//------------------------------// // Chapter 97 // Story: Voyage of the Equinox // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Node's: Use the truth. 84% Spike raised a claw to knock, but the door swung open on its own. He retreated a step—but it was only Apple Bloom on the other side. She was wearing one of those strange harness-things, making her stand vertically like he was. She was also entirely biological, just like he was. Just like Node. “I was wonderin’ when you would show up,” she said. “After Pinkie found her way here… she said you’d finally found yer way in to bust us all out of this place.” “I have,” Spike said, voice cautious. “Are you… against it, like your sister?” Is she? No. “Buck no!” she kicked the door out of the way with one of her hooves. The strange mechanism retracted and contorted, springs humming quietly. But it was entirely mechanical—Spike couldn’t even see anything powering it. It was just superbly perfect engineering. Just like the Signalers. They designed these. Node did say the Contingency was waiting for us. The house smelled wonderfully of homely foods, enough that Spike felt himself relaxing as he stepped in. Yes, this confrontation was about to wear him out, but at least he could do so with a full stomach. He would have to carry these memories with him, since he’d never eat again. Unless I want to come back here. Once I know the time dilation factor, I could pop up and down without anypony else even noticing. Spike had never seen their old homestead for himself, way out in the belt. But he guessed it looked like this—old farming equipment hung up on the walls, pictures of landscapes crudely painted, a huge chunk of iron banded with gold fixed to the wall like a trophy. Then there was the food. The kitchen was full of it, smelling exactly like home. No more powdered protein additives, but actual steaming vegetables. True, he often found pony food a little lacking. But compared to what he’d been eating for the last forty years… “Mhmmm,” he closed his eyes, letting the odors wash over him. “That’s real apple pie, isn’t it?” “Sure is,” Applejack answered, removing the pan from the oven with one clawed gripper and settling it on the counter. It was too high, like everything—but too high for a pony was perfect for these bipedal skeletons. “We both worked on it. Figured you’d be here eventually, and food don’t actually go bad around here, so…” “You know why we’re here,” Rainbow said. It wasn’t a question. Their eyes met. “We have a mission to complete. Spike says you’ve been… expressing some doubts about doing your part.” Begin social combat. Rolls are reflected in the Equinox channel. “It ain’t up for discussion,” Applejack said. “I’ve told him how I feel, and I assume he’s told you.” She glanced to see his face, then nodded. “Alright then. I’ve said this is the place for me. We’re dead, and that’s just a right shame. But it ain’t a half bad place to live. I figure… if we wait long enough, our families will find us.” “They will not,” Node said. Applejack stared as she crossed the room, then pulled out a chair and tipped it back, putting up her strange shoes on the table next to some country cobbler. “Because you are not dead. Your minds are currently being simulated on the hardware of the Contingency—an immensely powerful computer, one meant to be hidden inside a large comet and launched into space. There it could hide from the Hunger for a timeless eternity, one of a billion billion similar objects. Undetectable, unknowable, unseen. A coward’s solution… my own civilization’s solution.” “You aren’t dead,” Spike added helpfully. “None of you are, Twilight and Fluttershy have kept your bodies alive. I think there’s a way in this system here to… reverse whatever harvested your minds, put them back. We can do something like that, can’t we Node?” “You, Apple Bloom, and me—simple. The others—tricky, but yes. I believe the process can be reversed if the transfer was recent enough.” Applejack glanced between each of them. “You all… agree with this? Going back?” They nodded one after another. Even her sister, which seemed to hurt her the most. It was Rarity who finally spoke, though. “Applejack, we’ve all left family behind. I’m as eager to see mine as you are to find yours, I have no doubt. But we will not find them by fleeing into the machine. We must rise up and complete the mission we came to complete.” Applejack sighed, slumping into one of the chairs. She held out one claw, flexing the mechanical fingers. “I knew… I knew it would come down to somethin’ like this,” she said. “But before we go… I want a promise. One day—maybe a month from now, maybe a year. If we’ve done all we can, if we’re done with the Equinox and on our way home… I don’t want to go into the ice. This place is for me. I want to feel the gravity of a planet again. Grow apples again. Promise you’ll be on my side.” “I promise,” Spike said. The others agreed, or else didn’t say anything. It was enough. Spike ate along with the others, relishing what might be his last chance to enjoy so many familiar foods. He didn’t know these recipes, and there was no chance in Tartarus he was going to tell Applejack about brief trips into this thing, if he planned on taking them at all. They all had stories to share—what they’d accomplished while alone, the things they’d seen. Only Node remained separate, tinkering with a nearby console. Finally Spike wandered over to see what she had accomplished. She lowered her voice. “This is… this shouldn’t be my choice to make,” she said. “They’re your crew, not mine.” “Tell me,” he said, matching her whisper. “Well… like I said, a digital mind can go in and out of whatever system we want. But there are organics in here. Pulling them out is… going to be tricky.” “Explain.” “Well… the hard part is saving anything that happened in here. Think of it like… a buffer. They weren’t ever meant to go back. Effecting changes on an organic brain isn’t easy. The simplest way to bring everyone out, we just restore them to who they were right when they went in. That’s safe. Or…” “She gestured, showing him another plan. “We could disable these safeties here, boost the gain, and try to send them back anyway. It’s been over a year of subjective time for everyone here—it would be wrong to take that away. Good thing you have to decide, and not me.” 1. Send them back without their memories. [Rainbow’s stats revert, and anything else learned by the organic crewmen is forgotten] 2. Transfer out with everything [dangerous] (Certainty 200 required)