Cryo-7

by Metal Pony Fan

A Journey of a Thousand Words

Fog.

Lifting.

Fading away, cold morning dew in the sunlight.

She shivered as feeling returned to her. The cryogenic chamber rushed to raise her body temperature as it was pried open, sophisticated locks and failsafes overridden by means unknown, and unidentifiable, to self-diagnostics.

"That's it then?" Laughed a cruel voice. "It's a filly! I thought ya said it was some ol' weapon."

She didn't like the voice, didn't recognize it. That wasn't the voice she was supposed to hear. Blinking against the blur did nothing to ease the haze of her abrupt thaw. Her surroundings were nothing but brightness and warm, blowing wind. "T-t-twilight," she called, asking for the one who should have woken her, "are- are you there?"

"Ain't that cute," sneered a second voice. "She's askin' for 'er friend. 'Ere's an idea, Grin, why don't you be 'er friend? Ya ain't going' nowhere else."

A third voice grunted in pain as it was kicked forward, stubbornly refusing to cry out.

"Hey," the first voice butted in, "I thought we was gonna kill 'im. Leavin' him alive's too dangerous."

The second voice scoffed off the warning. "Whot's he gon' go do, uh? He ain't got a ship, and he ain't got any weapons."

The third voice grunted as he was kicked again. "You should listen to your brother, Shpell. If you leave me here, I will be back to haunt you. Some day, some how, I will figure out a way to kill you, and I will make damn sure it hurts more than anything you've done to me today. I will have my revenge on all of you who have betrayed me."

"Oy, I'm surprised ya still got 'enough kick ta talk shit ta me like that. Griff! Get over here and mess up his stump with them claws of yours."

Cracking knuckles and flapping wings heralded a fourth voice. "I've got a name you know?"

"And nopony remembers it. Get to work."

"Why me?" The voice asked in irritation. "You afraid of a little blood?"

"And you're not?" Asked the pained voice. "Fatal mistake."

"Fatal?" Cackled yet another voice.

"Yeah," mocked yet another, "'e's gon monologue 'im ta death."

Laughter and ruckus revealed at least a dozen voices, each one rough, each one filled with contempt for the one in pain. They all took delight in whatever suffering they were putting him through.

And he was having no part of it. "Laugh while you can," he growled, low and dangerous.

She didn't want to be here, surrounded by such terrible voices, but she couldn't do anything about it. She tried to move, but her body was still frozen. The only feeling in her limbs was cold heaviness, like stone. She still couldn't see, either, the only image before her the fuzz of blue sky and the inside of her chamber.

A howl, quick and thunderous, ended the laughter. It was followed by a short, strangled scream, and shouts of surprise.

"Get him off! Get him off!" Cried the one called Shpell. "Hurry!"

The commotion was short lived, ending with the hollow clang of a metal pipe against flesh and bone.

"Oy!" Some new voice called. "Oy, Griff!"

"Let me in," demanded yet another. There were only hushed murmurs until he spoke again. "Boss, his windpipe's bit clean through. He's dead if we don't get him back to the ship."

"That crazy bastard," muttered Shpell.

"He's out," asked someone,"should we just kill him now?

"No," Shpell answered before spitting on something. "Make him suffer. Let him live in this dump for as long as possible with his precious ancient treasure. Infection will get him within a week anyway."

The sounds of rushed movement replaced the voices. A dozen sets of hooves and feet gathering what crates and supplies they could carry. In seconds, They were gone, clambered up what sounded like a metal gantry. Within a minute, the whine of engines and the deep thrum of some unknown machinery assaulted her ears, making her curl up tightly, protecting her head with her forelegs.

A blast of hot air washed over her, and a sudden shockwave punched her, then... nothing. Silence. All noise was gone, save her own crying.

She curled up even tighter, shaken by all that happened, and feeling sick from the shock. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how she was supposed to wake up. This was wrong! And...

And...

And there was nothing she could do about it.

She heaved. Her stomach fought to twist itself in two, physically rebelling against the emotional realization that she was alone. She had treated it as such a grand adventure, putting on a brave face when leaving her home world, but it was easy when your friends were leaving alongside you. Here, alone, with no place to go back to, was different.

And what happened to her friends?! They wouldn't have left her frozen, not by choice. She knew and trusted them enough to know that. Her mind started racing through possibilities. Innocent and hopeful at first; there was a malfunction, and her pod wouldn't open. But in her scared state, the possibilities quickly turned dark. Were her friends hurt?

Her last thought before passing out was a simple question, but it pushed her mind so close to breaking that she shut down rather than contemplate the answer.

"Are my friends still alive?"

---

Bump.

Shift.

Movement stirred her from void. Touch brought her back to waking. Awareness came slow as she was set down and leaned back against something, maybe a tree. No, not a tree. The surface was to smooth to be bark, and too cold to be anything other than metal.

Before she could bring herself to open her eyes, cool water splashed her face. A wet cloth, wiping her forehead.

"Please, wake up."

The voice brought her back to the here and now with an almost violent start. The pained voice, the angry one. It was close, so close. She pushed blindly as she opened her eyes. For a moment, a scarred stallion held a rag in his mouth, touching it to her face, but her push dropped him to his hooves. No, she realized with a gasp, to his hoof. He only had the right one. The end of his left leg, where his hoof should be, was cut short, and hastily wrapped with rough, bloody cloth.

She tore her eyes off the salvaged bandages to look at his face once more. He wasn't scarred at all. The gashes and small burns on his face were fresh. They trailed down his entire body,ending at his cutie mark, half of which was eaten down to bloody, bubbled skin by what looked like acid.

He smiled when he saw her awake. "It's true," he breathed in wonder. He shifted, taking his weight off the end of his legs and ignoring the pain as he kneeled before her, almost in reverence. "I didn't even dare to hope for this day."

She pressed herself back against what she now realized was a metal panel, part of a starship's hull. All around, bits and pieces of wreckage littered the dirt, weeds and brush growing around them. None of it was recognizable to her, none of the colors matched any ship she knew, and none of the shapes seemed familiar. The only saving grace of the situation. It wasn't her ship.

She looked back at the stallion, an earth pony, focusing her stare at his eyes to keep from looking at the horrors splattering the rest of his body. He was young, older than her, but not yet old enough to lose that coltish look. His face was rough, even beyond the injuries, beyond the dried blood still caked to his chin, the face of somepony used to pain. And, for the moment, he was the only other pony around, and the only way she could find out what was happening. "What do you want from me?"

"Knowledge," he answered quickly, pleadingly. "All my life, I've searched, for the relics and weapons of your kind, but never have I dreamed I could meet a living Ancient. Please, I'll take anything you deign to tell me. No matter how little, it will be worth all I have gone through to get it."

"Ancient?" She asked, confused.

He blinked once, confusion starting to show, but quickly caught himself and bowed his head. "Forgive me, you would not have called yourselves that, but that is the only name I know. So few records exist. You are the ones who came before, who built the first ships, who left their own doomed world to spread life across this galaxy."

With that, she understood. "There are ponies across the galaxy?"

"Yes," he answered, crawling forward to grab her hoof. "Hundreds of planets, thousands and thousands of smaller settlements, we stand on equal ground with any other race in existence. The predator races, dragons, gryphons, even the humans, who treat war as art, acknowledge us as powerful allies." He looked down at the hoof he held, his own blood soaking through the rags to stain the bright pink fur. "It's all thanks to you, your kind, and your mission."

Slowly, she brought her hooves together around his injured leg, cradling it with care. It was a terrible, ugly thing done in anger and hate, but it was a beautiful metaphor. The hooves that held this pony up were gone, but the important part lived on. And he refused to stay down, still struggling to stand in the face of a hopeless situation.

Ponies haven't changed at all.

"There was no mission." When the stallion looked up, she brought her hoof to him, cupping his cheek. "There was no plan. All we wanted was our own selfish survival. And we got it." She let her hoof fall. "I'm sorry," she started to cry, "I'm not this great ancient you seek. I'm a lost pony, just like you."

"No," he insisted, "no, you were in the chamber. That is ancient technology, I know it is!" He looked off to the side, where the cryogeninc chamber lay discarded like its surroundings. "Magic and technology, mingled so perfectly, hasn't been perfected yet. It's the goal that scientists and sorcerers across the universe strive for. You and your race are the lost pinnacle of this galaxy, the goal I have sought for years."

She stared at him for a moment. Those eyes, begging and pleading with such earnest hope, seemed out of place among his injuries. "We were running." The truth may shatter his hopes, but he deserved to know. "Our world was dying, threatened by an evil we couldn't fight, and we ran. We scraped together everything we had, put the efforts of everypony that could help towards building ships to flee our world. We took everypony, and enough animals and plants to start over, but left everything else behind."

He nodded. "Don't you see the wonder in that? Five ships! Five ships to move an entire planet!" He grabbed her hoof. "That is beyond the reach of even Canterlot. And the information I've recovered shows even more wondrous power; complete control over the climate, immortal beings, even control over celestial bodies. These are the miracles of the divine compared to our pitiful technology."

She shook her head. "If you could have seen our world, you wouldn't say that. Before everything ended, the most advanced technology I ever touched was an oven. Magic was everywhere, everything. Technology only became important when we had no other options."

"I do not care. The circumstances do not matter. The results speak for themselves. And I will listen to anything you will tell me."

With a sigh, she consented. "Then I'll tell you my story, if you tell me your name.

He smiled wide, his dreams answered. " My name is Grinparch. Grin of the Norland pirates. Please, tell me your name as well, that I may call you something besides Ancient."

How could he muster so much enthusiasm in this situation, she wondered as she answered him. "My name is Pinkamena, but all my friends call me Pinkie, and I came from a town called Ponyville a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away..."

---

Grin grit his teeth as Pinkie changed the bandage on his hoof. In his mutinous crew's haste to leave, they left some supplies behind. It was mostly food and water, bit there was also some human clothing and gryphon whiskey. Despite his desire to put the whiskey to its intended purpose, Pinkie had insisted on using it as a disinfectant, a painful, yet effective one. She also insisted on changing his bandages regularly, even though the sight of his wounds had been enough to make her violently ill when first she tried.

It had been especially hard on her to learn that he was not an earth pony, but a pegasus. One of his wings had been discarded among the crates of supplies, and she was the one to find it. The other was nowhere to be found, and he could only assume that it had been taken as a trophy by his mutinous crew.

He looked down at her, watching the top of her head as she worked. In the three days since then, she somehow learned to keep her lunch down. And her mane, straight as river-reeds when first came to, had started to curl a little at the ends. She trembled as she worked, as she did every time she saw his injuries. If he didn't stop her, she would start crying, feeling his pain more than he did himself.

He took his left foreleg, freshly cleaned and bandaged, and patted her on the head. It was something he never would have considered doing in his old life, but she seemed to respond well to it. "Pinkie, tell me another story."

"I've told you everything I can about our technology." She sighed sadly. "I wasn't an engineer."

He sighed as well. He knew she wasn't, but piecing together what he could from her stories still provided him with useful information. Even small details like how something was held could be important. "Then tell me something else. Anything you wish to share, I will listen."

---

"Ooh! And then, there was this big rock thing, and everyone was scared, cause it was heading right for us, all angry and like, 'I'm gonna crush ya!!! Arrgh!!' And you know what happened next? Huh? What am I saying, of course you don,'t. But, I bet you can guess! You're really smart and all, kind of like Twilight, but without the excessive worrying, or tendency to put on winter pounds in the middle of summer, or..."

Grin smiled as she rattled off at least a dozen differences between him and her friend, apparently the lead scientist in charge of Equestria's evacuation plan. Asking her to share her story as she wished was a good decision. It made her less reserved around him, and she shared more than he ever expected. Beyond the description of her homeland, its culture, and its technology, she shared tales of adventures, powerful creatures lost to time, and goddesses who loved cake.

His smile faded as she started to walk ahead. They were exploring the wreckage, and it was proceeding slowly as he forced himself, against her wishes, to learn to walk without hooves. She stayed by his side though, matching his pace. But, every so often, she would forget, and start walking at a normal speed.

He hated it. Not for jealous reasons, he was too proud of a pony for that, because of what always happened next. She would realize what she was doing, stop, and slowly return to his side with her head lowered. She would apologize, and then she would walk in silence, feeling bad for what she did until he told her she was forgiven.

She cared more for others than he ever did. She was nice in ways that would make him suspicious of any other pony, but he couldn't help but trust her. Not only was she a living, breathing Ancient, she had kept him alive for longer than Shpell had originally estimated. Only by a day so far, but it was still a tasty morsel of revenge that he was defying his former subordinate.

And that was the problem, looking at her, he could see his own flaws. He couldn't imagine this smiling pink pony seeking revenge on anyone, no matter the crime committed. It was as if her only ambition in life was to be good to others. Were the ancients so superior in altruism as well?

He saw her stop, and braced himself for her misplaced guilt. He was once the leader of a fierce group of pirates, a position that didn't come with a clean conscience. In his search for the Ancients, he had broken countless laws, trespassed, stolen, and those were the least of his sins. He would kill to get what he wanted, and had before. Why then should she feel so guilty for walking too fast?

"Maybe we should stop for today," she said, breaking the pattern.

Grin looked up. She still carried the look of guilt, but made no move to return to him. He looked farther up. "It's only noon. We haven't gotten very far." Mostly because of his injuries, but he didn't care. The sooner he gets used to walking without hooves, the better, but until then, exploring their surroundings would be slow going.

"If you open up your wounds again, we can't clean them out."

She was right. They had plenty of food and water. His rule was to bring three days’ worth of feasts for every crew member while planetside, and there were close to twenty crew members in his traitorous group. But the whiskey was gone, used up cleaning his wounds. "We can use salt water," he countered. They had plenty of salt with the rations.

"You would heal faster if you rested more."

"I would heal faster if we got off this planet," he grumbled. "A working subspace radio, or even a power source would do it. There's more than enough scrap here for us to salvage something."

She finally looked back at him. "But," she paused for a moment, to paw at a twisted piece of metal near her hoof, "I don't even know what we're looking for. I don't know what you need, and I don't recognize any of this technology. I probably wouldn't even recognize a cake mixer if it got tangled in my tail. And let me tell you, that used to happen a lot."

Grin watched her kick at the busted piece of ship's hull in silence. She kept looking at the junk around them, then back at him, as if she was expecting him to just point out the piece he needed. Her mane was straightening out slowly, losing the frizzy curl it only recently gained. She was losing hope, and couldn't hide it. This pony couldn't hide anything. Her emotions were worn on the surface. "Fine, we rest."

She nodded quickly. "Thank you." Nodding towards a a large, T-shaped section of wreckage, Pinkie started walking. She kept her pace deliberate and slow. "We’ll have some shade over here."

---

Grin woke to the clang of metal on metal. Somepony was building something. And since there was only one other pony around, that meant Pinkie was building something. But what? She claimed to have no technical expertise, but it wasn't impossible that an unskilled ancient could well outstrip the most brilliant engineer in terms of mechanical aptitude.

He quietly pulled himself up, and started dragging himself towards the sounds. The clanging came from beyond a curved section of what looked like the exterior hull of a Gryphon vessel perched on the edge of a hill. It was a fairly old design, a modified freighter, but with a distinctly pony paint job. Who knows how much tech was left. Based on what they had seen, anything of value seems to have been salvaged long ago.

He tried to put his frustration out of his mind and followed the sounds. Every so often, the clang and batter would stop, replaced by scraping. He poked his head around the corner. Pinkie was grinding the end of a metal rod against a rock. She twisted it around in her hooves as scraped away, making sure she was grinding evenly.

Grin's face twisted in anger as he sawwhat she was building. He stormed over as she took the rod, and fitted it into place as the axle in a crude cart. Hot tears escaped his eyes and burned his cheeks as he asked, "What is this?"

She jumped, dropping the round access hatch she was planning to use as a wheel. "Oh, you woke up." She saw the look on his face, and immediately started to worry. "It's a, um, I made you a cart. Well, not made you a cart, since obviously you aren't one, but I made a cart for you." Her forced smile faded, as he stared at it. It was rough, made from a hatch and some access panels, and tied together with rope and coolant lines, but it should work. She had even found a pair of bearings in what was left of a sliding door. But, why was he looking at it like that? "Don't you like it?"

"No!" he screamed. He limped forward, slamming himself against the cart and breaking off the one attached wheel. He glared at Pinkie, and she backed away slowly. "You will not treat me like an invalid!" He advanced on her, forcing her back to a wall. "I am trying to come to terms with the fact that I will never fly again, but even missing one hoof, I can still walk. And I will do so under my own power until it kills me!" He punched the wall beside her with his remaining hoof. "Understand?"

The earth pony stood silent for a moment, the only movement a twitch of her tail. Then, without warning, she shoved him back, hard. She was strong, and he was unprepared, and he tumbled past the cart and down the hill. As he fell, so did the top of the hull, swallowing up Pinkie in its rusted maw as it swung down.

She had seen that coming.

"Pinkie!" He yelled before coming to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

Telesthesia. He had seen it referenced in ancient writings. The ability to glimpse moments into the future. Just one more of the wonders lost...

"No!"

He ran up the hill, ignoring the pain in his left leg. She couldn't be lost! Not because of him. He made it to the hull and called out for her. "Pinkie!"

Why did she save him? Now in two pieces, the curved section of hull formed a clamshell, wedged tight on both sides. He could barely see through a hole in the twisted metal at one side, but he couldn't see her. "Pinkie?" He called out again, a growing dread rising within him. "Pinkie?"

A quiet cough answered him. "Grin?" The sound of movement and falling dirt accompanied a groan. "I'm ok. I ducked in time."

He slumped against the metal wall as she moved into view. A hollow laugh escaped him as the tension and worry left his body. "Pinkie, that's the first time you've called me by name."

"Is it?" The earth pony made her way to the hole. She could see Grin on the other side, and held her hoof up to it. She felt his touch it within seconds. "Sorry. It's a good name."

"It doesn't suit me." The stallion pulled his hoof away. "Pinkie, can you dig your way out? I can try to dig in from this side."

Her hoof moved from the hole, and she shook her head. "There's dirt on top of it, but the floor is all metal in here."

Grin shook his head. There had to be a way out. "Look around. Can you see any light? If there are any cracks or holes, we might be able to-"

"Grin?" The sound of of her voice broke his heart. The fear he heard scared him more than anything ever had. "Am I going to die in here?"

"No!" He pressed himself to the wall, pushing it, trying his hardest to move it even if just a little. "No, Pinkie, I will get you out of there. No matter what it takes, I promise." He stepped away from the hole, and looked up at the hull. "I will get you out of there!"

There!

He ran around to the back of the hull section. The side that had fallen was sitting at a steep angle, but not too steep to climb. And there, a few meters up was an emergency hatch. "Pinkie! I found a hatch. I'll get it open, so just sit tight."

"Ok," answered her quiet voice, "be careful."

"I will," he lied. The hatch was four meters up an incline that even a healthy pony would have trouble with. Even if he didn't fall, the climb itself would take a toll on his injured body. But, he had to try.

He walked up to the hull and tested a panel seam with his good hoof. Nothing came loose, and the edges weren't all that sharp. He started up, catching his right hoof in the highest seam he could reach, then draging himself up until he could find purchase with his hind legs. He kept himself low, using his left leg to steady himself since it was useless for climbing. He made it halfway up like that, slowly traveling up the seams, but the next panel above him was much larger, and much smoother.

He shuffled himself over a meter to the right, where he could see more available hoof holds. He could feel the muscles in his back twitch as what remained of his wing-shoulders moved by instinct to aid his balance, a painful reminder of what he'd lost

"I am not losing anything else," he growled quietly. He wasn't about to let the last of the ancients die for saving him. More than that, he wasn't going to let Pinkie suffer alone.

Once he reached the hatch, he realized that might mean trading his life for hers. The faded warning label, something he couldn't see from the ground, gave instructions for opening the door. It was a mechanically activated hatch, held on by explosive bolts. The trigger mechanism was intact, but it was never meant to be activated from the outside. In order to activate it, he would have to be standing on the hatch, and the moment he did, the explosive bolts would throw him and the hatch away from the hull.

He didn't give himself time to back down. He jammed his hoof into the first half of the mechanism and twisted, disengaging the safety lock. "Pinkie! Cover your ears!" He bit down on the second mechanism, the actual trigger, and yanked it free. The chemical compounds that were once separated, mixed, releasing heat and sparks.

He closed his eyes.

Astral lowered the journal and heaved a small sigh. Twilight was still propped against him, face buried in his fur, but she was quiet. She had cried herself out hours ago, falling asleep with his hooves around her. While she slept, Astral kept himself busy reading Pinkie's journal. He was just starting a second read, and he had a feeling he would read it a third time. As many times as it takes to permanently burn every detail into memory.

He closed the journal and set it down beside him, his now unoccupied hooves absent-mindedly stroking Twilight's fur as he stared out the window.

After the explosive bolts went off, Pinkie climbed up to the hatch using a bundle of wires. She found Grin a dozen meters away, staring up at the sky and crying. He had several new injuries, including severe burns to his hindlegs. But, when she asked, he told her that there wasn't any pain. His back was broken, and he couldn't feel or use his hind legs after that.

They were found a day later, by Elder Tarkon and a party that was investigating a sighting of an unkown ship. Astral recognized several of the names listed. Tarkon was his Grandfather, son of the original expedition leader that organized the settling of Serus and Sevus. Tekrin was mentioned as well, though much younger.

They did what they could to help Grin, even going so far as to bring in an offworld doctor on one of Serus' cargo ships. Though they managed to help him a little, fully recovering Grin's mobility was deemed hopeless. The injury was too severe, and too old by the time the doctor reached him. What little he did recover was deemed nothing short of miraculous. But the best they could do for him was import a hover chair so he could move on his own.

Faced with his disability, and the fact that he was still a wanted criminal in most of galactic society, Grin decided to stay on Sevus, and put his advanced technical knowledge to use servicing the cargo ships that visited from Serus. Pinkie, faced with being alone in a galaxy that had changed beyond her imagination, stayed as well. She would help Grin with repairs, but also helped at a bakery in town.

They lived outside of the settlement, building a house in the scrapyard. It was Grin's idea. He didn't want to risk unexpected visitors to the settlement. If anyone ever managed to track him down, or if his crew ever returned, he would be well separated from everyone else and behind a defense system of his own design. He was also following Tarkon's wishes that the use of technology be limited within the settlement.

Pinkie seemed happy for the most part. The settlement on Sevus was a lot like her hometown, and though she missed her friends, she kept herself busy. Eventually, she and Grin had a foal, and married shortly afterwards. Tarkon served as father of the bride, and Tekrin officiated. Tekrin's younger brother, Astral's father, who served as an off and on apprentice to Grin, was best man, and a human named Ann caught the bouquet afterward.

Astral shook his head. His family was so intertwined with them, and he never knew it. If he never met Twilight, he might never know any of this.

Grin and Pinkie lived peacefully on Sevus for twenty-two years, until the day Grin murdered Tekrin's son, Hawk. It happened in the town square, in front of dozens of witnesses, two days after his and Pinkie's fifteen year old daughter died giving birth to Strawberry.

Grin and Pinkie were outcasts after that, and the defense systems Grin had built ensured that they were left alone. They raised their grand-daughter in seclusion. The legend of the witch of the lake started around this time. At some point, the glycodexrin poisoning started to present itself. Pinkie was among the first to succumb, leaving Grin to raise his granddaughter alone.

There was an entry about Serus' destruction. Grin had sent Berry to try and escape in the confusion.

The writing got harder to decipher near the end. The clearest passages being technical notes and formulas, with the instructions that they be given to Berry when she discovers the need for them. Other than that, it seems that Berry had gotten sick shortly before Grin's death. The last entry was Grin expressing his relief that she was recovering well, and that his proudest weapon served a better purpose in the end.

Astral could only wonder what that meant. There was no further information, and what he could decipher of the technical information seemed to focus on remote computer control, similar to what Berry used to override the shuttle controls.

With a sigh, he shook his head. Grin and Pinkie went through so much for their daughter and granddaughter. Astral looked down at the journal and patted it with a hoof.

"Don't worry. We'll take care of her."

Comments

[xoid]

Grin killed someone in the middle of the town, in broad daylight, after having gone legit? Yeah, there’s more to that story, mark my words.

[Metal Pony Fan]

Well, when you look at who he killed, and the timing...

[Timuri]

Am...Am I reading that right? It sounds like Hawk forced himself upon Pinkie's filly.

That is a hell of a way to end up related.

[NetherWalker]

8902456
Thank God the kid's a gem, no matter if that's true or not, at least something good came out of it.

[Easysnuggler]

I don’t know about Forced but the daughter died in childbirth and I guess Hawk wasn’t married to her.

[Dragonwaz]

10169642
It's heavily implied that it was non-consensual.