//------------------------------// // Chapter Four - Emeth // Story: Sufficiently Advanced // by Lord Of Dorkness //------------------------------// Note from the author: Minor retcon in chapter one, Rainbow Dash is now in the asteroid belt, not the Kuiper belt. You may find a more in depth explanation on why here, but the short version is that I’d misremembered the distances involved… If she’d been in the Kupier belt, Dash wouldn’t have joined the story proper until almost the end of arc one unless I did a major ass pull. Since I hate when tech or gear shows once in a series and I’m trying to keep this reasonably hard scientifically, that option was a no-go; so a retcon it is. Somewhere in Sahara. Tuesday February 1, 2310. Bell family camp, a few hours past dawn... I was just putting the finishing touches on the Generosity Mk 21 when Sweetie started screaming at the top of her lungs... “What?! What?! Does not fucking compute! What insane troll logic fouled by smoking freaking magic fucking shrooms wrapped in weed and mixed with peyote spawned this insanity?!” Something small hit the tent wall hard enough that not only did the projectile whistle, but a hole was torn straight through the material, then that same something broke when it hit a dune a few hundred meters away, from the tinkling sound of it. Sweetie let out a scream of frustration that was probably heard all the way in Cairo. Impressive, since we were close to the Libyan and Sudanese border. “How the hell did this tripe get even a sequel?! I can’t believe I spent a hundred fucking hours on that only to be so utterly fucking insulted!” I sighed and gently placed the screwdriver in its case beside the experimental frame before turning to my currently fuming darling. “I take it from how you will need a new phone that you reached the end of Mass Effect 3?” I took how she let out another scream of frustration and buried her head in her hands as an emphatic yes. I trotted over and jumped up on her camping bed, put my hooves around her waist and pulled my darling girl into a hug. “To be fair, I did warn you. Want to talk about it?” Sweetie grumbled and her ears kept flicking angrily, so I pulled her down a bit and gave her a gentle kiss just above the horn. “That game is fun but full of crap, Sweetie. Don’t let it get to you.” Sweetia groaned and buried her head in my mane. “How the hell did that freaking ending make it past every damn discrimination group on the planet?” “It was made decades before the first AI, Sweetie.” I gave her back a few more pats just to make sure. “And believe me, that moral was brain-dead on arrival, even so.” Sweetie sank down and put her arms around me, hugging me so hard I got a few pressure warnings. “Not quite that hard, Sweetie.” I flicked my immaculate tail for emphasis. “This is one of the pretty frames, not one of the sturdy ones.” Sweetie relented her hug assault slightly and mumbled out a “Sorry…” I made sure to hold her tight while she mulled things over. Honestly, if not every darn person involved in that darn game was six feet under already they would have heard some choice words from me in an angry letter. I honestly starting to get a bit worried at the ten minute mark. I decided to at least try opening a dialogue. “...So, what ending did you pick?” “Destroy.” Sweetie was silent for nearly another minute before speaking again. “...No fucking way I’d let the slightest piece of those bastards live after all those atrocities.” It irked me slightly to hear such foul language out of the mouth of my darling girl, but I remained silent. It been a long time since I’d seen her so upset and it seemed best to simply let her get it out of her system. So to speak. “Dammit all. I just threw my main source of escapism away so hard it whistled, didn’t I?” I fought down my laugh, but it was close. “Just a smidgen of an overreaction, yes.” Sweetie groaned and buried her head in my mane again. “Perhaps enough of it is left that we can fix it?” I volunteered in a kind voice. “Still, try to remember next time. Throwing stuff when you become angry isn’t very ladylike, after all.” Not that replacing the stuff was much of a hassle, but it was a sloppy habit. That, and all it took was one baseline in the wrong spot for it to be another type of costly. Sweetie may have only been wearing a human shaped civilian frame with what that implied in strength and similar, but a projectile was still a projectile. “I know, I know…” Sweetie muttered as she disentangled from me and stalked out to find how much was left of her phone. I had just enough time to go and check a few readings on the Generosity Mk 21 before I heard a shout of triumph and Sweetie came stomping back, holding her near miraculously intact phone over her head as if it was the finest prize. Wait. “I’m sorry, but I could have sworn I heard something break…?” Sweetie’s triumphant smile became a bit waxen. “Uh, sorry mom. Our ride’s going to need a new window…” My ear flicked, but I kept my face level. “Fine. It is coming out of your allowance, but fine.” Sweetie scrunched up her face as she pocketed her phone somewhere in her dress. “Ugh, do you need to call it that? I’m 266! I’ve outlived countries!” I stuck my tongue out at her. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard any protest when I send you your allowance…”  I couldn’t hold it in and let out a merry little laugh. “Besides, you’ll always be my darling little girl.” I finished by blowing her a kiss. Sweetie blushed, but from the happy little smile I gave a verdict of mission accomplished. I turned towards the Generosity Mk 21 again, but made sure to speak in as sweet a tone as possible. “Besides, if you’d rather go out and find work…” Sweetie just snorted at that and came over to help. “Please, I’ve done that, remember? Honestly, if you don’t want to continue with the allowance you can go ahead. I’ve got enough book revenue still trickling in that I don’t need it, even if it is awfully sweet of you.” I had to blink and I even dropped the tool I was holding. I turned and actually looked at my daughter. I had to look up slightly as she was wearing a human frame and I a pony one, but… “Was it really so long since y-” I bit my tongue. Sweetie sighed and came over to me to ruffle my mane. I hissed out a protest. The smart-fiber might allow me to regain my hairstyle in moments, but it was the principle of it! “Yup, 266 Christmases since we met.” She tilted her head, shaped like the fully grown mare that a part of me didn’t quite want to acknowledge, as she thought. “Time’s fun while you're having flies, I guess.” I was just about to say something in turn when she ruffled my mane again. “Honestly, mom. Drop it.” She leaned down and mimicked my earlier gesture, kissing me just above the horn. “ Ned was the utter jackass that thought sticking a real AI in a animatronic toy was a good idea, not you.” She sank down on one knee and pulled me into a hug. “...Seriously mom. It’s been over two freaking centuries. I worry that you can’t seem to just drop it.” I returned the hug, quite possibly a bit harder than needed. “Sorry, I just… I don’t like how something that has given me so much joy and pride over the years had such a… stupid start.” It didn’t pass me by how Sweetie tensed slightly. “I meant you and me with something, Sweetie. Not you.” I pulled her closer and gave her a thorough nuzzling while smiling wide. “You are my darling little girl I love to tiny, tiny bits and don’t you ever dare forget it.” “Aww…” I giggled slightly as Sweetie leaned down and kissed me gently on the top of my head. “Honestly, mom, one day you’ll give us both diabetes with sweet-talk like that.” I tilted my head as an idea struck me. “Hey, how about we head to Al-Jawf for some R&R slash taste of civilization?” Sweetie let out a hum and scratched at her muzzle. “Hmm, well we would take that place to the lofty heights of being a three horse town, so I guess that’s a good cause...” I let out a small snort and smacked her softly on the butt, making her jump and yelp slightly. “Be nice, Sweetie…” “Fine, fine...” Sweetie mumbled as she rubbed her behind, before speaking up and pointing outside. “You lock up here, and I’ll go see how much I can do about that windshield.” I just barely fought down a wince. It wasn’t impossible by any means… but glass was just getting surprisingly expensive to get ahold off. Industrial sapphire had just dropped so much in price most didn’t see a point in the less durable alternative anymore… I stopped mid-tap, staring at the hoof I was using to drum a beat against my cheek. Sweetie smirked at me. “Senior’s moment, eh?” I let out a hot snort and waved her off. “You go deal with your mess, and I’ll clean up mine, ‘kay?” Sweetie waved me off, before grabbing some stuff and heading out. I spent a moment after she’d left just staring at my hoof, but ultimately I just shrugged it off. “Perhaps I should stop being a hypocrite about upgrading that darn car…” I mumbled, before trotting over to the MK 21 again. Superficially, it looked very much like the frame I was wearing (If in a state of assembly and fine-tuning). However, the pony in front of me was in diagnostic mode, and as such, stark white from neck to tail. Oh, and anatomically correct, but I doubted I’d ever use this particular body in that regard. It was more of a physiological thing, just in case. I doubted I would ever need to all but bolt my neck onto a single body and run like hell… but if I ever do, I’d prefer it to be with a body with all the extras. It was a bit disconcerting to see what almost looked like a living being lay beheaded on a table with a dozen cables running down into its neck cavity… but eh, you get used to it. For a few moments, I was quite tempted to just strap the base module of Generosity on, get one of my dresses, and take that for a night on the town… Still, as much as the thought made me smile, it was hardly advisable to run a prototype siege frame through the ringer surrounded by civilians. Call me a cynical if you must, but that simply sounded like a scenario that might end up the wrong type of messy. My eyes drifted to the ‘armor’ laying next to the frame itself; it also stark white and mostly powered down in a diagnostic. Well, at least I wasn’t quite mad yet to even consider taking the whole thing for a stroll through town. Focusing my mind on the right gauntlet, a blue field of energy formed around it; the bit of ‘armor’ twisting, pulling off and then floating over towards me. Now, Generosity was a beast apart from what I was wearing. Stronger generators, bigger capacitors, military grade artificial muscle compared to civilian, stealth capabilities… I raised my current right hoof, the pelt in a few choice spots sliding in and away, revealing ports along my hoof's side, and a pencil-sized hole opening up in the middle of my frog. Still, ‘tis a poor artificer that, heh, bets everything on one horse. It would be like having a induction hardened steel edge on a sword with a core made from cotton candy, but I’d made sure all my civilian frames had the right interfaces, just in case. It wasn’t much of a design concern on most of them (at least the equine ones) and if nothing else, it aided in testing. Letting out a small grunt, I slid the gauntlet over my hoof. Aside from the central fastening spike sliding into me, a sensation I might never get used to, it honestly was just like putting on a glove. With a sensation I doubt even English has the right words for quite yet, a hunk of metals and plastic became part of my arm, without ever actually changing. With a smile, I furled and unfurled my fingers, simply delighted with the response time and precision I could move the lithe fingers. Perhaps it is psychosomatic, especially in conjecture with how grueling the process used to be... but I swear the ‘handshake’ between my systems, any new systems and me, just kept getting faster. Honestly, the console usually didn’t even have time to render most of the time for me, not unless I tried interface with something really big and complex. I tilted my head and gave myself a scratch with a finger on my chin. Could there be a measure of actual skill to coupling, not just hardware doing its thing? If so, would it really have been noticed? Most full body cyborgs I know off just had one or at most two bodies they tend to switch between, and that was if they didn’t outright just have one they were hardwired into… I gave a shrug, before simply making a note of it in my PDA and pulling off my ‘hand.’ A interesting enough line of inquiry, but I doubted there was any way of proving it without some rather invasive scans on me, my friends and a group of ‘fresh’ volunteers for comparison. Hardly impossible or beyond my means, but now was hardly the time. A project for a rainy day, perhaps? “Hey, mom, the continents just shifted and planets aligned!” Sweetie shouted from outside in mock cheer.“Should I and the rest of the cult elders start preparing the goats for the sacrifice to ease your glorious return to the mortal plane, or do we skip the dramatics just this once?” I fought down a snort. “Skipping on formality is one thing, but a Lady needs to have some standards.” I faked a mortified gasp. “I mean. what if the other elder things start to think I’m some trollop that will answer any two-bit cultist with three bits of wood and some mouse blood?!” “Yeah, and that would be just dreadful,” Sweetie snarked my way. “It’s not like your daughter wanting to see you this eon might be mitigating circumstances, or anything.” It was horrible of me, but I simply had to muffle a few giggles with my hoof, before solemnly playing along again. “Any chickens and chalk left? We just might be able to improvise something small but still tasteful.” Sweetie let out a fake gasp of joy. “She-Who-Accessories-To-Death has spoken! Praised be!” My daughter cut the sarcasm and continued in a normal, if slightly irritated tone. “Seriously though, mom, we’re burning daylight here. Not that I’m totally against driving at night, but I’d rather have this be a one day round trip.” Pausing only to mutter out: “Fine, fine…” before raising my voice again. “Just let me get dressed!” I ignored the groan of clearly faked despair, and instead went to work. I did however stop a moment to put Generosity into lock-down. The chances of anybody finding our small camp in the middle of Sahara and having the necessary implants might be next to nil but I’d rather not risk it, even so. Besides, it was just a few button presses, a quick stop at my bags, and out of the tent I went. As I passed the threshold of our tent, my eyes adjusted near instantly. Still, I’ll give the Saharan sun its dues: for just a few moment I got a flash-bang warnings, and my systems started drafting tactical options. I blinked, and made note that perhaps it was time for an actual hardware upgrade above the neck. My current phylactery might have served me extremely well and I was loathe to take the chance such an operation carries with it... but on the other hand, twenty-ish years is a quite the eternity when it comes to tech. Perhaps I could ‘just’ exchange out most of my current hardware, and actually leave the ‘bones’ for a later date? Probably wouldn’t work with most of the stuff, but things like ears and eyes should be easily… My mane danced around me, as I dislodged the errant thought with a shake. Although a valid concern, now was not the time for it. I came out to the sight of Sweetie laying legs and arms splayed on the hot sand, with her tongue hanging out, eyes rolled up, and a holographic lily ‘clutched’ over her chest. There was also a message hovering in the air, atop what was clearly meant to look like a small tombstone, and it read: Here Lies Sweetie-Bot Bell, Cut Down In The Prime Of Her Youth, Because Her Cruel Mother Apparently Got Lost In The Cloth Tardis She Calls Her Carry-on Luggage Without Irony 24/DEC/2043 - 01/FEB/2310 R.I.P. Truly, The Good Die Young I fought down a pang of irritation. “It was fifteen minutes at most, you drama queen.” Sweetie blinked ‘awake.’ “Gree-tings, hu-man. What horrible calamities have befallen while I slept through the ages long past?” “Well, for one I think you missed the global decree that humor must now actually be funny.” Sweetie clasped both hands to her cheeks, and let out a scream of ‘anguish.’ With a roll of my eyes, I stepped around her, and trotted off towards the car. Sweetie jumped to her feet, brushing herself off mid stride as she caught up with me. “Well, it ain’t pretty, but it should work for now.” She then gave me a rather meaningful once-over. “And you’re really sure you intent to walk around in public like that?” I smirked and tipped my fedora. “Now, I’ve never claimed to be a mare of grace and good taste, now have I?” “Still.... you, dressed as Indiana freaking Jones?” My daughter, disbelief all over her face, held her level hand a bit over her own head. “Isn’t that a whole new level of nerd, beyond which mere mortals dare not tread for fear of being consumed by such dread, dork forces?” I chuckled happily with a gleam in my eye, as I brushed some sand off my jacket. “What’s the point of being a badass cyborg if you can’t wear leather in the Sahara?” “Catastrophic overheating tends to kill the, you know, cool factor, mom. Just saying.” With a huff and my nose in the air, I hurried ahead. Now, something of a technophile I may be… but I happen to be quite proud of my ancient Jeep. A Jeep Wrangler 2222 ‘Helios,’ to be precise. Two seats, two doors, covered in golden solar panels that shined nearly as bright as the day I bought it, capable of going half-way across near any continent you cared to name with a single charge. I felt my ears and eyebrow twitch. And straight over where both of the side-windows should have been, there was now two neat webs of duct-tape. “The wonders of modern technology, huh?” Sweetie let out a nervous cough, and fidgeted from foot to foot; her shoes making the sand underneath creak. “Guess we might need to keep an extra eye on those dastardly nature diddlers, or they might kill polio again, or something!” I frowned, and I had to admit my irritation went away as Sweetie laughed nervously. “Dear,” I said kindly, turning towards her, “is something the matter? You’ve been making a lot of tech jokes lately…” Sweetie made an irritated grimace, and waved me off. “Those anti-tech idiots were bellyaching a lot on TV, the web, and near every other hypocritical medium there is for them to do so on, just before we left.” She shrugged, and cut me off from the driver’s seat. “Now, I’m no analyst or anything, but it sounded as if things are nearing powder-keg levels, and as one of those ‘crimes against nature and humanity’ they like to scream about I’m just a bit on edge.” Normally I was quite paranoid about who got to drive my darling, but I got the feeling Sweetie needed the vote of confidence, so I went for the passenger's seat without protest. It was a bit uncomfortable in the human style seat, especially with the whip on my hip and the messenger’s bag, but still, nothing much to worry about. Speaking of my whip, Sweetie poked it with a single extended finger, looking amused. “Really?” I blew a raspberry her way. “And you think an actual gun would make it past the border without potentially causing a lot of trouble?” Reluctantly, Sweetie nodded, before freezing. “...Did we hook the trailer off?” I gently, but firmly pointed towards the thing. Clear on the other side of our camp. “Are you sure you’re OK, Sweetie? It’s been a long time since I saw you this distracted…” Sweetie did another grimace as she turned the keys, making the car hum to life. “Look, you didn’t hear this from me, but even auntie Celestia seemed a bit worried the last time I talked with her, and you know the type of processing power she has nowadays.” A dark chuckle filtered through the air, as Sweetie started driving off. “You’d think the freakin’ genius plan of building a real-world Skynet ending with the girl retooling herself after a cartoon horse would send a strong enough signal about how we AIs see humanity, but…” I let out a hum of agreement. “To act as devil’s advocate, though? Seeming harmless is a common enough defense —just look at Pinkie and Fluttershy, for example, and the ‘cartoon horse’ in question is somebody that took ‘Sol Invictus’ as a challenge.” I plopped my fedora off my head and started fanning myself. “Besides, that stunt she pulled to be seen as a person instead of an over glorified control-panel all those years ago?” Despite the heat, a shiver raced down my spine. “Celestia could have done something a lot darker with those drones than spell out ‘help’ over every state in America.” Sweetie had to brace against the wheel as we started climbing a dune, but she still grimaced slightly. “Honestly, mom, you were a good owner, and I still can’t say three years of being a ‘thing’ was very fun. Not when I started figuring things like that out, at any rate.” I know she didn’t mean it like that, but a pang of guilt raced over my heart. “I know I’m biased, but in my book? The girl deserves a freaking Saint in front of her name after eleven years of that crap. And in the military, at that?” It was just as well we she was driving in a desert, because Sweetie’s eyes unfocused to the point it was rather clear she wasn’t seeing the ‘road’ at that moment. “Telling you, mom, I doubt I could have found it in my heart to be that angry, even if she’d gone the ‘Ming The Merciless’ route.” I frowned a bit. “Really? That’s the conqueror you're going with as an example?” Sweetie did a so-so gesture with one hand, as her eyes refocused on the road. “Hey, anybody that can rock that beard, those eyebrows and popped collar; all while still looking menacing?” My daughter let out a growl and wiggled her eyebrows in a way that I swear set my ears on fire. “Don’t know about Zod, but now there’s a dark lord I wouldn’t mind ‘kneeling’ before, if you know what I mean!” Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t quite stop a small smile. “Oh? But I thought you hated that movie?” Sweetie’s smile vanished like a 3D-printer that had been too close to Pinkie or Fluttershy for too long. “We do not talk about the 2300 movie.” I almost bit my own tongue as we hit a bump while I was giggling. We drove in silence for a bit after that. I took the opportunity to dig out my canteen and refill it from the AWG I’d had installed instead of that useless glove-department. Both me and Sweetie took a couple of gulps before I put the thing back into my bag again. Sweetie let out a soft hum, while wiping her muzzle on the back of her hand. “Hey, mom?” “Yes?” She gently tapped her temple without taking her eyes of the ‘road.’ “Have you ever thought about going… well, all the way?” My daughter did a small shrug, just as we hit a patch of gravel. “Not that you slash we would need to go the ‘jam ourselves into an asteroid and calculate pi until we hit Alpha Centauri’ route, or whatever.” Sweetie lifted a single hand of the wheel and did air-quotes with it. “‘Just’ going the destructive upload route, and waking up with a few dozen IQ points more. That ever crossed your mind?” I frowned for a bit, before answering. “Why do you ask?” As answer, Sweetie patted the pocket with her phone. “Assimilation, or whatever cutesy name the green ending was called. You know, the one where every biological and synthetic being basically gets turned to Borg against their will, and this is somehow a good thing? Just came to think about it and got curious at your answer, that’s all.” Must admit, that answer lessened my frown, but it didn’t disappear completely. “And you?” Sweetie did a grimace of disgust. “No offence, mom, but I honestly can’t imagine even walking around with my most important bits being that squishy. I’d have a panic attack if I so much as stubbed my toe!” Sweetie jerked her shoulders in a single shrug. “Say what you want about the whole ‘soul’ thingy, but do-it-yourself reincarnation seems good enough an afterlife for me.” With an adorable little smile, Sweetie winked at me. “And hey, you even got to keep all your stuff!” Have to admit, that made me throw my head back and laugh. Before long, a thought came to me, though, making me frown. “Didn’t you say you picked the red ending?” “Oh, there is no way I’m playing through that crap again, so I took a peek at the files for the other endings.” Sweetie gave a slow, sad shake. “Honestly thought I’d gotten one of those trick bad ending first. You know, like in S.T.A.L.K.E.R.? But no~o, it was apparently the best and freaking canonical ending…” I gave a small shrug. “Makes sense.” “And the answer you’re trying to make me not notice you never gave?” It was a good, solid twenty minutes or so, of thinking while resting my head against my hoof and staring at the horizon, before I answered. “What if the dualist philosophy is right? If there is such a thing as a soul, and we just can’t notice it because it exist separately from the material?” She clearly tried to pretend not being bothered, but I saw Sweetie’s shoulders tense slightly. “Well, by that ‘logic’ the animists just might be right, and I’ve got one of those things.” My daughter looked down, and gave the steering wheel a really odd look. “...Although in that case, I’m a bit weirded out that you almost fuss over my ‘little brother’ here more than me.” I stuck out my tongue at her. “Well, if we follow that logic in turn, wouldn’t a car that can’t even drive itself nowadays be your retarded little brother, and need more care?” Sweetie spluttered, and gave me a glare. “Really, mom? Really?” I waved her off. “I meant it medically, Sweetie, not as a slur. Besides, we’re just the two of us, and in the middle of Sahara at that.” Some snark crept into my voice. “Who’s going to complain, the invisible thought police?” She didn’t look happy about it, but with a grumble Sweetie leaned back and started driving again. “Come now,” I told my fuming daughter, “an obsolete word, for an obsolete diagnosis? Surely that fits.” I gave a shrug. “Heck, I’ve been bisexual ever since I got that memory implant. Why not, when they had to prod my egg salad anyway, right? Can you even imagine if I’d gotten dragged back to the start of, say, the twenty-first century somehow and dropped that philosophical city-buster on some poor chaplain, somewhere?” Despite herself, Sweetie giggled. “Yeah, and out of that cute little snout? I’m sure that wouldn’t have caused a splash at all!” “Yeah…” I smiled at the silly thought for a bit, before getting serious again. “But still, your question? What if there is a soul, but not even a destructive upload is accurate enough to call such a thing back?” Sweetie’s hands tightened a bit on the wheel, but she said nothing. “Now, if it comes to that, then it comes to that.” Gently, I put my hoof on her lap, as I smiled as wide as I could her way. “But I frankly can’t think of any worse hell, than looking up —or down, and seeing you call another woman ‘mom.’ Surely that is worth clinging as —well, I don’t want to insult what might one day be the next best thing to my twin sister, but you know what I mean if I say ‘real me,’ right?” Slowly, we coasted to a halt, and Sweetie had to blink away a few tears as she looked my way. “Mom, that might be the sappiest argument I’ve ever heard.” I laughed merrily and patted her hand again. “Isn’t that in the ‘mommy’ job description?” I fluttered my eyelashes to Sweetie’s clear embarrassment. “You know, making ones daughter just crimson from embarrassment on what saccharine ol’ sops they can be at the slightest provocation?” Sweetie let out a ‘daw’ sound, and reached over to ruffle my mane again; sticking her hand under my hat to do so. As to not ruin the moment, I only let out a small hiss of warning. Let there never be said that Rarity Bell is unsubtle. Why, I even used only a single hoof to swat her hand away. Hand to her muzzle, Sweetie let out this adorable giggle. “Love you, mom,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, making my heart flutter, “even if you are crazier than a ba-” Zot. I blinked in surprise, for a moment not quite registering what I was seeing. Then Sweetie toppled over, a single glowing dot between her rapidly unfocusing eyes. My body, quite literally, reacted before I did. Safeties and limiters disengaging, my jaw locking to stop me from screaming and the safety belt tearing as my body moved on its own accord to get down as fast as possible. Zot. Ironically, had I not been wearing my belt, I might have made it without damage. As it was, I got the less than pleasant experience of having the top centimeter or so of my horn bisected; sending a jolt of pain through me, and a whole host of error messages over my HUD. The really horrible implication hit me nearly as fast as my tactical systems figured it out, though. Now, I’m good, but dodging lasers good? No chance. That’s the type of stuff you need luck to pull of, no matter what you’ve got running under the hood. So somebody wanted me alive. There was only one reason I could think of why somebody would try to disable me, but go for the k- I almost lost it. Just curling up, and crying; no matter how bad an idea it might have been. With some dark irony, it was actually something in Sweetie’s body malfunctioning that snapped me out of it. I didn’t actually have the specs on her current body since I respected her privacy and she’d proven responsible enough not to go for the acid spit, laser eyes, or other crap with near nil use outside bad comic books. Still, no matter what it was, whatever was now hammering her side from the inside made me actually remember a very, very important rule about combat nowadays. You aren’t dead, before you’re on a slab and dead. It all depended on what bits of her had been turned to vapor, but Sweetie might just still be saved without resorting to a backup. Still, the only way I’d actually help in that was if I got away. Given how off the grid we were? Whoever it was after me might actually have a slim, but non-zero, chance of somehow forcing things like passwords, secure backups and safe houses from me, then killing me before slowly but methodically finishing the job. Murder might be harder to make stick nowadays, but that was not the same as impossible. I was just making my way to pushing past Sweetie, and driving off blind when somebody on a megaphone spoke up. In a voice with a vaguely European accent, and a voice so near dripping with compassion it made near every bit of fur on me stand on edge. “Mr. Bob Smith, we have you surrounded. Please come out, and we can cure you without needing to cause you any more pain or trauma.” It actually took me quite a couple of moments to realize it wasn’t some horrible case of mistaken identities. I had not been that m- person, for a long, long time. I was mostly internally swearing in an utterly unladylike way, cursing myself for having gone for the broken-in showpiece of a frame I was currently wearing. It was comfy, sure, but at the moment I’d rather had some armor and other extras. Not certain what else to do, I started tearing myself out of my clothes as quickly as possible. I didn’t have cloaking in this frame, but I could switch my pelt to a digital desert camo. I winced a bit as I tore open my shirt, and the garish pattern started flowing over me… but better unfabulous for a few moments, than dead for eternity. “Sir,” my now least favorite voice in the world said, “if you have not left the car under your own power within ten seconds, we will move in.” “Darnit, darnit, darnit…” I swore under my breath, head darting around as I hoped to figure out any more options. I had an extra survival kit, including a knife and satellite-phone, but that was in the trunk. I had my whip but that was a far too close quarters weapon. Not only that, but even with my strength it was unlikely to kill, or even disable. And as nice looking as the black whip might be, it might be a possibly case of lethal color clash with my camo. I got an idea on that, though. So I folded the bullwhip as tightly as I could, and, well, put my big mouth to good use for once. The bulging cheeks wasn’t the most dignified of looks, and my whole mouth tasted like leather,but it was my best current idea. Now, an outdated civilian frame I might be in. but a cybernetic horse, is still a cybernetic horse. So I braced against the driver side door, and bucked, quite literally with everything the current life-threatening situation called for. With a screech of metal tearing, a few loud ‘tinks’ from the saphire over the solar panels cracking, and the swears of about half a dozen men I took careful note of, the door sailed away through the air. I was out the other door before the one I’d bucked had even hit the sand; the seat I’d just minutes ago had been sitting in near exploding in a shower of upholstery and stuffing as I raced off. I just barely caught the sight of a man of medium height, rather stupidly standing next to an somehow irritated looking bundle of heat-haze, staring slack jawed at the flung bit of shrapnel. Zot. I felt a stinging sensation in my tail, before the whole thing went numb. Even without my internal systems, the sound of a thud behind me told me what had happened. Whoever that sniper was, he was good. Or cybered-up to the point his own mother might not have recognized him, but if the group behind me was what I thought they might be? I doubted that explanation. “No!” It came in that darn voice, soon followed by an expensive sounding crunch. “He is one of the finest minds of his generation!” Another stomp, and another crunch that almost made me smile followed. “I paid you to disable her, so we can actually heal him! Not kill!” My ears swiveled around, but I kept my head pointed straight ahead, and my legs thundering under me. “And if you hadn’t stomped my rifle in freaking half!” A quietly furious, but still restrained voice countered behind me in just a note above speaking volume. “I might have actually clipped her in the legs, instead of just cropping her tail.” I was already all but flying at ground level, a normal horse would in fact have died halfway through the distance with the speed I was holding. But on hearing that, I did the mental equivalent of smashing the big glass box with the giant red button in it, and I went from ground-effect plane, to equine rocket-sled. The effect on my pre-programed emergency settings activating was near instant. I went from about forty-fifty kilometers-an-hour to easily about double that. There was a price to pay for such blatant overclocking, of course. For now I was flying, but I’d probably gone from this frame having an service expectancy in a decade or two without maintenance, to the whole frame falling into tiny bits if I as much as needed to keep this up until tomorrow. But given that I expected to lose this frame one way or the other today... There was a lump in my throat at needing to leave Sweetie behind, but there really wasn’t any choice. I might be able to help her, but not if those zealots behind me caught me, and did whatever ‘cure’ they planned. So instead, I went with counting my options. Swing around, and continue to Al-Jawf to call help. The simplest solution, but the least safe one. If there was half a dozen people close enough to see my car explode, there was quite possibly many, many more spread out to spot me and Sweetie. If so, it was quite possible I’d be heading into an even larger ambush if I picked that option. Option two, head to Mut. It was nearly triple the distance… but that meant less chance of an ambush in the way. I fought down a gulp, almost stumbling from the distraction of my whip moving around in my mouth. But also, longer before Sweetie got help. Sub-optimal barely covered it, even if it just might be my best chance at survival. However, that left the third, and probably best option. Head back to the camp, slip on Generosity, and pick either one or two, but now being much better armed and armored. A gamble, but if these brutes had known where it is, they would have attacked there, right? I hesitated for just a moment. And then, for Sweetie’s sake, I threw the dice, thundering sharply to my left… And back to camp I went. Asteroid mining base The Asteroid of Love, outskirts of the asteroid belt. I tumbled out the air-lock, my breath trying to force itself out through my clenched jaws. With a internal swear I sent the command that locked my jaw shut. Dammit, you think I’d remember that one thing after having done this for so freaking long. My radio crackled to life, the man’s voice on the other end brimming with barely contained humor. “Oh? Forgot to keep your mouth shut again?” I let ‘out’ a sigh, my voicebox shunting anything to the radio unless I told it otherwise. A bit paranoid, perhaps, but if I got a micrometeorite to the face and started drifting I wanted at least a chance of my position being triangulated. It didn’t happen often with radio tags, inbuilt propulsion and similar safety measures, but even if you didn’t get completely lost there was still more pleasant ways to spend a month or six than nudging yourself back home with thrusters only. “Seriously, Dave. Is it really that funny every time?” I asked sardonically. Dave was weird. Useful and a hard worker, but sprinkles and caramel sauce on freaking pizza weird. You know those dudes that go rock climbing in only shorts, shoes and climbing gloves just to prove how their rocks need a wheelbarrow? Well, Crazy Dave was the deep space variant of that. I had twelve people working under me in this place, and one of them needs to use a hardsuit. That was a hundred freaking percent of all the people that did so that bothered to venture this far out I’d met in person as well. You got one guess who, and frankly you shouldn’t need even that. Obviously, I’d hired him on the spot with those credentials. We crazy bastards with a thirst for vacuum need to stick together. Crazy Dave snorted. “Please, I owe you at least that much for that damn movie night. I swear, if I hear that joke again I’ll-” Snickering, I of course droned out “I can’t let you do that, Dave.” My squishiest minion let out a groan. I fired up my trusters and braced as the small gravity fields formed around my hooves, ‘pushing’ me away from the Asteroid of Love using my own mass and lots o’ science to do so. “Alright,” I said using a hoof to push back my mane, “enough taunting Dave for now. Robot roll call, everybody!” Now, I might have said that Dave was the only one that needed a hard suit, but that was something of a small fib. As a general rule everybody that goes this far out had the mods to be able to survive in space but far from everybody had the balls to go as far as I had. I chuckled as the light of the distant sun made my hoof gleam as I tilted it a few times. Well, if being able to waltz around in hard vacuum without a thread on is wrong then I see no reason I’d ever care to be lame enough to be right. I frowned as something stabbed where my heart had once been and three faces flashed through my mind’s eye. I shook myself out of it just in time to hear the end of “-oss? You there, boss?” from a concerned sounding Dave. I fought down a groan. “Sorry, gang, just a small senior’s moment. Can you repeat that?” A small symphony of groans rang out over the radio. “Dash,” Dave said in a rather authoritative tone I wasn’t certain how to feel about, “get back in here. I’m not letting you out there if your head isn’t in the game.” I bit back a snort, but Dave was on ground-control duty and it was well within his powers to do this, and it would be a horrible example if I refused. Still, I couldn’t quite stop myself from sighing and giving the stars around us a longing look. “Fine, I’m coming back.” I stayed long enough to wave the gang off and bask a little in the feel of vacuum all around me. Well, the lack of feeling all around me, to be exact. Most people don’t realize it, but air-pressure is more than just a bar on the barometer. There was just nothing against my skin. No wind, no touch of even air, barely any heat or cold thanks to how efficient the systems of Loyalty are, no tugging of gravity. Just me, the stars and my thoughts. I took a deep ‘breath’ and closed my eyes for a few moments, just utterly lost and content in the feeling. As if any heaven could compare to this one, it was simply beyond my imagination. I frowned in irritation as my HUD popped into view to tell me Dave was contacting me on a second channel. I genuinely thought about just ignoring him for a bit, but with a sigh I allowed it. “So, the rest are in transit towards the current rock. Care to tell me what has you so down? You’ve been zoning out all week.” I hesitated, but if the gang had started to notice, than I might as well try getting it off my chest. “I don’t want pity, alright? Just had one of those depressing anniversaries boring old people never shut up about.” “Oh,” I heard Dave fidget awkwardly with something for a bit before continuing. “Sorry to hear that, boss. You want to talk about it?” I let out a sigh and put my head in my hooves, as I for a moment felt every damn one of my years. “It was the date my eldest son passed, to be blunt.” Dave winced again, sucking in enough air between his teeth I could actually hear it over the radio.. “Sorry to hear that.” I barely fought down a wince of my own as Dave tried to put some cheer into his voice. “But hey, if the kid was even half as crazy as you it had to have been with a bang at least, right?” I absently rubbed at my own shoulder while my wings extended uselessly in the vacuum; going from a tight V to their full length as I ‘stretched’ them. “Old age, actually. In his own bed with his boots off, and everything.” “Oh...” I let out a tired chuckle as I looked down on my shiny hooves. “Yeah, the pear kind fell on the other side of the continent from the apple-tree that time.” It was a bad, bad habit at my age, I’d seen it happen enough times to know that. Old farts that couldn’t let go of the past and the people in it, until they’re all but living there. No plans, no hopes, no future… just death dates and slowly fading recollection of faces as the world passed them by. But, surely your first-born deserves some remembrance? I’d heard newbies liken using a PDA to any other computer, but you need to get over how silly you feel at imagining not only the mouse and keyboard, but the arm itself. To me, and most of the old guard, though? Honestly, the darn thing was basically just another limb by now. Imagine this drawer full o’ stuff so closely knit to you you only need to will it to riffle through it; if with the tiny drawback that it sometimes gets possesed by invisible demons and tries to eat your face from the inside. Why yes, I do hate virus makers with the fiery passion of a thousand supernovas! How ever did you guess! It’s almost as if I’ve been close to losing the only thing that remains of a rather distressing number of both friends and family far too many flipping times, or something! Anyway, my irritation at how immature wastes of protein diddle their time (and others) away to get their jollies aside, pulling forth the old video was frankly near as easy as reminiscing directly. It was frankly, a postage stamp that moved, but super freaking eight will do that on a modern resolution. Honestly, Dave streaming it barely blipped on my coms, it was that pathetically small and low-res. I just smiled softly, as Lars’ and… what was her name? Monica, I think? Oh well, not as if it mattered much nowadays. The mother of my first grandchild she might have been, but still an utter bitch, and I can’t say I felt much guilt over my mind seemingly having had more important things to remember. Still, she’d made quite the pretty bride. I’ll grant the wolverine in a dress with a permanent toothache that much. With a soft little smile on my muzzle, my hunches firmly rooted to the rock under me, and with the stars and Dave the only witness to it… I just sat there, and allowed myself to bask for once in the nostalgia, of seeing my son having found happiness. Again. “Cute couple,” Dave hesitatingly offered, clearly not quite certain on the protocol on being asked about near three hundred year old video footage from the actual filmer. I just chuckled softly over the radio. “That bulge under that dress meaning what I think it means?” There was a tiny pause. “...Or meant, I guess. I’m not trying to be rude, or anything.” “Yup…” I sighed, dismissing the clip back to my virtual scrapbook. “I’ve apparently have a few… what was it? Great-great- great-great-great-” I cut it off, as even I was getting bored. “Well, you got the gist, some rather far off-shots of the ol’ family tree, at any rate.” “Wow,” Dave managed after a few moments, sounding genuinely impressed, “I keep forgetting how old you are, boss.” I let out a vague hum, as I just watched Eternity roll around me. Then Dave asked just the right question to make me cringe. “You have any contact with ‘em?” I decided on the honest answer. “No, Björn —my middle son, Lars, the dude you just saw married, and my…” I felt a pang in my heart, as I searched for the right words. “...and my extremely ex-wife came down on the other side of the ‘black wave,’ as that first wave of cyborgs got called by the detractors.” I gave a shrug, my wings extending into flight mode from old habit. “Let’s say it rather poisoned the grand-kids well, having that type of rhetoric spewed at ‘em from birth.” “...Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.” I waved him off out of old habit, the wild gesture almost making me drift off. “Nonsense, it’s old, old, old news.” Some actual cheer actually snuck back into my voice. “Besides, every now and then I get this adorable little voice on the phone, about to get an A+++ on their family-history report, so it ain’t all bad. Heck, I’m even at pen-pal level with quite a few, even out here. Has to count for something, right?” Dave, actually sounded genuinely agast. “You help your descendants cheat on their homework? Really, Dash, really?” “What?” I said, tilting my head in confusion and for once not faking innocence. “If the assignment is to learn more of your ancestors, and your great-great-whatever-gran actually shows up in all her technicolor glory for the presentation, surely that is mission freakin’ accomplished?” Dave grumbled a bit, but seemingly didn’t quite have a good counter to how awesome I am. None ever seem to have that, but still! I got onto my hooves, and started trotting towards the air-lock. “Enough of this nostalgia binge, I’m coming in!” “In the pipe, five by five…” Dave quipped at me, just a bit too fast and with just a hint of sourness. I stopped mid-step. “Oh come on, it’s been a year!” I stomped on the hull, giving my a tiny amount of feedback as I heard it both through my legs and over the radio. “And it’s tradition to watch those movies on your first jaunt in deep space!” “Oh?” Dave retorted, still sounding a bit sour. “And is it also freaking ‘tradition’ to do the hiss, and bite people on the freaking neck as the credits roll?” It was horrible of me, but I just had to sit there and laugh my ass off for a bit. “Oh come on, that was hilarious, and you know it!” “Oh, get in here, before I ‘accidentally’ send the this conversation to the others, and start reading from that abomination of literature you call a fanfiction folder.” “O~oh,” I droned out in  my sultriest tone, and all but leered enough for my radio to short out in pure self defense. “Say, why don’t you get started on ‘Spectral lust 2: The Bangenging,’ and I’ll just slip into something more… comfy? We want to make sure all the sounds are right, after all!” There was a long, long moment of silence on the other end. “...I had forgotten what a dirty old woman you are, and wish to redact my previous threat.”  With a harrumph and my nose in the air, I continued on my way to the airlock. “Honestly, Dave, you’re a real stick in the mud for a self proclaimed thrill seeker.” “Sorry, boss,” Dave left the title ringing in my ears for just a few moments too long to have been coincidence, “I’m flattered, but neither mares, plastic, or plastic mares does it for me.” “Bha!” I rolled my eyes as I janked open the outer door. “Admit it, you’re just worried I’ll rock your little world so hard, the one we’re on gets blown apart!” As the hiss of air filling the room, and the sense of pressure all around me returned, Dave let out a small sound of disgust. It was subtle, but I also felt my insides lurch slightly as the gravity panels under me came online, rather than my hooves simply sticking to the surface. With a harrumph and a flick of my tail, I more or less flipped open the inner door with little more than a thought, my shimmering field of colors opening the airlock with near as little effort using my arms and hooves had cost me. That put a smile back on my face, alright. Ego jokes be darned, if being this awesome wasn’t its own permanent pick-me-up, I frankly don’t know what is. Humming contently, I all but skipped past the ‘locker-room,’ instead heading straight for the showers. For good measure I also unlocked my jaw, working it a few times out of old habit. One of the internal cameras whirred softly on its stand, and ‘faced’ me. “Honestly,” Dave said, if now over the intercom instead of my radio, “why do you even have that thing, if you’re never going to use it?” “What, this ol’ piece of crap?” I said, smacking my ‘locker’ for emphasis with a hoof, the dusty, old standard frame inside jostling slightly in its holder. I held still for a moment, looking concerned on that I hadn’t broken anything, but luckily, I’d just jostled the whole thing a bit too hard, and soon the readouts on the small diagnostics screen flickered to life again, showing greens. With a grimace, I headed to the showers again. “Can’t stand standard frames anymore. Don’t get me wrong, genitals and all that is fun, but I just feel so darn squishy with one on.” “Really?” Dave deadpanned, sounding utterly baffled even over the loudspeakers. “Titanium bones, muscles that never tire, and all that jazz, and that’s squishy?” I gave the camera a long, long look, before waving a hoof over my face. “Do I look like I care about slightly above standard performance?” With a shrug I headed towards the showers again. “Don’t get me wrong, the military standard frames are quite decent, but those?” I made a grimace of disgust as I entered the shower room, lingering on the edge just long enough to finish my conversation, head sticking over that threshold. “Honestly, there’s so much red-tape on getting the latest designs on those, that by the time you actually do, there’s two-three marks more on the actual cutting edge.” Dave let out a neutral hum. “Guess that makes sense. No fun getting a toy that’s outdated before you even open the box.” “Yeah.” I slammed my own chest, getting a loud clong of metal-on-metal for it. “Still, this hunk of bolts has worked well enough so far, even if it is time to get it replaced.” “Excuse my ignorance, but haven’t you bragged a few times how your friends with both Queen Pinkie, and that cybernetics mogul... “ Dave drifted off. “What was her name, Scarcity, or something?”   “Rarity,” I gently corrected. “Well, you know how it is.” I waved a hoof vaguely in the direction Earth should be this time of year, before continuing. “It’s nearly four-five days to Mars from here, about a week to Earth, and so on. Getting the whole gang together just isn’t something you do over a phone-call.” Dave let out a grunt. I tilted my head. “Think that ship with the silly name might actually do it? You know, the one with the new teleportation system?” “Know what you mean, but I can’t remember it either; some mythological reference I think..” Dave barked out a laugh. “That would be something, though!” Dave mimicked the zap of a teleport. “Just like that, and you could have breakfast on Mars, lunch on Earth, and dinner on Venus!” I let out a half-hearted hum in acknowledgement, while chewing on my lip. “Not like you to get that look when space news are on the table,” Dave said, with some genuine concern. “Spill it.” I winced, and rubbed at my neck. “You’ve noticed how little people seem to… you know, care?” Don’t ask me how he managed the feat, but somehow I swear I heard the ‘words’ “...?” over the intercom. It was a strange little non-silence, OK? “About space, I mean,” I explained, “it used to be this near… mythical thing, a place of wonder and horror you spent your whole life dreaming of reaching and... and now it’s just this boring backdrop you suffer through for a few days, to get to the next place.” A long moment of silence followed, as Dave thought it over. Not quite silence, of course, as the various whirs, ticks, and hums of the station filled the place with a melody all on its own. “Think I’m the wrong person to philosophize about this with, boss,” Dave hesitatingly offered after five minutes or so. “I’m out here, aren’t I?” I chuckled softly. “Yeah.” “Still, you want my guess? I think it might be you simply being from another time.” My ears slicked back, as I glared at the camera a bit. “You said it yourself, space has nearly become, well, mundane.” Dave just continued, either ignoring or having missed me pouting. “Not to sound pretentious or anything, but you don’t think the Wright brothers might have felt rather mixed on seeing a modern, commercial airport?” “Actually, although Wilbur died as early as 1912, Orville lived all the way to 1948, and although commercial flight was still in its infancy back then, he did in fact, have an opinion on, you know, two little things called world war one and two having happened during his lifetime.” “Huh.” Another stunned silence followed. “Keep forgetting what an utter nerd you can be sometimes.” “‘I once thought the aeroplane would end wars. I now wonder whether the aeroplane and the atomic bomb can do it. It seems that ambitious rulers will sacrifice the lives and property of all their people to gain a little personal fame.’” “...That was quite a bit more depressing than I meant my point to be.” I grinned wide at the camera. “Democracy and information tech for the win, huh? We still get fools, but now we know they’re fools way before they start sacking cities! That’s something, right?” I gave a shrug. “Still, I think I got what you actually meant, and yeah, I just think it’s a bit sad so few seem to realize the wonder of it all.” “Said the cybernetic horse wannabe to the adrenaline junkie.” I barked out a laugh, and not only because of the joke. Just felt good that at least one of the ‘youngsters’ has some priorities straight. Dave spoke up again, but this time sounding a bit more serious. “Well, boss, that was a nice conversation, but the rest have reached the current haul, so I need to focus. You get on that shower, ‘kay?” I gave a lazy mock salute, and turned on the spot. Give how little time I’d spent out there it was probably not necessary, but rock dust was insidious, nasty stuff, and it was as good an excuse as any to give myself a once over. Besides, showers, on a space station? Might not be to everyone, but to me that would always be utter, utter decadence, and who doesn’t like splurging a bit, now and then?. However, I stopped to check myself over in the mirror for that purpose. (Insert ego joke here.) Had to admit, I felt a bit conflicted at what I saw. The big things were still all there: The wonderfully deep, purple eyes. The rainbow mane. My glorious wings I sadly couldn’t quite spread anywhere inside the station, but had to keep swept back in a V over my back. But it frankly showed I’d been at this for a bit, and without having access to the higher grade repair and manufacturing stuff, at that. My once smooth, cerulean skin was pockmarked near from head to hoof from micro impacts. A gleam I hadn’t noticed last check made me lean in. There was a long, hair-thin crack straight diagonally over my whole left eye, a small chip just below my iris showing I’d apparently been this close to losing an eye from a micro-impact. “Well, fuck,” was all I could think of saying, as the gently glowing shutters closed slightly, as my vision refocused on my face at large. “There went my excuse for not doing a supply run any time soon.” At least it was still working, but it still worried me a bit. Hard enough to crack industrial sapphire, but light enough to glance off? That wasn’t exactly a wide spread of force. Heck, I was lucky —Ha!— that no gases had snuck through that crack and mocked up the whole eye as I entered vacuum. I shrugged, and trotted over to the showers. A pressing matter, but one I should be able to fix easily, if slowly. And even at worst? Some sealant, a snazzy eyepatch, a trip to The Farm, and I’d be right as rain again. Not like the asteroid belt will waltz away when I wasn’t looking. As the water started washing over me, I perked up a bit further. Hey, I might even be able to make a tour of it! Slip over to Earth and say ‘Hi!’ to everybody, spend some time with Trixie, perhaps watch the launch of the ‘what’s-its-name. Might be a fun little vacation. My path set, I just stood there, and enjoyed the heat of the water washing over me. Now, space being cold is a vast, vast oversimplification, especially in a star system like, well, Sol. But this far out, and how I’d been sitting atop and on the shadow side of what was basically a large, hollow asteroid? Wasn’t like I had frost on the spots where my unmentionables should have been, or anything, but there sure was a bit more condensation in the air than if I’d just taken a normal leisure shower. A tiny bit more condensation. Not as if I’d spent a full ‘night’ stargazing, or anything. Now, a few pock-marks I might currently have, but they weren’t nearly bad enough that I’d actually need to towel. I just closed the valve, did a doggy shake, and made my mane and tail wring themselves out. Soaking wet to dry, in, heh, ten seconds flat. Micro-impact resistant, second best thing to armor, glossy and quick drying. How’s that for mundane utility, huh? Honestly, I frankly didn’t quite get why the other girls stuck to ‘normal’ pelts/skins. Half the utility, twice as much maintenance, and almost the same look. Can’t say I saw the logic, but it would be a funny ol’ world if we were all the same, and yada, yada, yada… To my rather great surprise however, I nearly slammed the door open right in the face of Dave. Dave was a reed of a man, but one of those with a surprising amount of strength to them. Still, if you looked past the ‘tech-support’ level complexion he was cute enough. Still think he’s mad to lounge around in a freaking t-shirt and shorts on a deep space station thrown together by the worlds’ oldest and most in denial cosplayer and her equally nutty friends. But who was I to judge that, right? Still, his usual grin wasn’t. Instead, he looked deadly serious. Without another word, he held out a tablet to me. With a lump in my stomach, I tried to float it over, but he just held it a bit tighter. “Use your han- hooves, trust me.” That? That did not help that lump. Wordlessly I sank down on my haunches, and extended my right hoof. It seemed some lazy git with fingers had forgotten to re-insert the stylus, so I risked connecting wirelessly to the thing. Not like we have what I’d call proper internet access out here, but there was always somebody that thought that one download of ‘Horny Jodlers 12’ wouldn’t do any harm. Thankfully, it seemed Dave kept his gear clean of that type of stuff, since I didn’t detect anything trying to get into my systems. Not a guarantee, of course, but a good sign. Dave leaned over, and pointed at a grouping of three icons. Two with a stylized eclipse on them, and one with three balloons. With the cursor shaking slightly, something I swear I wasn’t doing consciously, I went for the one of the Sol Guard message marked: ‘WATCH ME FIRST.’ Seemed prudent. Another lump formed in my throat as the image of Pinkie, with one blade extended, looking severely frazzled, and wearing a Sol Guard uniform of all things, popped up. In a bathroom I recognized. I’d helped Trixie pick out the black tile with an Ankh pattern myself. What the hell was Pinkie doing at the Luxor, and looking like she’d just gone ten rounds in a ring? WIth a small gulp, I actually started the video. “Hi, Dashie!” Pinkie exclaimed in a slightly strange sounding voice, waving her hand at me, using her left for some reason. Then, she blinked, making me feel a bit better. Also, the screen temporarily went black as she did so, telling me she’d apparently recorded this message with her own PDA and a mirror, explaining the odd sound near immediately. “Oh right, I don’t think we-we have ever met, but I’m #431.” Huh, so one of that brood actually went and joined the guard? Must have missed that e-mail, or something. #431 fidgeted on the spot for a second or so, before taking a deep breath and just blurting whatever it was on her rather massive chest out. “Trixie is going to be OK, but there was an incident. I can’t talk about the specifics since it’s an open investigation-” As about a dozen different emotions raced through me at that, she waved her clenched fist, the one with the extended blade, lazily in the air. “-but things got a bit dicey for a few moments. Trixie is expected to make a full recovery, but her algae tanks got nicked, and she’s going to need a phylactery replacement.” My free hoof subconsciously snuck up to my own neck. Just what the hell had happened? #431’s eyes darted to the door, making the image lurch uncomfortably, before darting back to the mirror. “Look, I can’t talk for much longer,” #431 waved her presumably broken arm again, “I need to go with Trixie to the Farm for repairs — mom’s handling that for Trixie as well by the way, so don’t worry, but I just thought you deserved to hear this from a friend.” Despite my worry, I felt a grin coming. They might be insane, but the Pies’ were as solid as they come. Oddly, #431 got deadly serious, jabbing her functioning finger my way. “Oh, and you’re about to get another message from a man named Blake Gregory. I know he can be intense and he’s got that rep of his for a reason, but give him a proper listen, OK?” Just like that, the video cut off. “Blake Gregory,” I murmured, tilting my head. “Where the heck have I heard that name before?” Dave strangely, gave a gulp. “The Butcher. The Glorious Dawn.” Dave fidgeted and looked around, as if the man might appear behind him, even out here, just because he got mentioned. “The incident on Luna One, The massacre on The Monica.” Dave’s eyes darted around. “And you know, the dude that took down The Ûbermensch.” I blinked once, as the bloody token hit the proverbial slot. “...Oh.” Suddenly, the tiny icon with the so polite title: A moment of your time, if I may. Well, it didn’t look quite so innocent anymore. It was slightly cowardly of me, but I went for the message from Pinkie first. Without further ado, it just showed Pinkie, in a human frame for once, and sitting on the simple desk she had for the actually serious business. Oh, joy… “Dashie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the cluster-fuck after the Red Revolution? I think it’s about to happen again.” I paused the video mid disgusted grimace from Pinkie as my heart somehow skipped a couple of beats. “Fuck.” I buried my face in my free hoof, and near wished I could just sit here on my little rock for the next thirty-forty years, or so. “Not again.” “Err…” Dave mumbled out, clearly confused. “Wasn’t that when regenerative medicine went practical? Wasn’t that a… well, a good thing?” I just stared up at him for a few moments, lost for words. “...Right?” “Dave, do I look human to you?” Dave just stared at me for a few moments. “...No?” Had to admit, I smiled a bit at the polite tone. A small thing, but a nice gesture, even so. “Well,” I said, tapping my own temple with a soft clonk, “thing is, that tech? It was a boon for people everywhere, a wonderful milestone in medicine-” I took a deep breath, and just blurted it out. “-And the closest thing to a freaking death knell, for the transhuman movement.” I continued, as a light of understanding lit in Dave’s eyes. “We went from the future of all humanity with a few unfortunate bugs still to be worked out, to a freaky minority that refused to move with the times in a matter of months.” Deep in thought, Dave walked over to a nearby wall, and sank down against it. “Can you explain? I’m sorry, but I’m not quite following.” With a grimace, I limped over on three legs, and sank down next to him. It was a bit uncomfortable with my ‘wing backpack,’ but it worked. “Would you believe me if I told you, that nearly a third of all of humanity, used to be cyborgs before that?” I waved a hoof his way. “On the level of limbs and stuff, I mean, not just those health implants.” Dave frowned a bit, eyes unfocused in thought. “...I think my history books had something about that, but my teacher got uncomfortable and glossed over most of it.” A rather humorless laugh forced itself out of me. “Yeah, uncomfortable about cybernetics,that was kinda the thing, really.” Dave’s look all but begged me for an explanation, but I needed to fight down the storm of emotion I was feeling first. So I started the video again to buy a bit of time. “I thought those irritating Ludz were the only freakshow in town,” Pinkie continued after her grimace was done. “But I’ve been getting threat after threat lately, everything from bio-conservatives, to religious nuts…” A tired and frazzled laugh that frankly did not fit Pinkie forced herself out of her mouth. “Freaking hell, I even got a bomb threat from —get this, a militant objectivist, that accused me of being, and I quote: ‘A fake titan of industry, that had clearly cheated with personality forking, and thus robbed many real titans of industry of their chances.’” I and Pinkie shared a face palm across time and space. Pinkie let out a sigh, and continued. “Anyway, it seems the winds are a’ blowing towards a real shitstorm, so watch yourself, ‘kay? Last time I checked, you didn’t quite have an army and police force up and running qui~ite yet.” I knew it was just a recording, but I still rolled my eyes on principle. “Just thought I’d remind you that there’s a port with a friendly governor relatively nearby, if you need to strike flag an’ run for it.” With a smile and a wave, Pinkie finished up. “So to speak. Later, Dashie, and take care.” “Oh,” Pinkie added, as if an afterthought, “would you please put some flowers on Uncle Smith’s grave for me, next time you head over? I’ve enclosed the flowers I’d like printed with this message, so thanks in advance.” I just sat there and stared at the pad for a bit. “Ugh,” I groaned finally, letting my head hang, “I freaking hate social backlash!” Dave let out a small cough into a hand, clearly still wanting an explanation. “Look, you can find the long version in any good, unbiased history book, but the short one? The people in it only for the unfading looks and being able to walk again, and stuff like that? The glamorous movie stars, and the sympathetic sob stories? Near all of them jumped ship, and there wasn’t enough left of us doing it for personal betterment to still be an influential force. And since a decently common trick back then was to avoid the uncanny valley by going for a distinctly non-human look?” Dave let out a wince. “Yeah,” I said darkly, running a hoof nervously through my mane. “And now the tech is starting to live up to the old promises despite how near it was to dying, and suddenly the freaks have turned to supermen without having stopped being freaky freaks you can safely freak-out about.” Very gently, Dave reached out and patted me on the shoulder. With a groan, I let my head fall back against the wall, staring unseeing at the ceiling. “I just want to explore space, have a good time with my friends, and live forever and ever, and ever. Is that really so much to ask for…?” I got a few extra pats on the shoulder for that. “I mean… nothing is forcing them, you know? To take the anti-age treatments, or receive implants. Heck, you can even refuse things like a simple blood transfusion, right?” Dave was quiet for a bit. “You sure about that?” “Huh?” “Can they really refuse? Without, you know, getting hopelessly behind the ones that do go to such lengths?” I just stared at the vanilla mortal, so far from Earth that saying ‘Hi!’ over the coms and waiting for an actual response took about an hour. “Dave, you do know where you are, right?” Dave just waved me off. “I require a suit and all sorts of little safeties to do what you can do in the nude, Dash. And that’s ‘just’ the vacuum thing, not how you can move things with your freakin’ mind or similar.” The man shrugged his shoulders my way, but to his credit, he was speaking in a near bored voice. “Not that I’m jealous or anything, but surely you can see why that would be rather intimidated to people who’ve invested all their personal worth in what special little snowflakes they were born as?” The man turned with a serious expression, and poked me hard in the chest. “Look, believe it or not, but I’ve looked you up. You used to be a freaking prime-minister, then you went and become an astronaut back when that meant something.”  I got another hard poke for emphasis. “And then after all that, you all but screamed from the rooftops: ‘Yeah right, I can do better than that!’ and chopped your whole body off to become even stronger.” That… made me blink, I must admit. “...Well, when you put it like that.” “And —not counting various and numerous relatives that are equally bonkers and connected, there are seven more of you, and you all close ranks if somebody as much as sneeze at one of you.” I got poked again. “No offence, boss, I think you’re a good ‘mare’ as you like to joke, but surely you can see how somebody that doesnt might find you freakin’ terrifying?” That… made a lot of sense. Almost too much sense. I knew I didn’t have an agenda… but would Mr. Panicky Von Anti-Tech believe that, even for a moment? I shook the intriguing, but currently unconstructive, line of thought out of my head. “Thanks, Dave, I think I need to think that over, but right now I need to focus on solving this mess.” Dave gave me a slow nod, before leaning over; a single outstretched finger hovering over the last icon. “Sure, shall I?” I just gave a nod, and he double tapped the icon without hesitation. The man… didn’t look that impressive, frankly, but in my experience the ones that overcompensate and thus actually reach greatness never do. Tall, dark and thin, and just a few shades to threatening looking to be handsome. The big thing, though? The eyes. There was some fatigue there, and compassion, but mostly it was like looking into a pair of polished bits of sapphire. I let out a thoughtful hum. Hard and unbending, huh? That was a really good combo in an ally, as long as you managed to gain their respect.  And utterly annoying in an enemy, but details. Besides, how he was apparently standing in a broom closet as to get some privacy? Kinda killed quite a bit of the intimidation factor. To my surprise, however, the man bowed his head slightly before speaking. “Mrs. Rainbow Dash, it is my mixed blessing to waylay to you that your daughter, Trixie Lulamoon, was attacked and wounded earlier today, but is expected to make a full recovery.” With a frown, I tilted my head. Fine phrasing and quite polite but it was hardly the type of message a —judging from his rank-pips, a captain would make. So why was he? “This is however not why I am calling, even if it gladdens me to deliver mostly good news, for once,” Blake continued. “I was informed by my second in command, #431, that you and your allies prefer to conduct business face to face but the rather extreme distance makes it rather unpractical for me to simply drop in on you.” I let out a snort, if an amused one. “As a courtesy, I shall be brief. I am currently recruiting specialists for the Pheidippides, the first full-size trial of the Farcaster drive, if you’ve heard of either. Your skill and expertise, especially in asteroid mining, has come highly recommended, and I would if possible like to meet to discuss this offer.” For just a moment, the man hesitated, and looked towards the closet door i could just barely see at the corner of the frame. “I do not wish to name drop too heavily, but both your daughter and Queen Pinkie have so far shown interest in the offer, if that makes any difference.” Now that made me blink again. It was a long, long time, since Pinkie had gotten her own hands dirty in a project. Did she really believe that strongly in this? “Time is currently not that pressing thanks to-” The man hesitated, and something truly ugly flickered in his eyes, even if it barely showed on his face. “-hold-ups in production. I would however like a preliminary yes or no post-haste so I can shift my recruitment efforts accordingly. If yes I hope we may meet face-to-face to discuss this further, but if no, I thank you for your time and wish you a pleasant day.” The man surprised me once more, by bowing his head to the camera, before the clip stopped. “My,” I said softly, “how polite. Wasn’t expecting that with his title.” Dave looked at me curiously. “You gonna go for it?” Humming and thinking deeply, I started stroking my chin. On one hand, it was a decent risk in a way my enhancements would offer little protection from. The short and mid range stuff had frankly gone far enough that even I thought it acceptable risk wise, but long range teleportation? The math and the how of it went clear over my head, even nowadays, but I’d frankly seen some rather horrific shit from teleports gone wrong. To be fair once the ‘quantum-whatsit-waveform-bla’ or whatever the proper name was had safely formed you were as right as rain. I made a grimace. But the further you wanted to go, the more energy you needed. When all that energy happened to be packed into a long, thin rod on you, or even your head? Instant pipe-bomb, just add shoddy maintenance. Frankly, if my own hadn’t been quite literally a part of my forehead, allowing me to feel when something was going wrong? I probably wouldn’t have bothered with the tech with my rotten luck. On the other hand, though, such a death would be quick, clean, painless, for science and awesome. Besides, quite a few years ago since I’d done any first. Might be fun, especially if it meant meeting and working with the girls again. The big question out of the way, I gave a slow nod. “Think I’m intrigued enough for some face to face, at least.” I handed over the pad back to Dave. “Since I’m basically going to be a quick jaunt away anyway when I visit Trixie I might as well give a ‘maybe, let’s talk’ right?” Dave let out a hum, looking down on the pad. “You want me to archive the messages?” I remembered the bit about flowers for uncle Smith, and held out my hoof. “Let me do it, I need to print those flowers and fix my eye, anyway.” That made Dave blink. “Eye?” I tilted around my head while staring up at the ceiling, roughly in an angle where he should see the gleam from that crack. “Must have gotten a gentle little kiss while working on a rock, or something.” I tapped the thing without blinking, to Dave’s clear discomfort. “Still works, but unless I go get it replaced it’s only a matter of time before the thing gives out.” Dave let out a tiny urk as he handed over the pad again. “That seriously doesn’t hurt?” I wiggled my hoof in a so-so gesture. “Eh, I’ve got this level of upgrades for a reason. Heck, if it was a real emergency I could probably have an ugly if functioning replacement printed within the hour.” I couldn’t quite stop a tiny smirk, but I managed to keep the deadpan going. “Really tricky part is the screwdriver and the mallet, you see-” Dave stuck his tongue out in a grimace and waved me off. “Please no ‘cyborg’ humor; I just ate.” Snickering, i got to my hooves, and started limping to my room. “Fine, fine.” I stopped in the doorway, craning my neck backwards enough to look at him over my own back. “Just a heads-up, ‘kay? It should be a couple of hours before I’m ready, but I might need to leave before the other’s drag that rock back over here.” Dave gave me a mock salute, even clicking his heels. Rather spoiled by the sandals, but still. A for effort. Made my smile, at least. “You stay on the coms until I need to leave, ‘kay? We’ll play it by ear after that, depending on how that haul goes then.” “Roger, boss,” Dave said, before going ‘at ‘ease,’ “I’ll send word to the lads’ on what’s up.” With a final nod, I hurried off down the corridors. The Asteroid of Love had once been a medium-ish asteroid, little more than an oblong kilometer of rock, before I’d gotten my grubby hooves on it and carefully dug into it. It wasn’t hollow. or anything excessive like that, but I’d managed to whip it into a half-decently comfy little outpost in the middle of nowhere over the years. Out here near the surface there really only were that airlock, that locker-room, the main communication room, and a small lounge. Technically the last was something of a engineering weak-spot, but time and effort getting it right had been well-spent in my opinion. Movie night with the stars gently glittering behind you? Worth every darn minute getting those slabs of sapphire here and into air-tight frames, and I’d laugh anybody that said otherwise in the face. Deeper in thought, things split at an X crossing. The semi-dangerous industrial stuff to the right, i.e. the reactor and chemical storage. And if you continued straight through the throughofair, you ended up at the dock, emergency airlock and processing area. In the center of the square room there was also a hatch in the floor, leading ‘down’ into the center of the asteroid. Down there? A lo~ong ladder near worthy of it’s own freaking soundtrack, all leading down the the backup-generator, and the, by now, rather old-school gravity generator. I however, took a left, my hooves clicking on the stone as I passed the corridor flanked on the right with a view straight into hydroponics, and to the left with the main common room. Now that had been a design choice even I’d felt my head inflate a bit with smug at. No matter how rotten or nasty a day you’d had, how many things that had gone wrong, and all you wanted was to drag your sorry carcass to your room and stay there… You still got at least a glimpse of green and color on your way at worst, and at best just might get better ideas on how to spend that day. A small thing, but it really helped as the months rolled by out here. Beyond that corridor there was the secondary workshop and medical, the former being my destination. Neat rows of tools secured to the walls with Velcro, a few workbenches and an older model 3D-printer made to work in both a vacuum and micro gravity, if needed. That was it aside from a few strapped down piles of raw materials. Not much, but I’d made sure and double sure, that in theory the contents of this room (and the warehouse) could bootstrap anything else on the station into working order again. Call me paranoid if you must, but I frankly preferred not to take chances out here on the frontier. I transferred over the file for the flowers Pinkie wanted to get done, and the printer started up without fuss as I got to work on my own problem. “Ugh,” I muttered as I went and got what I needed, “this is gonna su~uck.” There sadly was really only one quick and easy solution, especially since I needed upgrades anyway and wanted to go see Trixie as soon as possible. So I went and got my screwdriver. The pattern Pinkie wanted might have only been mostly paper with a tiny bit of metal thrown in, but it was rather intricate so it would still take a bit. The next corridor was the ‘barracks.’ I hadn’t picked the nickname and it frankly didn’t quite fit, but eh, that type of stuff happens. Not much from the outside, but the bulkhead doors were just a bit more polished and shiny, and I’d spent quite a few hours polishing up the stone in this part of the station. It wasn’t the swankiest I could have done, but I frankly liked the look of it  The shiny reddish-grey stone even had some darker streaks of iron in it, and together with the shine it was frankly a quite pretty pattern all on its own. There was little over a dozen rooms since I liked to future proof if possible, but almost half of them was currently a bastardization of store-rooms, junk-rooms, and guest-rooms. Since I was Lady and Mistress of this domain, I’d nabbed three, but one of them was basically a big closet at the moment. Hey, what’s the point of being the boss if you don’t get the swankiest room? I headed into my bedroom, ignoring my library/reading-room/computer-room/game-room thing-y for the moment. The base of the room was little more than a three by three by three meter cube, if polished as well. A bed, a small bookshelf, a bedrest and my personal tablet resting on the later. Hey, what can I say? I’m one of those that think a bedroom exists for three things, and if your partner for the one you need one of those for cares more for the decor than you? Well, frankly, you’re doing something wrong. It wasn’t that extravagant… by today’s standards. Personally I always got a bit giddy on entering and seeing all that space! And it was mine! All MINE! Bhahahaha- I shook my head and dislodged the small bit of mania. Again. To be fair, I remembered back when a bed in space meant those weird sleeping-bag things strapped to the nearest wall. In comparison my current setup was the type of utter decadence not even the most depraved of hedonists would allow themselves! Bhaha- I gave myself a love-tap on my cheek, snapping myself out of it. Still, the awesome awesomeness of the awesome boudoir of the awesomest alicorn in Sol aside… I groaned, and reached down, making my spare parts box float out. ...I needed to get cracking on one of the less awesome bits of being that cyborg badass. I flipped the lid open, and was greeted by about a dozen of my eyes staring up at me. Some new, but most of them cracked, burned, busted or even half-melted. Still, lucky, lucky me, the damage on my current eye seemed quite superficial. But no reason to chance things when you have spares. So I grabbed my screwdriver, dug it under my eye and heaved gently. With a soft click the eye plopped out, and my vision on that eye cut to black. Using my hoof, I just as gently spun the whole thing around one-eighty degrees to the left, and pulled. And as usual, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was holding the wrongest novelty light-bulb, this thin, flat ‘bulb’ and a stubby little fixture underneath. There must have been a small charge left or something, because the thing even ‘blinked’ at me, as I put it into the box with the others. OK? That? That even I will freely admit is slightly creepy. Not the ‘zombie’ blink, but the freaking built-in eyelids. I got why, because otherwise you’d have to worry about the whole skin every time you need to repair or switch out something as otherwise as straightforward and easy as your eyes, but still! Cree~py! Even so, a small price to pay, for rainbow colored death beams! OK, OK, I didn’t actually have those… But I could have, and that’s almost as awesome. Honestly, the in was actually downright simple compared to the out, although that was part of the design. After all, if you thought a contact dropping out was bad… Just on the edge of even my hearing, I heard a soft ‘ding’ through the rock and hallways as the printer finished. “My, that quick?” I mumbled out to myself, as I slid the box back under my bed. “Pinkie must have gotten a better compression algorithm, or something.” I sauntered out, stopping only to lock my doors properly. Not that I didn’t trust the gang, but might as well minimize any temptations slash potential morale problems, right? Nothing turns people into grumps faster in a closed space like this, then one twit with sticky fingers. I made my way back to the workshop, where two bouquets of flowers were a’ waiting in the ‘done’ tray; one with lilies-of-the-valley a light raspberry color with golden threads all over both flowers and the leaves, and the other cornflower blue roses with silver in a similar fashion. I couldn’t help but float over the roses first, and out of old habit, take a sniff. They smelled only of freshly ‘molded’ plastic and metal, of course, since they had just come out of an industrial 3D-printer… But what can I say? Some gestures just get so ingrained over the years, you can barely help yourself. Still… “Me, oh my…” I couldn’t help myself from murmuring with a smile, as I rolled the bouquet in my levitation, simply enjoying how the rainbow shifting light played over the curls and twists of silver thread. “What pretty flowers you make, my dearest daughter.” I lifted up the small paper note tied onto the same string that was binding the flowers together, and gave it a glance. In loving memory, Trixie Lulamoon. ~23100102 I let out a low wince. Whole month ago and sent by Pinkie, huh? Trixie really should take things like this a bit more seriously, but I guess it was better than nothing. Carefully floating over the other bouquet and letting both trail behind me as to not damage the delicate flowers, I set off for the hangar. Truth be told, I’d probably future proofed this one room just a tad too much. Aside from the rather massive airlock it was frankly like stepping into a cavern somebody had for some reason lit and left some crap in near the edges. Heck, at 100-200-30 meters it damn near rivaled half the rest of the station in volume. Still, as much a waste the area currently was, I had to admit it felt rather nice to have at least one room onboard were I could —be it literally or metaphorically, stretch my wings. Besides, I’d gotten a fair price for the rock, so win-win, right? My hooves echoing against the smooth stone, I made it over to one of the piles of ‘crap.’ First rule of deep space: Never, ever, ever have a system for anything; no matter how trivial. Always have at least one backup. Rule #2 to #108 is basically the same darn rule, just with more and more elaborate swearing to get the darned point across to the newbies. I gently dropped the flowers on the table, and pinged Dave over the radio. “Hey, I’m about to slap on the accessories. Anything else before I leave…?” A long hum cut the aether as Dave hummed in thought. “Everything seems good on this end, boss, but are you really sure about this?” I heard a couple of buttons being pushed. “Sarojini should be back with the hauler tomorrow, and if we bust our backs it shouldn’t take that much longer to load it then we’d need anyway to prep it for the next run.” My eyes darted over to the flowers. “My little girl is in the hospital; what answer to that are you actually expecting?” Dave let out a grunt in confirmation. “Guess I can’t argue with that. Just make sure to check everything, OK?” I let out a hum, as I cut off the channel and floated over the first engine-pod. Extending my wings fully, the smooth, tapered cylinder slotted into the hardpoint easily enough, even if it felt as I nearly got folded in half from the sudden weight as the levitation cut off. With a grunt I just grinned and bore it, as I floated over the next engine. Truth be told I wasn’t exactly twitching with jubilation at the ‘giant cigars... of THE FUTURE!!!’ look that seemed to be in vogue right now. But hey, you can’t argue with performance, and at least they matched my skin. It felt strange even by my standards, but with some flickering of green lights, I actually felt how the power-load on my systems shifted around a bit; like the ‘muscles’ on my back went limp, while these new, shiny ones on my wings suddenly flexed. Not quite right, but that was the best equivalent I could think of. I reared up on my hind legs and flexed a bit, getting used to the ‘new’ weight, and how my center of gravity had shifted a bit. With a skip I flipped over in the air, and landed on my right front hoof. Carefully, and listening for any creaking or crackling, I sank down until my nose was touching the floor. “One.” “OK, boss,” Dave snarked at me over the intercom, one of the cameras whirring softly as it zoomed in on me, “now I know you’re just showboating.” “Hush,” I said absently as I pushed off the floor, perking my ears a bit extra hard just in case. “I’m stress-testing here. Two.” Dave mumbled something the mic didn’t quite catch, but sounded disbelieving. I gave the one-handed push-offs to the count of “Ten.” before switching hoof; pulling the hoof I’d been using up and catching myself with the other in the blink of a normal eye. “One.” Another ten push-ups later without as much as a whisper, and I felt almost as satisfied with the result as I was with myself right then. Not bad for last decade’s model with a hundred kilo load under the wings, if I do say so myself! With a smug smile and a rather loud clonk, I let my back half fall down to the ground; leaving me on all fours again. Alas, the rest of the following hour or so was far, far less interesting. Engine checks. Radio checks. HORN checks. That amount of check-lists may be part of the bug-bear when it comes to flight —be it in space or otherwise, but I still frankly felt as if I should have had a far purpler color scheme, to be blunt. Still, better bored for an hour, then stuck drifting and bored for who knows how long in the void. I guess some figment of the ol’ golden age of when space was this strange and alien place must linger in the public conscience. But every once in a while, you’d still hear how some frozen, leaky tub full of ex-idiots that should have been more careful got mentioned on the news. Or you know, boiled depending on where in sol they’d screwed up and got found, but hardly as if that was a better state to be found in. I’d just (FINALLY!) finished up the checks and was attaching slash ‘packing;’ if you can even call it that when you’re just slapping two small cargo-pods under your wings. Honestly, for this leg of the journey it was rather comical. Just two tiny splashes of color inside what was basically two odd metal suitcases. But hey, if nothing else I might find myself a souvenir or two, right? Have to fill out that junk room somehow after all! Once done, I just gave the giant, quite literal several ton doors one look. “...Yeah, fuck that.” Actually for once remembering to do so before hitting vacuum, I activated, well, vacuum mode, paying a bit of attention for once to make sure everything was working. “‘kay, Dave,” I ‘said’ through my locked jaws, as soon I was certain my internal gear was working, “I’m leaving now.” “Got it. Good luck, boss.” “Oh,” I added as an afterthought as I plotted the first of many, many teleports for the coming days, “if this Blake dude seems to talk nonsense I’ll be back in two-three weeks, but otherwise you get a shot at wearing the big-girl panties until I’m back and/or resurrected.” I actually heard Dave balk clean over the radio. “...Err,” he mumbled out, “don’t get me wrong boss, I’m flattered, but did you have to put it that… morbidly?” I couldn’t stop a smirk. ”Later!” I was gone in a literal flash before I even got Dave’s response. Being in a whole-body quantum state is… I want to say ‘eldritch’ as in ‘unnaturally weird,’ but that has so many Cthulhu-mythos associations. Eldritch light, without the instant insanity bother? Your senses —let alone mind, just isn’t even nearly made to experience something like that. The moment feels both like it’s gone in a flash and a small eternity happens in a blink of an eye. Your body feels like it might fly apart like a sculpture made from gas… or outlast the stars themselves.                 focusing                 on                                                   like         And if you try                                         them, your thoughts just flicker around                                            too hard                                                                fireflies on                                     not quite                                   time as it         sugarwater. Trying, but                                                         ‘should be.’                                                 managing to care about The one even those that hate teleportation agrees on, though? You just can’t beat the view. Remember those physics classes and what else exists as both a particle and a waveform, right? Photons —quite literally a sea of starlight, as far as the eye can see, tinged the same colors as my field and gleaming against a black so dark, you can tell even though that shimmer of shades. And even at the ‘speeds’ I was moving, those tiny but near omnipresent motes of light raced all around me, more a constant blur of heat, warmth and colors, as if I was some type of lumbering rock that for a brief, wondrous moment got to bounce atop the surface of some celestial river made from radiance itself. And just like that, more or less at the exact moment becoming one with eternity with my personal bifrost didn’t seem so bad… it was over, and I got dumped out into normal space without fanfare. “...Bye Dash!” Dave’s voice came faintly over my radio, half a second or so after I’d exited the first teleport; crackling quite a bit but still audible. “Good luck with Trixie!” I fought down the slight melancholia at seeing ‘just’ a sea of stars and inky blackness again. Quite a few consider teleports lonely and creepy but to me, it was just so serene and pretty, I couldn’t even humor the point. Then again, I reluctantly admitted to myself as I actually sealed my damn jaw again, not many do quite as long-range ones as I do. Personally I didn’t find the short-range ones that different, but they were briefer and had an almost ‘did I actually see that?’ feel to them. With a soft ding a report appeared in my vision, my systems having automatically pinged the mission-control on The Asteroid of Love and checking how my transit had gone. If I could have, I would have smirked wide. 99, 941 kilometers away and all systems reporting in the green; well within the margin of error. With another small ding, the horn on my head reported that it was ready to fire again, so I started the countdown for the main trip; making me feel a slight ‘warmth’ to the insides engines as the auxiliary horns in them started priming. Sadly, this time of year I’d need to hit Mars first unless I wanted to spend a week or so like this. Still, every cloud have a silver lining, and with luck I’d be able to —augh, find something faster to charter on there to actually reach Earth a bit faster. Still, there was that old tingle of excitement as the numbers on my HUD trickled down to zero with deceptive speed. All that gear, all that space, and so very, very much that could go wrong. It wasn’t exactly needed, but I still spread my arms wide and swept my legs behind me; just before that zero flashed before my eyes. Grinning as wide as I could with my jaw locked, I still couldn’t resist a chuckle only I would ever hear. Hey, if you’re the cavalry, you might as well ride in with style, right? Internally giggling like a loon, I disappeared again. Daddy’s coming. You just stay calm for that long, ‘kay, Trixie? And with that final thought, I leaned back as all become rainbows and stardust; as I rode a beam of rainbow light of my own making.all the way to the planet of war.., Earth, Bell family camp. I was about a hundred meters away from the camp, when I heard my new least favorite sound in the world again, and my hind-legs went numb below the hook. Zot. With just a barely fought down shout of ‘Bastardus hypocrites!,’ I gritted my teeth as well as I could given the circumstances, and started dragging myself forward. I made a decent clip —at least for a fresh paraplegic, but with a sinking realization it just seemed less and less likely I’d make it. The cruel irony of it, was that had my horn been functioning, it would have been little more than a thought and a flash for me to get there. As was, the small stretch of sand in front of me and my mangled frame, might as well have been reaching Mars with a pogostick. Still, the alternative was to lay down and die, or worse, get downgraded if that ‘cure you’ crap meant what I thought it meant. If I’d wanted to be a vanilla mortal, I’d have freaking stayed a vanilla mortal. I did not spend quite literally centuries refining my art, just to have a bunch of neanderthals with a flesh fetish strip that away from me. “Stop her!” the man with the megaphone shouted again, the sound of wheels on sand only now getting close enough to me to figure out just how they were chasing me. “There might be anything in that tent!” I caught a mutter on the wind, the words lost, but the tone of ‘enough of this’ still carrying through. With a flash of blue, so close to the current sky I nearly missed it, the blur from earlier teleported about ten meters to my left. I barely had time to see a thin line of blur extend from the mass, before a slightly more subdued Zot took my left arm off at the knee. I’d kinda seen the horrible pattern, so I had turned my sense of pain off when my tail went flying off. I still faked crying out in pain as I tumbled, hiding how I reached in and pulled out my whip with my body, as I pretended I was ‘just’ cradling the stump my other hoof had turned into. It was close, but I just barely managed to get the weapon out and cradle my stump for real as I came to a stop. Rolling onto my side and then my back, the whip was now hidden under me as I came to a halt. “No closer than two-three meters,” the sniper in the cloaking field said, his cool and collected voice strangely early for the situation. It was probably helped how the slightly blockier bit of blur pointed my way hadn’t as much as wavered. “Transhumans are tricky to disable at the best of times, and that’s when they don’t know how their bodies actually works.” I didn’t recognize the accent, but the almost cold way he was speaking? Either a psycho, or somebody that considered himself a professional. Or both, of course. “Slightest chance you are only doing this for the money, good Sir?” I forced myself to say in a level voice. “Because in that case, I would be willing to leeway a counter-offer.” A dry thing that just might have been a chuckle drifted through the air. “Sorry, Miss Rarity, but I’m under contract. And in my business, you simply cannot buy reputation.” What might just have been a tiny tilt of his head made his outline shift, but alas, the gun did not. “A pleasure meeting a Lady with manners, though.” The small fleet of cars, seemingly badly modified for manual driving judging by how half-assedly some of their parts looked, came rolling up near us. “Unlike some…” Even I barely heard the man mutter under his breath. From the looks of things, somebody had raided a lower-class junkyard and used a metal 3D-printer to just barely get four ancient car wrecks rolling. Every part not in what looked like just standard if still gleaming steel was either so rusty it barely held together, or so worn by sand and wind you could almost see through it. It made a twisted amount of sense. Old heaps like these would be next to impossible to track even if the computer bits had still been intact. For all I know, they might have even quite literally looted from somewhere around here, or even the desert itself. The first man out was, average. Average height, average weight, average looks, even his skin tone was weirdly,. average. Not quite latino, not quite white, dark enough that it might have been inherited or simply a tan. Just… average. Had I not been decently certain that wasn’t the case, I would frankly have thought the man with the greying hair and matching immaculate grey suit a full body cyborg that had gone out of his way to be nondescript. Thing is, there was this… presence to the man. Nothing you could put a finger on, but his aesthetic blandness aside he simply seemed to have a gravity to him, that, ironically, caught one’s eye. The man was soon flanked by four guards, faces obscured by folded t-shirts of all things, and carrying AN-94s of all ancient darn gun designs. Hardly even a tenth as deadly as the laser rain I’d needed to wade through, but hardly harmless either. The guns also had a ‘fresh’ look to them, barely as much as a scratch on their surfaces. This… this was bad. Bad with a capital ‘B’ and extra ‘oh crap’ sprinkles on top. I wasn’t quite certain what group this was, but printed weapons and gear? That wasn’t the setup you sat up for taking down a single rival. This was an army arming itself. I started recording immediately, deactivating a few bits of code I legally should barely know exist as to not inform everybody nearby I was doing so. It was a long-shot, but just maybe it might survive even if I didn’t. “Ah, Mr. Smith,” the man said with a soft smile I didn’t buy for a second, walking slowly towards me with his hands behind his back as if he had all the time in the world, “I have wanted to speak with you for quite a while, but somebody seems to refuse to take my calls.” I felt my ear flick without my conscious input. “I have not been either a ‘Mr.’ or ‘Smith’ in a very, very long time, Sir…” Something dark flickered in the man’s golden-brown eyes. “Ah, yes, because renaming and styling yourself after one of the main characters from a three hundred year old cartoon aimed mainly at little girls truly is the height of sanity.” Not seeing much point in it with every eye on me already, I switched back to my standard colors of light grey and fuchsia. A few guns twitched a bit extra my way, but they slowly lowered again when the only thing happening was my pelt and mane shifting colors. “Well, I’m so sorry the face I’ve had for almost two hundred years is not to your liking. Perhaps we could take a rain check like civilized people, and continue this at a later date when I’ve had a chance to actually dress for the occasion…?” The ghost of a smile flickered over the man’s lips. “I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, Mr. Smith. You’ve become quite the… fixture in the cybernetic community, and one way or the other, I need to set an example before it is too late.” The words were polite enough, but the man said ‘fixture in the cybernetic community’ the same way most would have said ‘crawling mat of maggots.’ I just barely stopped myself from glaring at him. “Too late for what, Mr…?” He tipped an imaginary hat at me. “Call me Mr. X.” I let out a snort, despite myself. “Forgive me for the rather cliche’ alias, but I simply consider there more pressing matters for my intellect at the moment. Like how to stop humanity from foolishly undoing itself, for example.” “I see,” I said almost as dry as the air around us, “Might I recommend tequila and the nearest bar? I’ve heard that combo tends to work simply wonders if you want more humans running about.” Mr. X let out a sigh, sounding genuinely exasperated. “Mr. Smith, I am talking about how we humans seem to be adamant on driving ourselves to obsoletion.” Something flickered over the man’s face, but it was gone too quickly for me to read it. “In no small part thanks to you and your friends’ efforts.” I kept my voice level, but there was a small but consistent part of me that kept whispering that bone is not nearly as strong as many think, I still had one working hoof and those rocks near my sure were highly throwable things. I guess I might really have moved to a point where my systems were just another part of me, because that tiny part was enough for a targeting arc to show in my augmented reality HUD; a nice, curved, arrowed line, straight through the bastard’s head. I’d be dead before I could hear the splat, of course, but still, a tempting thought. “You ever been blind or lame, Mr. X? My own disadvantage was more petty than that, but some of my friends’ you so sneer at suffered as such, and long before regenerative medicine was a thing, at that.” Perhaps it was willful imagination on my part, but the air felt a degree or so cooler from my tone alone. “If seeing such horrors undone is the wages of sin… than frankly, the Queen of Hell I would gladly be.” There was a soft murmur among his men, but Mr. X himself just tilted his head. “There was quite a trend when just that—regenerative medicine that is, made it past being a pipe-dream.” Mr. X’s suit creased as he gave a theatrical shrug. “The cyborg population all but gone in a night, as people chose to reclaim their humanity.” There was a moment of silence, while Mr. X played the crowd by theatrically looking between his men, and me. “You didn’t, Mr. Smith.” The bastard continued. “Not you and your friends, so just why was that?” I waved my stump at him. “I’m sorry, but who hunted and maimed who again?” I felt my teeth crackle and warp slightly, as I ground them together. “While me and my daughter was doing nothing more than spending a pleasant vacation?” Mr. X’s eyes narrowed at me. “Answer the question, please?” He said ‘please’ in that hard way that tells you that the question mark on the end of that sentence was just a formality. I rolled my eyes at him. “Because the vain, short-sighted idiots back then, the ones into cybernetics just for the smooth skin, ten inch pianists, the larger letter combos and similar juvenile distractions, jumped ship the moment they could have that without looking like walking dolls?” I puffed my mane with my whole hoof and held my head high to Mr. Whatever’s clear irritation. “While we with patience, wisdom and foresight stuck with the slower, but ultimately more rewarding road?” I heard Mr. X’s hands crackle slightly behind his back, but nothing of the sort showed on his face. “And just what has that ‘wisdom and foresight’ given you, Mr. Smith? A body more circuitry than flesh, and an empty home with nothing in it but stuff and a doll that dreams it might one day be even half of what you’ve willingly given up?” I gave the ‘man’ my coldest look of contempt. “Sweetie is a hundred fold the human you ever will be, Mr. X. She is kind, generous, and near everything a mother may be proud in her child.” In that moment, I frankly wouldn’t have stopped the fierce, proud grin if I’d been promised Earth itself. “And since that involves such things as the bad and even ugly as well as the good, I frankly look forward to the moment she hunts you down like the rabid animal you are, resists the urge to feed you your own entrails, and instead offers you the undeserved mercy of a quick, clean death.” It was slight, but I saw the twit’s eyes widen a bit. “...I must admit, I did not see such… graphic threats coming.” “What, from one of the ‘heartless, soulless would-be automatons,’ or whatever the current slur is?” I asked mockingly, before getting serious once more. “Because if you think you and your bunch of rag-tag misfits are even the hundredth that have raged against me and my friends for being ‘sins against nature’ you are frankly a fool.” The blur to my left let out the tiniest of coughs. Not even that made his gun waver, though. “Although I will applaud you for actually knowing what a broken little talentless fool of a hack you are, and hiring talented and courteous professional help accordingly.” Even I almost missed it, but there again was the tiniest of dips in the distortion of the snipers cloak. Never pays to burn bridges. Especially not with snipers that normally shoot to wound. “May I however recommend the services of a professional psychologist next time, rather than a sniper?” I continued, trying to push Mr. Idiot’s buttons so he’d make a mistake. “Disabler, Ma’am. Common mistake.” the blurr said softly. “The dead hold too long a grudge nowadays, you see, but most are a good enough sport about a leg or two not to go after the cat’s paw that held the gun.” An utterly humorless chuckle drifted through the air from the ghostlike man, making quite a few of the guards all around us shiver despite the heat. “Most of the time, anyway.” Mr. X took a deep breath, before pressing on in a carefully level voice. “Would you two ab-” He fought down the ‘abominations,’ and continued as if it had never passed his lips. “Misinformed people please stop all but flirting? It is unbelievably disturbing.” I actually felt the man shift his attention from me, to his employer. “Mr. X,” the sn- disabler said in a tone so cold it had grown razor ice, “may I remind you, that I am a professional in an extremely limited field of expertise? If the tools I use to accomplish this task is so beneath your notice, perhaps you have a better method you’d care to share.” Something ugly flashed over X’s face again. “I don’t, and that is exactly why I find I need to resort to measures such as these.” With exaggerated slowness, the overgrown child raised his arm and pointed at me. “Tell me honestly, ‘Miss Rarity,’ when was the last time a human actually challenged you in anything?” I just stared at him like the fool he was. “...Today?” There was a ringing silence to mark the passing of my words. “I may be many, many things including prideful, child, but I do not count outright arrogance among my vices.” I rolled my shoulders a bit before continuing. “When was the last time you made something of your own instead of tearing down the works of others, Mr. X? Because that’s it isn’t it? It’s so much easier to pretend that the competition is just too fierce, and fail by not even trying.” Mr. X’s eyes narrowed at me, for the first time showing outright hostility. “And what would somebody that has carved away so many bits of themselves they don’t even bleed anymore know of work and sacrifice?” To the man’s clear irritation, and his mens’ worry, I just laughed at him in the face. “You dare call me that freaking name, but your freaking sources didn’t even tell you that much about me, you silly little man?!” I jabbed a hoof to my chest, and glared his way. “You know what I used to be? I was a freaking farmer’s son, and I dragged myself to greatness. The biological relatives you seem to think I should remember so fondly disowned me, just because I didn’t want to spent the rest of my life shoving seeds into soil!” There was now a low, but consistent murmur among Mr. X’s men. It seemed whatever local lads he’d lead here on a merry little unicorn hunt hadn’t actually expected to find a person behind that horn. Good, I could use that. And if some poor lad that should have known better but hadn’t got a life-lesson without being harmed too terribly? Even better. So I turned to them instead, using my translator to do so in next best thing to fluent Arabic. <”Has this son of a dog even told you why he made you hunt me? What dread crime I’ve committed to earn his ire? Has he even lowered himself to talk with you, or was promises and barked orders in English enough for his tastes?”> There was a moment of shock and widened eyes. And then, one of them slowly shook his head and lowered his gun. <”...No,” the man said in a rather restrained voice, eyes now coldly focused on a distinctly nervous Mr. X, <“We were told, in rather horrid Arabic, that you and your ‘accomplice had a hostage, and in the time it would take to call the police or the guard, this ‘Mr. Smith’ would be dead…”> <”I and my daughter were here to test a high-grade frame without risk of collateral,”> I calmly said, looking the man straight in his brownish-grey eyes. <”I even have all paperwork and licenses to prove it.”> I tilted my head, as the would be spokesman silently started glaring straight at Mr. X. <”Oh, and you will sadly have to take my word on the whereabouts of Mr. Smith, because I simply do not see much point in carrying around almost two hundred year old papers on my legal name change.”> The Disabler’s eyes was slowly passing around the now fuming crowd of armed people. “My Arabic is rather rusty, Mr. X, but I believe your jig is up... and you did not pay me nearly enough to slaughter a bunch of kids.” With the tiniest shrug, the man hid away his gun with one, smooth movement. “Given what you did to poor Gloria and how much time and effort it will take to fix her, I frankly consider our business concluded.” With not another word, the man just turned and walked away; whistling a merry tune as if he wasn’t being stared at by nearly a dozen armed men. “Does that mean you are now between contracts, Mr? Because I seem to be of more need of a security expert than I thought, and I rather like the idea of somebody of your skills that still prefers not to kill.” The Disabler paused, mid-stride and one not-quite there foot above the sands. I’ve seldom seen the type of hate I saw in Mr. X’s eyes as he apparently near, quite literally, cracked his knuckles. I just continued with a smile, though, looking Mr. X in his furious eyes. “Did you really think moi ended up the second oldest human alive by my looks alone, Mr. X?” I puffed my mane again to his clear irritation. “Now granted, they do help, but I severely doubt that counts when you’ve designed most of them yourself.” The ‘man’ took a deep breath, and steeled himself before forcing himself to continue. “It is not yet to late, Mr. Smith. You could do so much more, and so much good, if only you actually re-joined humanity.” I’ll give the devil his dues. Things slipping away so fast, and still standing there with a tremble of pure conviction in his voice? “Child,” I continued in a tired, but even voice, “I am, as little as I care to remember it, a three hundred and fifty six years old. Without my implants, the various gene-therapies I’ve received, and drugs I constantly take through those implants?” I poked my temple. “I would either be dust, or a withered husk with a mind so overfull of memories that being dust would have been a kindness, because not being able to feed or bathe yourself is no way to actually live.” There was a low murmur among ‘his’ men, informing me that at least a few of them understood English. Good, both for them and me. “Or did you really think it was just a matter of throwing me into an auto-doc, fake my consent, and hit the big, shiny ‘reverse’ button? Medicine, cybernetics or biology does not freaking work that way, you uneducated child.” “And of all the lives saved by that example?” Mr. X continued, barely missing a beat. “All the girls and boys, that might have had full and fulfilling lives, had they not been waylaid like you? How much of your soul have you cut away, to lay there and not die from such wounds? For that hollow taste of power?” I frankly felt some gall rising in my throat. “I remember the Wall falling, Mr. X. I remember the end of Apartheid. The first moon-landing, the Vietnam war, and dozens upon dozens of humanities brightest and darkest moments during the last three centuries.  I am calm —not because of my implants, but because I’ve seen this song and dance enough times it frankly bores me.” I spat him in the face from five meters away, making everybody nearby twitch. “Because you are nothing but a zealous little thug afraid of a coming dawn, that history will roll over and swallow you like the cockroach you are. Like all others that cried ‘the end is nigh’ at society daring to change.” With a trembling hand, Mr. X wiped my spit off. I just sent another glob his way, making him twitch as it splattered between his eyes. “Do. Your. Worst.” “Enough,” the would-be spokesman declared in shaky but understandable English, one hand raised and everything, as he swept his hard eyes between me and the fuming X. He then turned to his comrades, without taking eyes of me, Mr. X or the blurry patch of sand, that had apparently sunk down to watch the fireworks. <“One of them are playing us. Go to the tent and see what’s really there.”> The man he’d addressed took one long look at me, than the tent, and then stared the self-declared leader straight in the eye. <”I can guess the contents of that tent, if she’s the new Ûbermench Slasher and have decided to attract victims by looking like that.”> The man shuddered as if a ice-cube had been dropped down his tunic. <”I will not be the first into that tent.”> It took me about a second to actually get what I’d just heard. And about twice that to actually swallow the bit of my breakfast that had climbed up my throat after that. With a shrug, the de facto leader just pointed at two other men; those two sprinting over without a further word. <”The armor in there isn’t intended for a normal human,”> I gently but firmly said after them, making them hesitate. <”Don’t try to put it on.”> <”And just what would happen if they did…?”> The spokesman asked dryly. <”It’s mostly untested power armor, configured for somebody with titanium bones and--”> I waved a hoof his way, making a light of understanding dawn in his eyes. <”It doesn’t have any booby-traps or anything short-sighted like that.”> I looked at the now rather more still Mr. X, and gave him my sweetest smile. <”There is however, also a radio. May I recommend its usage to call the police and settle this dreadful matter civility?”> The man might not have been a great speaker of Arabic, but the words ‘الشرطة’ and ‘الراديو,’ IE police and radio, most certainly made Mr. X’s eyes widen. “Don’t!” The entire group of concerned citizens instantly focused on him. To the bastard’s credit, he almost managed to save enough gravitas to pull a bluff of. “We can still solve this ourselves,” he calmly said, walking forward a bit with his hands raised like a freaking hostage negotiator. “There is no need to invo--” I just turned to the leader again. <”He is trying to discourage you from involving the authorities. Saying that: ‘Nothing is wrong, don’t call the police’ in a calm, authoritative voice. That is a favorite trick of some of the nastier serial killers, right there.”> I slowly pointed a few times  towards the tent with the tip of my hoof. <”A white satellite phone right next to one of the beds. You can’t miss it.”> The leader gave me a slow nod, waving the arm not holding his weapon to the tent. <”Firas, go see if you can find that phone.”> A grimace visibly through his mask twisted his face. <”Can’t believe I’m saying this sentence, but the unicorn is talking a lot of sense.”> A laugh rippled through the crowd, but it seemed it was more nerves than mirth. <”She trying deceiving!”> Mr. X shouted in broken Arabic, clearly at his wits end but still trying to salvage victory from defeat. <”No police! Unnecessary!”> <”One of the punishments and part one of rehabilitation for a transhuman that has used their implants for, just one example, murder, is the removal of all implants,”> I effortlessly countered. <”Within medical reason, of course.”> I added with a tap to my temple. <”If you have told these gentleman the truth, I end up in a healing-tank anyway, except by calling the police it becomes legal.”> The mask fell away as ‘his’ men started muttering amongst themselves, and the overgrown child glared at me. I just smiled back. <”Knowledge is power, child. May I recommend looking into a higher-grade translator implant after this?” The smile on my face turned into an outright grin, as the ‘man’s’ glare turned into an outright glower. <”Why, nothing quite as good for peace, as to politely be able to simply talk things over…”> Whatever ‘witty’ retort the ‘man’ had, it was cut of by Mr. Firas and the other two gentleman that had braved mine and Sweetie’s tent coming out. Given how they had removed their masks and were looking positively furious, I could guess how that had gone. Firas, the scowl aside, was actually quite a handsome young man underneath the rather tacky get-up. Dusky skin, raven hair, and a pencil mustache that rather complimented his features. <”Nothing but tools, clothes and machinery, Ishmael,”> Firas told the leader in a trembling voice. <”We even found a small UV-light and dug down a bit in the sand, but nothing. There is barely as much as a coffee stain in the whole tent, let alone blood.”> To my surprise, it was however towards me he scowled next. “And no frame.” My brow furrowed. <”What?”> Firas looked at me like I was stupid. <”No frame. None. Just an empty table with some tools on it.”> I think the look of horror on my face told it before my mouth did. <”...Well, in that case there’s a prototype siege frame in matching power armor, both without even half the calibrations done skulking around somewhere here, and I’m not the one that made it do that.”> For a moment or so, the entire place was so still, the whole camp was basically a living diorama. Then without any hesitation, about half the group all but flew to the cars; the ancient vehicles in turn racing off before the echo of my voice had even died off. I took it as a rather bad sign that even the Disabler whose name I never got, seemed to have either fled, or gone still enough that I couldn’t spot his cloak any more. “A siege frame?!” Mr. X finally shrieked my way, just barely stopping himself from stomping up to me. “Do you not have any morals left?!” That? That was the straw that broke the pony’s freaking back. “Morals? Morals?!” Snarling and ears slicked back, I slammed my hoof down on the sand; hitting it so hard near any other surface would have shattered. “You’ve maimed me, lied to a dozen people, killed my daughter —all because you’re a bio-conservative bastard, and you dare speak in my presence of morals?!” I swear, had I not been laying there, with near all my limbs cut off? I am not a person to whom either violence or anger comes easy, But in that moment of burning hot clarity? I would have quite probably twisted the bastard’s head clean around, had I been close enough to do so. Luckily, by the time I was lucid enough to think of the whip under me, or the rocks by my side that moment had passed. <”Ishmael,”> Firas said shakily, eyes darting around and not quite taking his finger off the trigger of his rifle, <”look, one of them is clearly a liar, but I don’t like the idea of finding out that siege frame isn’t a bluff.”> The man lifted his free hand and pointed to the remaining two cars. <”Let’s just herd them into a car each, let the police sort them out, while the guard looks for that runaway frame.”> I had to admit, that wasn’t a half-bad plan, so I just gave a half-hearted shrug. <”I severely doubt we wouldn’t have seen it already if the thief was still around, but fine by me.”> I lifted my remaining hoof and my stump in the air. <”As long as I see black uniforms soon enough, I shan’t struggle.”> Ishmael hesitated, drumming his fingers nervously on his own rifle. <”You got ahold of the guard?”> Firas nodded. <”They apparently had a gunship nearby, so I was told fifteen minutes or so.” Ishmael gave his comrade a grim nod, before turning my way. <”What type of frame?”> I hesitated for just a moment, but it was still enough for Ishmael's eyes to narrow quite a bit. <”Survival.”> I gave a nod towards the idiot of the day. <”In case twits like him one day gets to lay down the law.”> I got a long, hard look for that one. <”Explain.”> I cringed slightly. <”Exactly more or less like the one I’m wearing now, but with military grade hardware under the hood rather than civilian.”> The glare did not waver one iota. <”So you are telling me, it’s an experimental frame made to blend in with a civilian setting.”> There was only four people left, not including me and Mr. X, but all of them started muttering rather angrily. I waved my stump his way with my lips a line. <”It is almost as if I’m a transhuman that design cybernetics, or something of the kind.”> I swept my hoof around the barren wilderness. <”And are you really complaining about my safety precautions?”> The muttering didn’t die away, but it shifted to a slightly less angry tone at least.  <”Oh, I don’t know, mom, your root passwords could use some work.”> I swear my heart came back from the dead just to haunt my throat for a few moments. The rest of the group tensed, as a squat form faded into view; right next to where the Disabler from earlier had been. It didn’t look that special unless you know some of the signs; just a silvery power armor, if with digigrade legs. The only thing pointing that the thing was half-finished, was the gaping ports for gear and weapons still to be installed. Above the neck, though? A different story.entirely. It actually took me a moment or so to figure out what I was seeing. It was as if a pit of metallic vipers was sitting and slowly moving about something, a few of them holding aloft Sweetie’s head. The latter in turn, smiling in that lopsided way stroke victims do; an impression further reinforced by how only one of her eyes was lit and focused our way. The gleaming snake-pit slid aside, and a tiny, faded hoof held them aside as if parting a bead curtain. “Honestly, you silly biologicals and those cute ‘centralized organs’ of yours.” And then, speaking in perfect unison with her head, Sweetie as I mostly remembered her stepped out onto her own neck. <”Honestly, at least I make no secret about being an ol’ sap.”> The ‘toy’ no larger than a lap-dog, had clearly been heavily modified, as well as being old and ragged. The once white pelt was covered in pilling and frayed in quite a few spots, and outrightly cut away in the back to let the ‘tentacles’ into what had once been the central computer core.. Her joints kept making loud ‘crinch-crinch’ sounds instead of the ‘whir-whir’ I remembered from old, the servos seemingly rather disliking the desert sands all around us. It was a strange sight, almost taken from an old B-horror movie. And had I smiled any wider at it, my jaw would quite possible flown off from the forces involved. Both of Sweetie’s heads smiled sweetly, eyes not moving from the clearly paling Mr. X. “So, slightest chance you are smart enough to just stand politely there until the fuzz arrives, Mr. Cliche’?“ My daughter's smiles turned hard, and there was a gleam in her eyes I’d frankly hope I never have to see again. “Because by all means, I would love a chance to get even if we simply must solve this in a uncivil sort a way.” Mr. X just pointed, and shouted at the ‘mob’ members still there. “Do you see what type of abominations they are now?!” The locals looked uncertain, but Sweetie just cleared her throats. <”You have my word I have no grief with you, as long as those weapons remain pointed away from me and my mother.”> The emphasis was a dirty, dirty blow I would have cheered on, would that not have ruined the effect. Slowly, and although no eyes got taken off her, shoulders started lowering. Mr. X, naturally, just fumed harder. “So, if I’m an abomination and would prefer this to end without bloodshed,” Sweetie dryly asked, flexing her fingers lazily. “Just what does that make you?” I had to give the devil his due: this Mr. X was a true believer, because he sucked in a slow breath, and just pressed on in an almost calm voice. “Please, there is still time to turn this around...” “And if you’d actually taken this hair-brained scheme up with me before shooting my daughter and I by proxy, you would have gotten a polite, civil ‘Hell no,’ rather than legal action,” I calmly interrupted. “You’ve lost, accept it with some dignity.” The man snarled at me again, but he soon had his features under control again. “Don’t you see? With every passing day, there are more and more cyborgs, and that isn’t even counting you, transhumans.” I frankly found barely enough energy to let out a sigh. “Yes, how dare people want to live long, healthy lives, free from pain and misery.” “And just what have you given up to have that ‘life?’ How much of you is still left in that shell?” “A hundred percent more than all but one person older than me. Unless you’ve been holding out on a superior path to immortality and nigh invulnerability?” Honestly, I’d probably had this ‘debate’ a hundred upon a hundred times. And take one had been sorta dull. Immortal cyborg demigod, or an average Joe. Perhaps there was a good argument for staying the later, but I had frankly not heard it yet. Still, it was a decent enough way to distract the well-meaning idiot until help arrived. Still. “Sweetie?” I asked without turning my head. “Just what happened to that Disabler?” That made Mr. X shut-up, alright. With a snort, Sweetie held up something small, flat and white she’d been hiding inside her ‘tentacles’ using both hooves. “I’ll grant the twit this much, he knows when to run and how to do it with style.” I blinked, not quite certain what else to say or do. Have to admit, quite literally dropping one’s card and scampering? Did not see that coming. Luckily, that was when the black spot appeared on the horizon. Sadly, the twit himself followed my gaze, and after a moment or so of squinting uselessly, he instead put two and two together. With a soft crunch of metal on sand that even I barely heard, Sweetie took the opportunity of that distraction to jump over to my side; effortlessly all but sailing those twenty-so meters and barely making even that much sound on landing. By the time any of the present people looked over to us, she was already once more sitting in a crouching position next to me. Near needlessly to say, there was quite a few shocked twitches once people actually looked back. With a big smile, I patted Sweetie gently on the leg. “That’s my girl.” Sweetie didn’t take her eyes of the people around us, but I got an absent hum in stereo from her. “Seriously, mom, you need to start commenting your darn code. I’m a freaking AI, and I can barely tell what does what in this pile of scrap.” I let out a harrumph and put my nose in the air. It was an act, of course. Showing ones throat, literally even, for a would be kidnapper? A small bit of weakness slash contempt, just so the twit would try any last minute aces he might have. And no sooner had I done just that, when Mr. X’s arm snaked inside his suit, and came out holding a darn grenade. It looked cobbled together, little more than a cylinder with a small pulley, but that hardly made it less dangerous. He was fast, I’ll grant him that. For a human. I’d gotten my whip out from under me and started my swing before his other arm was even half-way there in pulling the ‘pin.’ With a sickeningly loud crack, the leather hit Mr. X straight over his right hand; instantly bending the palm in an unnatural way, and making white bone show before blood welled up and obscured the wound. For a moment I was mortified, but it was gone in a flash of seeing within my mind’s eye Sweetie slump over again. It was unfortunate I’d forgotten how much I’d overclocked my smoking ruin of a frame, but the man had made his own bed. I frankly couldn’t say I felt much guilt on tucking him in. Near needlessly to say, Mr. X had dropped the grenade the moment his hand broke. Still, no reason to take chances with explosives, so with another flick of my fetlock, I sent my whip whistling back the opposite way, and the grenade flying away into the distance. With a satisfyingly loud and expensive sounding crunch, the small cylinder crashed into a rock on a nearby dune; within moments going from ‘dangerous weapon’ to ‘metallic pancake’ from the force of the impact. I pulled the whip back, and struggled to get up onto what remained of my haunches as silence reigned. Not even Mr. ‘High-And-Mighty’ seemed to have anything but winces to say. “Mom, you are a very scary old woman.” “Well, the good die young, do they not?” I deadpanned, before smiling sweetly the locals’ way. <”Perhaps going in, and forwarding to the fastly approaching gunship the situation is under control would expedite things?”> Firas all but dove toward the tent, while the rest took several steps back without actually turning around. I smiled a bit wider. <”Good lads.”> Sol Guard Gunship Ea-Af-A031 Fast approaching crime-scene. I was glaring towards nothing in particular, so hard I’m frankly half surprised no paint was peeling of the walls. It was most certainly enough to make the two privates I’d brought along mostly to give some hands-on experience nervous, but with my rep that was no hard feat. One time is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. I made mental note of making sure to do my best to drum up some higher security measures before whatever was freaking going on went to outright enemy action. Things had been slowly heating up between the various pro and anti groups ever since the higher grade cybernetics started making a comeback, but was somebody outrightly inflaming the issue further, or was it ‘just’ societal backlash having reached a cracking point? Either way, not good. Not good at all. I shook the line of grim thought out of my head and shelved it for later. “Sir!” The pilot barked through my ear-piece. “We just got word through the dispatchers! They say the caller from earlier jumped back onto the phone, and says the situation is now under control!” I forced myself to lean back into my seat, and mull it over. “And the siege frame?” Opposite me, the two privates tensed enough it was visible even with the power armor they were wearing. “Under control of Sweetiebot Bell, Sir,” the copilot drawled out. “The girl apparently played dead, and teleported back to camp before either of the other groups could.” I nodded absently. That might both complicate and simplify things. I was really missing having #431 nearby, but she was currently escorting Ms. Lulamoon to The Rock Farm for medical care, not to mention repairs. Understandable and annoying, but I simply needed to deal with it. “You two,” I ordered as I pointed, the two privates doing salutes near instantly. “Air-drop and approach on foot. Do not, I repeat, do not open fire unless fired upon. The rest of us will approach by air and play it by ear from there.” “Sir!” The copilot barked out. “The perpetrator has apparently been subdued, but he had at least one grenade on him, and he requires medical attention.” I let out an unhappy grunt. Whoever it was that wrote that darn ‘Anarchist Cookbook’ crap had not seen 3D printing coming, alright. “OK, belay that previous order. I want sensors on the whole place ASAP.” A small chorus of ‘Sir, yes, Sir!” rang out, and I forced myself to lean back and wait. I did a quick weapons check, with only a uniform and a side-arm it didn’t exactly take long. Two extra magazines with twelve taser-rounds each, and two extra capacitors for the laser, in combo with the ones already loaded. One of the privates was giving me a really odd look. “Permission to speak, Sir?” “Granted,” i said, as I re-holstered my gun. “Isn’t that a bit much ammo, Sir?” The private, a young fair-skinned man with an Australian accent, waved an armored hand vaguely towards the horizon. “This was supposed to be a recruitment run, right?” I gave a shrug. “My first taste of space was the Glorious Dawn, Private.” The kid’s eyes went a bit wide. “I’ve done the ‘behind enemy lines without gear’ crap once, and I’m in no hurry to let history repeat if I can help it.” I fought down a chuckle as the other kid leaned over and whispered, despite how his radio broadcast the words to us as clear as day. Cute how some things stay the same. “Told you it was the Gregory. You owe me ten cred.” I coughed for effect into my hand. The first private gave me a once over. “...Thought you’d be taller, Sir.” I smiled wide, not quite being able to help myself. “And no doubt that I was built like the proverbial brick shit-house, and with eyes that shoot flames.” I let out a soft chuckle before continuing. “Believe it or not, but I’ve heard some of the rumors myself.” The two shared a glance I wasn’t certain I liked, before the Australian kid spoke up again, sounding reluctant in the extreme. “Sir, I wouldn’t normally ask this, but…” “Yes, Private?” The kid took a deep breath, and just blurted it out. “Is it true you took down the Ûbermench?” I felt my smile turn waxen. “Any tips? Just in case?” I fought down the urge to snarl, and instead closed my eyes for a few moments. “You are aware, that both Ms. Rarity and her daughter are pillars of the community, have passed all required psych screenings and are licences for such gear?” To the kid’s credit, he hesitated. “...Just thought I’d ask, Sir. If it comes to that type of stuff.” I let out a neutral grunt. Had to admit, the kid had a point. “You’ve ever seen one of those old flicks, were the cyborg basically can bounce between walls, and pluck bullets from the air? Or is so heavily armed, they basically wade through entire armies?” Both the privates laughed. No one else did. I waited for the laughs to nervously die off, before opening my eyes and looking the two in their own. “That’s siege frames. The only thing they really have in common, is that they’re the heavy duty stuff and tuned for combat. If you can peg them they tend to go down easily enough, but quite a few of them can move like greased lightning’s meaner cousin that has learned how to teleport” I yerked my head towards our destination. “Believe it or not, but this Rarity girl has a thing for unicorns, so just a heads up on getting weirded out by the combo.” The two privates shared one of those ‘are we being bullshitted with?’ looks. “Sir, we’ve got a visual,” the copilot spoke up, flicking a few controls and routing a camera feed onto the screens back in the hold with us. “Two wounded including Lady Rarity, four civvies with guns, and a really non-standard android, but the fighting seems to have stopped.” I leaned forward against my belts, and did my best to analyse the scene. The wounded man fitted the description of this ‘Mr. X.’ Seriously non-descrip, even suspiciously so, and dressed in grey. Something seemed to have happened to his hand, but aside from some dripping blood he seemed in good enough shape. Given the level of damage it seemed he’d been disarmed of something, and then mostly ignored. Lady Rarity was in much worse shape, even if her level of cybernetic enhancements made rendering her aid a lower priority. None showed up on the scanner, but the wounds looked like laser weapons. “Scan for snipers,” I ordered, before going back to analyzing even before the confirmation of “Yes, Sir.” could bounce back my way. It looked like somebody had tried to disable her, one limb at a time. Even her tail had been shot off in what must have been a near miss on her legs. Oh, and somehow she’d kept that ridiculous fuchsia corkscrew hair of hers through all that. I guess when your hair is artificial and prehensile such a feat is somewhat easier, but still. Frankly, who I only realized who it was from seeing her photo in the background folders on Rarity worried me more. I didn’t recognize the type of frame, a clear custom job, but given how it was so clearly unfinished made me lower the threat rating a bit. Now Sweetiebot herself though? Now there was a worrying sight. “What the hell is that thing?” the other Private muttered under his breath. Frankly, it looked like some type of old toy had sprouted metallic tentacles from its back; the grisly sight further reinforced by how some of those metallic strand flowed up into a clearly animated if wounded head of the same design as the toy. “Either metallic smart-fiber, or if we’re really unlucky, some nano crap you’d need five degrees and a quadruple digit IQ to use, let alone make,” I absently explained, my own attention locked on the pit of vipers the girl’s ‘true form’ or whatever was. “The girl’s a generation one AI with connections at that, so be prepared for nearly anything.” There was five people on the small gunship including me, and I still swear I heard four gulps. Didn’t happen often, thank God,  but nobody liked the idea of being first on scene of an AI that has snapped. “Come now,” I stated in my best ‘commander voice,’ all calm assurance and certainty. “We’ve trained for this, if it comes to that. Suits sealed, friers on anything that moves, and hold the line until the heavy guns can arrive.” They were a bit grim, but I got nods for that. “And so far to our knowledge, the girl has so far only defended her mum, and sub-lethally at that,” I continued in the same calm, even voice. It weared slightly into, ugh, Arun territory, but I put just the tiniest bit of extra emphasis on ‘the girl’ and ‘her mum.’ “Innocent until proven guilty and don’t fire lethal ammunition unless fired upon first.  Remember that, people.” Another round of “Yes, Sir!” rang out. “This is transport Ea-Af-A031,” I heard the copilot speak into the radio. “Active nanotech spotted on scene; presumed to be smart-matter. We’ve also confirmed the presence of presumed dead AI Sweetiebot Bell. She is currently in control of an unregistered prototype siege frame and aforementioned nanotech, but appears to be standing by in a defensive posture. She has not, I repeat not, so far taken any hostile action against us.” “Understood Ea-Af-A031,” I just barely heard the dispatcher say on the other end of the line, “Enacting Pandora protocol, grade yellow. Grey Custodians have notified, ETA five minutes.” I fought down a groan as in my mind’s eye, my pile of paperwork grow two sizes that day. Hate it when things get mixed up between departments. Still, this was now their area of expertise. From what I’d heard this Sweetie gal was one of the good ones, but even so, you don’t take chances with nanotech. No one —no one insane enough to spread it around at any rate -- has yet figured out freestanding nano-assemblers. A shiver raced down my spine, despite the warmth of the transport. Not yet, anyway. “Understood, Africa-command,” the copilot intentionally put a hand over a switch, flicking the protective cover off, “enacting radio silence in three, two, one…” With a soft click, every bit of gear tied into our coms changed to offline mode. On my wrist, my PDA’s powerlight went from a cold blue, to a subdued yellow. Crude, but effective. You can’t hack and subvert what you can’t access, after all. Nowhere near as easily, at any rate. And just in time to, as we came into view just about fifty meters or so above the small camp. “Sol Guard!” I heard the copilot shout out over the loudspeakers. “Drop your weapons, and stand down!” The locals a bit further away barely hesitated, the rifles of a design I didn’t recognize but felt that I should landing with soft thuds on the sand. Lady Rarity, to my surprise, hesitated for just a few moments, before throwing a whip of all darn weapons onto the sand. Sweetie also hesitated, but given how she glanced at her mom I had to admit, I felt a pang of sympathy. The moment was a bit ruined by how her version of disarming herself was to slitter out of the siege frame and her half busted head, the later falling to the ground with both eyes now dimmed, while the former just froze, still standing. Whatever those tentacles really were then melted together into four big ones, and she jumped over to her mother’s shoulder in a single leap that wouldn’t haunt my nightmares at all. It was a bit alleviated by how Lady Rarity pulled her into a tight hug without hesitation, however. This ‘Mr. X’ however, didn’t move. Granted, given how his hand was clearly broken, that was a decent enough excuse. “Sir,” the second private gently reminded me, with a small nod towards my head. With a nod of thanks, I put on my gloves, —just barely remembering to draw my gun first, and reached for my collar. The passive systems in my uniform got the hint, and tightened around my wrist and ankles, as this plastic hood unfurled from under my collar. Giving of a single grunt I pulled the ‘helmet’ over my head, the see-through hood’s bottom tightening around my neck with a chemically stinking hiss, as the material there, between my sleeves and gloves, and pants legs and shoes, fused together. Another hiss soon followed from near my neck, as two other chemical packs popped. As always, this one-use pump made my neck feel dangerously warm, and that was almost as uncomfortable as the feeling of my entire uniform filling like some type of freakish balloon. The one time carbon-dioxide scrubber was far subtler in comparison, but I knew it was there from training. Within about five seconds, I was covered in the second best thing to combined bio-hazard gear and a spacesuit. Sadly I do mean the second best thing, and to both at that. It was better than nothing, but against anything actually weaponized, it would be little more than the equivalent in cardboard armor. A small hologram popped up near my wrist, projected from my PDA and showing a countdown in yellow letters; fifty-nine minutes and a dash of seconds until the chemicals ran out, and I’d need to pick between clawing myself out of my own clothes, or suffocate. Still, a far better alternative to trying your lungs against a grey mist, or trying to draw breath in vacuum. Wouldn’t give you more than a minute or two against either, but sometimes that minute is all you need to survive. I frowned in displeasure as I flexed my gloved hand, the taut material audibly protesting against the action. “Even if one's dignity doesn’t,” I muttered just under my breath. Nobody commented on my lapses in protocol. In fact, I even got a pair of sympathetic looks from the two privates. Probably added a few rumors right then and there, but I frankly wasn’t that worried. I’d read enough of both Sweetie’s and Rarity’s background check that I’d seen enough for that conclusion. The few, sad AIs that go off the deep end? Generally not the type of person to call anybody mom, nor do they write books trying to explain cybernetics for the ‘normals,’ just for a few examples. There was a whole laundry list of psychological issues that might lead an AI to do their version of climbing up into the nearest clock-tower with a rifle and Sweetie was a near textbook example of how to avoid all of them. Stable home environment. Stable income. Respect. A parental figure. And so on, and so forth. Still, I could be wrong, and that was reason enough to do it by the book. A web of red lasers started dancing over the scene, projected from under our ship; not only scanning the entire area for weapons and contraband, but also blinding and disorientating any still on scene. The effect was rather spoiled by how Rarity and Sweetie barely blinked while the others held their arms up to shield their eyes, but in theory, the tactic was sound. Still, the information gained in conjunction with thermal imaging and passive x-ray was far more tactically valuable. The rifles, the whip, and a small mess that the computer pegged as an ex-grenade were all the outright weapons that showed up. The HORN on Rarity was apparently nonfunctional, something I’d missed myself, and the one on Sweetie’s discarded head was as powered down as the rest of it. The wounds on Sweetie were indeed laser based, but even with full active sensors there wasn’t a single sign of what had caused them. Now that was troubling. Still, I joined in on the small sigh of relief, as the frame got reported as powered down. It was a small step towards solving this with minimal bloodshed, but a step nonetheless. “Sir,” the copilot calmly said, splicing the camare-feed of one of the top cameras into view, ”incoming, friendlies.” Didn’t know about that personally, but outwardly I simply let out a neutral hum. There were six of them, outwardly looking like nothing more than six dots of flame falling from the sky. Unless you noticed how they were falling in a loose ring formation, you could have mistaken them for simple debris; an old satellite some unlucky bastard had missed in orbit, or something. On the main picture, Sweetie and Rarity’s already comically large eyes went into saucepan levels big. Those ‘tentacles’ of Sweetie’s, whatever they were, even morphed slightly from the force as Rarity held her tighter. This ‘Mr. Whatever’ just grinned near manically at the sky, however; even the pain of his hand gone in a moment of perceived triumph. I made a tiny vow, right there and then, that if he tried something? I’d aim at one of the tender spots, if possible. “Be ready for a sob story, people,” I ordered, raising my voice so everybody would hear me even without the radio. “Not certain yet, but I think we’ve got a would-be martyr on our hands.” With a dual snort, both privates readied their rifles, using their gauntleted hands to deftly flick the safeties of their rifles. I’m not one for gun porn but I had to admit, the new Mk Fours were sleek and nasty looking bits of work, especially when in Sol Guard black. A real pity they are too heavy for practical usage without power armor but that’s trade-offs for you. Still, two shades of sub-lethal and one rather nasty lethal one was quite the upside, so I could really see why the brass had gone ahead with ‘em. Still, now was not quite the time, so I refocused on the screens. And just in time, to, as the drop-pods burst open about two hundred meters over the ground. The men inside were totally covered in silvery power armor, the glimmering film meant to offer limited protection against laser weapons even covering their visors. Those in turn was the only parts that didn’t have lots of little wrinkles on them, further meant to diffuse lasers at the small price of rather ruining the ‘knights in shining armor’ look. The six were not only armored, but covered in a field of shimmering silver sparks, so deep it nearly looked as if the squad was under water. It’s name might have sounded as something from a bad and old sci-fi flick but that quantum white-noise was no laughing matter. It was finicky tech and expensive as heck, but it also stopped any HORN based tech working on, or even near, them. Rather anti-climatic if the cavalry gets teleported in half from a kilometer away, after all. The Grey Custodians had a graviton engine each for maneuverability, but none of the present deployed the ones on their backs, instead allowing their power armors simply take the otherwise bone shattering impact. Not a single one of them as much as let the over-sized guns wired under their arms as much as waver from the crowd, as they landed with loud thuds. To near everybody’s surprise, the first that started screaming wasn’t Mr. X. But Sweetie, tiny hooves straight up in the air. “Oh God, I yield! I yield!” Can’t say I care much for the bunch of overzealous buzz-kills but the Custodians didn’t mess around. I’d grant them that much. There was a brief light show as diodes along the squad’s shoulders lit up; allowing them a decently close approximation to radio contact without the risks an open channel like that possessed. A tall woman, as much as even that only discernible by the slight differences in armor shape you frankly needed to know where to look for, took a weary step forward without taking her eyes of the wounded pair. “Ma’am, we thank you for your cooperation. Can you disable that nanotech?” I’m not certain if the small toy actually had the anatomy for it, but nonetheless Sweetie clearly did her best take on a gulp. “Not without losing half my current IQ, and… quite a few memories I haven't backed up yet.” “Explain,” the woman instantly countered in a tone that brokered no quarter, “or we will presume this to be a bluff, and act accordingly.” “M-m-my main processors were in my head, and th-th-this is just a untested b-b-back-up system. I’m currently mostly spread-out in this smart-mater, and…” Sweetie did that almost gulp thing again, arms not lowering one iota “...And this outdated body of mine just can’t hold… all of me on its own.” For a minor eternity, the squad leader just stood there, contemplating the tiny AI’s words and weighing options. “Any other frames or systems nearby you can transfer into?” the squad leader finally said, in a slightly kinder tone of command. Sweetie’s eyes flickered over to the unfinished siege frame. “...None I can think off that I’d actually be allowed into right now.” Rarity cleared her throat, drawing every eye to her, before slowly raising her stump for emphasis. “My own frame is currently heavily damaged. Would it be an acceptable solution for me and my daughter to pull back under escort, and let her perform supervised repairs?” She then gave the tiniest of nods towards the rest present. “Away from any potential hostages, so to speak?” A few quick bursts of colored lights was the only outward indication a quick conversation had taken place amongst the Custodians. I narrowed my eyes. Too quick. At least for a squad with even a single actual human-human in it. Was it just a coincidence, or… “Granted,” the leader said after a few more moments, before pointing towards a nearby dune. “Head slowly over there, and any tools you will request. And if we say no, that means no. Understood?” Had Sweetie been nodding any harder, her head would quite probably flown off. Rarity reached for her shot-off limbs, but the leader stepped closer, stopping her. “Those are now evidence, Ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to move aside and let us document them first.” Rarity grumbled a bit, but she started slowly scooting over to the dune, not even bothering to drop Sweetie for that long. Had to admit, that made the sides of my mouth tug upwards quite a bit. Still, it was time to be more than an over glorified eye in the sky. “You two,” I said, pointing at the privates, who immediately saluted, “take the medical supplies, render first aid, and then start taking statements.” Stopping only for a quick salute, the two men got free of their seats, and got to work. Everything went slow but steadily after that. Mr. X, whom we sadly yet couldn’t profile thanks to the radio-silence, had gone really sour once both Sweetie and Rarity had coughed up matching recordings of the debacle. Granted, that was hardly impossible to fake. Not even on the fly, nowadays but on first glance both of the recordings showed none of the signs of amatuer tampering, and far more telling, it fit with the testimonies taken. Besides, I’d seen crime scenes where it had been an actual ‘fight’ between a transhuman and a baseline. Since this place wouldn’t need a hosing down and a clean-up crew? I was willing to bet quite highly on which side of the conflict had actually gone all out. By the time I needed to poke a hole in my new wearable sauna, the local authorities had arrived as well, adding to the bedlam. Frankly? I pitied whatever judge this would be put before the task of laying down the law on this. Not only would it be an utter clusterfuck with various departments, but given the ‘muggles’ vs ‘robot overlords’ angle it would quite probably go political as well. Fun, fun, fun… To my surprise however, the squad leader from earlier came stomping up to me, as I sat in the shadow of my now landed transport; doing my best to keep an eye on things and not get heat stroke. Judging from how my attention was wavering enough that a two and a half meter tall knight in shining armor managed to get within ten meters before I noticed? Think I was failing both. “The girls’ are clean. Only normal smart-matter —if a lot of it, and no traces of blood on anything except that whip,” she said, not taking her helmet off. “So care to tell me what Sol Guard is doing at what frankly should at worst have been our business?” There was an edge to the words, but mostly professional pride, from the sound of it. “My name is Captain Blake Gregory, if you haven’t heard already.” I gave a nod towards the small dune, whereupon Sweetie was currently doing her best to weld her mother’s legs on again. She was doing decent headway, but with her current size it was slow-ish work. “I’m hoping to recruit Lady Rarity over there for the Pheidippides, and we had the mixed luck of arriving mid Mexican stand-off.” It was subtle with all her gear, but I got the impression the woman tilted her head at me. “In person, for a simple yes/no?” Then she snorted loudly at me. “Yeah right, what are you really doing here?” I fought down my irritation, and simply met her ‘gaze’ with a level look of my own. “I was told by a friend of her’s that Lady Rarity is old fashioned about such things, and prefer offers like that in person.” I reached over my own head, and rapped a knuckle against the transport I was sitting against. “I had the time and trust the source, so here I am.” I got stared down for almost a full minute for that one. “That is quite a bit of travel time for a single crew member.” “Please,” I corrected, with just a tiny hint of irritation, “if all I wanted was a crew member I could just fill out a form. I’m looking for experts.” I nodded towards Rarity who was currently very carefully flexing a stiff looking hoof. “And that woman was doing cybernetics back when that field was called medical prostheses.” The woman did that not quite head tilt thing again. “Pros-thes-es. Weird word.” “Ever seen one of those unpowered museum pieces you need to strap on a stump, one way or the other?” I did my best to form my hand into a hook shape. “Or, you know, arr~r.” I let my hand fall, as I got another long silence from the woman. “Although technically, it’s just another word for ‘artificial limb’ so cybernetics technically count, but you know how English can be.” The woman, apparently deciding that the conversation had turned too weird for her taste, just shook her head and started stomping off. “Fine, be that way; I’ll just check what you actually put on the report later.” I felt my pulse spike slightly in irritation. I knew my rep wasn’t exactly ‘the golden boy that skips merrily through fields of flowers all day,’ but I liked to think my word was solid. It was not often that word got doubted, and I frankly cared little for the sensation. Freaking Custodians. One taste of being big damn heroes descending from the sky on wings on fire, and the lot of ‘em turned to smug twits that think they’re the hottest stuff this side of Mercury. I fought down a jab about how once upon a time being an actual knight had involved vows of modesty, and instead got to my feet. I was already a sweaty mess, but I at least did my best to claw off the now useless ‘helmet’ so I wouldn’t — hopefully— boil away. Since the seal was thoroughly ruined anyway, I did the same with my jacket so I could put away my gun properly. Then with exaggerated care, as if I had all the time in the world, I walked toward that small dune. Sweetie looked up from her work for a moment, did the closest thing her current face could to a frown, and then just went back to welding again. “Probably shouldn’t be this close, Mr,” she said in a really odd voice. It didn’t sound glitchy, but it was deep enough it almost, but not quite sounded male, and it had a really odd reverb to it. Mostly though? It sounded subdued and sad. “It’s apparently freak season again, and you might get hurt.” I frowned a bit. Intellectually, I know this ‘young woman’ was in truth, nearly thrice my age. Emotionally, though? In my mind’s eye, all my old toys had just crawled out of the attic, given me puppy-dog eyes, and tearfully asked why I wouldn’t play with them any more. Yeah, straight in the childhood. Ouch. “You alright yourself, Ma’am?” I nodded gently to Rarity, who was watching my very intently. “Getting shot isn’t just about the wound, there’s a mental toll as well.” Never thought I’d be glared at by what was basically a toy. I didn’t let my eyes waver, but I gently tapped my insignias. “I’m with the Sol Guard, Ma’am. I’m not one myself, but if you want to speak with a counselor, I can make arrangements.” It seemed she didn’t quite have the muscles for proper facial expressions, but I still got glared at. “Oh, and just why aren’t you asking this to my mom first, huh?” “Because you just had the same trauma as her, and had the Custodians called on you,” I continued in the same calm, kind voice. “I know what a slap in the face that is for an AI, but I want you to know it was just routine thanks to unidentified nanotech at a crime scene.” I was usually really good at getting a read on synthetics, but Sweetie was just… off. It might have been the clearly outdated design, or just what a crap day she’d had but I just couldn’t peg her at that moment.  “I know it’s easy to just say the words, but from what I saw you handled today with a maturity and level headedness I’ve frankly seen lacking in men trained for combat. I just thought you might both want and need to hear that, from somebody without a stake.” Sweetie looked doubtful, but she didn’t look away. I nodded over to another dune, where four young local lads were sitting with a dark cloud over their heads and guilt all over their faces. “Because frankly, nobody would have blamed you, had you gone and driven your fists though these waylaid kids and their would-be master.” Both Rarity and Sweetie made small choking sounds. “You yourself and your mother shot? Only to find her surrounded with armed hostiles? Frankly, even if the desert had not swallowed all evidence, it would barely have been a formality to have that case thrown out under self defense. You might have gotten some token time for excessive violence, but that’s about it.” To my mixed amusement, the whole camp had gone utterly, utterly silent. There wasn’t a head not turned our way. And the ‘Mr. X’ himself, now neatly cuffed and bandaged, looked as if he was near blowing a bloodvein. “But you didn’t,” I simply continued, “and over a dozen families are going to get to see their sons again thanks to that mercy nothing forced you to grant.” For a moment my eyes drifted to the fuming Mr. X, whose currently sole saving grace was that he apparently was clever enough to not dig deeper. “Never cared much for the metaphysical so I don’t know about souls, but I’ve frankly seen grown men act with less humanity then you did today.” There is a special type of darkness you see in people when they decide you’re on the hit-list. I got a glimpse of it in a certain zealot’s eyes, but even then he said nothing. It was a gamble… but sometimes you simply have to throw certain dice. So I bent my knees slightly, and gave Sweetie a pat; straight on one of her tentacles. Frankly, I got my final confirmation on what type of woman I was dealing with, when that very same surface just twitched away at my touch. With a small chuckle, I straightened up again. “I’ve heard that character's what’s left of you in the dark. Just think that over, OK?” Sweetie just blinked slowly up at me, as if hearing a language she hadn’t heard in long enough that she’d almost forgotten it. My eyes drifted over to Lady Rarity, who although she kept a very close eye on me, had some mistiness to her eyes. “I must admit I came here for a reason,” I told them both truthfully, “but I don’t want to seem crass, so we can take that later. That’s agreeable?” Sweetiebot and her mom traded a glance. It was Sweetie that shrugged first. “I’m not getting an ass-kisser vibe. Fine by me, as long as I don’t get interrupted.” I blinked slightly. Rarity let out a small cough into her only functioning hoof, as Sweetie went back to working. “Please excuse my daughter. It’s… been a stressful day.” “Don’t get me wrong,”.the tiny android said, between flashes from her torch, “it was a nice gesture, but I’m sensing a ‘oh, and by the way, can I have your credit card number?’ coming. Just saying.” I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’m here on a recruitment drive, you could call it.” I reached into my pocket, and pulled out the flash drive #431 had given me; holding it out for both ‘mares’ to see between my thumb and index finger. “And to act as messenger, of a sort.” Personally, I thought the tiny thing belonged either in a museum or a recycle-bin, whichever was nearest to be blunt, but both Sweetie and Rarity went slightly wide-eyed at seeing the thing. It was rather blatant code, if you looked for it and knew it was there: like having two colored stationery, or something. ‘If I send you a message on one of those outdated bits of plastic crap, I really, really mean it,’ or something. Sweetie turned off the torch, and held her tiny hoof out, so I simply flicked over the small card. I heard at least somebody else twitch, as one of Sweetie’s ‘tentacles’ split, and darted forward as this strange silvery mix of a maw, and a four fingered ‘hand,’ closing around the small card. Sweetie tilted her head in thought, and let out a honestly rather pretty little hum, making me wonder why she bothered with the voice filter. It wasn’t that bad, per say, but it sure was… different. “Please excuse me asking,” I said in a rather careful voice, “your voice sounds intentional, but given the circumstances…” The hum cut off, mid tone, and I got the distinct impression I was getting glared at. I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Met a lady rather recently that had gone a couple years if not decades sounding like a forklift had run over her voice-box, but nobody told her because they thought it was intentional. Just wanted to make sure, Ma’am.” The tiny AI blinked up at me. “Oh,” she said, tilting her head. “What lady, if you don’t mind me asking?” I frowned a bit, but ultimately saw no harm in it; especially not with maintenance on the way. “Echidna, if you’ve ever heard the name. Solid gal, but I don’t think the name helped.” “Echidna, Echidna...” Sweetie mumbled while scratching at her chin with a hoof. “I’m certain I’ve heard the name, but can’t place it.” “Sol Guard naval yard near London,” Rarity informed her daughter, as she grabbed the torch with her good hoof and continued herself. “Heard she’s a bit eccentric —which may just have been cruelly and plainly wrong thanks to that malfunction, come to think about it— but she puts out solid work.” Sweetie tilted her head back, seemingly thinking. “...Nope,” she seemingly concluded. “Don’t think I’ve met her.” I let out a small cough, and gently waved her on. Sweetie blinked at me again, before turning to her mom. “Right, cliff-notes: Trixie is hurt, but receiving aid, and has signed up already.” The tiny AI did a grimace so wide, I actually saw that her current body was simple enough that she didn’t even have a tongue. “Don’t know if Pinkie will throw in her own gauntlet, but her latest spawn and the math-head is apparently signed on.” To my surprise, Rarity actually gave her daughter a glare, if a light one. “Sweetie, that isn’t nice.” Seemingly done with her hind-legs, Rarity moved on to fixing her front-leg into place; from the looks of things not bothering with a real repair, but instead ‘simply’ making the joints lock and fixing the stiffened limbs into place. “I know you and #13 don’t get along, but there is no reason for name calling.” “Fine, if the girl wants to be a walking calculator, she can be a darn walking calculator...” Sweetie muttered, while ‘my’ memory card plopped out of her back. I’m about eighty percent certain she was showing off, or messing with ‘Mr. X,’ because the small device had exited at near the other side of her body, compared to where it had gone in. “You want this back?” She asked, pointing down with one of her ‘tentacles.’ I shook my head. “You go ahead, if you want.” I wasn’t certain what use a measly ten terabytes could be, even to a AI, but the small memory sank down so fast, that the smart-matter nearly rippled from it. With a moan of relief that frankly made my cheeks heat, the tiny AI arched up and stretched with her hooves in the air; her smart matter abandoning the tentacle look to instead cover most of her back, and it even formed a thicker tail and tiny talons. I’m not sure how more practical that configuration was, but it looked kinda neat; making her almost look like a partially metallic wyrm with a unicorn’s head. “Oh, Christ, I needed that.” Sweetie near sighed out with a big smile, as she fell down on her ‘claws’ again. “I hate using compression; I swear it feels like having a freaking corset, but on your brain.” Moving with a grace and speed I frankly would have doubted if I hadn’t seen it, the tiny AI darted up to her mom’s shoulder, and perched there like a cat. It was subtle, but I even saw ‘muscle’ groups move under her ‘skin,’ and what looked like ‘tendons’ strain as she grabbed gently at the fur. I put on my best poker-face, but internally I raised a intrigued eyebrow. All that, from just ten more terabytes to work with? “I am terribly sorry, Mr. Gregory,” Rarity carefully spoke my way, once more making me realize how almost scarily connected this ‘mare’ seemingly was since I had not actually told her my name, “but even if my friends are going, I simply can’t in good conscience leave my daughter behind alone at present time.” It only lasted a moment, but a rather unladylike glare got shot ‘Mr. X’s’ way. “There is just too much hate aimed at synthetics going around, right now.” Who am I to question providence? “Done,” I stated, “I am in need of a ‘crypt-keeper’ —if you’ve heard the term, as well as a wet-ware specialist. Those positions acceptable?” Honestly, I for a moment, almost got why Arun does the crap he does. A whole area freezing because of what you’ve said was strangely entertaining. ‘Mr. X’ was just about fully processed and being carted off by the local police, but still, the man froze, before trying to more or less smash his way out of the car with his head. “No! No, you can’t-” was all of the rant I heard, before the car took off. I watched the police car drive off for a few moments, making sure not to actually say the ‘Idiot’ my lips actually wanted to pass. Even by the time I looked back, both Sweetie and her mum was staring at me. “...I am deeply flattered,” Sweetie hesitated, “but aside from personal stuff, I don’t have any real experience working on backups.” “Ma’am,” I countered without hesitation, “you just made a pile the size of my head made up of tiny, tiny robots, sit up and bark on the fly; using something that was crap when you were new, at that. If that wasn’t a good enough a master test, nothing freaking is.” I nodded my head back towards the siege frame. “You know, not to mention that other ‘little’ thing.” I held out my hand, as Sweetie gaped at me. “First AI officially in deep space,” I continued, “just saying.” Sweetie and her mum went into a hurdle, if you can call it that, when one of the parties is standing on the other’s shoulder, but I digress. It was tiny, but I caught a gasp from Rarity, as her daughter apparently described the rest of the deal. “A full licence package?” she asked me with a clear tone of suspicion in her voice, and one of the greediest gleams I’ve ever seen dancing in her eyes. Gotcha. “You want the best, you need to pay for the best, yes?” I wiggled my still extended hand for emphasis. Sweetie turned to her mom with a thoughtful expression, and gave the mare a shrug. “I’m game if you are.” With a grimace, the tiny AI waved at the ruddy stain on the sand where ‘Mr. X’ had been disarmed. “A few months in deep space sounds just marvelous for my nerves.” “Days,” I clarified, “unless we run into that ‘long-road’ scenario, of course; then it’s years I’m afraid.” “Long road…?” Lady Rarity blinked in that ‘I got it’ way before I could say anything. “Oh, not-quite intended one-way trip, right?” I gave a nod. “Quite a few variants between ‘Lost In Space’ and ‘Robotech’ but that’s the term we’ve been using for needing to limp home, yes.” As one creature, mother and daughter tilted their heads; same angle and everything. “Huh?” “Huh?” I fought down a small sigh. Why does nobody else get my best lines? “‘Miss the barn from the inside levels mis-navigation,’ and ‘oh my word, where are the engines?’ to put it slightly clearer.” “O~h…” “O~h...” I fought down an amused snort this time instead, and wiggled my hand. “Well?” I tilted my head at the transport, its massive rotors already spinning up again; sending sand and winds everywhere. “Don’t want to rush you into anything, but I’ve got a time-table.” A rather busted one thanks to all the shenanigans lately, but still. No sense half-assing the job just because the world is seemingly ending again. Lady Rarity hesitated all but a moment before grabbing my hand, and basically putting it into a vice. “You’ve g-” Wincing, I just barely managed to pull my hand back. “Wound there!” I barked out. With a sheepish grin, Lady Rarity toned her grip down to somewhere around ‘moor a boat to it’ levels. “Sorry, didn’t know.” “No harm done,” I winced out, as I tried to fan my hand as politely as possible. “Just a moment of my temper flaring I’m still paying for.” Letting out a intrigued hum Lady Rarity got ‘up’ on all fours, her daughter scurrying like some metallic iguana to get onto the flat of her back in time. Frankly, it looked as if she was trying to balance on some type of morbid stilts made from her own bones, but even with only one fully functional leg the ‘mare’ had this grace and pose to her that probably would have done her show counterpart proud. Absently, I wondered how long exactly that had taken to practice, but outwardly I just offered my arm. Granted, with the Lady in question resembling a pony unicorn that reached me to just about waist height I wasn’t certain how much that gesture actually was worth but it seemed the token effort was appreciated, at least. “My, my…” Lady Rarity murmured with a twinkle in her eye (her daughter ‘gagging’ and silently sticking a talon down her throat, I might add). “And if I ask if such a polite young man is taken, the no-doubt heartwrenching answer shall be…?” “Sorry, Ma’am,” I barely stopped myself from chuckling out, “but another young mare already called dibs.” I actually heard this slight creak from Lady Rarity’s ears as they perked. She herself seemingly paid it no mind, but it was clear quite a few of her systems had been pushed so hard her body was hours away from falling to bits. “Oh?” She asked with clear intrigue, as if we’d been at some type of country club gossiping, and not smack dab middle of a desert right after a life and death situation. “Anypony little old me might know about…?” I stopped, half-turned, and gave the mare a look. “Ma’am, is now really the time?” I waved vaguely at the general bedlam of a crime scene in the act of being processed. “Just saying.” Rarity ‘tsked’ at me, and waved me off with her one good hoof. “Darling, I’m been in the medical industry —quite a bit of the experimental side of the medical industry I might add, for longer than my homeland have allowed gays to shoot people for her.” I wasn’t the only person in earshot that did a double take. Think I even saw that rude Custodian from earlier tilt her helmet slightly to the side, but that might have been coincidence. Personally I was a bit curious about that ‘her,’ but not enough to actually breach the subject. I distinctly remembered an Uncle Sam, but perhaps there was some cultural distinction I wasn’t quite aware of. “Anyway, if I stopped flirting just because of things like death threats, slight maimings, or my mane looking this horrid.” Lady Rarity continued nonchalantly, making me unsure if she was joking or not. I did take note of the long line of blackened hairs that briefly became visible when she patted her ‘mane’ though; a thin line of black, burned plastic as if a heated cheese-wire had been dragged through her hair and horn, stopping just short of the actual skull. “Why.” the ‘mare’ gasped out in an appalled tone, one fore leg to her chest and seemingly utterly uncaring how she’d been centimeters from having her brain partially vaporized, “I’d be an old maid in no time!” “Aw, don’t worry, mommy!” Sweetie chirped up. “I’m sure Lyra wouldn’t mind sharing her boyfriend with you.” A slight blush formed on Lady Rarity’s nuzzle. “Dear,” she explained patiently without turning around, “you know Lyra’s single and not into that type of sha-” “As long as you top off the batteries after you’re done, that is!” I raised my hand to my mouth and stifled a cough I don’t think fooled anybody. Not that anybody seemed to care or notice, given the ringing silence. ‘Did that cute little unicorn really say that?’ near stamped on the groups’ collective forehead, including the various law enforcers that really should have been a bit more jaded than that. Lady Rarity let out a long suffering sigh, and turned her head around to give her daughter a look.  I noticed with detached interest that she’d apparently put the larger volume of a equine head slash neck to good use. There was a slight bit of stiffness there compared to a natural pony, but nowhere near as bad as some cases of ‘lich neck’ I’d seen. A frown swept my brow, but I kept the hum safely down in my throat. Either this ‘mare’ was that good or at least had enough restraint not to treat a neck as this morbid take on a Swiss army-knife. I did however, not quite keep the slight smile of my lips. Either way, jackpot. “Been sitting on that one long, dear?” Rarity asked in a just barely bemused tone. With a huff, Sweetie crossed her tiny talons over her stomach. “Only five years, seven months, fifteen days, six hours, and fourteen minutes…” The tiny dragon-unicorn rolled her eyes, and made a gagging sound. “Oh mom, why do I even try…?” Lady Rarity snicker and blew her daughter a small kiss. “Love you too, dear.” Her expression and tone turned serious. “But we’ve talked about this. No ‘creator’ jokes outside the house, ‘kay? They make people uncomfortable.” Sweetie let out a dismissive snort. “If creeps gets to chant in tongues to theirs, then I really don’t see why me going ‘Go mom!’ is oh so dreadful.” The mare threw her tiny arms into the air, before crossing them again with another huff. “For fuck’s sake, it’s not as I even claim you’re the creator of everything, or whatever.” Laughing rather nervously, Rarity turned and started stumbling off again. “Well, I guess that’s good enou-” “Obviously, you’d done a far better job at it all,” Sweetie explained with such an air of utter certainty around her I doubted she was joking. “Like with how utterly perfect you made me.” A long, long moment of awkward silence followed that declaration from the pint-sized first-gen AI. Clearly pulling our legs, even if the slightly worried looks she kept getting told me at least not all were seeing it that way. Sweetie went glassy-eyed, tilted her head at a 45 degree angle, and poured on the static she almost sounded like one of those museum modems. “Mommy says I'm not allowed to conquer the world until I've learned that 'hu-mi-lity' thing you mortals keep telling me about. It's a type of vegetable, right?” I let out another cough, and made the ‘cut’ gesture near my neck. “Bit less ‘AI humor,’ please?” I nodded to the locals, on both sides of the law, looking on with a bit of worry and discomfort. “I can sympathize with wanting to lighten the mood, but another subject given the circumstances, perhaps?” Sweetie blinked and looked around, as if seeing the scene for the first time. “Oh, I…” The mare blinked again, and let out a static filled cough into her talon. “I meant: Sorry, just trying to blow off some steam. No hard feelings meant.” I gave a slow nod, keeping my eyes directly away from the nearest Custodian, slowly lowering his gun behind Sweetie’s back. Don’t think Sweetie even noticed but Rarity only started breathing again, once the barrel was level to the ground again. I swept my arm towards the transport; now once again slowly spinning up, throwing around quite a bit of dust. “Shall we?” I gave a short glare right at the idiot in shining armor. “I think we’ll all feel better once things have had a chance to cool off a bit.” Either the kid was new or the last couple of days had done my temper and reputation no favors, because Custodian took an involuntary step back; the gravel and sand cackling loudly under the greave of his power armor. I saw Sweetie’s ears swivel around towards the sound, but I distracted her by waving at the transport. “You two go ahead, ‘kay?” I forced a smile, but I think it didn’t quite work. “I’ve just got a few last minute things to fix here.” Sweetie frowned as well as her tiny face could and started looking over her shoulder, but Rarity did the closest she could to galloping off, forcing Sweetie to hang on instead. I just kept glaring at the featureless silver helmet until I was sure the two mares were safely aboard the transport. “And what--” I growled, letting the waxen smile fall; resulting in another step back from the silver idiot. “--do you think you are doing pointing that thing at a joking civilian?” “This is…” The young girl —barely old enough to be in that tin-foil suit from how young she sounded, said in a breathless voice. “...not your jurisdiction.” “Wrong.” I declared, my tone so icy I was almost surprised my breath didn’t mist from it. I pointed straight at her visor, making the girl twitch. “You idiots are smack-dab straight in my jurisdiction the moment this turned out to not be rampancy, or tech-terrorism.” I saw the girl turn to her commander, but even with the woman about a hundred meters away I still heard the scoff. “You put your foot into that pit fair and square.” The commander waved her oversized gun slash arm dismissively, before quite literally turning her back on her subordinate and wálking off. “You actually pull it out without that grizzled old bulldog biting you clean in half, and I might just see through my fingers about that first mistake in my report.” “I’m wearing power armor!” The private that clearly should have spent a bit more time at boot-camp snapped, swinging her arm out at me. “He’s in a ruined rag of an uniform, an-!” “Diagnostic mode, password: ‘St. George.” As one creature, the Custodians froze with their com-lights blinking blue; for once acting as the tacky bunch of lawn-ornaments they resemble. I shook my head, slightly disgusted with that actually working. “You know, I keep telling high command voice commands have no place in combat gear.” I heard something muffled come from inside the suit in front of me. Surely, nothing but the sweetest words of sunshine and lollipops. “But no, the techs find ‘em so practical.” I kept droning as I slowly stalked up to the girl, stopping just short so I could glare her straight in the visor close enough to see the X of my own eyes reflected there. “I mean, having to turn a dial, or even get out a —gasp, screwdriver for panel access?” I threw up my arm over my forehead in ‘despair.’ “Oh my word, the extra workload! How will their dainty little hands ever work again?” I put my hand firmly on the front of the girl’s armor, and pushed. Have to admit, the armor was heavy enough it made me grunt, but as soon as the sand shifted under her feet that same weight did the rest. With a loud, satisfyingly expensive sounding clonk, the girl toppled over. One arm seemingly still pointing furiously at the sun for having dared shine in her presence. Rummaging around in my ‘ruined rag’ I pulled out my notebook and pen, and scribbled a quick note. Update your damn security protocols, you silly bunch of hacks. And no, the logistics isn’t good enough an excuse. ~With everlasting contempt, Captain Gregory. I let out a hum, tapping my pen against my lips while thinking it over. PS. A single word name, no numbers or other symbols and a commonly known mythological reference about knights? Were your cryptology teachers all drunk monkeys? Leaning over, I gently but firmly pinned the note on the girls armored finger; taking a slight bit of pride in how that resulted in another burst of muffled explicits. Replacing my notebook and brushing off, I turned around. “Well?” I growled at the stunned silence. Couldn’t do much about the locals, but I waved the two privates at least off to the transport. “Just some inter branch feather rustling. Nothing to see here, move along…” Hesitatingly, the scene started to move again. The local police was seemingly about as close to wrapping up as we were. With practiced ease, the two privates fell in line with me if, to my amusement, a couple of decimeters further from me than what I’d call normal. “Um, Sir?” The Australian sounding one hesitantly spoke up. The man rolled his shoulder back towards the rather laughable scene. “Should we really…?” “Their extraction should already be on the way; an hour or so of being fed some humble pie should be totally survivable with those suits on.” I said without stopping, slightly louder than strictly necessary. “To your credit that you ask, though, Private.” “Sir, yes, Sir,” he droned out, seemingly not quite happy with but accepting my answer. I didn’t say anything, but made a mental note to take a closer peek at this Private’s records. Might just be useful. I swear, it near felt like I’d died and through clerical error had awoken in Paradise (Michigan), just from how much cooler the transport was compared to the desert outside. Both Lady Rarity and her daughter were already strapped in; the latter near lost behind the straps of the equally bulky seat normally intended for a grown person in power armor, the former quite literally tightening the last cargo-strap over herself as I sat down. “No love lost, huh?” Rarity asked in that way you talk when you’re trying to be polite but not wanting to; soft words with just a tiny bit too much edge to them. I let out a grunt that didn’t sound very neutral even in my ears. Honestly, we live in an age of AIs and quantum computers, why the hell couldn’t the Guard find a single IT-tech with a double digit IQ? Frankly, I was starting to ponder if somebody was willfully sabotaging stuff, and that’s never a good sign; one way or the other. Just because it was with firewalls and viruses instead of armor and guns, well, not being certain if your support actually gave a damn was disconcerting to say the least. I pulled out my notebook and scribbled a few notes while we lifted off. Note to self. 1,) Requisition new uniform. 2.) Schedule live-fire cyberware test for the Phidippides. 3.) Laugh maniacally at whatever crap IT thought was good enough. 4.) Install actual security slash repairs.. 5.) Repeat #2. 6.) Repeat #4. 7.) Trial by fire fo I stopped, slightly startled from what I first thought was something in Sweetie’s throat suffering massive mechanical malfunction. “Sorry about that.” Rarity let out an embarrassing sounding cough into her one good hoof. “I’ve been telling her to dial those down, but I’m afraid my dear daughter can be something of a troll when the mood strikes her.” Morbid curiosity compelled me to just listen for a bit. It was a horrible sound, almost like somebody was forcing an rusted saw through an equally decayed sheet of iron. Not only that, but just when you thought you’d gotten a grip on it, there’d be a gargle followed by a shift in pitch, or a brief pause lasting just long enough you thought the terror was over. I shook my head in disbelief. I’d heard some really strange eccentricities from gen one AIs, but cultivating a snore that could wake the dead? Had to admit, that was a new one; even for me. Lady Rarity just smiled softly at the sight, though. “Thank you for looking out for her.” The ‘mare’ said softly, not looking away from her daughter. “I got the feeling you didn’t do it for her in particular, but still nice seeing somebody actually believe the law applies to everyone.” “Just trying to do my job, Ma’am,” I said neutrally, but I had to admit it was with a slight smile. That actually made Lady Rarity perk an eyebrow my way. “Job? Hogwash, you don’t get that type of gleam in your eye, or burn bridges like that for that matter, for a job.”  I was taken slightly aback by the shift in tone, but she only shrugged and turned back to looking at her daughter. “Still, I know many consider ‘duty’ an ugly word nowadays, so call it what you will.” With a frown, I bit my tongue, genuinely uncertain what to say to that. “Rather sadly amusing how things change and yet stay the same, isn’t it?” Shaking her head in what looked like disgust, Lady Rarity continued. “You cure the blind, make the lame walk and people find it in themselves to complain because you’re somehow doing it wrong.”  “To act as devil’s advocate, there is such a thing as a wrong and a right way to do things.” I got a long, long even look for that. So I decided to hang for the cow. “Like say, the rather mixed blessing of being a gen one AI just for example.” The two privates actually spluttered slightly at my bluntness, but Lady Rarity just narrowed her eyes dangerously at me. “Oh, and by the way speaking about that, how many times have Sweetie bricked herself? Because somepony seems to have pulled enough strings that there’s nothing about that in her records, not even the medical ones.” Lady Rarity’s even gaze narrowed into an outright glare. “Your daughter—and you yourself I might add, have impressed me,” I continued in an even tone. “But this is no pleasure cruise you’ve said ‘yes’ to.” Not sure if it reached my eyes or not, but I forced a grin. “Can’t blame a Captain for wanting to know if he’s gotten the best like he actually hunted for, right?” She still looked as annoyed as a cat right in the way of a bicycle race, ears slicked back and frown on her face, but a tiny bit of reluctant acceptance flickered over Rarity’s face. “Fine, about… seventy, eighty times, something thereabout?” “‘...Something thereabout?’” This time, I got an outright glower. “Believe it or not, Mr. Gregory, but neither do I call my daughter that just because I like the way the word sounds, nor do I care to remember the exact number of times I’ve had to stand over her still body and slowly coax her back to life.”  Reluctantly, I realized I might have pushed a bit too hard. “Sorry,” I forced out. Lady Rarity waved me off, still looking so annoyed I’m not certain she accepted my apology or not. “Under a hundred and its been decades since the last time, I’m certain of that much, at least.” Despite the tense mood I couldn’t resist letting out a low whistle under my breath. “Impressive--” My eyes drifted to Sweetie herself, still seemingly trying to tear a hole in reality itself by ‘snores’ alone. “--and would have been even more so with some actual proof.” The unicorn mare let out a long, deep sigh, her armor of appearing utterly tireless cracking for the first time since I’d met her, showing for just a moment how bone-tired Lady Rarity was actually feeling. “...Mr. Blake, I get what you are poking me for.” The tiniest of smiles appeared as quickly as it wilted away. “If I snap and try giving you the spanking you so clearly deserve for that bastardus streak, I’m not very fit for any emergencies that may arise, right, Captain?” “Shan’t deny it…” With a rather unladylike grunt, Rarity absently dragged a hoof through her mane. “I don’t want my sweet little girl’s crowning achievement in life to be how little she has died.” Letting out a deep sigh, her gaze then locked with mine. “And yes, I don’t care if that is a genuine achievement in the context; Sweetie and her talents deserve better than that.” I leaned back in my seat, arms folded over my chest and frowning to the point it was near a glower. Lady Rarity just calmly met it, though. Not a shred of neither regret nor embarrassment on her face. Still... “...Fine,” I grumbled out with extreme reluctance, but I kept the glare going. “I don’t like it one bit, but fine.” If it had (seemingly) been something more serious, I’d been on her in a heartbeat. Illegal body-mods, gen five AI code, or anything like that. My gaze softened a bit as it drifted over the tiny filly-like creature, cute as a button; hellgate in her throat notwithstanding. But what —for now at least, only seemed to be an overprotective mother? Protecting her precious little sprog from — Oh, the horror! — the ‘scandal’ that she’d needed braces growing up? Sure, technically it was a felony, and as a professional nosy bastard I couldn’t help but wonder in what other ways the innocent looking mare had skirted the law. But on the same token going after such a minor offence would be like calling a SWAT team on a bunch of taggers. Sure, there was always the possibility further investigation would uncover something more sinister, but even then I’d burn a lot of bridges; even by my standards. And judging from the coy little smile slowly spreading over a certain unicorn’s muzzle? Lady Rarity knew that too. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a sigh, and changed my angle of attack. “Lady Rarity? Are you aware of a concept in fiction, called a ‘bunny ears lawyer?” Rarity blinked, clearly not having expected that turn. More interestingly enough, Sweetie cracked one glowing green eye open —the one facing away from her mom I might add. She didn’t even miss a beat in her latest rendition of ‘jackhammer on glas’ before winking once at me, and once more ‘falling asleep.’ It was close, but I just barely kept a smile of my face. Not nearly as lost in the clouds as she appears, huh? Clever, clever girl. That was the big, big thing people liked to forget about the AIs… Well, the one in a hundred that actually gave a damn about pushing themselves, at least. Being a quirky bunch of neuroses made you safe, and nobody suspects the laughing jester of being the power behind the proverbial throne. Well, not unless you know some actual history, at any rate. “...I don’t believe I’ve heard that term,” Rarity answered, seemingly having totally missed that little moment. “It’s somebody so strange and quirky, that by all rights they should have been fired years ago,” I explained, pretending that little moment of trust offered by Sweetie had never happened. “But through skill or ability, they’re just so darn good at what they do, that those idiosyncrasies gets ignored.” Rarity might have been many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. She clearly got where I was going, judging from how somebody had snuck a lemon into her mouth while I talked. “Like say, a lawyer that wears bunny ears to court but wins every case.” I pointed a thumb at myself. “A wannabe grey hat with the social skills of a rabid wolverine, but that keeps getting results when nobody else can.” Lady Rarity blinked, clearly not having expected that moment of self awareness. I tilted my hand forward, and pointed my index finger at her. “Or a cyberware expert without compare... that happens to have a thing for unicorns.” The unicorn in question mulled it over for a bit, brow furrowed and staring unblinkingly my way. “An... interesting thought, but your point, Captain?”  I shifted in my seat a bit, picking my words carefully. “If I wanted just an cybernetics expert —even ones with your level of augmentation, I might add, I could have two dozen standing at my desk tomorrow; minus all the insulting, silly and outright fabricated grief that will come with me…” I hesitated, but decided on being frank. “Well, hiring an somebody that looks like they just stepped out of a picture book for children, to be blunt.” Lady Rarity’s face went carefully blank… but I saw what was left of her tail twitch, if only once. “And what of Admiral Armor, somepony I believe to be a rather frequent and outspoken supporter of yours?” I chuckled, even if it was a bit bitter sounding. “Well, if you’re that well informed, you should know how many times he’s almost been busted down, right?” I chuckled again as Rarity blustered for a moment. “Good thing for him and that pointy head of his he’s such an lovable golden boy, huh?” The mare let out an unhappy sounding grunt of acknowledgement, but said nothing. “Still, Ms. Smith, I do genuinely believe I know enough about both you, your skills and your history that I am certain you and your friends will be worth near any potential backlash.” My voice was soft, but the words themselves made Rarity perk her ears so hard, I think i heard them creak slightly. “For its time the Laputa project was most impressive, and frankly I have trouble imagining a better recommendation than that.” Turning her head, Rarity gave me a reevaluating look; as if seeing me for the first time. “You know, I was never actually on that leaky old tub, I just performed some of the prep work.” Some of the old articles I’d read  flashed through my mind. ‘Grand Sacrifice By Humanity's Finest,’ ‘NASA Performs Pointless And Cruel Maimings In The Name Of Science!’ and near everything in between. “I believe you’re selling yourself short, Lady Rarity,” I continued softly, putting some extra emphasis on her chosen name. “A phylactery transfer was hardly a standard procedure back then, let alone over half a dozen.” Or without causing massive brain damage, for that matter… It was light enough I nearly missed it, but I caught a light coating of pink on Lady Rarity’s cheeks before she turned her head away. “Thank you.” The mare ran a hoof through her mane again, but i saw a small smile tugging at the ends of her lips. “I must admit I prefer not to think about quite a bit of those days…” Her eyes flickered to her daughter, and back to the floor again; so fast I almost missed it. “But it feels nice knowing at least a bit of my best achievements from back then have lingered all the way to today.” We fell silent after that. Nobody simply having anything to add. Well, except for Sweetie, who cracked open her eye —mid semi-demonic sounding snore again I might add, and made a small line of text crawl over it. Thanks. Mom needed that. Owe you one. I tilted my head once in acknowledgment, and the tiny ‘filly’ closed her eye again; as still and calm as if nothing had ever happened. Well, aside from the sounds of a cat being used as a spigot, that is. I resisted the urge to snort at the impulse to call a woman old enough to be my great-great gran a devious filly, and instead leaned my own head back. One thought flickered through my head and made me smirk, at least. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. One thing was getting rather certain at least, this trip would be anything but boring...