so quick on the shield?” Her eyes widen, watching the shield in question flicker with the strain.  “She would have died.” He nods.  “And Ponykind couldn’t have known you survived.  As it is…” He pauses, frowning.  “As it is, they might know you survived.  I haven’t seen any ponies since.” “Can I go?” He shakes his head.  “No- you’re still vulnerable to whatever the Enemy was trying to do.”  He shows her a brief shot. Four of them had gathered around an unconscious pony; she understands instantly this is close to a year beforehand.  She reads the spell they’re using… Yes. Yes, while the grown pony on their table is worse than useless to them, she’s still vulnerable to that spell herself. Nevermind that all it takes is one to begin casting it…  and she passes out. She nods.  “I’ll train until I’m as old as he, then.” This seems to amuse him.  “That stallion is estimated to be almost eighty-eight years old,” he states.  “You’re only five.” Her jaw drops.  “Uh…” He chuckles.  “Don’t worry. As near as I can tell, immunity to their spell should set in sometime between now and adulthood.” She nods.  “Then if it’s alright with you, I’ll train until I’m a grown mare and then head out.” He mirrors her nod.  “Unless the ponies find us first, where that prerequisite might be voided,” he states. She nods harder.  “I’m still gonna be coming back, no matter what happens.” He smiles.  “Good to hear.” The two-toned light flickers. “It’s not…” “What are you trying to do?” Funny, he usually knows even before she does herself.  “You know how you show me things on the network, right?”  She indicates the headband with a hoof, allowing her lights to fade. He gives the impression of a nod. “I can’t exactly use the network to show somepony else something when I go- so I’m looking for alternatives.” “So, doubling up a light spell with different colors…?” “If I can make enough lights at once, small enough and with low enough intensity, I should be able to reproduce a scene with an acceptable degree of precision.” “Ahh.  It might be easier to think of it less in what’s actually there and more in terms of what the intended viewer will see.  You’ve seen my holoprojector, right?” She nods.  “That’s what I’m trying to make.” “You do realize it’s an image, projected from above or below, onto a high-density energy field, right?” “Huh?” “Such that the right part of the image reflects off of the right part of the energy field.” Her head tilts the other way.  “Huh?” He sighs.  “Hop on the Net, I’ll show you there.” She nods, flicking the headband up onto her head with a levitation spell and practiced ease. Two minutes later, she’s only partially absorbed in the network, her horn glowing sternly.  They don’t do this often; he’s so smart it’s almost difficult to make a mistake, and her own skill is more valuable than simply doing something. But this is something neither of them can really do alone.  Well, technically, she could- but it would take weeks or months, possibly years.  When they do this, combining her magical ability with his processing power, they can experiment and adjust so fast it takes them, on average, fifteen seconds to invent a new spell. This time, it takes almost ten minutes- but by the end of it, they manage to project a faithful reproduction of a major ceremony he saw in some age long gone all over the inside of his bulkheads. Nevermind that he and several others like him were present, and reproduced with faithful accuracy. Or that the entire projection fit within a circle around her, about three meters across. Funny how magic works, isn’t it? They disconnect, and she starts her meager attempts to reproduce the spell. It takes a lot of effort.  She didn’t realize just how much calculation he was doing behind the scenes, even on the active spell. But she’s a unicorn.  She can do it. She closes her eyes, concentrating on the spell.  It takes her somewhat significantly more power this time, and she adjusts the spell in a couple of places to make it easier to use. Before long, the smell of a battlefield graces her nose.  Gunsmoke and iron, mostly. She opens her eyes. Her spell collapses. But for a second, she had been standing in the battlefield between two…  She’s not even sure what they were, but they had been trading blinding bolts of light and thunder, cratering each others’ massive armor. She quickly reorients herself.  “Huh? Did I do it?” “Affirmative.”  He sounds impressed.  “You came within 99.97% accuracy to my records, as a matter of fact.  I have to wonder, though, what the flank photo is for?” “Flank pho-  Huh. You didn’t do that, did you?” “Nope.  It appeared- identical on both sides- while you had your spell running.” She blinks at the purple star now adorning her flanks, and tries probing at it with her magic before she scowls.  “Doesn’t feel any different. Maybe it’s like some kind of indicator light?” “It’d have to be quite the fancy indicator light.  I can confirm you’re now completely immune to the Enemy’s spell.” She raises an eyebrow.  “What would you recommend?” “Well, the longer we wait, the more skilled you will be, and the easier it will be to defeat any of the Enemy that approach you.  On the contrary, the longer we wait, the greater the possibility ponykind has suffered a catastrophe- and the greater the difficulty, regardless of such, in tracing your parents.” Scowl.  “That’s not a recommendation.” “It’s your choice to make, not mine.” Groan.  “You know how I-” “Hate making life choices?  Yes, yes I do. But sometimes you must.” “Ugh.  How long do I have before…?” “Six days.” She scowls.  “How about… Three days, then I go look?” “You’ll have to make sure you either find something or get back here within two days- any more, and you’ll run out of food.” She nods.  “Sounds good to me!” Three days. She had expected more magic practice.  Perhaps an increase in the “challenges”; anymore, he’s hard-pressed to beat her with them without granting her thousands of opponents greater-than-pony intelligence powered by his own immense facilities. Or superpowers.  He’d done that a few times, too. …  The one that could only be killed by a kryptonite sword was a great stress reliever. She had expected, mostly, an intensification of what she was already doing.  Maybe an adjustment towards the more specific scenarios she might run into. She had not expected everything to change.  The challenges, along with everything she normally did, went out the hatch.  Those three days consisted of one enormous cramming session, save for sleep, and one hardcore simulation as an exam, of sorts. He taught her more than she should ever need to know about surviving on her own.  Hostile territory, friendly territory, anywhere. He taught her interpersonal- or is it inter-pony-al?- communication skills beyond that she’s already developed.  He taught her how to function- work, eat, survive, everything- without her magic, in case it ever fails for any reason. He taught her how to avoid the weapons fire of a lesser engine of war than he while she closed for a kill.  He’d helped her invent a number of additional spells, ranging from tracking to invisibility to teleportation. He’d taught her how to fly. Nevermind that she doesn’t have wings.  He’d still taught her how to fly. And not just with that self-levitation spell they worked on. She has difficulty huffing as she thinks about all this, though.  She’s too excited. She did, after all, just pass his enormously difficult test.  She will, after all, be heading outside soon. Not that she knows which door leads outside.  There’s too many he’s never let her through- and, she knows, for good reason.  She won’t be trying to teleport through any of them. No.  Whenever he gets around to it, he’ll be opening the right ones for her. Funny, he usually ‘gets around to it’ before she is even ready to wait for him. The commlink implant he’d given her halfway through those three days’ training comes on.  He’s been using it a lot lately- she’s still getting used to having his voice in her head.  And responding in kind. “Your armor is here.  Sorry it took so long.” She raises an eyebrow.  “My- Ahem, my armor?” “You didn’t think I’d let you out unprotected, did you?  I have fought battles where I never once took a hit. But did I ever lower my guard?  No. My armor stayed in place, my battlescreens and EW stayed at full power. Even after I had fully neutralized the enemy’s ability to damage me, I kept my defenses on.” She scowls.  “Please tell me it’s not going to be…   Oh.” He chuckles; she’d seen it coming in the door, carried by several of his tech spiders.  “Don’t worry, it’s only an insurance policy.” She inspects the armor as she receives it.  His ‘insurance policy’ is about a half inch of solid duralloy armor, complete with helmet, engineered to look just like her.  While she’s fully suited, any normal pony would take a quick glance at her and continue on, completely unaware. She dons the armor…  and finally understands why he taught a wingless pony to fly.  She might be wingless, but her armor is not.  They’re tied into her nervous system, on the same ‘channels’ as the simulated wings, through what she’s pretty sure is a subset of neural link hardware. As such, while she’s wearing her armor, she’s as good as winged.  Nevermind that the metallic wings, engineered to look like they’re a legitimate part of her, disappear when she folds them.  She’s going to look like a regular unicorn whenever she has them folded. Finally, he hoofs her the pouch containing the last of their food, in a dense, nasty-tasting form that’s easier to carry.  She loops the string around her neck, and a door opens. “Have a good journey,” he smiles. She smiles back.  “Will do.”  She trots out the door and up the tunnel, following his path of open doors until she comes up to a closed one…  Which opens when she reaches it. She hops out the hatch, her armored hooves trodding gently on armor of the same material.  The hatch closes behind her as she looks around, taking in the smells. Heh- his armor is awesome.  Like an extension of herself, rather than armor.  She can smell the fresh air- he does a really good reproduction of it inside- and even feel the gentle breeze on her coat. Nevermind her real coat is hidden under half an inch of alloy. None of the Enemy are nearby, but she can see the path taken by the green unicorn, so long ago.  Almost eighteen and a half years, as a matter of fact- even though she’s only ten. She’d had to spend a significant amount of time in his stasis pods while he hunted up the resources necessary to make her more food.  Unfortunately, he also hasn’t been able- in all this time- to recover the resources necessary to restore his motive systems to function, so he couldn’t solve the problem that way. But she’s mobile.  She should be able to travel as far as she likes, so long as she can find food.  She plans to bring back decent quantities of nickel and titanium. Even some gold, if she can find it. Nevermind the more significant quantity of iron she plans on hunting up.  That’s the big one he’s run out of. She spreads her wings, crouching for a rapid takeoff.  “I’ll be back.” She lands, invisible, just outside of town.  The helpful mares in that other town back there- no clue what it was called- had mentioned someplace called ‘Canterlot’.  From what she could gather, it’s supposed to be an enormous city, probably with a population in the millions… And the Canterlot Public Library is supposed to be the biggest library in the nation, housing books that other libraries could only dream of. She checks her surroundings, drops her invisibility spell, and trots out of her hiding spot, into town.  Perhaps the residents of this little mountain town could point her to Canterlot? She finds a street to walk down.  A nice little town, she must say- must be important to somepony. She smiles to herself.  Her first encounter with a pony town had been a stroke of luck.  She had, in a show of good foresight, disguised her appearance; given the number of social blunders she’d made, she’d have carried that baggage for the rest of her life.  She’s still not sure what a ‘cutie mark’ is, nor why ponies kept telling her she has one. One had even asked her what it meant. But alas, the place is too fancy.  She can’t find anything- and eventually departs, heading towards a smaller town down in the fields, by that forest…  Strange, unfriendly-looking forest, when she takes ruthless advantage of her armor’s built-in binoculars.