Synthesis

by Starscribe


Chapter 13: Ecosystem

“You won’t like it,” Clay answered, prying her arm free. He moved over to his equipment, and began opening the massive metal case holding his speargun. Except—what was in there wasn’t a speargun. It was smaller, more compact than she’d imagined—but there was no missing a rocket launcher when she saw one. The weapon itself was little more than a plastic tube with a sight and a sensor package—the rocket emerging from within was almost as large.

“Holy shit I don’t like it.” She stumbled backwards, eyes widening in horror. “How the hell do you have that here?”

“Can’t answer that,” Applejack said from beside her. “Was hopin’ we wouldn’t need it.”

“Hoping,” he repeated. “No way this one doesn’t cause an incident. Nothin’ for it. Hope you didn’t plan on coming back to Australia after today.”

The diving instructor had squeezed herself into the furthest seat, but she looked up then, squeaking in surprise and covering her face with both arms. Dakota couldn’t make out what she was saying anymore, but it obviously wasn’t words. If she had a Synth of her own, Dakota couldn’t see or hear it. I hope you live through today. I’m sorry my coming here ruined your life.

But there was nothing she could do to help, either. There was another way they might survive—if they let this woman and the ship be a decoy while the two of them bailed off to swim away. Better the ones trying to kill us die instead of some woman who just wanted to show us the reef. “How much longer until you can fire it?”

“Not much longer,” he answered. “Better out here than close to the site.” He kept glancing back at the woman, and Dakota could imagine why. He didn’t want them to be overheard.  It was more of the same for Dakota—she hadn’t been able to speak freely since the other night. “You probably don’t want to watch this. Maybe go to the cockpit and check on our ETA?”

“No.” She didn’t move. “I need to watch.” So I can make them pay. Maybe Bodhisattva had someone who could tell her why she needed to be dead. Or maybe Clay would tell her, once they could speak privately. She would have to survive long enough to find out.

Dakota couldn’t watch the speedboat coming directly, but she could see the rocket fire. There was a flash of orange, and a line cut across the sky so quickly she would’ve lost it if she wasn’t already looking towards its destination. The instant it hit, the visual filter disintegrated, and she could watch in vivid detail as the speedboat turned into a little mushroom cloud. The ship was moving so quickly over the waves that whatever wreckage survived the impact crumbled the instant it struck the next swell, a bright orange fireball that rose into the sky.

Dakota couldn’t look away. At least I didn’t have to see how many mercenaries were on there, waiting to kill me. Little mercies.

Clay pressed something on the side of the launcher, then tossed it over the side of the ship. A tiny explosion soon followed the big one.

“It ain’t pretty,” Applejack said from beside her, apparently speaking to Cinnabar. She hadn’t even noticed the pair of them conversing. “But their world never is. They didn’t give us a choice.”

Cinnabar shook his head. “You don’t have to justify it, Applejack. They wanted to kill my human, that’s enough. They deserved it.”

“I don’t see anyone else coming,” Clay said, tossing a few weights into his hard plastic speargun case, then lobbing it into the ocean too. “We better hope they aren’t, cuz’ that was my second-to-last ace.”

“Last ace,” Applejack corrected. “We’ve discussed this. We ain’t using the other one.”


“We hope we aren’t,” Clay corrected, unapologetic. “But she lives, no matter what. That’s non-negotiable.”

Applejack made an uncomfortable sound, vanishing a few seconds later. Probably they’re talking in private now. Even without implants I bet Clay can talk to her without letting me overhear.

But there were no other boats, not until their own finally came to a stop. Thank God whoever somehow got lies onto the emergency overlay couldn’t also hack our boat.

“Alright, time to remember everything we practiced last night,” Clay called, zipping up his thin wetsuit and hurrying over to his gear. “Get in the water, Dakota. It’s a long way down, and we’ll need the gear to get out again.”

“Right.” Dakota sat down in one of the hard plastic seats, her hands shaking as she pulled on the wetsuit, then twisted the air valve of the tank to be sure it was open. Lizzie had already made sure about all the details of her gear, but Dakota added a little more weight to the vest just in case, then pulled the whole thing on.

Standing with it on her back was… a challenge. The tank was steel, and there was weight in the vest. Her leg wanted to give out from under her, and she didn’t walk so much as stumble, holding onto the side of the boat for support.

“That’s it,” Clay called, gesturing over the side. “Just make it to the water. Have your hand on your mask when you go in, then sweep your arm to get the regulator. Start breathing normally as soon as—”

“I know!” she called, glaring across the deck at him. “I was actually excited about doing this. Nobody was supposed to get murdered around me.”

“We’re almost there,” Cinnabar said from just in front of her, urging her towards the edge. “It’ll be safe once we get down to the server, you’ll see.”

“Not sure how we could be,” she argued, her voice low. “Whoever’s boat we just blew up knows where we’re going. Won’t they send… navy seals or whatever? They’ll know where to find us, and they’ll want us dead even more now.”

He winced. “Well yeah, but… I wanted you to feel better about making it this far.”

“I feel not-better,” she said. “You guys have it way easier. Digital, immortal, safe. You could teleport back across the world any second you wanted and not have to worry.”

“I could,” Cinnabar said, sounding suddenly… hurt? Why should he? “I live in your brain, Dakota. I’ve been in as much danger as you. We live or die together.”

She made it to the edge of the boat. At least her mask hadn’t been shot full of holes, and she could hold that onto her face.

“Lizzie,” Clay called, standing beside Dakota on the edge of the boat. “You need to get back to shore and get yourself into a police station as soon as you can. The ones who came to kill us will want to eliminate the witnesses. I see your ship has a surveillance recorder—make sure you bring that in with you. If you forget it, you’ll be dead by tonight. Get back to shore fast enough, and you might live.”

“You didn’t have to say it like that.” Applejack was suddenly beside them on the edge of the ship, voice reproving.

“What, you wanted me to lie?” Clay feigned shock. “That’s not like you.”

“No, just…” Applejack swallowed. “Right.”

“Don’t we need the ship?” Dakota whispered. “I don’t think one tank is enough for a thirty-kilometer swim.”

“Planned for that,” Applejack said. “You don’t worry yer head over it. Keepin’ this ship here is a surefire way of gettin’ that poor girl killed. Hopefully they’ll see her as a decoy long enough fer us to finish.”

“Stay close to me as soon as we go down,” Clay instructed. “The water around the facility has been secured. There is only one viable route in.” He leaned to the side, splashing into the water and vanishing. His Synth seemed to follow him down, transforming in a flash of light as she hit the water.

Dakota clutched the edge of the boat, shivering. Despite everything she’d seen—despite the people who had died on this boat less than an hour ago, she found herself suddenly terrified. The water was a black abyss, with only vague outlines swirling underneath. And the boat’s propeller was back here—even if it wasn’t running now, what if it turned on and chopped her to pieces? She’d already been cut up once by the truck!

“We can do it,” Cinnabar said, touching her leg reassuringly. “You said you were ready for a case, right? This is our case. Biggest of our lives.”

“Right.” She pulled the mask down over her face, then flopped sideways into the water.

Despite her wetsuit, she was first hit with a rush of cold, bubbles surging around her mask that had nearly torn right off her face. Holding it had been good advice—but now she was sinking rapidly, and there was nothing in her mouth. The water was bright blue all around her, with Clay holding himself horizontally in it. And below them… a long way down. It was like falling off a building, only in slow motion.

“Over your shoulder!” Cinnabar called, zipping around her in a flash of brown scales. A seapony, who seemed able to talk just fine for the depths. He was right.

Dakota had been through a lot today, but she wasn’t about to drown doing something that even the stupidest tourist could manage. She lifted her arm over her shoulder, and caught the tube of her regulator. Once in her mouth, bone dry air rushed into her throat with a loud hiss.

“BC next!” Cinnabar called, swimming down around her in a bubbly corkscrew. “There, got it. Push on that a few times…”

She did, and soon enough she stopped sinking. A helpful overlay appeared in the water beside her, the dive computer’s estimate of her buoyancy. Automatic control disabled. New user please configure system.

Stupid computer. It realized she was someone new, but it couldn’t figure out that she was an incredible idiot and didn’t know what she was doing.

Something grabbed her by the arm, so suddenly that she screamed into her regulator. Bubbles blasted out around her face—but it was only Clay. She couldn’t see much of him through the wetsuit, just his eyes. He let go as soon as they met, then drew in the air in front of her. His fingers left a glowing contrail, spelling words.

“Follow me. Don’t touch the bottom, it’s mined.”

She nodded, whimpering into her regulator at that implication. What if she’d touched the bottom?

High above them, the ship’s engines came to life. She watched the underside of the boat as it turned slightly towards the shore, then left a foamy trail behind as it sped away. Good luck, Lizzie. Wish there had been three sets of gear.

Dakota wished she would’ve had time to appreciate what they were doing. The offshore processing node wasn’t exactly in the reef, but she could see parts of it in the distance. Visibility underwater was much worse than in the air, even with the water crystalline and shimmering. Bright colors glowed up slopes of distant sand, and many schools of fish passed over and around them in regular motion.

If I survive this, Cinnabar and I can come back here. Or maybe I could cheat and just visit a seapony shard. At least I could stay dry.

She couldn’t let herself get distracted—not by the wildlife, not by the increasing space of water above them. She swam ahead with gentle strokes from her fins, conscious every second of how far she would have to swim if she wanted to make it to the surface. After a few minutes, they reached the “not a chance I’d survive if my tank dies on me right now” territory.

“You’re hyperventilating,” Cinnabar said, settling one hoof on her shoulder again. “It’s okay, Dakota. You have enough air for an hour at this depth. Breathe normally, like they taught you. Pretend you’re sitting in a pool.”

“I’m not sitting in a pool!” she shouted—and somehow, the sound came. Not verbally, she still had the regulator in her mouth. There was a strange, echoing quality to it. Probably there intentionally, so she would realize it. “Woah.” She relaxed immediately, slowing down a little in her swimming. “Can you hear me?”

Cinnabar grinned back. “Sure can. Was wondering when you’d figure that out.”

“How about ‘Gee, Dakota, we’re always around spooks, so why don’t I teach you how to talk silently so we can privately conference about things?’”

“Because once you started you’d never shut up. Like right now.”

Dakota grunted into her mask. Whatever she was doing, it didn’t seem to work for anyone else. Clay hadn’t turned around, or even slowed a little in his swimming.

“Hey, great job Dakota! We’re here!”

Clay slowed a second, letting Dakota pass him close enough for him to point straight ahead. At first she couldn’t see anything—then the lights came on.

The entire sea floor lit up, as though a city were growing up from the stone. It was really just one structure, though most of it looked like it was buried in the rock. A single central tower rose perhaps twenty feel above the soil.

Applejack swam up from her other side, pointing. “Then there’s the intakes,” she said, gesturing with one hoof. “No, they won’t suck you in. Real wide, and got a nice grate over each one so fish an’ the like don’t swim in by mistake. Outlets are on the other side, and those you ought to be nervous about. Current could sweep you right into the minefield.”

Clay pointed ahead, and runway lines appeared in the water in front of her. They seemed to lead under a large steel overhang. Right, must be an air-pocket in there. Pressure holds it in.

“Time to see what Equestria really looks like,” Cinnabar said from beside her. “Hope you’re ready.”


Dakota’s head broke the surface of the water a second behind Clay, and her senses were immediately assaulted with light. It was as though someone had cut open the floor of a massive factory in the middle of production, and set the whole thing underwater. Though there was solid wall behind her, the interior had barely ten feet of drainage mats and hooks for their equipment before the production space opened.

Dakota struggled for a second to get herself in, until Clay offered a hand and she scrambled up onto the drainage mat. Getting out of her gear was a little easier. “Feels like… I just swam for miles,” she coughed, finding the air misted a little as it left her mouth. At least she had the good sense to make sure her tank was well shut before she lifted it into the plastic mounting spot. The wet suit was a little harder— and she only had her bikini underneath.

But whoever had built this place had evidently thought of that, because just past the drainage gate was a set of two racks, with little size indicators floating in the air above them. They were padded robes, negating the need for towels or walking around in swimsuits.

“If we were staying we could take a few hours to get cleaned up, have a hearty supper…” Applejack began, watching them from the other end of the drainage mat. “But that ain’t gonna happen, not after that fireball we made on our way in. Every second counts, so get dry enough to walk around and come on.”

Dakota couldn’t take her eyes from the room behind her as she spoke. She’d seen plenty of server rooms before, but none of them had prepared her for this. Down here there were no racks and hardware, only massive pipes thicker around than she was. The sound of rushing water roared around her, and warmth radiated from the pipe just behind Applejack. Yet the space was layered over with ponies, that somehow overlapped what was otherwise a pumping station and life-support section. At least a hundred ponies, working at stations three levels high. There were controls in front of each, a roller mouse for their hooves and something similar to a keyboard as well. Their screens flashed so fast that Dakota couldn’t make out what they were doing.

No time, Cinnabar whispered from beside her. “We’re on the clock, remember?”

Dakota glared down at him, but then flung the white robe over her shoulder anyway. It smelled like a hotel laundromat, but it was fluffy and comfortable and brought a little warmth back into her chest. If only she could get the taste of seawater out of her mouth…

“I need to go to the Moon,” Dakota declared, as soon as she was covering up her awful scars and wasn’t dripping wet. “I think I can do that from here.”

Clay laughed. “You want to—what?”

She folded her arms. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Twilight Sparkle told me that I could find Rhodes in Bodhisattva’s Lunar headquarters. That’s my case, so that’s what I need to do. Make sure she’s actually there, and I can get out of your hair.” She hadn’t been paid to actually recover the girl, which was a good thing. She couldn’t afford all those tickets, even on an advance as large as hers.

Past the pipes and life support section there was a compact stairwell, and it was there that Applejack led them. At least it wasn’t packed with ponies—there were teleport pads on either side, similar to the ones in Dakota’s own apartment. I can’t believe I miss that place. It might be an ugly cement block on the outside, but it had felt safe. Cinnabar was right. I really should’ve taken more time to recover before I started this case. Rhodes wouldn’t be any more lost a month from now.

Applejack didn’t slow down, didn’t even glance behind her. “I ain’t the pony to talk to about none a’ that. Clay and I are doer ponies, right? We brought you here, and that’s as far as we go. But we’ll be meeting with the ponies who can.”

“The other Elements of Harmony?” Cinnabar suggested. “I thought you’d be busy fighting off the, uh…” He lowered his voice, ears flattening. Apparently his information hadn’t come from legitimate channels. He glanced once around them, then said, “I thought they’d be busy in Beijing.”

Applejack laughed, voice bitter. “Have I got some great news for you. A certain private investigator really mucked that one right up. The one they had locally leading the operation died last night, and they pulled the plug on the whole thing. So the Elements have a bit more time than they did. Well, er… the ones who look out. That’s me, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash. Twilight and Pinkie… don’t really get out much. I reckon you humans would have a mighty hard time makin’ sense of what they had to say if you did meet ‘em.”

True, getting anything like coherent information from Twilight had been a nightmare. Dakota clutched reflexively at her chest, but no renewed attack of that strange emotional magic returned to assault her.

They emerged from the tight stairwell into a compact living area, obviously meant for the human staff of this facility. It was a single large space, with a few dividers into other sections. Cafeteria, recreation area, gym, housing. Probably they had hot showers somewhere, that Dakota wouldn’t be allowed to use. Because there was no justice left in the world.

To her surprise, there wasn’t a single human actually using the space. Over a dozen ponies moved about, either eating lunch in the cafeteria, or using the exercise equipment on the other side of a glass wall. Dakota almost laughed at the gym clothes most of them were wearing—while their colleagues worked naked, they exercised in goofy sweatpants and tops straight out of Rocky.

“Hey, Dakota!” someone called from the kitchen—another of those frighteningly-familiar voices, only there was nothing even a little bit calm or dignified about this one. Though the pony wasn’t dressed up like those in the gym, she sounded like someone Dakota might’ve met in a place like that. “Over here! You too, Clay! You aren’t gonna get another chance to refuel.”

The bright blue pegasus didn’t have a human with her, but she was hovering in the air next to the counter. A dispenser mounted there held rows of blank plastic tubes, with simple barcodes on each one. As Dakota got closer, the barcodes changed to pictures of food. A pizza on one, a leafy green salad on another, and many others besides.

“Right.” Clay’s hand hesitated over the dispenser for a moment, before selecting the tube with the image of a gigantic steak, tearing it open with his teeth, and squeezing it into his mouth. It looked like creamy grey slime, with particulate glittering inside. “It’s not as bad as it looks Dakota. More importantly, you won’t have to eat until this time tomorrow at the earliest. Also you won’t have to…” He cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly. “There’s a laxative patch on the back covered in plastic. Keep it with you, or… just keep it with you.”

“Ugh.” Dakota shuddered at the thought, but wasn’t about to argue. She picked the nearest tube, one that showed various steamed vegetables, and used the slicer on the top of the dispenser. Then she squeezed, and… she felt like she was chewing crispy, delicious vegetables. She couldn’t look down without the same vertigo that might’ve been caused by motion sickness, as what she saw and what she felt and tasted didn’t match up. Somehow she didn’t bite her tongue—probably part of the whole system.

“I’m not happy about how many systems can override my body,” she muttered, as soon as she’d finished the tube. There was a little plastic patch on the underside, and she carefully peeled it away before tossing the empty tube. “It feels like… all the implants I have are a mistake.”

“Except you wouldn’t be here without them,” said the blue pegasus, circling around them impatiently. “Was this really the fastest you could get them here, AJ? You know what’s going to happen to this place in an hour.”

“I know!” The pony stomped one hoof. “Whole thing fell apart. We were supposed to just glide right on in… but that wasn’t how it went. They got people onto the boat.”

“Of course they did!” The pony landed on the counter beside Dakota, looking her up and down. “This whole thing is really about you? I dunno AJ, she doesn’t seem like end the world material to me.”

“I don’t feel like it either,” Dakota answered, before the other pony could respond. “I don’t want to end anything. I’m just trying to find a missing girl. Kayla Rhodes. She’s been gone for decades, and now it’s time for the world to know what happened.”

“Ohhhhhhhh.” The pegasus nodded, as though that answered everything. “Good luck with that one.”

“We’re here to get Lunar access,” Cinnabar interrupted, hopping up onto the counter beside Dakota. “Just give us node access. We’ll be up to Luna and back again before you know it.”

“Oh. That’s what you want?” The pegasus took off again, circling around them. “Well, come on and let’s get everypony together. See what we can do for you.”

They passed through another doorway—more of an airlock, really, with a tank ending in a mask mounted to the wall in an “in case of emergency” box. They were apparently all over, though Dakota had a hard time imagining a pony bottle not bigger than her arm getting a person all the way to the surface. What about decompression? Half of her introductory lessons in diving were teaching her of the dangers of dissolved nitrogen, that restricted diving depths and durations and required slow, gradual ascents. Her diving computer was probably still counting down.

Through the airlock, they ended up in the entrance to a cleanroom—zippered suits with clear face masks hung on hooks all over one wall, not one hook empty. “We’d be here a half hour just getting you two cleaned,” said the pegasus, as they passed the suits. “Good thing we don’t care anymore. Come on.” The inner door opened with the blare of a siren and bright flashing lights that the pony ignored. She kept going until the door was shut behind them again.

On the other side of the doorway was a suspended catwalk, lifted high above… something. Thousands of drones buzzed through the air, each of which held a clear plastic container apparently filled with sand in their gripping pincers. There were larger drones too, rolling up and down mechanical lift poles that they could use with ease but that were too close together for a human to fireman-slide down. Not that my leg could handle the impact anyway.

And below them, Dakota got her first glimpse of a Consensus Node.

It was a single tank, with thick transparent walls as large as any commercial aquarium. It was a rectangle, something close to a hundred meters on each side. And rising up from below was a solid metallic superstructure, like the outline of a tree with a bulge in the middle and splintering roots and branches on the top and bottom.

It looks like the monolith, if it was made of metal fiber and covered in fungus. And around the superstructure, the tank was filled with… marbles? Not sand, exactly, but a glassy, transparent substrate that propagated little waves of light around from the roots. The tank was clearly filled with water, because massive outflows caused the beads near the top to froth and spin in the current, while those lower down were packed so tightly that the inlet tank barely jostled them.

“Everypony’s gathering down there,” said the pegasus, pointing to a lift at the end of the catwalk. There were no supports, not even a handrail. Dakota wobbled, then clutched onto Clay’s arm to keep from falling.

“Better not go swimming more than once today,” he muttered ruefully, letting her hold on. Together they boarded the lift, and rode it down towards the truth.