The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 68: A Choice

“Confirmation?” demanded the field marshal.

The crystal slave, shaking, backed away from his console. “The magical signature is...is consistent with the parameters you specified. Daybreaker has...she has manifested.”

“We’ve already lost two battleships,” said Asahel. “But, on the plus side, our fear meter is spiking to levels I didn’t even think were possible.”

“Divert the full power of the accumulated fear into the Citadel shield.”

Asahel turned his head. “To the shield? But with that much power, we can crystallize the entire front line.”

“To do what, exactly?” The field marshal stepped quickly to her map, noting several sets of coordinates and commuting one particular set to memory. “Daybreaker is a living fusion reaction. Her power is limitless. Our entire army will be useless. Deactivate the masks. Recall all of the crystal ponies to the Citadel. The shield will hold her, but not for long.”

The crystal slave looked up at her, his eyes wide. “But then what are we supposed to do?”

The field marshal stripped off the more ceremonial parts of her armor and opened a rear cabinet, withdrawing a long, crystal-tipped spear. She hefted it, expertly manipulating it to her back.

“I will join the battle.”

“You?!”

“In case you did not notice,” said Asahel, now sounding distinctly amused by the turn of events, “you lack a horn.”

“I will not allow that filth to advance upon Sombra. I cannot allow it.” She paused, gripping her spear tightly. It was forged from titanium, and the crystal was supported by various fine machines and mechanisms. Mechanisms whose design had only been possible in the Crystal Empire, under Sombra’s patronage. “I will defend him. Whatever it takes. Whatever is required of me.”

“Even if that means throwing your life away?”

The field marshal did not answer. “Asahel. I leave you command of whatever you have left. Use it as you see fit.” She looked over her shoulder. “I only request that you ensure the princess reached the shield.”

“The alicorn? Why?”

“Because she may yet take the place that I once occupied.”

From high above what remains of the Crystal Empire, a golem looked out across the ruins. What he stood upon had perhaps once been the skeleton of a tower, although now it stood bent and largely unusable, a twisted column of melted steel and shattered crystal. Had he known better, Emeth might have suspected it had been the spire of a church. There were, of course, no surges in the Crystal Empire. Temples had no place in a world where the gods had not yet moved on from their wars upon the earth.

He did not stand alone. Beside him were others of his kind, beings that he- -thanks to a certain suggestion- -had come to think of as his children. There was Delilah, with her pet priestess attached to her by a thin silver chain, as well as one called Hosea. The third was Asahel, who though not present was repeated in holographic form.

Together, they watched the destruction of the land they had helped to create and had been destined to one day rule. Asahel, who now ruled the entirety of the Crystal Empire’s military, found it all entertaining. Delilah was not so much concerned by the battle as by the tears on her pet’s face, and the look of horror in her eyes. Hosea felt nothing, but learned, because she understood that a time would come when these events would unfold again. She could not help but wonder what it would be like then.

Emeth remained silent, because his thoughts were his own. Only distantly, in the farthest reaches of his mind, did he remember that this had occurred once before on a scale so incomprehensibly grand that nothing at all had remained. He found himself wondering if the same would come to fruition here, and if that was what Sombra had truly wanted.

Several more sky-ships were crushed and plunged into the empty buildings of the city. From their position, the golems could trace the path of their adversary.

“The field marshal says we can’t fight her,” said Asahel. “I don’t know if I believe her.”

“Why would we want to?” asked Hosea. “What does it serve to gain?”

“Agreed,” said Delilah. “Certainly we have learned what we came here to learn.”

“Yes,” said Emeth. “Though I would hardly call the experiment a success. Perhaps you will all produce better golems in the future.”

They looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“The time has come. You are correct, Hosea, Delilah. There is no longer a point in remaining here. Some of our underground facilities still remain. Take what you can of the other phase three prototypes.”

“And destroy the rest?”

“No. Leave it behind. I am curious to see if the princesses use my work, or if they simply bury it as they did the last time.” He turned Asahel. “Use what forces we have left to cover the evacuation.”

“And purge organics on the way?”

“Why?”

“I was joking.”

“No. You were not.” Emeth turned to Hosea. “I have lost contact with the Z-type. Thaw another. He will help you.”

“Why are you giving these orders?” demanded Delilah, stepping forward. “Why are you not doing this yourself?”

“Because he isn’t coming,” said the priestess, looking up at the father of golems. “Are you?”

Emeth shook his head slowly. “No. I cannot.”

“Father,” said Asahel. “That is absurd. And you know it.”

“We can still escape,” said Hosea. “The warheads- -”

“We used the only crystal-tipped warhead.”

“But we still have a complement of forty-seven plutonium-tritium missiles.”

“I am prepared to fire,” said Asahel.

“The collateral damage would be too great,” said Emeth, looking out at the city. “Likewise, what would a fusion warhead do to the goddess of the sun?”

“At least the fallout would keep the organics away,” said Delilah, tugging on her pet.

“There is no point in it.” Emeth sighed and stepped to the edge of the spire.

“Wait!” Delila put her hoof on his shoulder. “Don’t be foolish! We aren’t like you! We cannot make more of ourselves, not like you can!”

“Not yet.”

“And possibly not ever,” said Hosea. “Without you, our race could end with us.”

“Then you will find those who can help you survive. Who can build more. Seek out the Questlords of Inverness, or find the ancient Morlock city in the planet’s mantel. Who knows? Perhaps some Exmoori still live, or at least those who recall the ancient age of machines. If you cannot create, learn from those that can.”

“We want to learn from you, father.”

Emeth paused. He turned and kissed his eldest daughter on the forehead. “I have friends down there. I need to help them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. Please. Do your very best, and someday, try to.”

Then Emeth turned back to the edge and stepped over it. In an instant he was gone, having descended far below. His children watched him go before they each took their own paths. Each of them knew that it was the last time any of them would ever see their father.

The only one who might have disagreed, had she been asked, was the priestess. She still held out hope, if only for the sake of those who could not hope for themselves.

Comments

[alamais]

Emeth pls :(

[ponepony]

“Then you will find those who can help you survive. Who can build more. Seek out the Questlords of Inverness, or find the ancient Morlock city in the planet’s mantel. Who knows? Perhaps some Exmoori still live, or at least those who recall the ancient age of machines. If you cannot create, learn from those that can.”

Given the relatively lack of machines in Equestria, I presume they didn't manage to figure out semiconductors for the next thousand years.