Equestria 485,000

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 12: Born in a Tank

The descent took time. Eventually, though, Twilight’s feet struck something other than dark air. At first, she felt water, and as she felt herself sinking into it she wondered if there was even ground beneath. Quickly, though, her hooves touched something hard. Although there was water at the bottom of the hole, it was only knee deep.

Silken descended next to her, landing with almost no force and barely producing a ripple. The hole around them had narrowed, and at the bottom Silken’s lights were adequate to illuminate most of the walls at the lower part of the chamber. Twilight could see that the walls were circular and made of gray brick that seemed to spiral upward almost infinitely. The floor beneath the water, likewise, was made of similarly designed pavers.

“This must have been an old cistern,” said Twilight. “Something left over from the Wizard Age. The builders of the tower must have hit it when they were drilling for the root.”

“Not likely,” said Silken, her tiny pupils scanning the walls. “The level of erosion with respect to the material is not consistent with the city above. This area is much newer.”

“Newer? That’s not possible. Your calculations must be off.”

Silken looked down at Twilight. “My normal function is to analyze structural materials with regard to the skeletal structure of starships,” she said, “my mathematics and estimates are not wrong. These bricks were placed here between forty five and one hundred twenty thousand years ago.”

“That’s a wide margin.”

“Yes. It is. If you would like, I can stop to take samples of the materials and the environment and attempt to make a more precise estimate.”

“Sure. Go ahead. That will only take, what, ten months? Sarcasm.”

“I see.”

Twilight looked around the room and found several offshoots cutting into the rock, each one surrounded by a decaying arch draped with vines of some strange fungus that did not need light to grow.

“How far down are we? Are we approaching the planet’s mantle?”

“We have most likely entered it,” said Silken. “Although it appears that the core temperature of the planet is quite low.”

“Geothermal mining,” said Twilight. “I never realized it was this bad…this room should be boiling, but my sensors are saying that it’s 290.”

“Mine are in agreement. However, there is also an indication that the atmosphere differs from the composition above.”

“Radon?”

“No. Thirty percent oxygen, seventy percent nitrogen. Trivial amounts of water vapor and carbon dioxide. No other gasses detected.”

“What? No, that can’t be right. Down this far…”

“I cannot validate my sensors without a second set,” admitted Silken, “but I have no reason to doubt that I am correct.”

“I do. If I have to breathe it.”

“Yes. But my information indicates that this atmosphere is ideal for supporting pony life.”

Twilight looked out at the bottom of what she thought of as a vast well. She spread her wings, stretching them. They ached and were shaking. There was no way she would be able to effectively fly for some time, let alone to attempt to reach the top. Worse, there was no way for her to take Silken with her. They were both trapped.

“Well,” said Twilight, sloshing through the crystal-clear water as she approached one of the offshoot tunnels, “there’s no way back up. We might as well try to find somewhere less damp.”

Something about these caves was different. They were not like the others. Those in the cities had been the result of monolithic buildings collapsing on top of each other, forming layer after layer through the dead city that they had once occupied. Some of those below that were natural caves, carved since then, that traveled through the limestone ground and the remains of ruins that had been forced underground when Twilight was still young. This tunnel was neither of those things, and although Twilight could not place it, it felt different- -and unnerving.

“Do you think we are the first ponies down here?” asked Twilight. She did not know why she asked it; it was not really relevant to anything. She had just needed to break the silence in the dreary halls.

“I am not a pony. And I cannot generate a response to that for sure. However, I see no sign of pony presence in this area.”

“Then what is this?” Twilight stepped closer to one of the stone walls. Silken followed, her lights automatically articulating and locking onto the area where Twilight was pointing. With it illuminated, Twilight was fully able to see what she had suspected she had seen. It was a large circle carved into the stone and filled with strange letters that she was in no way able to read. They were faded and eroded in places, but the gouges to the stone were deep.

“Yes, I saw that,” said Silken. “But I cannot confirm that it was ponies that made it.”

“Well then who did?”

“The markings bear no resemblance to any language in my database.”

“But somepony drew it!”

“Carved it, technically. Yes. That is likely.”

Twilight looked closely at it. “Then what is it?”

“Graffiti, probably,” said Silken. “Or perhaps this was a sacred site, and that was their idol. Or a warning. I do not know. If we had an archeological team, we could assess the area for artifacts.”

Twilight did not respond. Silken was not being sarcastic- -she would have said so- -but an archeological excavation was not an option. This planet indeed had an untold number of secrets that would take millennia to research fully, but they would have to remain that way. There was a reason that nopony had returned to this planet, and reasons why nopony ever would.

Then, as Twilight ran her hoof over one of the symbols- -a four-pointed star- -she felt something. Almost immediately, she pulled her hoof away, thinking she had touched an insect. As she looked closer, though, she instead saw sometime more closely resembling a series of threads. As Twilight watched, they separated from the wall, moving backward away from the light and affixing themselves to the rock at a distance. She saw the glimmer of metal, and then saw it fade to black as they once again became inert.

“What was that?” she said, following the threads. Silken joined her, and they approached where the threads had retracted to. This time, the thin tendrils did not retreat. Twilight did notice, though, that there were more of them. They had spread out over the walls, floor, and ceiling of the tunnel, each quickly leading back to larger trunks that appeared almost geometrically constructed. “Is this fungus?”

“No,” said Silken.

“Well, then, what is it?”

Silken stared at it for a moment. “Inconclusive,” she said. “I cannot currently determine if this substance is a threat. I recommend that we move deeper.”

“Deeper?” Twilight was not thrilled by that idea, but at the same time she felt an old curiosity welling from inside her. “Sure,” she said. “We’ll go five meters. If that’s not enough, we turn back.”

Silken nodded, and the two of them walked farther, the whole while keeping their eyes on the black substance that was growing increasingly thick on the walls. What had at first been long tendrils and trunks quickly became large, dark-colored objects that coated the walls. Just as Twilight began to stop, several large nodes opened- -almost as though they were blooming- -revealing transparent tubes within. The tubes flickered, and the room was flooded with orange light.

More lights illuminated further down the tunnel, revealing that it was overgrown with silver and black. The substance, whatever it was, existed in a way that resembled an organic growth- -but at the same time, there were areas where it appeared to differentiate and divide, developing into large machines of various types and unknown functions. Those were not grown with any distinct order, but they were connected in a way that almost seemed to have purpose and function.

“Silken,” said Twilight, sternly, “I need an answer on this. NOW.”

Silken turned toward the walls, focusing on them through her holographic visor. “I do not have a rubric to compare this type of life form with.”

“Life form? So it’s alive.”

“Loosely. It has some metabolic and structural characteristics with a life, but at the same time it shows aspects strongly associated with self-replicating machinery.”

“Self-replicating…you mean nanorobotics?”

“No. It is not nanotech. It appears to be techno-organic in nature.”

“Techno-organic?” Twilight looked down at the hallways to where the black and silver growths were constructing machinery in the empty space. “That technology did not exist on Equestria at the time of the Exodus.”

“That technology does not exist currently,” noted Silken. “Nothing this advanced has yet been constructed by pony scientists.”

“Constructed?”

Silken nodded. “My analysis indicates that it is highly unlikely that this is a naturally occurring phenomenon. It is synthetic in nature.”

“Then what was it made for?”

“I cannot know that answer. However…” She pointed down the hallway. Twilight took another look and understood. The floor, though covered in tendrils and eventually in living machinery, was largely flat and smooth, coated with hardened black material. The walls were illuminated with lights, and there were signs of pipes that lead deeper into the rock and down the channel. “This is a structure.”

“Or the lining of one.” Silken paused. “My apologies, Goddess, but I feel I need to at least offer the suggestion. The civilizations above were unlikely to be able to construct this, and historically we know that ponies had not…”

“You’re suggesting aliens.”

“I am. We have currently found evidence of twelve extraterrestrial civilizations- -”

“You mean traces,” said Twilight. “Broken pottery, arrowheads, rusted steam engines, several primitive starships filled with skeletons. Not one of them came close to the level of pony development, or to this. And all of them were over fifty million years old.”

“It has to have an origin.”

“But that origin is not alien.” Twilight stepped forward, watching as some of the not yet calcified extensions of the techno-organic surface retracted. She then took a step onto the smooth black floor. It felt warm.

“Goddess, what are you doing? That is very unsafe!”

“It does not appear to be harmful,” said Twilight, looking up at the walls. “And look at it. No rust. No decay.”

“It’s still alive.”

“Or it’s being maintained.”

Both of them fell silent, and Twilight only then realized the true implications of what she had said.

“It is most likely that it heals itself,” said Silken. “Although it is a machine, it functions like a lifeform.”

“And why would a lifeform build these machines?” said Twilight, pointing to a system of tubes and what seemed to be a tumorlike fiberoptic node emerging from the wall. “Unless it was FOR something…”

“Asking me questions like this is not useful,” said Silken. “I don’t like this. But if you want something, please state it explicitly.”

“Nothing,” muttered Twilight. “I don’t want anything from this.” She resisted her curiosity and turned away. “This is one of the things she told me about,” she said, mostly to herself. “It’s best left buried here.”

“It is,” said Silken. “But I am afraid I will have to recommend that I continue onward from here.”

Twilight stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“To gather resources,” said Silken. “This is the first functional technology we have discovered. If I can acquire enough parts, I may be able to construct an uplink antenna to the ship.”

“No,” said Twilight, peering into the orange-lit hallway. “That’s too dangerous.” Twilight pointed at the nearest light. “If you want technology, take one of those. If I have a light source, I can go back up to the city and search there.”

“There is no guarantee you will find anything. The technology on that level is too badly decayed.”

“I know,” said Twilight, “but if I can find a nanomanufacturing suite…”

“They will not be functional after all this time.”

“No, but the later stage models stored the nanobots in a solid matrix. If I can find a newer part of the city- -”

“The chance of you finding an operational crystal is very, very low. I could give you the odds, but ponies do not like it when I give them the odds.” Silken stepped onto the black floor, standing beside Twilight. “However, the decision does ultimately lie with you.”

Twilight looked up at Silken, and then down at the path. She was not sure why, but for some reason it seemed strangely inviting, as if something was calling her down into it.

Without saying a word, she acquiesced. Silken was correct. For the sake of the mission, it was best that they at least perform a cursory search. Her and Silken began walking into the halls of machinery.

The tunnel led deeper, and it became wider over time. The machines that it had produced became larger and more prevalent. The deeper caverns not only contained enormous and bizarre features of unknown function, but things that were growing, their forms being secreted slowly by the undifferentiated cellular mass that gave rise to them.

“Can you guess a function for all this?” asked Twilight.

“No,” said Silken. “These machines are active, but I cannot ascertain their purpose. Or what they actually do.”

“If they even do anything at all.”

“They are running, though.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Look at them. Everything’s random. We have to consider the possibility that this serves no purpose at all.”

“I think it does.”

“Wishful thinking. Just find what you need so we can- -”

Their surroundings suddenly reacted. Twilight jumped back, hardening her armor in preparation for an attack. In that moment she realized how foolish she had been. Coming in here had been a mistake. She had initially figured that the material surrounding them was innocuous, like the equivalent of living furniture. Only now did it occur to her that it could turn aggressive at any moment.

Several tendrils rose from the walls and opened, blooming with millions of glowing fiberoptic fibers. These glowed and tilted as they oriented themselves. The lights of the room flickered and dimmed as something appeared in the center of the floor ahead of Twilight and Silken.

Twilight maintained her defensive posture as she watched. Light swirled in the air, nearly condensing itself into a shape. For a moment, Twilight wondered if it were magic. Without her horn, it was almost impossible to know. Then she realized that it was a hologram.

The hologram condensed, but not completely. At some point in the past there had been an extreme loss of fidelity, and the recording that it was playing had quite clearly decayed. The shape was consumed by distortion, and the rendering was barely visible. Even when it would momentarily clear, Twilight was not sure what exactly it was supposed to be.

As she watched, though, she began to understand what she was seeing. Even as hard as it was to make out, the few nearly complete frames of the recording had revealed a creature that looked frighteningly similar to the machine and flesh creatures that Twilight had seen above. There were a few key differences, though. Although asymmetrical and grotesque, this one was smaller, and the machinery that covered it seemed cleaner and more organized. There were no signs of rust or corrosion, and the metal components and robotics seemed to belong together. They had been merged well to form a contiguous body, one that stared forward through a pair of large eyes.

The hologram flickered and moved in silence for a moment. Then a digital shriek filled the air, followed by a low and intermittent buzzing. Twilight changed her morphiplasm to reduce the sound impact on her, but Silken did not move. She was watching the hologram intently.

Then it spoke. What came out was broken and wrong, its sound quality matching the visual quality of the hologram. Much of it was consumed entirely by horrific distortion, and the sounds that came out sounded as though they had been spoken by a creature that had neither a mouth nor a tongue. A few of them were word-like, but not in a language that Twilight could understand.

“Silken, what is it saying?”

“I cannot currently translate,” she said. “The distortion is to severe.”

Twilight looked back at the creature. It seemed to stare at her. Some of its words were audible, even if she did not know what they meant. “Pordat int…anat Xyuka, maktenis dorthon klesshd…” It distorted and flashed. After some time, it suddenly stopped. It stood there, silent for a moment. Its head- -or what Twilight took to be a head- -looked upward. “Vortog plath idena thanthakta,” it said with perfect clarity. Then, with a flash, it was gone. The lights in the room slowly rose to their normal brightness, and Twilight looked to Silken.

“I made an internal recording of its speech,” said Silken. “I will attempt to translate and remove the distortion, but it will take me time.”

“Run it as a background process,” said Twilight, still looking forward to where the projection of the creature had been. “You saw it?”

“I did,” said Silken. “And before you ask, no. I do not know what it was.”

“Of course you don’t. There’s no reason you would. But I think it might have been one of whatever build this place…or what built the city on the surface.”

“It was certainly not a pony.”

“No, but it looked like those…things.” Twilight considered for a moment. “It’s highly possible that the civilization isn’t nearly as extinct as we thought. It just…evolved.”

“Then is this a safe place to be?”

Twilight took a long time to answer. “Probably,” she said. “They don’t seem to be sentient anymore. And look.” She pointed upward. “No holes.”

“If they’re not sentient anymore…then the recording must have been very old indeed.”

Twilight just nodded. There was no way to know how old it was, or who it was, or even what. That information had been lost to time long ago. Twilight was curious, but not sure if she actually cared that deeply. What bothered her the most, though, was its purpose. The devices around them had been programmed to display the hologram, but why they had chosen to was unclear. It could have been a greeting- -or a warning. Or something else entirely, even just an error.

As they moved forward, it became immediately apparent that the hologram had been projected close to the juncture to a large cavern. Here, the machines seemed to have developed even further. Although there were lights, the various organic-like tendrils and tubes were illuminated from within by their own glowing organs.

“They appear to converge hear,” said Silken. “Although there is evidence of remodeling.”

“I can see that,” said Twilight. She walked through the room, looking down the long dark hallways that led off of the room. It occurred to her that it was strange that the lights were not on; she had assumed that the entire facility had lit up. She turned behind her to see that the lights in the hallway they had come down were out as well. The only illumination came from the high, intense lights of this one room, and even that was underpowered for its size.

This room was also structured somewhat differently from the others. It was round and tall, and the floor was oddly clear. In the hallways, the path would sometimes be overgrown by machinery in places where it chose to grow beyond its normal boundaries. In this one, though, the black surface below had been kept clear- -or at least the machines that made it up had been built flush with one another to produce the illusion of a clean floor.

The only exception to this was in the center. A circle of tall, columnar structures were assembled there, all equally spaced and arranged perfectly with respect to one another. Each was fed from a long tube and system of cables from the ceiling, as well as from the machinery built into the floor.

Twilight immediately approached these central columns. They were not wide- -only about a meter and a half in diameter- -and they seemed to be the focus of the room, even if their function was entirely obscure. As she looked, Twilight saw the structures contained overlapping metallic plating on one side. This was set up in such a way so that the plated sides all faced the exact center of the room.

As bizarre as this was, it concerned Twilight little. She looked, and then began walking toward a sixth object. It was set off from the others, and did not resemble them. Likewise, it did not appear to be a machine at all so much as a place where the material of the floor had risen into something like a desk- -or an altar. Twilight approached it and saw that it was empty, save for one item: a book.

Twilight could not remember the last time she had seen a bound book, and it immediately got her attention. She approached it and saw that it was overgrown by hair-like tendrils arising from the table below. They spread across its binding and cover like some sort of mold, lighting it with their orange techno-biological luminescence.

Not that there was much cover to grow across. The book was old and badly damaged, and the cover- -which once might have been violet- -was torn. The pages inside were yellow and faded, and many were torn. Twilight reached up and poked the book. The tendrils of machinery immediately released it, retreating to the altar below. Even without her horn functioning, Twilight could tell that an exorbitantly powerful preservation spell had been cast on the book. Considering its condition, though, it must have been through a lot.

“Goddess,” said Silken, who had just entered the circle behind Twilight. She looked from one cylinder to the other, her eyes tracing them carefully.

“What?” said Twilight, turning. Silken’s eyes met hers, and in the dim light Twilight could see the concern in her tiny, irisless pupils.

“These structures. I am detecting life signs from within.”

“What do you mean?” said Twilight quickly. “What kind of life signs?”

“They are consistent with ponies,” said Silken. “Working. The organ placement and physiology is consistent with archaic records of pony anatomy.”

“Archaic records? Silken, that doesn’t make any sense. Your scan is wrong.”

“I can attempt to perform it again.” Silken raised a pointed hoof and tapped one of the metal shells over a cylinder. “Something is interfering with my results, but I cannot- -”

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed. A low whine drifted out from some unseen place in the room. The machines began to react to it; the floor split, and parts of it rose upward as columns. There was a hiss as the systems over the cylindrical devices purged gas, producing plumes of an unidentifiable acrid-smelling substance.

“Silken!” cried Twilight. “What did you DO?!”

“Nothing!” exclaimed Silken, taking a step backward. “I just touched it!”

The pods themselves began to respond. Plating on the bottom portions opened, and the machinery below interfaced to the exposed ports. As Twilight watched, the metal portions that covered the central bodies of the device shifted and suddenly retracted. One scale after another pulled backward, revealing that the cylinders were actually housings over five large, transparent tanks.

When the metal had stopped retracting, the room fell silent. Twilight looked into the containers and to her horror realized that Silken had not been incorrect. Each container was filled with a turbid amber fluid, and each contained a pony.

They were not the ponies that Twilight was familiar with. They were smaller- -about two thirds of her height- -and had far stockier proportions. Each of them was curled into a fetal position and appeared to be sleeping. Their navels were connected to a complex of machines that for each pony formed a grotesque artificial umbilical cord and placenta, the latter of which was connected to the machines overhead by a system of tubes and cables. All of them appeared to be asleep, but they were not fetuses. They had full manes, and were clearly adults.

“Scans validated,” said Silken, softly. “Detecting: one unicorn. Two Pegasi. Two earth-ponies.”

“That isn’t possible. That’s not possible!” screamed Twilight. “Those species are EXTINCT!” She turned back to the pods. Twilight had no idea why she was breathing so hard, or why she was so very afraid. There was something she was forgetting, that she could almost remember. This was important for some reason- -but it was even more important that she not remember what this all meant.

That was when she noticed the insignias carved onto each tank. Each one marked their respective containers, labeling them: a trio of apples, a lightning bolt, a trio of butterflies, a trio of gemstones, and a trio of balloons. Each one matched the mark on the flank of the pony within.

“Signature confirmed,” said a voice. Twilight shrieked and jumped, and turned around suddenly to see a translucent violet image standing in front of the altar. The image stared back at her, flickering slightly. It was a hologram, cast in violet light, its body an exact replica of Twilight’s. It spoke with her voice, although with a neutral, apathetic tone.

“Who are you?!” demanded Twilight.

The hologram did not respond. It was not meant to. Its eyes were dead and empty. “Secondary development lock deactivated. Vital signs are consistent with stated tolerances. Beginning birthing sequence.”

“What? No! Stop, I order you to- -!”

It was too late. There was a sudden gurgling sound from the tanks, and Twilight spun around to see air rising through them. The liquid began to drain through grates on the bottom of each vessel, spilling out onto Twilight and Silken’s hooves before sliding down the cracks in the floor and amongst the machines that made it up. The umbilical cords stretched and then disconnected themselves, retracting themselves and the mechanical placentas they were attached to into the top of the machine. The ponies within sunk to the bottom, each struggling against the current but still not awake.

A system of metallic arms took hold of them, manipulating them into the proper configuration and direction. Then the outer portions of the pods were lifted by the system overhead, and what liquid was left spilled out in a deluge. Each pony was left suspended by the metal arms, and they twitched and rolled before suddenly vomiting fluid and gasping for air.

At this, the arms seemed satisfied. They lowered each of their charges to the floor that had been at the base of their chambers.

“Eew,” said Twilight.

“Eew?” said Silken. She stepped toward one of the ponies, the earth-pony marked with the symbol of three apples. “You have clearly never given birth. It is a magical experience. Very painful, though.”

“This isn’t birth! What even- -what even are these things?” Twilight turned to the holographic copy of herself as if to interrogate it, but it had already faded and vanished.

“They appear to be healthy,” said Silken. She leaned in close to the pony she was hovering over. “Breathing, heart rates. And they are adults. But just look at them! They’re so little and adorable!”

At about this time, the apple pony opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was an almost grotesquely narrow face with disproportionately enormous white, unblinking eyes marked only by pinprick pupils. At the same time, she had gained consciousness just in time to catch the tail end of Silken’s statement. Silken, of course, was speaking a modern language that the apple pony did not understand. To her, it sounded like a metallic grating sound akin to “Ii’a’aiiiaiia’ii’aia’ii’ai’aia’i.”

“GAH!” she cried, sliding backward across the soaked ground. She pointed upward with a shaking hoof and spoke in a language that had not even been remembered by most ponies for countless centuries. “A- -ALIEN!”

“Iaiai’ai’a?” replied the “alien”.

“N- -NO! You’re not gonna get me! Not this time, not again!” As she was backing up- -and as Silken was advancing toward her on immensely long, pointed legs- -the apple pony struck a pink-colored earth-pony, one marked with the sign of balloons.

“Ooh,” moaned the pink pony. “How hardy did I party last night!”

The apple pony lifted up the pink pony and held her out as a shield. “Don’t take me! Take her! She likes being probed!”

“I do,” admitted the pink pony. “I always pass probing day! Just like how a Slor beast passes her young!” She paused, and then looked over her shoulder. “Although Rarity’s more of a fan of being probed than I am.”

“Pinkie!” cried a white unicorn across the circle from the rest of them. “I told you that in confidence!” She looked down at herself. “And…why in the world of Equestria am I WET? What even is this? Eew! EEW! It’s so slippery! Pinkie, what am I covered in?!”

“Don’t ask me,” said Pinkie. She pointed at Silken. “Ask the alien!”

“Alien?” squeaked a yellow Pegasus. “Wha- -” She looked up at Silken and immediately fainted. The Pegasus next to her- -blue in color, with an extremely rare rainbow-phase mane- - likewise rolled over and went to sleep. “It’s too early to be abducted,” she moaned. “Pinkie, just be quiet, I’m trying to sleep…”

The apple pony looked around in a panic, not knowing why nopony was taking her fear of aliens seriously. Her eyes then fell onto Twilight, who was staring at her with a kind of interested disgust.

“Twilight!” she cried, although with her own accent it came out more like “Twahlight”, “Twilight! Help! I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s gonna put circles in my crops!”

“And what in the wide world of Equestria are you wearing, darling?” asked the white unicorn. She retched slightly. “Darling, it’s positively hideous!”

Twilight looked at them in confusion, and then turned to the tall pony. “Ia’aia?” she asked.

“Ia’aii’i’i’aa’ia’a,” replied the other. She then turned toward the apple pony. “I am not an alien,” she said. In their language, her voice was slight and beautiful but strangely accented. “I am Silken.”

“And how do you know my name?” said Twilight. Her own voice was tinged with the same accent as her associate, although it was slightly weaker.

“Twilight- -Twilight, it’s me, Applejack!”

Twilight just stared at her somewhat blankly. “I have never heard that name before.”

“But you’ve- -you’ve known me for years!”

“I’ve never met you. Nor is it possible that we could have.” Twilight turned toward Silken. “Are they dangerous in any way?”

“No,” said Silken, her somewhat sing-song voice sounding confused at the question. “Of course not. They are just ordinary ponies.”

Twilight looked back at the group. They looked up at her, afraid and confused. Then she turned away from them. “Leave them,” she said. “They are irrelevant to the mission.”

“Twilight!” cried the white unicorn. “You- -what do you mean irrelevant? We’re your friends! And…and…” She started to look around. “Oh Celestia…where…where are we?”

“Why do you keep making noise?” said the blue pony. She sat up, and when she looked around Twilight saw the fear grow on her face. “Wh…what’s going on?” she said. “Where- -where am I? Where are we?!”

“You are right here,” said Silken, as though it were obvious.

“Silken. Leave them. There is clearly nothing down here of use to us.”

Twilight began walking away, but Silken did not. She looked down at the tiny, terrified ponies, and then at Twilight. “I cannot do that, Goddess,” she said.

Twilight stopped. Without turning around, she spoke. “I gave you a direct order.”

“These are living ponies! They are afraid, and confused. We cannot just leave them here!”

“I see no reason not to.”

“Does it not interest you in the slightest that we just found a group of ponies from races that have not existed since before the Exodus?”

“No. Not really. Now are you going to obey me or not?”

Silken paused. She looked down at the ponies, and then back at Twilight. “No. I cannot. I am not an Asenian machine, but I cannot morally allow ponies to come to harm if I can prevent it.”

Twilight turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You are failing to see the situation. You are badly injured. You have not eaten in weeks. We have no contact with our ship, and it will take me days to climb out of this hole.”

“So what?”

“We need to pause. To regroup, and to allow you to heal. We can help these ponies at the same time.”

Twilight took a step forward. “Help THESE ponies? These are relics! There is a reason their species went extinct! They were genetic failures! I’m trying to help millions of ponies, and you want me to give up on that to help FIVE?!”

“Twilight,” said the apple pony.

“Stop saying my name!” shouted Twilight, causing the entire group of ponies to recoil in fear. She turned to look at Silken, and glared into her artificial eyes. “I am going to the upper level,” she said. “I am going to break off one of those lights myself, then survey the area and try to find a nanomanufacturing suite. You can stay down here. If you want to play with the ponies, go ahead. I don’t care. I will be back when I come back.”

She started to walk off, and the apple pony stood up. She wobbled for a moment as she took her first steps, but quickly remembered how to walk and approached Twilight. “Twilight, please, what’s wrong? We can- -”

She put out her hoof, but as she did Twilight’s morphiplasm surface warped into a number of long, hard spikes. The apple pony cried out and jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting skewered.

“Touching me is a tier three blasphemy,” said Twilight. “Don’t do it.” Her spikes vanished, and her suit split to show her wings, which she spread. She bated them for a moment, and then took off with a gust of wind into the dark tunnel beyond.

Comments

[Dragonofshame]

That was unexpected

[FloydienSlip]

Holy shit, what. WHAT.

[RDDash]

290° of what? I can't help but to think that they are using a Kelvin scale, otherwise their insistence that the planet supports pony life would be absurd.

[AppleTank]

Hold_up.jpg

[horizon]

Well, this just kicked into high gear.

9738599
It’s almost certainly Kelvin, yeah. 290 K is roughly room temperature.

[Fiddlebottoms]

Silken paused. She looked down at the ponies, and then back at Twilight. “No. I cannot. I am not an Asenian machine, but I cannot morally allow ponies to come to harm if I can prevent it.”

“No. You are.”

Twilight turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

I think Twilight was supposed to say something in between Silken saying "...if I can prevent it" and "No. You are."

Also, I'm more surprised by the fact that the ponies didn't immediately melt or some other body horror thing than that Twilight can't remember them. All the brain damage she's suffered over the years, she's lucky she can remember her own name.

[Wydril]

Oh gosh, they're all part of Xyuka's journey! This story is already great on its own and now it's even better!