//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Recovery // Story: Steelborne // by Naitoshadou //------------------------------// Some people believe it is their thoughts that define their existence. Others would say it is one’s actions, their impact that gives them purpose. Still others argue that memory is the key. Owl, floating listlessly in a white, unbordered space, disproved them all. No thoughts clouded his mind, no emotions drove him to action. Without any conscious thought to who he was, he sat alone in a blank world. He did not think, yet he was. Then, sounds began intruding on his meditation, sparking ideas and concepts that he’d forgotten existed. The rhythmic beeping of some machine. The gentle hum of neon lights. The clicking of sharp heels, contrasting with the dull thud of boots and shoes against linoleum. But most of all, voices tore through his mind, dragging thoughts from the depths of his subconscious. “...sorry, but he’s still unconscious. You won’t be getting anything out of him just yet.” “Can you do anything to wake him up? I’d rather get this mess sorted out quickly.” The second voice sparked some recognition in Owl’s mind. He’d heard that person before, but where? Quick images flashed through his mind. A closed, metal box, a panel of buttons and switches… “He’s suffered a mild concussion on the border between his temporal and occipital lobes. If we try to wake him up before he’s ready, it could leave him blind or worse, sir.” “Well, at least he had the decency not to get himself killed.” Get himself killed? He’d heard that before. That’s right, this was the voice from the test. From back when he first got into the Mech’s cockpit. Suddenly, a stream of memories broke loose, drowning him in a sea of thought. His first discussion with the Mech’s AI, the storm of bullets from the turrets, the bot that had refused to go down, him nearly dying after being taken off guard, the pink Mech saving him, and him passing out while trying to protect Twilight… “TWILIGHT!” Owl sat up suddenly, sending the blanket that had been draped over his body flying. In response to his sudden motion, his head cried out in protest, sending a sharp spike of pain through the center of his mind. A female nurse and two male soldiers rushed into the room, just in time to see him fall back into the bed with a low moan. The woman hustled to his bedside, checking the machines monitoring his vitals, before addressing her patient. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here to help. Tell me what’s wrong.” Owl winced. Her voice sent waves of pain through his mind, despite talking at a normal volume. He whispered back, “Headache. Shhh.” “Oh, got it. I’ll go get you some water and a couple of acetaminophen tablets. Be right back.” The nurse’s voice had dropped to whisper. Standing up, the nurse turned to the other two, keeping her voice at a whisper. “All right, you two need to leave. He’s in no shape to answer your questions right now.” Larson responded, his gruff voice sounding like a cannon in comparison to the quiet from before. “Nurse Redheart, surely you realize—” A loud groan from Owl interrupted him. Redheart shot him an angry glare, making it clear there would be no arguing with her, though her voice remained a whisper. “Get out. I will not have the two of you disturbing my patient. I’ll let you know when he’s ready to talk.” The two soldiers left, followed by the nurse. A few moments later, Redheart returned with a glass of water and two small white tablets. Owl opened his mouth, letting her put the tablets on his tongue, before weakly grasping the glass. Noting how his hands were trembling, Redheart helped him bring it to his mouth without spilling, watching as he drained the entire glass. Once every drop was gone, she took the glass back and put it on a side table next to his bed. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” She whispered. A small head nod was her answer. Making sure he wasn’t going to follow up, Redheart stood and left the room. Owl felt his exhaustion overcome him, dragging him down into his mattress. Owl just lay there, neither sleeping nor thinking. The throbbing pain in his head made it impossible to do either. Shuffling a bit to make himself comfortable, he stared up at the ceiling, waiting, waiting for the pounding in his skull to cease. ----------------------- Larson jolted awake to the harsh ringing of his desk phone. It had been a few days since the test went south, and the resultant paperwork had made it impossible to get a night’s rest. Picking his head up off the stack of paper, Larson frowned as he saw that he’d been drooling in his sleep. The wet spot had smudged one of the signatures, meaning he’d have to redo the page. Wonderful. Letting out a tired yawn, he answered the phone. “Larson.” “Hello Larson, it’s Redheart. You wanted me to let you know when Mr. Nocturnus was ready to talk.” “He’s feeling better?” “Much. You can come down and talk to him any time, but we’ll be discharging him at the end of the day.” “I’ll be right there. Let me just call a few people.” The phone disconnected with a click. Larson pulled up his directory, hunting for a couple specific names. ----------------------- Owl tapped away at his phone mindlessly while sitting on his bed. While his head felt much better, the resultant boredom had nearly done him in. The room was designed for treatment and care, not entertainment, which meant he had spent much of the past few days staring at the wall. Now that he was on the verge of being released, they’d finally given him back the personal items that had been shoved into a locker prior to him being shoved in a Mech, including his jacket and phone. The door hissed open almost silently, letting in his caregiver, as well as a tall, gruff soldier and a well dressed woman whose entire demeanor radiated calm. “Alowicious, right?” The gruff man spoke first. “Seems we’ve got a bit of a problem.” Owl’s heart sank. He’d known this was coming. Illegitimate use of military property came with heavy penalties. The most he could hope for was losing his job without serving a prison sentence. “Al is fine.” At the very least, there’d be some people here who wouldn’t call him by that stupid nickname. The woman’s voice picked up where the soldier left off. “See, we’ve gone over the security footage, but for the life of us we can’t figure out why you were in that Mech. We see you come in the main doors and walk further into the building, as well as of you coming into the hangar and being dragged off by a pair of technicians, but we can’t figure out why you ended up in the hangar in the first place. Care to shed some light on the topic?” Owl’s cheeks flushed red, and he hurriedly mumbled something under his breath. The woman tried again. “Sorry, didn’t quite get that.” Owl spoke again, this time legibly. “I got caught up in my thoughts and got lost.” To Owl’s surprise, the woman’s calm demeanour shattered under the force of a full-force laugh. Owl, the soldier, and Redheart stared in shock as she finally managed to wrangle her response under control. Letting out a few more chuckles, the woman rightened herself. “Yep, you’re a technician all right. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen one of them wander off, both physically and mentally, only to come back somewhere they didn’t mean to be.” Owl continued to stare, finally getting his mouth to work. “Who are you?” The woman was taken aback. “Oh, I do suppose I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. Meghan McCarthy, head of the base’s technicians. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you ever since I saw your training scores.” Owl’s jaw dropped again. The woman before him was apparently his boss. “You’re Ms. McCarthy?” McCarthy’s smile lit up the room, though her calm didn’t falter. “Please, call me Meghan. We technicians don’t exactly stand on ceremony around here.” Owl managed to snap his jaw shut. The fact his boss and a ranking officer were standing in front of him couldn’t be a good thing. A gruff voice came out from the officer, the same one that Owl had heard in the Mech, and later when he woke up. “Meghan, we have a job to do. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of that.” The soldier stepped forwards, letting Owl get a good look at the collection of medal stripes affixed to his uniform. The name badge underneath spelled out “Larson”, clueing Owl in to his identity. “Why don’t you give us your statement. Then we’ll talk further about consequences.” Owl winced at the word consequences, but began his tale regardless. ----------------------- Larson nodded as the technician finished his explanation. That fit with the security footage, much better even than the bluster spouted to him by the sister-technicians. He locked eye contact with McCarthy, giving a tiny, imperceptible nod. Owl’s eyes were downcast, nervous. “I’m going to lose my job over this, aren’t I.” Larson wasn’t quite done tormenting the poor man, a small revenge for all the paperwork he’d suffered. “I’ll put it to you this way: you won’t be working at this base as a technician.” Al’s head slumped, and Larson could see his eyes were tightly shut. The soldier’s mood fell as a small tear slid down Al’s cheek. He hadn’t expected this strong of a reaction, and his guilt was vindicated as he felt a hard smack along the back of his skull. “Oh, stop teasing the poor man, Larson. He’s been through quite enough already.” Al’s eyes shot up. “You mean I get to keep my job?” Now it was Meghan’s turn to feel awkward. “No, not exactly. See, you can’t be a technician and a pilot at the same time.” Al slumped back over, before suddenly realizing what she’d just said. He shot up, wide eyed. “WAIT, WHAT?” Larson rubbed the back of his head subconsciously. “Looks like today’s your lucky day. Turns out Twilight won’t consider anyone else as a pilot.” Al stared incredulously. “We’re talking about the same AI, right? Focused, organized, a little crazy? I nearly got her killed! Why the hell would she want me anywhere near her?” “Ask her yourself. For now, your position as a technician has been officially terminated, and you’ve been given the provisional rank of Pilot Private.” Larson shifted to a more officious tone. “Pilote Private? But I have no training! Only people who’ve finished the Pilots Program get that rank!” “Consider it a sign of faith in your abilities. As for your training, we’ve gotten that sorted for you. You’re to report to the main lobby of this building at oh seven hundred tomorrow. The lobby, not the broom closet.” Al’s face flushed as he realized they’d seen that little blunder. Larson had noticed he’d left it out earlier, probably in the hopes they hadn’t noticed. “Yes, sir.” Larson collected his items and went for the door, McCarthy following just behind. As he stepped out into the hallway, he heard the head technician’s voice. “Before you leave, maybe check in with Twilight. She’s been asking for you.” ----------------------- Twilight was bored. It had been a few days since the incident, and once the repairs were done—fairly quickly, thanks to the skilled technicians and mechanics—, she had nothing to do. To a being where a minute could be a lifetime, days were an eternity without something to preoccupy her. The chessboard before her changed as her opponent, a off-duty technician she’d convinced to stick around, finally made his move. Bishop to B3, falling right into the trap she’d set three turns ago. The mic on the technician’s laptop, linked to her processing unit via a cable, fed her his verbal accompaniment. “Check.” Grinning like a madman, she moved her knight, taking her opponent’s piece. The knight blocked out the last place her opponent’s king, his sole remaining unit, could move to. “Checkmate.” The technician laughed. “Best of twenty-five?” Twilight considered it. “I think we’re done. I will, however, give you this.” The technician’s screen prompted him for a download. Selecting accept, the man laughed as he saw the file name: chess_strategies_for_idiots.pdf. “I’d feel insulted, but knowing you, this’ll actually be helpful. “I hope so. It’s rare that I get to share any of my library, so it’s nice to finally have it be useful.” The technician opened the file, watching his screen fill with checklists and instructions. Twilight grinned; she’d always been of the opinion that lists made everything better. The rapping of boots on metal echoed through the mostly empty hangar, causing Twilight to focus her outer sensors on the source. A recognizable owlish figure approached the technician, rapping on the metal desk to grab his attention. “Mind if I try?” Her pilot asked. The technician looked warily at the newcomer. “I’d prefer if you didn’t use my computer…” “I’ve got my own. Just need to borrow the cable.” The new pilot tapped the black computer case at his side. Twilight felt the laptop disconnect from her systems, followed by the click as her new opponent connected. He brought up the chess program. “White or black?” Twilight grinned. Nice of him to let her choose. “White.” ----------------------- Owl focused in on the game as Twilight made her first move, her white pawn sliding two spaces forward. D2 to D4. Not that unusual. He slid his own pawn to counter, blocking her at D5. Her response made his eyes narrow. C2 to C4. A Queen’s Gambit. Well, he had no intentions of playing her game. He moved his black pawn at E7 to E6, guarding his existing pawn and declining the challenge. Back and forth it went, with her usually making moves to pressure him while he played a defensive front, trading pieces as each pounced on the other’s mistakes. Slowly, the board emptied, piece by piece, until Owl held a pawn alongside his king, while Twilight had no pieces beyond her king. As Owl slid his pawn forward, guarded by his king, Twilight moved her king directly in his path. For the first time since they began, her voice echoed from her speakers. “Tie game.” Owl nodded his agreement. “Tie game. Well played, Twilight.” “Well played...you know, I just realized I never actually got your name at any point.” Owl grimaced. “Well, my name’s Alowicious…” Twilight didn’t ignore the hanging sentence. “But?” Owl sighed. “Most people call me Owl. It’s just a stupid nickname.” Twilight was surprised at his reaction. “It’s not stupid. It’s...very fitting.” Owl glared straight into her optical sensors. “It’s fitting that I’m named after a dumb-looking, mouse-eating bird?” “No, not at all! It’s fitting that you’re named after a wise, majestic creature of the night. You know what you remind me of?” Owl’s computer pinged with the offering of a download. He accepted, opening a image of a owl, silhouetted against against the sky. Though the moon was a strong source of light, it merely shadowed the features, rather than drowning them in darkness. The wide eyes stood out, drawing attention to the birds features. Wide open eyes contrasted the furrowed intelligence the animal exuded. Owl felt his breath catch. He’d never seen a bird looking so...majestic. Twilight’s voice broke in, not shattering his emotions, but supporting them, adding to them. “You are a wondrous Owl. Embrace it.” Owl’s emotions surged, washing away the teasing, the insults he’d experienced. There was only now, only Twilight and himself. He was Owl, not the scruffy rodent chaser, but the wise bird of prey. He looked up at Twilight, tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes and his mouth beaming. It didn’t wash away the past, the names and catcalls, but it gave him hope that maybe he could move on, and embrace the name fully. “Owl and Twilight. Sounds like the perfect match.” Twilight’s voice held a hint of laughter. “Indeed.” Owl closed the image, saving it away. He pulled back up the chess program, starting a fresh game. “Up for another game?” “With you? Always.” “Alright. I’ll take black again.” He was unsurprised at her first pair of moves. Pawns to D4 and C4. Another Queen’s Gambit. Grinning, he accepted, taking the plunge with his pawn and starting the battle for control of the center. As he moved his piece, he found himself talking to his opponent. “You sure seem to love this game.” “It’s something to do. If I didn’t play, I’d be bored out of my mind.” She countered his move, pushing her piece to block his path. Owl frowned, sliding his knight to take her pawn. “Can’t you just connect to the net? Plenty of stuff on there to keep you busy.” Twilight emitted a long sigh. “The technicians keep a steady control of what I’m allowed access to. I guess there’s some things I’m not meant to see.” The revelation unsettled Owl. There was something wrong with that, something just out of his grasp. He tried to focus on the reason… And was cut off by Twilight crowing. “Checkmate!” He refocused on the board, and, sure enough, his king was surrounded. He smiled. “Best of three?” Owl sat with Twilight a long while, hours passing by his notice, trading turns on the board as one game turned into two, then into several. They shared jokes and stories as they played, giving the other an idea of their past. Owl spoke of his experiences in training, fighting for a place in the pilots program. He described to her his old high school, and the people he’d studied with. Twilight in turn told him of her early years, of the technicians feeding her vast libraries of books and information, trying to develop her into exactly what they wanted. Owl found himself enraptured as she described her experiences with Bop, the AI that ran the base’s diagnostics. He’d heard of the famous experiments, of course, but had never spoken to anyone who’d actually met the eccentric intelligence. As time meandered on, Owl found his eyelids growing heavy, until he eventually dozed off with his head resting on the smooth metal table. ----------------------- The dark haired woman watched in anticipation as the last plate was welded to the Mech before her, completing the first step in her lifelong dream. She turned to the mousy scientist beside her. “Isn’t is beautiful, Dr. Clover? Doesn’t the sight of it just make your heart spin?” she clasped her hands against her chest like a lovesick teenager. “P-p-perhaps it’s j-j-just me, but it s-s-seems less b-b-beautiful and m-m-more frightening, what with all th-th-the spikes and s-s-such.” Clover had learned long ago that honesty was usually the best policy when dealing with his captor. She had an uncanny knack for rooting out deception. “Perhaps to you, but to me, how can the creation that will punish the Equestrian bastards for their crimes be anything less than beautiful?” Venom dripped from her voice as her hands clenched in rage. “Let them see only its shell, its carapace. Let them feel fear at the sight of it. They deserve nothing more than a violent death for slaughtering our people.” After a moment, she regains control, letting out a deep sigh as her body relaxes. “Start uploading the AI and interface, then begin prepping the drones for link. I want to be ready by the end of the day. No excuses!”