Make him a new Pone body. 69%
Twilight had taken many risks during her naval career, and she knew that allowing Iron Horse to return to the crew of the Prospector might just be the most dangerous yet. But no matter how dangerous it seemed, she just couldn’t send him away. If traveling out here makes us abandon what makes us ponies, then it isn’t worth it. We have to be true to who we are.
She said nothing to Apple Bloom, not for the next day while Node and Iron Horse worked together in Node’s not-so-secret lab. Then twilight called her. “Engineer Apple Bloom,” she said, trying not to sound any different. “I need you back at base for a report. Can you be here in the next two hours?”
The pony didn’t take too long to respond—she didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, didn’t require any rest so far as they knew. Twilight’s reports of her activity so far included little besides work and nervous wandering. “Of course, captain. I don’t have a definitive answer for you yet, but—”
Twilight knew that voice from her several encounters with Apple Bloom much earlier in life. She hadn’t picked it out before, but now—now she’d talked to Iron Horse. Apple Bloom was lying. “But you’ve learned things, right?”
“Mah sis’s new leg ain’t gonna be ready until the others get back tomorrow. I ain’t sure I can face her until she’s standin’ again.”
“You won’t have to,” Twilight promised. “I won’t even mention this visit to her. Meet me at… Workshop N, on the south side of camp. You know the building?”
About an hour later, she was there. Her saddlebags overflowed with scribbled notes, scan printouts, and mathematical predictions. Apple Bloom offered the satchel to her, then explained.
Does Apple Bloom understand the device? Critical yes.
“Ah got the computer to talk to me quick enough… that’s what she is, by the way. A computer. Not a bomb, not a poison, nothin’ like that. There’s a… I guess you’d call it a magical core, right in the center, integrated with the whole thing. It calls itself the Lifepod Prototype. Maximum occupancy, three hundred million. Standard energy utilization—roughly three hundred watts.”
Twilight stopped dead. Her anticipation of the surprise waiting inside the building faded into the background just a little, and her eyebrows went up. “What… does that mean?”
“I can go inside it!” Apple Bloom said, positively bouncing now, shuffling through the sketches. “There’s a… an entire world in there, bigger than Equestria. Empty cities already built, trees overflowing with fruit… everything.”
It called to me, Twilight remembered. She had felt the gravity, trying to pull her down. It tried to pull me inside. That must be what it did. "How do you fit… three hundred million ponies in a space the size of a hoofball?”
Apple Bloom shrugged. “Got me on that one, Captain. I know there’s magic than can compress space. Best I figure, someone spent energy the likes ‘a which we never imagined packing it all in real close. The tiny bit it uses now is just to keep the external sensor and everythin’ working.”
“When I got near it, it tried to bring me inside. I want you to shut that off. If we can do that, we could bring it aboard and take it with us. I’m sure there are Equestrian engineers who would love to learn more about it.”
“Sure. I can control the whole thing no problem, I can do that. I could bring it back tonight if you wanted.”
Twilight nodded. “Very good, engineer. But before you go, there’s something I want you to see. Gather up your notes, you can scan them into the computer when you bring the object back with you. After this.” She walked up to the door, then gently held it open.
Inside there were two ponies, made of plastic and jointed metal. Unlike Node, Iron Horse had wanted to make the changes to appear like a male earth pony, even if functionally the design was the same. He’d used body paint to give the plastic a gray finish that Twilight took to be similar to the way he’d looked in life.
Apple Bloom stopped in the doorway, staring in in shock. “Commander Apple Bloom,” he said, smiling weakly from beside Node. “Good to see you again.”
Roll on Iron Horse’s loyalty postponed.
In that moment, Twilight felt any doubt over the safety of this plan fade into distant memory. Apple Bloom dropped her pack, rushed across the lab, and one mechanical pony embraced another.
Of course, they’re really in there. You can’t fake friendship.
Twilight left them to their privacy. Iron Horse could work with his former commander—that would probably make things easier on her own crew. She had one more visit before the day’s business was done.
Twilight stepped into the medical bay just before sundown, shutting the airlock door behind her and finding Fluttershy at her desk. “Hey. How are our patients?” And no sooner did she step inside, then the rush of voices returned to the forefront of her mind. She kept meaning to prepare a counterspell for that, but… so far, her counterspell was isolation.
Sunset has healed 3 points of aggravated damage, meaning her health pool is now 4 points of lethal damage. Removing a single point from here on will allow her to return to consciousness, although she is still dependent on life-support.
Applejack has also healed 3 points of lethal damage. This means she is now fully prepared for the implanted leg.
“Sleeping,” Fluttershy whispered, rising swiftly to her hooves. She hurried over to Sunset, gesturing. “This one is, uh… we could wake her now, if you wanted. Whatever’s left in there is coming together. She’ll still be… fully immobilized for at least a week more. But I could wake her up.”
“Or…” Twilight prompted.
“Or you could give her long enough to heal,” Fluttershy said. “And not wake her up until after we give her the prosthetic legs.”
“Not to mention…” Twilight kept her voice so low that even a fake-sleeping Applejack wouldn’t be able to hear. “What happened to Apple Bloom… we still have those samples. If we used them on her… it might repair the damage.” She looked down, at a body covered with scars, with several tubes running directly into her torso, keeping her alive. She was already partially mechanical.
Fluttershy shook her head, but she didn’t argue. The message was clear—she hated that option, but it was still Twilight’s choice.
1. Do the unkind thing, wake Sunset now.
2. Do the kind thing, wake her after the prosthetics are installed.
3. Do the ethically dubious thing, mechanically convert her now.
(Certainty 235)