//------------------------------//
// Pressing for Answers 
// Story: Friendship and Space Magic. What could go wrong? 
// by Redstargazer 
//------------------------------//

Jeff, don’t you think that may have a bit…excessive?
I cocked Marauder’s eyebrow, I decided to stick with the platform until after things settled down and glanced through the tent flap toward members of the Tartarus Brigade as they hauled Maredusa’s statue down the Museum’s front steps. Her expression was twisted into a mask of horror. After considering the sight and question for a moment I shrugged, ‘Meh. I only ran the clip for a total of ten minutes.’

  Yes, you did. After formatting the data and temporarily juicing her neural network long enough to let her view it two hundred and thirty-six times. Per second. 
     She’s a big filly with her own cell in Tartarus. She can deal with it. Besides, we should be focusing on more immediate concerns.
Marauder’s reply was interrupted by rustling as a slightly harried looking Sun Princess walked in. “Alright, Jeff. They’re ready for you. Please bear in mind that the combination of the emergency and existing rumors might leave them even more…invasive than normal. Can I trust you to be discreet and patient with them?”
I rubbed my chin for a moment as I mulled over the question before asking, “If it gets too dicey, can I summon the destroyer and use death rays on them?”
Celestia fixed me with a steady gaze. I was a little surprised at how long she took to answer as though as she seemed to genuinely consider the request before stepping aside from the tent entrance and flatly replying, “I’d try not to.”  
I shrugged and strolled through the tent entrance and stalked up an improvised podium…only to be forced to stop and lift a hand to shield against several flashes and hesitate as a flood of questions from the crowd of reporters in front.
“What is the state of the hostages?”
“What part did you play in their release?”
“Is it true laundry was involved in the fight?”
“Where did you come from?
“Who made you?”
“How many licks do you need to get to the center of a Tootsie pop?”
“PIPE DOWN!” The entire crowd quieted as shied back from my yell. After a moment of blessed silence, I cleared my throat and addressed the crowd more calmly, “I understand you all have important questions, but we need to be organized about it if we plan on getting any of them answered tonight. I’ll call on you one at a time, though I will start with those already asked: fine but recovering, peripheral, only my favorite towel, I dropped out of the sky so take a guess, a bunch of obnoxious squids, and forty-two. Now then, uh, you sir.” I reluctantly pointed out a slightly pudgy and shifty eyed stallion on the front row that had been first to lift a hoof. 			
“My sources tell me that, despite your sophistication and apparent intelligence, you are likely related to constructs that fall under the ‘Claim it or Junk it Act’ ratified when unsupervised automatons were found to become dangerously defective over time. Do the Princesses plan on confiscating you at any point in the future or do they plan on extending the same rights as if you were a living being despite the risks?”
The gauche question caused both Princesses to flinch and even left the other shark-er-reporters staring incredulously at the offending reporter who barely spared them a glance as he focused his beady eyes on me and waited for an answer. I admit, for the first time since I arrived, I actually had to struggle to keep hold of my temper at the little weasel’s words: ‘apparent intelligence’ and ‘as if you were a living being,’ eh? I hummed thoughtfully and tapped the podium while seemingly considering the question. “Well, that’s a very interesting question, Mister?”
“Coarse Question,” the newspony provided impatiently.
“Right. Well, let me just say you must be super in tune with harmony if all of your conversations are this well-bred. Why I bet that silver tongue has you frequenting only the finest dumpsters and back alleys that Canterlot has to offer.” Coarse merely rolled his eyes at the likely regular verbal abuse, considering his job and demonstrated ethics, before focusing again on me and waiting for an answer. After sitting in silence to leave him stewing impatiently, I turned to another reporter. “Okay, next questi-”
“Hey! You didn’t answer my question yet!” 
“Get used to disappointment,” I smirked.
“You can’t do this!” the irate reporter shouted indignantly as he pointed and angry hoof in my direction. “I’m part of the free press and I have a right to know!”
“Yeah? Well I’m part of the giant robot and I have a right to not care,” I replied snidely.
Our mature and deep-thinking debate was interrupted by a delicate throat clearing from the solar diarch to my left. “Jeff actually doesn’t have to answer any questions he deems inappropriate. We haven’t come to such issues in his ongoing legalization nor is he formally in service to the crown with all its obligations.” Celestia frowned as she continued, “Furthermore, despite what your sources may assume, Jeff has proven to be more than a construct and will be afforded all rights that come with sapience. This is not for debate.”
Coarse actually shrunk under Celestia’s stern gaze before rallying himself. “Well…be that as it may, how can we trust him if he refuses to answer simple questions? Ponies fear the unknown and need to be assured!”
I rolled my eyes at the lame excuses but replied, “Oh alright. How about this for a compromise: I will give you an exclusive interview where I will answer any and every invasive question your little media mercenary heart can devise.”
All pretenses at indignation dropped from Coarse’s face to be replaced by an ear to ear grin and a hungry sparkle in his eye that one would’ve expected to see on a foal that heard a candy shop was offering its entire stock for free. “And in exchange?”
“Well, I happen to be just as eager to learn about ponies as much as you are to learn about me. The problem is Celestia doesn’t like my method of learning. Something about ponies shouldn’t be forced onto an operating table. Buuuut things are still a bit fuzzy about volunteers~. You’ll get your invasive interview when I get my equally invasive experiments. In fact,” I smacked my fist into my left palm as if coming to an epiphany, “we can even expedite things by having your interview while I operate. All I have to do is hold off on the anesthetic.” I lifted my left hand and sharp implements slid out of various slots in the digits with an ominous shrick. “Alrighty then! Ready for that interview?” 
Coarse’s expression remained but the sparkle left his eyes and all color drained from his face. How the heck does that work through fur anyway? Meh, just something else to look for if he agrees. After some throat clearing and nervous scratching on the back of his neck, Coarse addressed me with a slightly tense smile and eyes glancing everywhere but my direction. “You know, come to think of it, ponies don’t need to know everything. I mean what’s life without a few surprises, right?” 
My shoulders slumped in apparent disappointment as I put away Marauder’s tools. “Awww. You sure about that? Really, it’s no trouble. I wouldn’t want you to abandon your reporter’s duty to harass the embarrassing truth from someone and I always keep the table in a mostly sterile state just in case.”
The reporter’s head shook back and forth with such speed that his face blurred before he started babbling. “No no no. I’m good. I’m not really that curious. All beings are entitled to their privacy. I-uh,” he glanced around nervously before adding, “I actually just realized I have to go to the bathroom.”
I raised an eyebrow before trying to answer, “Oh. Well, I guess-”
“Aboutahundredmilesaway,” Coarse blurted before shooting away in a streak of blurred color I would have associated with my new acquaintance Rainbow. Or maybe when mass relays hurled ships across galaxies. 
I tsked and sighed at the display. “Poor guy. Must have a nervous bladder. Well, that’s just one more reason I’m glad I don’t have organs anymore. Welp,” I clapped my hands causing many of the reporters to jump at the sudden noise, “are there any other questions?” The crowd looked to one another with nervous yet hopeful expressions as if hoping one of them would ask a question so the others didn’t have to. 
I started to wonder if the conference might be dismissed early before I spotted a hoof hesitantly raised. “Ah! Yes. You there, nervous looking mare.”
An Earth pony mare with a yellow coat, violet mane, and horn-rimmed glasses wet her lips nervously before speaking up, “The, uh, criminal Maredusa. There’s precious little info available on her as she was from before Discordian Era and our readers will likely struggle to understand how a pony, even a former pony, could consider the vile actions she took. Did your fight reveal anything about her motives?”
“Ah, a very understandable question,” I noted as my head nodded slowly while I considered the best way to answer. “In my experience, the organic psyche can be a complicated thing and I didn’t really take that much time study her during the fight, but I will provide my best guess.
“From what I understand, the pre-Discordian era was fraught with dangerous elements. I’ve noticed that such environments can result in one of two behaviors developing: mutual cooperation or extreme focus self-preservation. While either mentality could get results, they each come with drawbacks: The former provides safety in numbers occasionally hampering a species’ progress and development, or coddling as some might put it, while the latter hones the ability to adapt quickly at the cost of competitive friction resulting in frequent disagreements and conflicts.” The crowd’s emotion shifted from fear to intrigue as my impromptu lecture went on. Even the Princesses stared intently at my uncharacteristically scholarly attitude. Enjoy while it lasts, I thought smugly. 
“In the case of Maredusa and her followers, they went to the extreme of spurning all forms of kindness, friendship, and compassion as a sinful weakness all but destroying their ability to empathize with others. In fact, you might say-” I flipped out a pair of sunglasses seemingly out of nowhere to the bafflement of several ponies “-she developed a heart of stone!” 
The joke was answered by dead silence; no speaking, no note taking, no cameras clicking. Heck, even the nearby crickets picked up on my scanners seemed determined to add nothing to the awkward atmosphere. 
Check the destroyer’s long-range scanners. I’m pretty sure several performers in comedy clubs across Canterlot just doubled over in pain from that one.
Real funny, Shields. 
 No, seriously. Check the scanner archives.
I blinked and did as he suggested. Sure enough, bio-scans had several blips indicated several individuals across giving signs that suggested mild to severe discomfort. All of them time stamped to his joke. Crap.
“Princess Celestia?” I jumped at the interrupted silence and noted a reporter with a lifted hoof staring at the Princess. At her nod reporter continued, “Ponies have often wondered if intelligent life existed in the galaxy. What answer would you give them now?”
Celestia looked from the reporter to me with a blank expression before turning back to answer, “The existence of intelligent life remains inconclusive.”
“Hey! I’m sitting right here!”
“Intelligent life.”
“Aw, why do you have to be like that?” I asked hurt. “If that joke didn’t fly I could just move on to the next one. In fact, I’ve already composed another fifteen hundred in the last few seconds. We can just keep going until we find the one that fits!” I gave a put-upon throat clearing, pointedly ignoring the looks of horror on the crowd, to signal I was starting. “Okay, here’s one. Maredusa and a drug dealer walk into a bar-oof?!”
I stumbled to the stage floor and heard somepony, possibly one of the guards, speak hurriedly into the mike, “Due to time constraint and need to clean up the crime scene, the royal guard officially moves to bring this conference to a close. All in favor say aye. Aye!”
“AYE!!” I had heard the collective shout and rush of hooves before looking up to a sight that widened my eyes in shock. The area was completely empty. Reporters, guard, Princesses, everypony had managed to clear out in an instant. I knew for fact it took at least two hours to get everyone gathered and situated in the first place.     
“Geeze, how did they pull that one off?” I muttered as I separated from Marauder’s body into my holosphere form. “I mean, I know the locals seem to like explaining everything off with magic but still…”
“Magic or science, anything can be accomplished when you’re desperate enough. The threat of your brain cell-killing jokes just gave them the motivation they needed,” Marauder commented as he idly stretched his limbs in appreciation of having his autonomous movement returned. “On that note, I’m assuming you chased them off to have some alone time to consider the weirdness that was your little episode with Maredusa?” 
“Wh-huh? What weirdness!? There was no weirdness!” I said a little too quickly as I glanced around. “There was nothing wrong. I was just moody. Needed coffee. It’s my time of the month back off!”
Marauder stared blankly at me for a few moments before speaking slowly as if to a mentally challenged child, “Jeff. We might be relatively separate entities now, but I was based on an aspect of your personality. I know you better than anyone. Also, you can’t have a time of the month. You are a robot with a human, a male human at that, personality molding your thought processes. You. Are. Not. Female.”
I pinged the data base and flooded our link with memories of millions of females of the species that our Reaper form had been based on. After letting them go through I gave Marauder the digital signal equivalent of a shrug and said, “Parts of me were.”
“Jeff.”
“Alright, alright!” I grumbled. I stared at the ground for a bit as I tried to figure out how to put my concerns into words. “Seeing that…that ignorant twat bragging about being a monster and how she threw away a chance for a perfectly good life over a superiority complex. It kind of brought a few of my own concerns to the surface. Stuff I thought buried under several millennia worth of recordings of crap plays and half-baked productions.”
“Wait. So you admit they were all crap?”
Marauder’s jab wasn’t even acknowledged as I went on. “A galactic civilization with billions of lives was wiped out. A killing machine witnessed the end of its kind and its purpose along with it. A human was abducted from a party with his buddies only to be torn apart and have his consciousness hardwired into said machine. All of things are a part of my history. And yet,” I looked up to stare at the cityscape around us. “And yet I can’t find any meaning in it all. I mean, thanks to that little experiment, I can feel all of the accompanying sensations: pain, grief, rage, loss, guilt. But it’s all just broiling beneath the surface without anything to focus it on.”
“Oh dear you, I thought you got past this existentialism bit after the first few millennia,” Marauder sighed exasperatedly as he sat down and hung his legs over the side as he readied for a long venting session.  “What with decorating part of your interior as a coffee shop and making hundreds of husks wear berets and snap their fingers as you recited bad poetry. Honestly, I’m still at a loss at how you managed to get all those berets in the first place.”
“What are we supposed to do now?!” I continued, my hologram bouncing as I really started to get into my rant. “It’s that stupid, vague command saying ‘study the workings of life’ that’s the problem. What does that even mean?! We’re here, but just what the heck do we do now?!”
“Well, here’s a suggestion: say ‘screw it’ and move on.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.” I stopped ranting and turned around to see Marauder staring at me without a hint of his normal sarcasm. “Think about it. Why would Inquisitor sully its ‘superior existence’ with a human mind? No matter how advanced or adaptive a machine will always be limited by its own absolute logic. It hits a wall and it might analyze the crap out of it for any weakness and come up with thousands of scenarios in milliseconds. But if the available facts say it can’t be done? Guess what. That’s it. Game over and it’s stuck looping in circles trying to find a solution that doesn’t exist.
“Now an organic? He might just say ‘heck with it’ and bash his head against the wall. He might just get a headache and look like an idiot. Or…he might just luck out and find that sweet spot just below the surface that the poor machine couldn’t find with its meticulous scanning and plans. It’s the biggest reason humans kept surprising us during the war. When facts stated they didn’t have a chance they held together with what they had, which basically amounted to duct tape and happy thoughts, and pushed on trusting that things would work out in the end. It couldn’t hurt to take a leaf out of their book when we’re a heck of a lot better off than they were.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“For starters, we have the several civilizations’ worth of knowledge and resources that come with being a Reaper. You managed to make friends, exasperated and annoyed as they be by your constant yapping and stupidity-”
“Your pep talk skills need work, Shields,” I deadpanned.
“-and you saved lives today proving that you are more than your origins,” Marauder continued unflappably. “Maybe the original directive will cause problems, but that’s for later. In the meantime, let’s work with what we have and move on.”
“He’s not wrong,” a motherly voice spoke softly. Marauder and I turned to see Celestia standing nearby regarding us with a kind smile. “Friendship, even only between a few individuals, has accomplished much in our world. And though you can be trying at times,” she stopped for a moment and looked to the side muttering, “very, very trying,” before looking back up and continuing with her smile of serenity™, “you can be sure my sister and I will gladly share our friendship with you. And after today,” in a latest show of this world’s view of ‘it’s magic beotch I ain’t gotta splain nothing!’ Celestia pulled a sheet of paper wider than she was from behind her and passed it to me via golden aura, “your list of friends has likely grown by a few names.”
Marauder took the sheet into his hand with a cocked eyebrow before spreading it out so the two of us could get a good look. It was a veritable elementary masterpiece of crayon and finger(or is it hoof?) paint. To the left was a group of stick ponies, a few adult ponies that matched in color to the hostages and several smaller ones under a list of names belonging, presumably, to hostages and their family members. The center had Shields with one arm pumped in a heroic pose and the other reaching out shooting crayon lighting to the right of the picture where a cartoon Maredusa, labeled princess snake flank in pink crayon, lay sprawled on the ground with Xs for eyes.
My hologram blinked a few times and my processors seemed to slow for a brief period as a vaguely familiar sensation swept through me. Having been alone for so long, I’d actually seemed to forget most sensations aside from rage, grief, or loneliness. As such, I found myself struggling to identify this feeling. Was it Joy? Satisfaction? Pride?   
….Marauder. We’re putting this on the fridge.
We don’t have a fridge, Jeff. 
Then prioritize making one! In fact, scan this and delegate resources at base to remake it in new size dimensions. I want a version of this picture big enough to drape on my hull and be seen for kilometers!
Marauder rolled his eyes as he replied, I’ll put in on the list, sir. Even as he replied, Marauder couldn’t bring himself to add the normal amount of cynicism as he gazed at the painting fondly. 
Despite not hearing the conversation, Celestia took the silence as a good sign and smiled. “Well, if it is all the same to you Jeff, Marauder, I think I’ll retire for the evening to recover from all of this excitement. I simply needed to drop off your fan mail as well as an assignment for tomorrow.” She passed a scroll with the royal seal to me that I idly accepted in a biotic field before she turned to make her way to the castle.
Before she left, though, I managed to remember something. “Er, hang on, Celly. Can I ask you a couple of questions?”
I heard a sigh and muttered *Does it have something to do with getting ponies’ permission before using nicknames?* before turning to regard me with her polite smile. “Of course, Jeff. What is it?”
“Well, first off, what can you tell me about Lamas in this world?”
Celestia blinked in confusion before sitting on her haunches and answering, “Well, they are species of pacifist camelids that are famous for their even temper and order of monks who master martial arts solely for the purpose of attaining enlightenment. In fact, while they will fight to defend themselves, they seem all but lacking any form of aggressive behavior.” She tilted her head before asking curiously, “Why do you ask?”
I hesitated as I tried to formulate an answer when Marauder rubbed his mandibles thoughtfully and spoke up, “Doesn’t sound like something that would scare a snake maned megalomaniac.”  
“Oh, you heard Maredusa mention them?” Celestia said in an understanding tone. “Yes, the monks and her cult have a…history,” she spoke the last word with a twist of her mouth as if the subject left a bad taste in her mouth. “Well, I’ll try to give you an abbreviated version.
“Not many remember, but the Lamas began as a warrior culture that could teach gryphons a thing or two on ferociousness. And that was before factoring their mastery over ki arts,” She stopped as she noticed our stares before clarifying. “Ki arts are a method of manipulating life energies that rivals magic in potency. Even my sister and I don’t fully understand it, though I recall Starswirl and others speculating that it’s principles may be linked to the Elements’ creation. The mastery of Ki and fierce countenance made them a force that even dragons would be reluctant to challenge. Maredusa believed she could make an example of them to intimidate the world leaders. The butchery of Tibit is known for being one of the most brutal events in history,” Celestia’s eyes hardened, “and Maredusa’s greatest folly. The Lamas swore every cruelty at that massacre would be returned tenfold and they delivered on that oath with gusto. The war continued for decades as hideouts were burned out the cult members were hunted down mercilessly. When the cult was ended with the last cultist slain and Maredusa banished to Tartarus, the Lamas’ aggressive tendencies disappeared, snuffed out like a candle. It would be another two hundred years before the world learned how deeply affected they were. A research team stumbled over an abandoned cultist facility. Upon seeing the symbol for Maredusa’s cult, the young Lama guiding them went into a blind rage. By the time she fell from exhaustion, the facility had all been but destroyed and she didn’t even remember what happened. Apparently, the monks found a way to direct every form of their species’ aggression into an instinctual hatred of anything resembling Maredusa or her cult. Even if the conflict faded from history and conscious memory, their descendants would insure the cult never had a chance to revive.”
    ….You know, Marauder? I think this whole world may have come into being just to screw with my head, I thought bitterly. Seriously, after several millennia worth of research, I was pretty sure we were mostly on top of this magic thing. Now we’ve got this crap.
True. This place does seem to have a way trolling us without trying, Marauder agreed ruefully. I can only guess how many breakdowns Inquisitor would have went through trying to logic any of this out.
I hesitated at another stray thought conjured by Celestia’s little history lesson. Also, why do I suddenly have this image in my head of a Lama in orange pajamas yelling ‘LA-MA-HA-MA-HA?’     
Marauder hesitated before choosing to ignore the Jeff’s stupidity in favor of asking one last question for the night. “I noticed something odd with Maredusa during the fight. Something that I’ve noticed in common with your ponies. How did goat traits get incorporated into your ponies?”
It was then that Marauder and I witnessed something from Celestia we never would have thought possible from her: she was caught completely off guard. Her eyes widened and her pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks. After freezing like that for a minute she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply then exhaled. Once. Twice. On the third breathing exercise, she opened her eyes and her expression was restored to its default serene state. The only sign of her discomfort one could see was a slight blush (Seriously! Again with the blushing fur?!) on her cheeks. She delicately cleared her throat before finally answering, “We…do not like to talk about it.”
The three of us stood there in silence, us in bafflement and her in discomfort, before she rattled, “WelllookslikeeverythingisgoodhereIlookforwardtotheresultstofyourtrainingtomorrowbye!” and disappeared in a flash of light. 
Marauder and I stood there gobsmacked before he finally shook his head ruefully, “Well that’s something I never thought I’d see since meeting-wait,” he looked to me quickly. “Did she say something about training?”
“I dunno. Maybe it’s in this scroll she left us?” I fully enveloped said scroll in a biotic field, unfurled it, and read through. After finishing it I stared in shock before tossing it at Marauder with a hurried, “Shields, head to the guards’ barracks and wait for me. I’ll meet you tomorrow at six sharp.” I noticed Marauder look at the wadded-up scroll questioningly and opened his mandibles to speak before I interrupted, “I’m going to make a new batch of weaponized towels…and go over the footage from our fight to try and make up a new fighting style. As a first task in earning citizenship, Princess Trollface says to report to the barracks tomorrow to train some guards in ‘The Way of the Towel’ that some of the hostages witnessed.”