More Dreams

by totallynotabrony

Moving Target

Tin Mare rested on the hill overlooking Ponyville. She had quite considerately pointed her nose away from town, towards the targets that had been set up in the open grasslands outside the village. Periodically, she would fire a single thirty millimeter round from her underslung gatling cannon.

“So, why do you need me here?” Braeburn asked.

“You enjoy spending time with me and will probably do what I ask,” Tin Mare replied. “Please adjust my sights half a degree to the left.”

Tin Mare’s airframe transition from a sleek jet to a transport had carried its share of problems. Namely, everything needed to be recalibrated and the improvised gun mounting had to be made more permanent.

Braeburn felt he was being manipulated, but did as she asked, crawling under her fuselage to get at the cannon mounting bolts. When he was finished, he crawled back out. “Okay.”

Her gun clicked forward to the next barrel and she fired again. “Please adjust the smallest fraction of a degree that you are able back to the right.”

“What does that mean?”

“I could tell you point-zero-four-three degrees, but I doubt you would have concept of such an amount nor the ability to sense it.” Tin Mare paused, and added, “I mean no disrespect.”

And she didn’t, Braeburn was sure. He may have been a cyborg, but it was true that his systems were not as sophisticated as Tin Mare’s. She also lacked any ability to be snarky.

Braeburn pondered that as he attempted to move her gun point-zero-four-three degrees to the right. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she recognized that emotions existed but could not act upon them. She knew when a statement could be misinterpreted as disrespect, yet had no free will to intentionally make it disrespectful.

Tin Mare still refused to acknowledge herself as anything but a computer. She could learn and adapt, but any changes to her code regarding her personality were locked. Braeburn had been trying to change her mind ever since he’d met her.

“Are you all right under there?” Tin Mare inquired.

If she was a literal mare, he would be in a rather embarrassing position, lying on his back beneath her with her belly pressed close to him as he fiddled with her hardware.

“F-fine,” Braeburn replied.

“I’m detecting hella elevated infrared levels on your face.”

Darn her multispectral vision. He said, “Just thinking about something.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Private thoughts.”

“I only wish to gather information. I would like to understand what causes you to feel that way.”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Braeburn, you can tell me anything. I am incapable of moral judgement.”

He sighed and slid out, standing up. “I was just thinking about how it would look if you had an average pony’s body.”

“Are you intimidated by my very phallic autocannon?”

“Wh-no! I think of you as a mare.”

“Are you attracted to me?” It was a question that carried no hidden meaning. She did not care what he responded. A simple yes or no would satisfy her. It was kind of nice to get that question without any emotional baggage associated, Braeburn thought.

Braeburn glanced at her metal airframe, the grease in her joints, the scratches in her paint, and the built up carbon on her exhausts. “Not physically, no.”

“Are you attracted to some other aspect?”

Braeburn carefully considered his reply. “I think of you as a friend.”

“By the definition, we are friends, Braeburn. I think of you as a friend, too.”

He saw an opportunity to push his agenda. “But if you’re a robot, how can you have friends?”

“Just because I am without feeling does not mean I cannot recognize when we are in a mutually beneficial relationship. You help me with things I am unable to do myself. You clearly get something out of it too if you keep coming back.”

“That sounds so cold and clinical.”

“Braeburn, by now you should know that I am a robot. Cold and clinical is simply what I do.”

Tin Mare paused, and then announced, “We have a guest.”

Braeburn looked around, spotting a blue and white pegasus filly flying towards them, struggling under the weight of a load that he could not immediately identify.

Cordoba landed next to them. “Tin Mare, Trixie and I built this pylon for you. The rockets don’t have guidance systems yet, but you don’t have a new target designation laser installed yet anyway.”

She was getting easier to understand. Most of the accent was still there, but she wasn’t spitting Spanish every other word anymore.

“Rockets?” Braeburn asked.

“If I am to regain lost striking ability, I must install new armament,” Tin Mare said. “Could you please help Cordoba install the pylon?”

The metal stub bolted to Tin Mare’s right side. Braeburn noticed that it already had six rockets mounted. He hesitated, but the other two seemed unconcerned. If Cordoba didn’t think she was in danger, then Braeburn was probably safe with his metal skin. Tin Mare’s chassis was nigh indestructible.

“Is that going to be okay?” said Braeburn, inspecting the pylon. “It’s off center.”

“I will accommodate for the uneven load.” Tin Mare’s engines began to turn. “I will require a hover test for calibration. Climb aboard if you wish.”

Cordoba called dibs and got the passenger seat next to where Tin Mare’s brain control system was strapped down. Braeburn sat down behind them and looked around at the metal surrounding him. I’m inside her. Even more entendre than being underneath her. He blushed again, but Tin Mare didn’t have any cameras inside the fuselage.

She hovered about ten feet off the ground, leaning side to side to calibrate the balance. Cordoba leaned against the dashboard. “What’s your payload again, chica?”

“That depends on fuel state, forward airspeed, and atmospheric conditions,” Tin Mare replied. “I have not yet explored my full potential in this chassis.”

“I bet you could lift the school.”

“Perhaps.”

Cordoba sighed. “I wish you could give me flying lessons. Trixie’s a cool sister but she doesn’t have that experience.”

“Doesn’t everyone go to Rainbow Dash for flying lessons?” said Braeburn.

Cordoba slammed him to the floor and wrapped her hooves around his throat. She was heavier than she looked and quite a bit stronger. Braeburn was confident that his armor would protect him from suffocation, but before he had to find out, Tin Mare did an aileron roll to shake the two of them apart.

“While mentioning Rainbow Dash doing anything useful is verboten, I do not wish to have a mess in need of cleaning,” said Tin Mare. “I also need to get to testing the rockets.”

With a roar, a rocket came off its launch rail and streaked out ahead, leaving a smoke trail in the air and a fiery explosion on the ground where it had been aimed. It wasn’t a perfect shot on the target without laser guidance, but close enough that the blast radius took care of the rest.

Cordoba cheered. “Yeah! You kick so much ass, Tin Mare!”

“I do what I am required,” said Tin Mare, though Braeburn thought Cordoba’s statement had been more accurate. Tin Mare’s fire support and transport had been vital on more than one occasion.

Rockets tested, Tin Mare came in for a landing, letting Cordoba and Braeburn out.

“Okay, I have to go now,” said Cordoba, getting ready to fly away.

He should have been grateful she was leaving, but Braeburn asked, “Where’s the fire?”

Cordoba pointed at the burning target downrange. “There it is. Now if you don’t mind, I know someone who needs a little prevenge.”

Again against his better judgement, Braeburn asked, “Prevenge?”

Cordoba rolled her eyes and let out an extended sigh. “It’s like getting revenge for something that hasn’t happened yet. Now shut up. I’m leaving.” She flew away.

“I don’t think she actually would have beat me up,” said Braeburn.

“She is one of Valiant’s,” Tin Mare reminded him.

Braeburn frowned. “True. Thanks for breaking that up, then.”

“I did not want to see you injured.”

While she would blow up threats without a second thought, Tin Mare was one of the most pleasant ponies Braeburn currently knew. She carefully considered her actions. Her opinion didn’t change on a whim. She saw the world in simple terms. She had no ulterior motives. Predictable. Stable. Confident. Strong. Modest.

Braeburn frowned. Was he in love with a robot? No, she wasn’t a robot. She was a pony and he was going to prove it.

But he had no idea where to start.

Comments

[anonymous549]

fiddler mech, easily my favorite mech concept in the last decade. Pretty much the only competition it gets are the mechs from Titanfall. That being said, how much does said mech have to do with this fic?

[totallynotabrony]

7003767 Admittedly, very little. I thought it was a cool picture. However, the story does have mechs.

If you're going to go down this rabbit hole, I suggest you may have better results starting with the main story.

[lancore]

Prevenge. I've already fallen in love with that concept.

[General Grant]

Ok, what's the pun? Nothing really happened here but I just know there's setup for a pun in there somewhere.

[Lithl]

I assume that we will be getting a chapter about the prevenge, and I am excited!

[anonymous549]

7003798 I see, thank you for the honesty.

[Starlight Nova]

Why is this on hiatus?

[totallynotabrony]

7005585 Because it updates sporadically.