Hunt the leg. 59%
Twilight wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. Even with the knowledge that Apple bloom stopped being contagious once the material of her transformation was gone, even with their full-body biohazard suits, she still had the distinct impression that they were wandering into something she didn’t understand and would do better to avoid.
What does a strange machine meant to convert entire people into robotic substitutes of themselves do when the process is interrupted early?
Then again, if creating this thing had been the price of saving Applejack, she was willing to pay it.
“I don’t think we’re going to have to be too violent,” Pinkie said. She had a net slung over one shoulder. Twilight wasn’t so sure about that, so she had a proper rifle. “But I guess it’s good one of us has something, just to be safe.”
“You can tell me what you’ve seen on the way,” Twilight muttered, her voice low over their private channel. It wasn’t like the others couldn’t swap around until they found it—but so far she hadn’t heard any other voices. If Fluttershy or Applejack were upset with what they were doing, they were keeping quiet about it.
They walked for a while, and Pinkie spoke as thy traveled. In a near straight line towards the boundary of the green island, where safety ended and the ruined city the size of a planet loomed large on the horizon.
“So I’ve been the pony making deliveries—everypony was more important than me, since we haven’t needed my mining much. And… I don’t blame you for not trusting me with anything really important, after… waking up. Anyway, I was delivering things for Apple Bloom, and I noticed something creepin’ around. I think it had some wire, or maybe a sofa…”
Twilight’s eyebrows went up behind the plastic shield. “You’re not sure?”
“It was a small sofa! Anyway, I hadn’t seen any animals care about cables or furniture before, so I decided to investigate. Tracked it all the way out. You can see the border there.”
She could. Twilight didn’t know any better than the other ponies what kept their part of the world green and the rest lifeless. There was a perfectly straight line, beyond which no seeds germinated, and no grass spread. She could’ve cut it with a razor if she wanted. But it wasn’t an energy field, because ponies could cross it without difficulty. So could drones, which they’d used to make sure of that fact first.
Twilight had not needed to set any rules to keep her crew inside—the desolate wasteland just beyond the invisible line was enough that nopony wanted to spend too much time there.
Pinkie slowed, lowering her voice conspiratorially as they got close. Even though they were wearing huge suits with loud ventilators on the back. “I followed it to an opening in the rock just up ahead, and that’s where I stopped. I’m pretty good at following things, but whatever’s down there… it looked dark, and I wasn’t that brave, so I came back.”
“You did the right thing asking for reinforcements,” Twilight said through gritted teeth. “I wish the rest of our crew was that considerate.”
Pinkie shrugged. “Everypony’s upset after hearing about Equestria. Apple Bloom made us scared. Even worse than hearing our trip took a lot longer than it should have. Which was too bad, because before that seeing Apple Bloom was a good thing. It meant that maybe all the ponies we love weren’t gone. Anyway, here we are! See that hole?”
She nodded, slowing to a stop. It was about a hundred meters past the edge of life, a crevasse that looked remarkably flat along one side. More like a service shaft that had been gradually weathered down. Twilight checked her back for her equipment—she had a climbing harness, though that was mostly by precaution. Pinkie had one too, and she would actually be using it.
“And how did you know that we wouldn’t need weapons?”
“Just a feeling,” Pinkie said. “You shouldn’t argue. It’s better just to trust me.”
She didn’t argue, though she didn’t agree. Back in Equestria, Twilight had reluctantly come to accept Pinkie’s impressions. But these days, her friend’s instincts were… warped. Like her own.
Twilight reluctantly let her mind relax, feeling some of Pinkie’s thoughts drift towards her. She was perhaps the easiest of all her friends to be near—instead of a mess of contradictions and wild thoughts, Pinkie was exactly what she appeared. Applejack was honest with her words, but Pinkie was honest with herself.
Together they crept down into the gloom, down a path marked by bits of broken stone.
Twilight’s initial suspicions were confirmed, as the cave quickly gave way to regular tunnels, like the ones she and applejack had traversed. And after only a very short distance, there was signs of habitation. Dust swept away, an orderly arrangement of metallic spare parts. She nearly squealed in surprise when they passed a fallen pony toolkit, one with Equinox markings.
Light shone from the space beyond, giving Twilight a good view inside.
It was a makeshift workshop, or armory, built into the hollowed-out shell of alien ruins. Part of these clearly worked, and some of the machines were humming.
A figure moved in the gloom, much larger than a leg. It walked on two legs, with two sets of arms exactly like the body Node had used. Only this one was much smaller, more skeletal and unfinished.
As Twilight watched, a creature a little bigger than a rabbit slunk past it, skittering on six limbs of its own—metallic, like itself, without a skin. It offered a stolen welding torch, and the thing took it in its grippers.
Pinkie looked sidelong at her, a grin on her face. Twilight glanced past her, and realized she had a clear shot with her rifle. They hadn’t been seen—they would never see it coming.
1. Take the shot. They’re stealing things, they’re a threat. End it.
2. Make contact. Maybe a survivor? Node might not be open with us, maybe this alien will be better.
3. Retreat before being seen, do safer things until the rest of the crew returns. We should do something about this, but not without Rainbow for backup.
4. Pinkie suggests that it looks like the machines it is using are running low on power. Bringing a fresh energy matrix as a peace offering might be better than just saying hello. They’re also expensive and difficult to replace, however.
(Certainty 230 required)