Fallout Equestria: Blue Destiny

by MagnetBolt

Chapter 115: Whistle While You Work

“Would you like another Pineapple Whip, Ma’am?” the robot asked.

“Yes,” I said immediately. The servitor flashed me a big neon smile and got to work dispensing soft yellow heaven into a cup. I took it with all due graciousness and turned to see Lathe glaring at me.

“Is this really necessary?” Lathe asked.

I took a bite before answering and gestured at her with the spoon. “You wouldn’t say that if you’ve ever had one of these.”

“I could make a machine--”

“It already comes out of a machine,” I pointed out. “One of your ancestors probably perfected the method and recipe.”

That stopped her. She looked unsure for a long moment. “I shouldn’t disregard the work of my ancestors. Fine. I’ll have one too. A small one.”

We ate and walked. The carefully designed streets of the theme park were full of that almost-silent flow of ponies marching like ants. I still wasn’t sure what my mother was doing with them except just exercising her control over them. Kuulas had been vague about my mother’s actual plans but I had an inkling of it. Kuulas could produce impossibly complicated blueprints for SIVA. The blueprints it had shared with me already were proof of that. My mother wasn’t really a pony anymore, but she didn’t have anywhere near the same ability. If she was able to get the same predictive powers as the supercomputer and the knowledge to create anything she wanted on demand… she’d be unstoppable.

And yes, to some extent it was all my fault. Every step along the way - starting with finding the SIVA core of the Exodus Blue - had my hoofprints marking the trail. I could see why Star Swirl had gotten so frustrated with me. I couldn’t even take an island resort vacation without putting Equestria in peril.

“You’re worried about something,” Lathe stated.

I looked up from my food. “Huh?”

“Something the Elders taught us as foals is that an Imaginseer shouldn’t hold their worries inside. If you foresee an issue or have a concern, it’s important to tell other ponies so they can help! Hiding a flawed mechanism means it will fail when another pony needs it.”

“Smart ponies.” I shrugged. “It’s nothing big. I just hate feeling like I keep tripping over dominos and knocking over the whole house of cards.”

“The machine spirit guides us to where we need to go,” Lathe assured me. “All of us are cogs in a greater device. If your life has been a series of strange, interconnected events, it means you’re a vital component!”

I smiled, feeling a little better. I don’t know if it was the sugar rush or the motivational speech. “Thanks.”

“Now, let’s go over the plan again,” Lathe said. “Because this time I’m getting my brother back even if I have to have you clobber him over the head and drag him back wrapped up in duct tape.”

“Kulaas showed me how to activate a firewall that should cut the crystal’s connections for a while,” I said. “It can’t hold it off forever. The physical intrusion is too deep.”

The supercomputer had explained it in very simple terms and when that failed, it had cracked me open like an egg and wrote it inside my skull so I’d understand. It had also upgraded some of the firmware while it was in there, so I was feeling a little smarter today. A little part of me was aware that it had been horribly intrusive and that I should feel violated, and the rest of me agreed but was having some problems actually feeling that way. It was a creeping calm whispering assurances that things were okay.

Anyway, the firewall was a little like locking a security door. More than strong enough to keep somepony out… unless they were willing to smash through the drywall. The SIVA would eventually route around all the closed network links, build new ones, and force the system to connect to them.

“And I’ve got duct tape for plan B,” Lathe said, holding up the roll as we trotted into the castle. She tossed her empty snack cup aside, and one of the robotic trash bins moved to catch it before it hit the ground. “As we say in the business, it’s show time!”

I stood directly under the hanging stone and reached towards it, extending my will towards it. The scales on my forehoof started glowing, and the glow worked its way down my spine. I could feel it creeping over me and surrounding me with a flickering aura.

There was a strange sensation, but one that I expected. Like two gears slipping into mesh.

“Chamomile,” Princess Celestia said. Her voice appeared before her image, the illusion created for the park attraction flickering to life in front of me and looking down at me, somehow lacking the gravitas that Kulaas had possessed.

“You know my name? I’m impressed. When’s my birthday?” I joked.

The image flickered a few times. I saw a smug smile cross Celestia’s face before it reformed, at the same size, into a more familiar gaze. Draconic eyes, in a pony’s face, outlined in metal scales.

“I’d never forget your birthday, Chamomile. I was there too, remember?” my mother asked. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m kicking you out,” I said. “It’s a little like an exorcism, but I don’t want to use that word because there are probably lots of very nice demons that wouldn’t want to be associated with you.”

“Come now,” Lemon sighed. She shook her head and stepped closer, filling my vision and leaning closer. “Stop this nonsense. Don’t make me kill you. I do love you, Chamomile.”

“Remember that time you shot me in the head?” I asked.

To her credit, her eyes didn’t even so much as flicker to the scar on my forehead. “Do you remember how many times I could have killed you and didn’t? That’s because I love you, Chamomile. I’ve let you off the hook again and again.”

“I fell out of orbit! After you tried to stop my heart!”

“I saw what happened. You chose not to use the escape vehicle. I can’t be blamed for your poor decision-making.” She flicked two wings out in an elaborate shrug.

“Why do you have four wings?” I asked.

She blinked, not expecting the question. “What?”

“It’s not wing envy or anything, I’m just questioning the aerodynamics,” I explained. “Does it actually work better than two larger wings? Is it because they’re bat wings so they’re more for flapping than soaring?”

Her image glitched for an instant, flickering back to Celestia. “It’s--”

“Oh right. You were a unicorn. Sorry Mom, I sometimes forget because you were never around when I was growing up. Let me know if you need any wing-care tips.”

Her image turned to fuzz for a full second, her voice sounding like it was underwater. “You’re trying to distract me!”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked.

“I’m sorry I have to do this,” she said, through fangs that made it seem very much like she wasn’t sorry at all. “You need to be reminded about who’s in charge.”

Her eyes flashed with color, and I felt it. She was trying to force her way into the implants in my body and send them into a haywire mess. Her grip tightened and slipped, unable to gain traction.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

I didn’t have to answer. The firewall came online and it was like slamming a door in her face. The hologram vanished. The pressure of dark magic waned from a migraine into dull white noise in the background.

“Lathe?” a dry voice asked. The word was immediately followed with coughing.

I turned to see Lathe helping her brother with a drink. Robots were helping other ponies who’d been entranced so deeply they’d forgotten to take care of themselves. Lathe glanced up at me with tears in her eyes and nodded thanks.

---

I was in the cafeteria looking over my photocopied version of the map and trying to work out the best route to hit up the other crystals. No matter what else happened, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to free everypony caught up in the scheme.

“Having yourself a crack at the traveling salespony problem?” Elder Flysteel asked, looking over my shoulder. “You know, we actually solved that one a while back. Did a wonder for routing wires, plumbing, and guests.”

“How’s Chuck?” I asked.

“The ponies you brought back aren’t in danger, but they’re hardly in what I’d call good shape,” Elder Flysteel admitted. “The Dark Magic kept them going beyond the needs of their bodies. A lot of sore hooves and orders for bed rest and hydration. One or two of them... I'm not sure. They're comatose. Something deeper might be wrong with them.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure I wanted to let on just how bad things might get soon. I had a week to save the world.

Flysteel stepped around the table and sat down. “Ah, my old bones. They fail so much faster than any other machine. I came to bring you a gift and ask for a favor.”.

“What’s the favor?” I asked.

“You brought back so many of my old apprentices and trusted friends, but there’s still one missing. I thought he was caught up in the mess with the rest, but I was wrong. He managed to send us a burst transmission begging for rescue.”

That didn’t sound good. “You want me to go get him.”

“Exactly so. I can’t send anypony else. Most of them are caring for family members now, and frankly, it’s too dangerous for a pony without combat experience.”

“And I’m that pony.”

“Did I mention the gift?” Flysteel asked. The old Imaginseer levitated a case onto the table from where he’d put it down behind me. Inside, nestled carefully in foam, was a new prosthetic leg. It looked considerably sturdier than the one I was wearing. It looked elaborate compared to the skeletal frame I was wearing now, with a blue finish and gold details.

“Where’d you get that?” I asked.

The Elder chuckled. “I’m an Imaginseer, girl. I made it myself. Myoelectric so it’ll pick up your nerve signals. Spark batteries should last a few days between recharges. It’s armored and all the joints are sealed. No need to keep doing rituals to keep the knee from seizing up with sand and dust.”

He lifted it up and I shifted in my seat. He motioned for me to stay where I was and used his magic to carefully undo the catches. I caught a glimpse of the stump where my leg should have been. I had to look away. I didn’t want to think about it too hard. A few moments later he was adjusting the rubberized cup to fit snugly.

“Try moving it,” he said.

“Is there something special I need to do?” I asked.

Flysteel shook his head. “Don’t overthink it. It’s just a leg.”

I struggled for a moment, trying to get it to start going. Something flew at me from the other side of the room. I jerked on instinct and swatted it out of the air with the prosthetic. A rubber ball bounced off to the corner.

“There, see?” Flysteel said. “Don’t think. It should move just like your old leg.”

I stood up and tested my weight. If I closed my eyes when I walked around, it was a little like having the real thing again.

“There are a few extras built in,” he said. “You’ll need to get used to the normal range of motion before you start playing with those.”

“Thanks,” I said, really meaning it. “So tell me everything I need to know about this little favor.”

Flysteel smiled.

---

I looked down at the map and up at the beach. A long, rough pier had been built out to one of the sandbars that made up the alligator-shaped island’s back leg. Time and tide had eroded the edges, but hadn’t freed the pleasure boat that had gotten beached there.

“Why would anypony have a paddleboat out here?” I asked no one in particular. There was no way the flat-bottomed boat could go anywhere outside of the protected bay in the middle of the island, which begged the question of how it had gotten here in the first place. Did they build the entire boat on-site?

It was a large boat, for a little thing that couldn’t handle waves. A bit like a raft with a two-story building built on top of it, with open decks all around both levels and big ornate (and now mostly broken) paddles on both sides of the hull. A smokestack topped the ship like a fancy hat, and there was still a trail of smoke. The boiler was still working, the generator powering the strings of hearths-warming lights wrapped around the railings and down the patchwork wharf.

A raider with a cleaver as long as a cloudcricket bat leaned against the log gate. She watched me stroll up, not looking too worried.

“Hold up, bucko,” she said. I raised an eyebrow and stopped. “I don’t know who you are. What outfit are you with?”

“...I guess they were right about this barding making me look like a raider,” I mumbled to myself. I shook my head and stepped closer, waving a hoof and raising my voice. “I’m here alone.”

I’ll give her this, she was more wary than a lot of raiders. She picked up the cleaver when I started getting closer. She knew I was up to something. Before she could take a step, I fired a glob of glue that went right past her shoulder. She smirked until she tried to move. Then she looked back and saw her tail embedded in epoxy and stuck to the railing behind her.

“I just want to talk for a second,” I promised her. “I’m looking for--”

She instantly turned around and slashed her tail, cutting through the hair and freeing herself. The raider was smarter than she looked. She was smarter than I looked. The mare charged with that big cleaver swinging wildly. I raised my right forehoof and stopped it, metal grinding on metal. A surge of sparks shot down the metal blade and into the raider, making what was left of her mane and tail stand on end.

The raider collapsed in a heap. The short spiked prongs on my new prosthetic retracted back into the base of the hoof with a snap.

I put my weight back on it. “I need to remember to tell Flysteel he does good work.”

The raider guard made a soft burbling sound. She didn’t get up. I stepped over her and trotted up the dock to the ship. I could hear ponies drinking and celebrating. They were having themselves a grand old time.

Somepony started ringing a bell.

“We’re under attack!” the guard back at the entrance yelled. I swore. I thought she’d be unconscious a lot longer. The music stopped with a screech and ponies started coming out onto the deck to look. It was time to improvise.

“I’m here for the Imaginseer!” I yelled. Everypony looked down at me standing at the end of the gangplank. I wasn’t even on the boat yet. “If you give him to me alive and unharmed, I’ll walk away. Otherwise, there will be… trouble.”

“Trouble,” one of the raiders jeered. He was as thin as a rail and pock-marked with scars and sores. The stallion strolled down the gangplank, carrying a club with razor blades embedded in it. “Mare, you ain’t never seen what trouble looks like in good light or you’d be beggin’ us for mercy.”

I swear I didn’t mean to hit him as hard as I did. He staggered on his hooves for a long two seconds with his head twisted entirely backwards after I clocked him on the chin. The raiders and I watched his body realize something was terribly wrong upstairs. He fell over sideways, off the side of the gangplank.

“Just let me take him and walk away,” I told them.

If they were smart ponies they might have done just that. I’d consider it. Whatever ransom they were hoping to get from the Imaginseers, it wasn’t worth what they did next. They poured out onto the gangplank in a wave of spike-armored stupidity, packing together like sardines just to get a chance to come after me.

I fired a glob of glue at the first wave, slowing them down and making them trip over each other.

“Here goes nothing!” I reared up and held my prosthetic hoof out like a weapon, bracing my other hoof against the elbow and hitting the recessed button there. The armored panels opened up, revealing an array of wire coils. Blue sparks played across the surface for a second before exploding outwards, draining most of the spark battery all at once in a cone-shaped eruption of lightning.

The bolts arced between the close-packed raiders, making the lot of them seize up and collapse. More than a dozen ponies fell down in a heap. My prosthetic glowed with waste heat. I shook it a few times trying to cool it down, and then the armor snapped back into place.

“I warned you,” I reminded them, firing a few more glue balls at them as I passed, making sure they were firmly stuck to each other and the ground. They weren’t going anywhere in a hurry unless they learned to fight as a groaning, scorched throw rug.

I hadn’t gotten all of them. A few had guns and were hiding behind the railing. A shot hit the deck next to me, aimed so poorly that I’d have had to work to get hit by it. I grabbed the offender and held him up as a shield. Hopefully a talkative one.

“Where’s the Imaginseer?” I asked politely.

---

Really I should have known to check the engine room. It was a good place to keep a prisoner and probably also the most comfortable place for an engineer. The engine and boiler chugged away, bilge pumps keeping water out of the bottom of the boat, loud enough that I almost couldn’t hear the singing.

Inside the engine room, a pony in somewhat scruffy red robes was working on what seemed like a complicated bit of plumbing and electronics. He was humming to himself in time with the music from a patched-together radio and occasionally breaking out into what were nearly the real lyrics.

I coughed politely from the doorway.

He jumped a little and looked up in surprise. “It’s not ready yet,” he said quickly, answering a question I didn’t know to ask. The stallion had a patchy beard, the kind one might get after having several accidents with fire and not bothering to trim to make things even. He wore welding goggles over his eyes, and an armored apron protected his front side from the sparks of the tools he was working with.

“Does that mean you don’t want to be rescued?” I asked. “I’m here from your friends at ETROT. Let’s get out of here and get you home.”

He raised the goggles to look at me more closely. “You’re not any Imaginseer I know. You’re dressed like one of the… fine guests outside.”

“I’ve been getting that a lot,” I admitted. “I think I need a new outfit. Come on. Elder Flysteel asked me to get you home.”

The name got him to relax. “Thank the machine spirit.” He put down his tools. “I’m Collet. And you are?”

“Chamomile,” I said. “I’m sort of… I guess a mercenary right now? This seems like a very mercenary thing to do.”

Collet started shoving tools in his bags, obviously focusing on the better-made ones and leaving rusting junk where it was. “It wasn’t so bad at first, you know? I don’t mind getting things fixed and working again and this engine needed the attention. But then they made me build that weapon…” he shook his head.

“...What weapon?” I frowned.

“The modified water-cutter jet,” he said. “The one Breezeberry wanted me to make. I was working on a second one, but it needs finishing touches. You must have noticed it. It fires high-pressure bolts of water and grit and has an ultrasonic X-ray scope.”

A chill ran down my spine. I had a sudden bad feeling that shook me all the way from head to tail. I jumped to the side. Something shot through the deck above me, slicing like a laser through wood and steel. I had a pretty good idea of what it was. I rolled under a workbench, old oil and metal chips sticking to my coat.

“Ah,” the Imaginseer said. “I see.”

“I think I missed meeting him,” I admitted. “You should get into cover!”

He sighed. “I believe I explained already that Breezeberry can see through walls and has a gun that shoots through walls.”

I took a moment to process that, then felt another surge of alarm. I tried to move, jerked up, hit my head, and took a glancing shot that ripped the raider armor off my left shoulder and down my side, shredding the barding I was wearing. My skin ripped open in a long line, almost down to my ribs.

“Buck!” I swore.

“I warned you,” Collet said. “Nothing here is hardened enough to stop it.”

“That mess you’re working on, is it the same thing?” I asked. I watched the ceiling, trying to guess when the next shot would come. He nodded and I motioned to him. “Give it to me!”

“I haven’t finished this second model yet!” Collet warned. He picked it up and gave it to me, very carefully. “Not all of the required blessings have been done yet! The machine spirit is going to be extremely ornery.”

“Is that a technical term?” He fixed it to my right side where I could brace it with my wing and there was still enough barding left to strap it on.

“It wasn’t originally designed as a weapon. The annular confinement beam might be… wobbly.”

I pushed him back and jumped to the side. A beam of water slashed through the space between us. I was starting to get a feel for how long it took between shots.

“We have to end this fast,” I said. “He’s putting a bunch of holes in the bottom of this boat.” I flipped the screen on the weapon around. It was almost shaped like a beam rifle, with a long silver body with an orange nozzle at one end and a large purple tank at the back.

“You have to prime the impeller between shots,” Collet said. “There’s a pump at the bottom. It’ll take about thirty pumps to get up to pressure.”

I felt under the gun’s long body with my wing and found the grip, pumping it back and forth. “This feels weirdly…”

“Look, there are only so many ways to prime a pump and it needs to be pre-pressurized before going into the main cycle,” Collet said defensively. On the little screen, I could see a confusing mess, a shifting and changing monochrome world with only haze where solid objects could be, leaving me to try and figure out where the pony was that I needed to shoot.

“Am I doing this right? I can’t see anything.”

“I told you, it isn’t entirely finished! I haven’t calibrated it at all!” Collet complained. “I haven’t even stopped all the leaks!”

Things came into focus for a moment, and I could see a pony holding a gun. I fired on instinct, and the recoil made my shot slide to the right, twisting on my half-broken barding. Water sprayed out in a stream as wide as a strand of yarn, slicing through walls and decks and, as I saw for just a second before it went out of focus again, the pony I’d seen.

“Did you get him?” Collet asked.

“I think--” before I could say anything, another blast of pressurized water came through the ceiling, slicing into my right forehoof. Or at least trying to. The armored plating stopped it, but the pressure knocked me down, the impact tossing me to the side.

Lying on my back, the screen came back into focus. I saw a pony with a weapon almost identical to mine, looking right at me. I could feel our gazes meeting. I pumped the gun, trying to get it up to pressure. I could see him doing the same.

I was faster. I fired, and braced against the deck like I was, my shot stayed on target. I blew off half his head. He slumped.

“Got him!” I yelled.

And then he got back up, lurching to his hooves. I could see something in his chest, something round in a crater where his heart should have been, a metal grating bolted into place over it.

“What the buck? That looks like the ghoul back in the naval base!” I swore. The reanimating pony fired. It wasn’t at anything, exactly. At least, I don’t think it was. I would never underestimate a pony with only half a brain, but it didn’t lend itself to critical thinking.

On purpose or purely on accident, the water jet sliced into the boiler. Alarms immediately started blaring from the machine, and an urgent rattling noise began.

“Run?” I asked.

“Run,” Collet confirmed.

---

The Fastpass system really was convenient. We reappeared back in ETROT only slightly scorched.

“That engine was three hundred years old,” Collet mourned. “It had a beautiful spirit. Pistons and gearboxes and belt drives…”

“I’m not the one who blew it up,” I reminded him. I picked a piece of shrapnel out of my back, the tip stained with black blood. I’d covered him, literally, from the explosion. “There was something funny about that Breezeberry pony. I saw something in the scope, like his heart had been replaced by a rock.”

Collet waved off my concerns and stepped to my side, taking the water jet cutter off my side.

“You sure I can’t keep it?” I asked.

“I don’t think the park needs something like this,” he said. “I’m going to put it somewhere safe. It’s too dangerous and causes too much collateral damage.”

I grunted, but he had a point. I caused enough of that on my own. It also wasn’t likely to actually help against the kind of enemies I was really worried about. Cutting apart a SIVA zombie was more likely to make it mutate into something extra-horrible and indescribable. I still didn’t have even one idea how I was going to take out the Black Dragon when I found it.

“Is that who I think it is?” Elder Flysteel trotted over quickly. “Collet! So our new little gofer was able to get you out!”

“Hey, I’m a professional troublemaker, not a gofer,” I joked.

“I’ve got some better barding around somewhere,” Collet said. “Maybe if you wear it, the next pony you save won’t think you’re some kind of barbaric raider queen.”

“Thanks.”

---

A few minutes later and I was in the infirmary, and my borrowed raider armor was stripped off and tossed aside for recycling. It hadn’t done much good at all, so I wasn’t too sorry to see it go.

“Hold still,” Lathe said. She had a complicated device in her aura. I tried to keep absolutely still as she poked at my wounds. I felt something snap. “Shoot! There goes another needle. You need stitches but the auto-suture isn’t working at all.”

“That’s because my skin is armored,” I sighed.

“Not armored enough to stop shrapnel,” Lathe countered. “Chuck, can you pass me that? Yes, that.”

Her brother nodded and levitated something over behind my back. He’d already been in the infirmary, on another bed and under doctor’s orders to drink more fluids. He was already looking better than he had been when we got him back to town.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, this is almost nearly an approved medical procedure,” Chuck promised.

“If you think about it, the body is basically a machine,” Lathe said. “There are distinct parts and systems and we can diagnose when something is wrong and fix it if we try. It’s just usually a lot softer and wetter than you, Chamomile. Did you know your muscles are mostly carbon nanotubes? It’s fascinating!”

I sniffed. “Is that glue?”

“Did you know cyanoacryate adhesives were originally developed for surgical use?” Chuck asked. “That’s why it dries instantly on skin! It’s a feature, not a bug.”

I grunted and tried to stay still while Lathe tugged the edges of the wound on my side together.

“It also bonds fairly well to most materials, so we can get these cuts closed no matter what’s going on with your body,” Lathe said. She patted me on the back. “All done. You’ve been a very good patient. Here.”

She stuck a lollypop in my mouth. I would have objected but I really liked lollipops. Everypony did, no matter how old they were.

“Thanks,” I said around the candy.

“Good thing we got those closed up,” Chuck said. He motioned with his cup full of orange-colored Gator-Med Electolyte Drink at the window. Clouds were coming in. “Looks like ashfall blowing in. You don’t want that in your cuts.”

“Is the shield around the town going to be okay?” I asked.

“It would be good if you got a few more of those dark magic crystals knocked offline, just in case,” Lathe said. “I’ll help Elder Flysteel do emergency maintenance on the system. We’ll be okay either way.”

I nodded. It was one less thing to worry about. I was going to have enough on my mind if the island was going to be full of wandering undead for the foreseeable future. They were only going to make finding a solution more difficult to find.

A sickly green light flashed outside.

“Was that the Fastpass?” I asked. I got up to look. “Those bandits had better not have followed me here or else they’re going to really get what’s coming to them.”

“Here,” Lathe said. She gave me a wrench. “Just in case you need to do percussive maintenance on a pony.”

I nodded and stepped outside. Flakes of ash were starting to fall from the sky. More ponies were poking their heads out of their doors to look. I couldn’t blame them.

After all, Bird of Paradise was quite a looker in the leather armor and maid apron.

“There you are,” she said when she spotted me. “Acadia wants to talk. Now.”

Comments

[FridayPie]

Percussive.. maintenance... my sides

[Reese]

"They were only going to make finding a solution more difficult to find."
"They were only going to make finding a solution more difficult."?

Thanks for writing!