Duet in the Dust

by David Silver

19 - This for That

Octavia sat in the town square. Small ponies, some normal sized one, and other interesting creatures moved about, most looking quite busy in one way or another. There was always something to do to make ends meet and keep the town going.

Everyone had something to do. Except her. She had no job, her friends were absent or injured, which was just a more specific version of absent. She had no skills that were particularly useful or even usable.

She could encase one of them in a suit of energy? She doubted that would make carrying things easier.

She could summon a pony that'd only linger for not even a minute and likely give her an odd look.

Or she could scare them all away? No, all terrible ideas.

Octavia sighed softly, but stopped mid-sigh at the sight of something new. She perked as two large animals, yaks? They lacked the light of intelligence in their eyes and appeared to be attached to a wagon they were pulling. Two pegasi, no, not pegasi. Their wings were leathery and their ears ended in tufts. They were bat ponies.

Octavia tilted her head. "I thought those were just stories..." And yet, there they were, driving their yak-pulled wagon into the marketplace. She watched the people of the town gather around with loud talks going both ways. Things were taken off the wagon onto the backs of small ponies, the arms of bipeds, or dropped onto waiting smaller carts to take away. Just as surely, things were brought, loading up the wagon with new things.

A creature with pony back end and a fox-like front, multiple tails swaying, quickly approached the well and began filling a barrel with water, one bucket at a time. Had they traded for a refill? Octavia could imagine that easily. It was never so obvious as that moment of intense activity just how cosmopolitan the little town really was, with so many species working together without prompting.

Something needed doing, so they just pitched in and got it done.

One of the many boxes was tossed into position and the noise had her on her hoof. It had jangled in a particular way, a twang of an abused instrument. She started towards that box even as it sped away. She soon lost sight of the square, following the cart as it went down a side street.

It pulled to a sharp halt in front of a building that had the same golden star that Longshot wore everywhere. The little pony that had pulled it there darted away from the cart up to the door and began knocking excitedly. "We found one!" she called, bringing her hooves together in a clapping.

Longshot opened the door from within, stepping out just as Octavia approached curiously. "What felicitous timing." She reached to pat the small pony gently once on the head. "You are a most loyal subject. Thank you. Go on."

"Yes, ma'am!" The little mare rushed away, leaving the cart and the box it held behind.

Longshot had seen Octavia, but did not look at her. She was walking easily towards the cart. "I see you noticed it. How did you see it so quickly?"

Octavia flinched faintly, feeling awkward a moment. "Well... They threw it, and it... Once you've been around them for so long, you learn their sounds, when they're happy, or not."

Longshot rolled her eyes. "Typical, throwing a musical instrument." She reached out a hoof and ran it over the box that held what Octavia hoped it did. "Hopefully no harm has befallen it. That would defeat the purpose, would it not? Now, I have an order for you, my uncertain subject. Are you ready for it?"

Octavia internally winced. Of course, a trade, that was the nature of things. What manner of dangerous or dreary work would she have to perform to pay for what she hoped was in the box. "I'm... ready." She wasn't entirely ready, but life rarely waited until one was.

Longshot smiled gently at Octavia. "You are to see to the upkeep of this. Ensure it is repaired and working in fine order. In order to verify this has been done, of course, you'll have to perform with it. I expect to hear a song of your choosing by the week's end. Am I clear?"

Octavia's ears perked up. Was that all? "I'd be... happy to do that." She suddenly scurried up. With permission basically given, she reached for the box and pulled it closer after some pawing at it. Why were her hooves so slippery in that world? Regardless of that, she worked the latches free in her teeth, cracking open the box at last and pulling the cover up and open.

Inside was a faded grey-brown instrument. It was a cello, and it had a bow. Both looked like they could have been over a hundred years old. She inhaled softly through her nose. Spruce? Traditional. The sides and back did not smell familiar though. An exotic local tree? She shivered softly as a smile grew. This was an instrument with a history, and it was hers.

"Who owned you?" she asked the cello, though it was powerless to answer her. Regardless of that, she very carefully worked it free of its container and held it close a moment. "What wonderful music did you produce?" She reared up onto her hind legs, letting the cello lean against her. She grabbed the bow in her teeth, her hooves unable to be trusted. That was when she saw the condition of the bow. It was a mess of frayed strands. Time had not been kind to it. She would not play that cello, not that day.

At least, not the normal way. She set the bow down and grunted. She would not be stymied, this close... She set her hooves on the cords. "Just this one time... work for me." She plucked at the strings, and a warbly note emerged. The thing was badly out of tune, criminally so, but she couldn't have cared less. Her hoof, it was working! She began to pull and press, easily doing everything she knew how to do. However helpless she had been at everything else, playing that instrument was working exactly as it should. She was restored.

Longshot suddenly coughed, catching Octavia's question. "Do not forget the first part of my order, my eager subject." She turned in place. "It pleases us, your expression. Ask around, you will find craftspeople that can help you."

Octavia nodded quickly as she gently set the instrument back in the case it had come from. "T-thank you! I mean it, this is... You don't even understand how vast..."

Longshot set a hoof gently on Octavia's nose. "You are a subject in need. It is my duty to see that need met. Go, see it repaired. It will not fix all of the wrongs in your life, but at least, I hope, it will allow you to face them."

"You really are a good queen." Octavia closed the case and sealed the clasps that held it shut.

"Have you had one before?" she asked. "You sounded like you had. Tell me of that."

Octavia blinked before looking over her shoulder at Longshot. "Oh, yes. The country we come from, the kingdom of Equestria, is ruled over by two princesses, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. They are sisters."

"Sisters," echoed Longshot, looking curious. "What a lovely way to do things. And they are just rulers?"

"I have no complaints about either, though Luna has much to learn of statesmareship, I am told. Both are eager to do right by their people." She set a hoof on her chest. "I felt safe knowing they were there." She smiled thinly. "Come to think of it, I have performed for Celestia at times. It is only fitting that I perform for the queen of these lands."

Longshot leaned towards Octavia gently. "Your kingdom sounds like a lovely place, and I hope to it you return in time. I will do my best by my people." She lifted a hoof to gesture at the town as a whole. "They need me. Just... be wary. If someone else offers you the chance to be royalty, leave as quickly as your hooves will carry you."

Octavia blinked at that. "Why would someone offer that? And what sane pony would want it?" She held up a hoof. "No offense intended, I assure, but I do not envy royalty for their duties. It is a position that requires much if one intends to do it properly. No, I am quite satisfied as a performer."

"You are wise." She turned back to her office. "Come, when it is ready for that performance. We eagerly await your performance. For now, I should return to my duties."

Octavia nodded at the retreating rump of their ruler, not facing it. Instead she was focused on picking up the cello and getting it up onto her back. The case lacked a strap. She'd have to get that fixed too. Still, she had it.

It wasn't as heavy as Vinyl had been. That was a painful thought. She hurried off with it, promising to visit Vinyl right afterwards.

There were woodworkers in town, craftspeople who knew how to work with different materials to fashion the things people needed. They were, unsurprisingly, specialized in what people needed, and not so much musical instruments, but one accepted her cello. "If the queen wants music, I'll make it happen. I don't know how to tune this thing, but I can make sure all the parts are in the right places."

Octavia nodded at the human with a smile, tail swaying with her eagerness. "Yes, please. And if it isn't too much trouble, a strap for the case, so I may carry it more easily."

"Not a problem."

"And don't worry about tuning it. I can accomplish that, once it is in good repair." She looked forward to it. Tuning an instrument was, in some ways, a bonding experience with an instrument. You learn the sound it makes while requesting the sound you desire. A negotiation on both sides in a sort of musical haggling until both sides are satisfied with the result. "Thank you."

"I'm on the case." He set the instrument aside and started collecting tools from his shelves. "I'll send word when it's ready for your hooves." He glanced aside. "Never figured out how ponies played instruments with their hooves."

Octavia perked her ears. "Wait, do they all do so?"

"Mm?" He sounded confused by the question. "You're a pony, wouldn't you know? I've seen ponies playing all kinds of things with their hooves. Give them an instrument and they can figure it out. Nothing breaks the mind more than watching a pony playing a piano, each key smaller than their hoof, but they're playing delicate pieces without a pause. Another, like you, is pressing their hoof that's too wide to catch just one string, but they're making their stringed instrument play exactly how they want it to."

Octavia held out an arm, her equine hoof crowning the end of it as she turned it left and right, looking at it. "What's it like, with those fingers you have?"

He smiled at that. "What's it like having a hoof?"

She returned his smile. "I suppose that is a difficult question to answer. If it is all one's ever had, what does one compare it to? Thank you, again. I look forward to it."

They parted ways and Octavia let out a little sigh. She looked forward to having her instrument, but there were other things... She hurried towards where they had told her Vinyl rested.

She knocked on the sheet-metal door. "Hello?"

"It's not locked," came a male voice.

She nudged it open and stepped inside the medical office. It was easy to identify as such, with all the tools of medicine she could see strewn about, to say nothing of the box with a red cross on it. It was missing the hearts though, curiously. The source of the welcome was a small pony. He was watching her through thick glasses and he was smiling a little. He wore a doctor's coat sized for his small body and a stethescope of equally small size dangled around his neck.

Octavia tilted her head. It should not have been surprising, considering the small ponies were the majority of the town's populace. "Nice to meet you, Mister..."

"Doctor Time. Stitch in Time." He nodded towards her. "And you are Octavia Melody. Come to visit your friend?" He gestured towards one of two beds in the small office. "She's right there. Her vitals are good and I think she may awaken soon."

She nodded towards him. "Yes, that's me." She trotted past him towards the prone form of Vinyl. It looked like she had wriggled in her sleep, her blanket in a bit of a mess, half-tangled around one of her hindlegs, the rest of her just as sprawled about. "She looks comfortable." It was a pose she had seen before. Vinyl did not sleep in any one position for long. "It's... comforting, in a way, knowing she can bend herself like that." She perked an ear back towards the small doctor. "I don't blame you for not trying to keep her covered. I gave up long ago."

He chuckled at that, though out of his smaller form, it sounded dangerously close to a giggle. "I tried my best at first, but she is quite the fidgeter. That is why I am certain she is recovering and will awaken soon. She's been through something quite trying." He hopped up on another chair, allowing him to be eye-to-eye with Octavia. "What was it, if I may ask?"

Octavia turned to face Stitch. "We were trying to find a way home."

"A way? Are you lost?" He reached up and tapped at his glasses, held in place by a band that went around his head.

"In a matter of speaking. We're not from here, this world, at all. Along the way towards a device that could get us there, we were shot at, cut, and gassed."

He winced at that. "Are you alright? I haven't had a chance to examine you yet, and I wouldn't want you getting an infection."

"I wouldn't worry about it." She waved it off. "Whatever else I may be, I remain an earth-pony and I won't be taken down like that."

"You can't always be sure. Where were you cut?" He smiled brightly. "A little peek won't hurt, promise."

She was still and silent a moment before she huffed softly. "Looking should be harmless." She turned away from him and sat down, exposing her back to him and the cuts that the spider-like robot had made into her. "It still hurts a little, but much less than it had originally."

He rocked in place, forcing his chair closer to Octavia. "Let's see..." He reached out. "I'm going to touch you. Tell me if it ever hurts and I'll stop right away, I swear."

"I'll hold you do that." Despite that, she didn't order him to stop when he first placed his hooves on her, despite it stinging on contact. She was no foal, and she knew there was no avoiding a little discomfort. "Does it look bad?"

"It got you good, Miss Melody. I'd really like to do a full scan if you would oblige me." He patted carefully over her back, following the lines of pain. "The surface looks like it'll mend, but I can't be sure there aren't problems past them. With a little work, I could minimize the scarring." He could have done more if she had come sooner, but he had the sense to not bring that up. "A performer shouldn't bear scars, unless it fits their motif, which I don't think it does for you."

"I should imagine not." She huffed softly but nodded. "Fortunately, my back is rarely presented when I'm working... Still, do what you can. I'm already here."

Stitch smiled. He had hoped it would work that way. Octavia was not an uncommon kind of patient. Once they were talking to him, he could proceed. They just didn't wander into his office if they could help it. "This will tingle a little, and may sting." He hopped down and hurried to get his tools, returning just as swiftly. "I'll make it fast."

May sting? That meant it will sting. Octavia tried to calm herself and take soft breaths as she listened to the doctor moving around behind her. "Tell me, if it's not a rude question, but does your stature make your work more difficult?"

"Right for the heart of things?" he replied, washing the wand over her back. A wire ran from the end of the wand back towards a computer tucked in the corner. It was a constant chore to keep the thing working, but what it allowed him to see was more than worth the cost. He could see when she flinched, especially when the light of the wand went over the worse of her wounds. He didn't like that, but he kept on. He had to know what they were working with. "I can't help what I was born as, and I'm not sad at being a short leg. My parents were wonderful and kind, and being small has advantages at times." He worked down to her tail slowly. "My marefriend seems to enjoy me just the way I am."

Octavia looked over her shoulder. For all how many short legs had acted around her, she thought they didn't even have such relationships. "Are you two a... permanent thing?"

He set the wand down gently from his mouth, the glow fading. "We're as close to married as you get without a formal declaration. She's too afraid to do it... The last two stallions she did it with died... She figures getting married to her is bad luck, the worst kind. So... the way I see it, we are, but we won't say we are, just for her sake." He smiled gently. "I do love her though..."

Octavia turned to face him, pivoting in place. "I'm sorry for her loss...es. It must be terribly difficult. Did... you?"

He shook his head quickly. "She's my first and I hope my last. We'll have some foals and raise them as best we can. What more can you ask for?" He suddenly grinned. "She's heavy with the first two."

Octavia's ears perked. "Two? Twins?"

"We are blessed," he sighed out. "It'll be a lot of work, but we'll do our parts. Now, let's see what we can tell about your injuries."

Octavia felt better. The doctor was not eyeing her. He had a wife, and he loved her wildly. It was nice to know that the amorous little ponies were quite capable of forming families and not just making awkward passes.

---

"You owe me." Lunarquills turned the sharp point of the tool he was holding just faintly to the left. "I could have worked on dozens of guns by now."

"Yeah yeah, but they wouldn't thank you when you were done."

"It is true," sang out Bullette joyfully. "You are very skilled at your work. I--"

The male drone of the diagnostic system suddenly talked over Bullette, her voice fading away. "All limb subsystems online."

Bullette stood up, knocking Lunarquills' pointy tool away. "I can move!" she sang in a triumphant crescendo. "It is your fault! Friendship points assigned."

Lunar grumbled as he leaned over to retrieve his device. "How about you keep yer points and just sit still. I ain't done yet, you tin can."

Bullette sat on her haunches but snorted digitally at Lunar. "I am not comprised of a significant portion of tin. My shell is constructed with--"

"--Yeah yeah," he cut in, trying to resume his work. "I don't need the breakdown, thanks. We're almost done, so you just sit still a little longer, then you and Big and Scarred here can go off and do whatever you two do together."

Bullette's eyes were restored, looking around in their digital display. They zeroed in on No Name. "What is the status of Vinyl Scratch and her responsible friend?"

No Name shook his head. "I ain't left this room since he started working on you."

Bullette frowned at that, though one of her brows was not operational, deforming the expression. "You should check on them. I am in good hooves. Error, hands. Error, talons?"

"Hands works just fine," assured Lunar as he pulled his tool free.

"Weapon #12 online," remarked the diagnostics in its bland tone.

"Right. I won't even ask why you have at least twelve of the things. I've only seen a few." He tapped at Bullette with the tool. "How many do you have crammed in there?"

Bullette tilted her head left and right. "I am not aware what weapon #12 is. Some I only use when I really need to. I don't... think about them, it just happens. When all the power of friendship is required to resolve a situation."

No Name snorted softly. "Don't even think of trying to get one of them to work. If she doesn't know how to use it normally, it shouldn't ever be used inside a town we want to keep around." He rose to his hooves in a great rising of pony flesh. "I'll see if I can't check on the other two. Shouldn't be hard to find Vinyl at least if she's still laid up."

"I hope that is not where you find her," argued Bullette.

"There are worse places I could find her." He lumbered from the building, his heavy hoof-falls receding into the distance.

Lunar sighed as he swapped to a large screwdriver. "This may tickle or something." Not that he understood how the senses of the mechanical apparatus he was working on worked. He shoved it right into her, slamming it into a screw that had come half-loose in whatever attack messed her up. With a powerful pressure, he pushed forward and to the right, slowly turning the screw back into place.

Bullette was watching him working, an intent that no gun had ever expressed as he worked on them. "I really... aren't a filly..."

It sounded like an admission, not to herself, but to Lunar. He hiked a brow at it. "Did you think I thought you were?" He turned all the more savagely, working the screw past a stuck point. "You're a whatever you are."

"Am I a machine?"

"Machines don't ask that question." He pulled the screwdriver free and tapped her nose with the end of his screwdriver. "You're you. As lame as it sounds, you're pretty fine just as you are." He tossed the screwdriver and it was caught on a magnetic strip along some of his other tools. He grabbed a set of pliers from the same strip. "This could sting." He wasn't sure that was true, or not, but he had to bend some things that were clearly out of place.

"I will remain still," she assured. "Could you not tell the others that I am not a filly?"

"Huh? Yeah, sure, ain't no one gonna hear it from me." Not that he thought many people were fooled about her nature for very long. "You know, if you wanted, you could change up your look just a little, be a short leg adult instead of a filly." He closed the pliers around the crooked metal and started roughly working it back into position. No Name's absence was a large part of why he chose then to work on those. The big guy would not have let him do that part if he was there.

"But I do not comprehend so much." She tilted her head at her repair-griffon. "It confuses me. As a foal, they let me ask questions. As an adult, they would be angry. Would I be better as an adult?"

He paused in his pulls a moment. "Huh..."

Author's Note:

Octavia gets a new personal sidequest and a checkup. Vinyl is showing signs of recovery. Bullette has heavy thoughts to match her cute exterior.

Can we iron out the typos on the way to victory?

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Comments

[Chrome Masquerade]

"Am I a machine?"

"Machines don't ask that question."

I believe that she's closer to an automaton.

[Crystal Treasure]

This was a good chapter. Tavi got her passion back and Bullette was adorable as always.

[badninja]

Bullette is as alive as she can be. She may not have the flesh and blood part down but she has a huge heart. I get the feeling that she was ment to look like a foal to lull her enemies into complacency and then she nails them. I know her friends will not abandon her if they found out the truth.

[FanOfMostEverything]

And so Octavia can fulfill a higher need than mere food or shelter. She's survived. Now she can actually live.

Meanwhile, Bullette tries to comprehend her own artificiality. We're all machines of some sort, dear. You're just less squishy than most. And with more integrated devices for Takamichi-grade applied friendship.

Also, a few typos in Bullette's vocoder protocols:

It is your fault!

"Fault" implies Lunarquills did something wrong. "It is thanks to you!" or something similar better fits the deed.

I really... aren't a filly...

Am not.

9159553
She's a self-mover, yes, but "automaton" implies unthinking compliance with a prewritten program. Bullette is much more than that. She's a person. (Unless you want to argue the nature of free will, but I think that's outside the scope of comments on ponyfic. Well, most ponyfic.)

[Chrome Masquerade]

9162984
I was thinking Automaton in the way that Syberia puts it, as opposed to just a machine. :unduresweetie:

Like,

Automatons do not have bugs, Kate Walker. They simply display functional idiosyncrasies.

They imply at several points throughout the game that Automatons are different from robots, that they have a soul of some kind.

[FanOfMostEverything]

9163007
Ah. Sorry, I'm unfamiliar with that.

[David Silver]

9162984
Both of those were intentionally oddly spoken by Bullette.

It is your fault for liking this story! Thanks. :D

[Chrome Masquerade]

9163058
9163017

Automatons do not have bugs, Kate Walker. They simply display functional idiosyncrasies.

See? The system works!

[howard035]

Sounds like Lashtada is still around, helping out short-legs like the doctor. Bullette should remain a filly, she's right about questions. Also other adults would think it weird that she assigns friendship points.

[FridayPie]

9162984
Actually, I think that it's a nice place where it can be touched, especially if it's a science fiction (magic-punk variety in our case). The Nature to the Free Will is one of moral pillars discussed in science fiction. Even this show had touched it a few times, in various ways.

At least on fimfiction it less likely that discussion would devolve into simian waste flinging contest.

I looked up warforged and this setting in general (I am complete stranger to dnd stuff). They reminded me of Machinemenshen from Megapolis.

[Venerable Ro]

Cognito ergo sum, I think therefore I am. Nothing more need be said.