//------------------------------// // Astray // Story: Harmonics, Inc.-- No Volunteers Rejected // by Cyanblackstone //------------------------------// Mission Summary—Mission 002 Start Date: 5/24/2039 (Earth Calendar) End Date: 5/25/2039 End Reason: Date contact lost with explorer team; attempts to reestablish communication failed. Attempts continued one week from End Date, but after no success, mission closed. Employees Inserted: Explorer LINE, CROOKED, Explorer SHOP, PAWN. Employees Lost: Explorer LINE, CROOKED (communication lost), Explorer SHOP, PAWN (communication lost). Mission Discovery Statement: Team exited Harmonics in a thick jungle, unsuitable for base camp for further exploration. After placing relay, team continued to explore jungle. Last data dump showed a possible artificial structure in the distance, but before closer contact could be reached, all contact lost. Evaluation: Mission Unsuccessful. Follow-up missions required. Summary: Well, it was only to be expected, really. Those two had always seemed shady to me, and the jungle was playing havoc with our comms. Pawn Shop and Crooked Line probably cut and ran. I would recommend, however, further exploration here. The possible structure could prove promising. If there’s another group of sentients out there, and we own the only portal to them—the kind of influence that would bring to our little company would be considerable. And, just in case they didn’t cut and run, let’s use some of those extra funds we’ve snagged with the help of Mr. Smith to beef up the next pair. We’ve certainly got enough money to throw around; I don’t see how we’re ever going to manage to spend it all! On a final note, it’s a good thing these logs aren’t public knowledge; losing two ponies on only the second run can’t be good for business. Compiled: TURNER, TIME ----- Trixie woke and realized it was morning. After the travesty that was yesterday, Roseluck had led the two of them to their own personal areas, which were, to say the least, posh. The rooms were like a penthouse suite at a five-star hotel. The only downside was that her door was across from Blueblood’s. But with everything else, she couldn’t complain. They’d even parked her wagon—and what little was in it—in the garage behind the building. She would sort her belongings here in time. Trixie had never had accommodations this nice, and she found she quite liked it. She slipped out of bed with a yawn, noticing her balance had notably improved over the last day. She stretched, but stopped mid-stretch as she was reminded that was a trigger for the knives. Really, that was inconvenient. She could accidentally stab herself while she was scratching a leg or something. They really should have planned a better trigger—or even better, not been insane enough to implant knives and lasers into a mare. But it was too late now—a quarter-million bits too late. She was going to be stuck here for the rest of her life. At least the rooms were nice. Now, how to get to breakfast? She opened the door and shut it behind her. She glanced left. Then right. Both sides looked exactly the same. There were occasional doors farther down both sides, but the white hallways had no distinctions to show directions. Who had thought that up? They’d come here from—the right. She headed right down that hall. After a while, she found a four-way junction. Trixie had no recollection of this intersection. Which way to the cafeteria which Roseluck had told her served breakfast? For no particular reason, she turned left, and then took an immediate right. This hallway looked exactly the same as the other two she’d been in. After 15 minutes of turning at random, she had found two furnace rooms, an air-conditioning room, and three janitorial closets, but no cafeteria, no lobby, no presentation room, and not another single soul. On top of that, she was completely lost. Just how big was this building? It certainly hadn’t looked this large from the outside. And why, for Luna’s sake, were all the rooms and doors (except the maintenance rooms, which she’d discovered after entering six of them and finding nothing important) the exact same in look? And why were all of the doors except maintenance locked? It was incredibly maddening, and she grew steadily angrier as she wandered the halls, trying random doors. ----- Blueblood hit the knob on the shower and toweled himself off. Idly, he checked the distance to the door with the rangefinder. Five-and-one-half meters. Quite a spacious bathroom. Wait. How had he known to use the laser rangefinder? He hadn’t experimented last night; lasers and guns were not things to be playing around with. Obviously the neural computer—eugh, he still didn’t like having a machine in his brain; it gave him the creeps—had done whatever Stitch had said. It was like he’d had it for years: so familiar as to be second-nature, despite it actually being less than twenty-four hours old. Interesting. What else applied to this mode of learning? It certainly was easier then school or study. He’d always hated those. Especially when everypony else was behind him in the class and he was reprimanded for doodling anyway, even though he’d finished the work five minutes in. Teachers were fools. A fly buzzed into his eye, and he blinked irritably, brushing the accursed insect away and squishing it against the wall. As he rinsed his hoof off in the porcelain sink (a nice sink it was, too; almost as nice as his own), he noticed a few words off on the wall out of the corner of his eye. He looked over towards it, but the words shifted with him, blurring his vision and making his eyes hurt. Focusing on the words, he noticed a list: Settings, Alterations, Diagnostics, Objectives, Comms, Weapons On/Off, and Partner Status. It was almost like he was wearing a full visor over his head—the statistics appeared like one of the video games that the humans had brought over and begun to advertise so effectively. Even he’d been unable to avoid the marketing, though he was proud to say he’d never bought any of the drivel about the devices. But how did he select an option? The top item blinked occasionally, letting him know it was selected, but no combination of hoof motions changed a thing. And they were really blurring his vision, he realized, as he bumped into the doorframe while trying to walk out the door. The pestiferous words refused to respond to anything he did, and they made focusing on anything else a chore, constantly nagging at his vision. How in Equestria was he supposed to do anything like this? He could barely move right, even with the increased assurance the morning had brought to his steps. ‘Or maybe not even that,’ he thought with disgust as he tripped on one of his cuffs and nearly faceplanted into the floor. ‘Accursed, non-responsive, annoying words!’ ----- “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Trixie screeched after yet another blank hallway and another maintenance room. ----- “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Blueblood roared after he poked himself in the eye a second time trying to comb his mane.