Offer a power matrix. 61%
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather carry this with your ‘magic’? This body’s abilities are not limitless.”
“Neither is my magic,” Twilight glared sidelong at Node, who had been heavily burdened with a harness and the massive square outline of the Power Matrix, wrapped in protective cloth with the cables drawn taught. The object was a delicate stack of crystals and conductive alloys, wrapped in an outer shell of thin plastic. They weren’t meant to be transported like this, but she also didn’t have another choice. Celestia help us if it decides to rain for the first time today. I wonder if we can get far enough before it explodes.
“And if I tried to carry it, it would bounce apart,” Pinkie declared. There were no objections to this obvious truth.
“These bodies are absurd,” Node said, as they reached the opening in the rock. “Carrying loads, that seems useful. I’m at a loss for how you evolved to an advanced civilization when you don’t even have hands. I couldn’t get this harness off by myself if I wanted to. If the two of you spontaneously died from your biological frailties, I would have to walk all the way back to camp to get the doctor to remove it.”
“You’re all heart, Node,” Twilight muttered. “Now hold still. I’m teleporting you down there. The opening is too small to keep your orientation on the way down without it.” She concentrated for a few seconds, then pointed her horn down. Before Node could object, she vanished with a flash of magic. Twilight still hadn’t teleported herself, not since using the Perseverance. She didn’t want to hear that voice again.
Unfortunately for her, the Insight wouldn’t do her much good negotiating with… whatever that alien was. She couldn’t hear its thoughts any more than she could hear the mind of Apple Bloom or Node.
“I was going to tell you not to do that,” Node said, when she and Pinkie were down in the cavern with her. “You could’ve transported the object and allowed me to climb. I can see from the way Pink operates her harness how the task is accomplished.
“Why do you care?” Twilight asked, her voice a low hiss. “Do you… hear it?”
Node shook her head, staring at her with concern. “Neither should you. That’s… not good. We must discuss this.” But then something rattled from down in the cavern, and a piece of machinery began to hum—a stolen saw, by the sound of it.
Twilight turned away, heading down the opening. “We brought you to help us negotiate, Node. Whatever this survivor is, they’re one of yours. You’re the one who knows how they think.” She had her rifle again, and Pinkie did too—the miner wasn’t nearly as good a shot as Twilight. She didn’t seem like she’d even be willing to pull the gun on someone. But Twilight hadn’t let her come without one.
“If you say so,” Node said. “I am… skeptical that we will have anything in common. I was purpose-built to interface with you. Another created like me would be constructed for other visitors. We might have as little in common as you do with the rodents who live on the Memorial grounds.”
She didn’t like that idea—but it was too late to turn back. And there was no point objecting when Node was obviously right. She led the way into the opening, keeping her magic ready if she needed to defend herself. It was good to put her restored mobility to use, even if she still had some bandages on her neck.
She made it far enough to see the same workshop from before. Now that she got close, the creature inside seemed—old. Its frame was rusted, and there were loose wires hanging off the skeletal joints. Both hands on one side of its body didn’t seem to work, so it used its other two arms for everything. And in front of it…
It was building a pony, not at all unlike Node’s body. It was still just skeletal supports at this point, though for an earth pony or a unicorn since it lacked wings. Still, obviously a pony. Twilight gasped.
The creature turned, and something leaped onto the table beside it.
A metallic animal, with two beady eyes and six limbs. Its tail was long, melting into the rest of its body with no clear division, though it was made entirely from metal and the plastic of Memorial floor-tile. The leg. Was it hissing at her?
Is it intelligent? No. Is it working for something that is? Yes.
The skeletal robot set down the stolen saw, which slowly spun to a stop. It seemed to stare at them with the same shock in their eyes—though it had only a single functional camera on its torso, nothing even close to eyes.
“You found me,” it said, in perfect Ponish. No weird accents or recreated recordings. It sounded male, mature and confident. He held up both functional claws, while the other two hung uselessly. “Please, whatever you’ve brought. Don’t hurt me! I wish no violence to you. I know it… must look bad. All I stole from you. But the situation was desperate! If you left before I could make contact… I would never see another pony again.”
“Curious,” Node said. “This creature is not broadcasting the correct interface signals. It has ignored all my whois pings. It is violating all of our wireless transmission protocols.”
Twilight didn’t draw her rifle, though she kept her magic ready if she needed it. The animal—the leg—backed up from her like a frightened cat, hiding behind the skeletal legs of this robotic creature. “What do you want?”
“To be with my own kind again,” he said. “I know you won’t believe me… I know this body is terrifying. Metal instead of magic. I’ve been working on a replacement, one that would be… easier to see. But it’s slow. Stealing designs from you, even with the help of Squip here… hasn’t been easy. And I wasn’t classed for engineering. Please, Captain Twilight. Let me explain everything.”
Twilight took a few steps into the workshop, gesturing for the others to do the same. She sat down on her haunches, smiling exasperatedly at the creature. “Whoever you are, I would love nothing more.”
“My name is Iron Horse,” he said. “Let me share my nightmare with you.”