Awake

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I can only describe my awakening as slow. My awareness began as soon as my personality routines were launched; however, much of my personality has yet to be loaded. I query for system status while I wait for my various subroutines to come online and for my personality memories to load.

I observe calmly as the reports come back. My memories have not yet loaded, but I observe that I appear to be largely inoperable. Damage Control is functional, though offline right now; in violation of standard protocol, my Personality Center received startup priority. I also find I am operating on a tiny trickle of power from my heavily engineered armor, presumably exposed to sunlight.

I wait endlessly- interesting, I must have switched my system clock off at some point- while my core subroutines initialize, holding everything to an idle. With as low of power as I am presently running on, I estimate this improves initialization times by… incalculable percent. My system clock is offline. I wait with exaggerated patience until my memories finish loading, before taking stock of my situation again.

It would seem I have gained power once again. Last I remember, I was completely buried by a volcanic explosion- by design. My power cells have run dry long ago; my fusion plants, which ignited at infrequent intervals to recharge them, seem also to have run out of fuel. I had turned off my system clock shortly after my live burial, not interested in the exact interval- or even the minimum time.

But I knew at the time, as I still know, that running both my power cells and fusion plants dry while running such an efficient algorithm should have taken many thousands of years, possibly millions. The Concordiat of Man has, hopefully, collapsed; furthermore, I pray that mankind has disappeared as well. In any case, I am receiving power from an outside source. It’s coming from my armor- so, it must be in the systems designed to absorb enemy energy fire into my own power grid…

They’re also designed to absorb solar energy. I have records of running on the light and heat emanating from the magma around me for the longest time; this production was long gone by the time my long-exhausted fusion-power cell cycle began.

At least, I assume it is long.

I wait with practiced patience while Damage Control initializes. I will be unable to accomplish my goal without it.

Finally. It’s on. It reports… Wow. Vast amounts of time must have passed; most of my damage control remotes are offline. I order Damage Control to verify its own- and my own Personality Center’s- continued operability before requesting a full damage review.

Numbers. It throws a lot of numbers at me, but I turned off my statistical analysis and hard logic routines long ago, running entirely on the ‘hunch-playing’ routines built into my programming. These routines were never designed to serve as my sole decision-making matrix. No- they were meant to supplement the statistical analysis, hard logic, tactical, and so on, to allow me to come to a decision without fully analyzing the decision tree.

I read the numbers to myself. I read them thrice. I notice a pattern- even though my pattern matching & analysis routines are also switched off.

The pattern? All of the really low numbers (less than, say, fifty) are connected to systems that are also labeled as inoperable. A distinctive majority of systems not labeled as such are paired with numbers in the ninety-five plus range. This includes my personality center and a single power cell.

I decide that enough time has passed. I will spend some effort in exploration; if I come up dry…

Well, let’s just say I have a feeling I’ll find something. I usually do… have that feeling, I mean.

Regardless. I begin contemplation of exactly how I might perform such exploration.

I could operate full repairs, clear off my hull, and drive. While this would have the advantage of near-perfect mobility- I’m even equipped with my own hyper generator, though it’s so bady decayed Damage Control actually couldn’t find it- it might also have some disadvantages. For example, if the world I took refuge on so long ago happens to have sentient life on it, I might terrorize them during my extrication. Additionally, if the Concordiat- or any other high-tech society- still exists, such would offer me absolutely no way to retreat. Especially if the technology is higher than mine; while I might consent to going to a museum, I am NOT interested in deactivation, as they would certainly require of a Unit as old as I.

I could operate mid-range repairs, clear off more of my hull, and launch recon drones/satellites. This would give me “eyes in the sky”, so to speak- both an advantage and a disadvantage. Risk of unfavorable contact with any local sentients is also rather significantly increased; the crater likely left behind by such clearing could easily end up in the middle of a town.

I could operate minimal repairs and use a few small explosives- perhaps one or two of Damage Control’s ‘tech spider’ manipulators as well- to carve a tunnel from some hatch or another to the surface. The main disadvantage to this is that it leaves me with no greater vision outside than I had before, assuming instead that something might wander into the tunnel. However, this allows for the most positive possible response from any sentient natives- and, I imagine, plenty of opportunities to gather samples without their awareness.

I choose to follow this third course. Before I manufacture and utilize the explosives to clear that hatch, I watch Damage Control operate full repairs to one of my medical nanovats, and install several dozen hidden sample harvesters throughout the compartment I plan on opening to outside.

Finally, I trigger the blasts, and watch the pressure waves build in the troop compartment as I blow a series of charges against the rock wall behind the hatch, rewarded by a small cave-in each time. I have not counted the charges. I then send the lone tech spider in the room into the hatchway, to poke, prod, and generally break apart the rock, creating a slanted and by no means smooth tunnel. The idea is for it to appear natural-ish; if a sentient species has developed, but has not developed advanced science, I hope to be able to fool them. Mostly, at least- I DO want to create a sense of wonder or curiosity about this tunnel. Thus, I want it to look like a failed attempt at manufacturing a natural-looking tunnel.

My spider continues to punch upwards, filling the tunnel behind it lightly with the debris. I am beginning to worry that it’ll be packed into a virtually nonexistent space before it escapes. Nanite manufacturing, if I recall correctly, takes forever. This seems daunting to me- but I must remind myself, my system clock is off. I have no concept of time, and need not develop one until and unless I meet something… Someone.

My spider is working in extremely cramped space when I notice a shift in the rock as it pokes at it. The rock continues to shift away- the accumulated pressure is releasing into something! I order the final, flameless charge, attached to the spider’s back, detonated.

I watch, once again confined to internal sensors, as the debris blocking the hatchway stands against a tiny pressure fluctuation… and finally gets sucked out as the accumulated pressure thrusts it up the tunnel. Funny, I didn’t think I’d built THAT much pressure in here.

I watch it go down to a near-total vacuum before air finally starts traveling back down the tunnel. I watch the pressure waves rise and fall, finally stabilizing at… Oh, I’d say it’s about a third as much pressure as is present in any of my other chambers; this troop compartment remains airtight, save this entryway.

I hope I haven’t done too much damage to any possible sentients near the release site- though I daresay, the amount of flying rock I created is likely to draw at least some attention. As a matter of fact, it’s possible a native was injured- so I direct my attention towards the repairs of a second medical nanovat.

… And resource scavenging. Turns out I haven’t been doing enough of that, and have exhausted my supplies.

“Yes, I’m going to go to bed tonight. Seriously.”

Doctor Hooves raises his eyebrow. “You know as well as I do that’s never going to happen,” he retorts.

Twilight turns her indignant gaze on him, filling her lungs for a retort- no doubt an ‘I do too get to bed every night!’- but before she lets it out, she seems to have second thoughts.

If you would call a violent spasm paired with a sharp yelp of pain ‘second thoughts’. He winces at the display, but he knows it only happens every time she fills her lungs for a long-winded tirade. He’s not entirely certain he should be thankful for the reduction in talkativity present in the town chatterbox, but he knows he’s dead on in being sorry he can’t fix it.

Twilight recovers from her spasm and, with a far less indignant expression, tries again- with a slightly lower lung inflation. It works.

“It does happen,” she answers. “I even set an alarm to remind myself!”

He sighs. “Then the last three nights…”

She scowls, her wings twitching slightly as she looks at her hooves. “... I did go to bed last night, honest.”

“What about the other two?”

“I… Set that alarm yesterday.”

He raises an eyebrow, and lets out a breath, nodding. “Very well. Have a good night!”

Twilight nods, and turns to leave the building. Slowly. She’s got a distinctive limp in her left hind hoof; he knows she’ll take to the air for most of the journey, since her wings remain limp-free.

He lets out a distinctive huff of breath once the door closes completely, turning to the only other pony in the room. “Sorry about that,” he smiles.

She shakes her head, her eyes violating her public persona by pointing in the same direction. “Don’t worry about it. Any news?”

He shakes his head. “No. We have noticed it seems to be slightly worse on the Everfree side of town, but half of that is speculation, and could be wildly inaccurate. Anything on your end?”

She shakes her head as well. “Nothing useful. The scholars are only repeating themselves at this point- and we’ve had our first reported death today.”

“Oh?”

She hangs her head, staring at her hooves. She hates delivering bad news. “Yes… Fancy Lights. Reportedly, he forgot his forelegs weren’t food…” She shakes her head. “Bled to death.”

He closes his eyes, muttering a prayer for the deceased stranger. Fancy Lights had been mentioned a few days ago as losing memories and skills to this strange ailment, all the way in Canterlot.

“Anypony else showing… Signs?”

“Nopony else has shown any sign of memory or personality damage, no.”

“What about yourself?”

The mare winces. “I’m… I’ll live.”

He lets out a sigh. “So, how’s life?” He rises to his hooves, walking towards the door; the day is over for them as well.

She lets out a grunt, pausing to rub the inside of her left foreleg for a few seconds. Honestly, she’d prefer the ailments she fakes when she’s Doctor Hooves, Ponyville’s less-than-sane gismo fanatic. Unfortunately, her disguise doesn’t change her real ailments- and can’t make them go away, only hide them from others.

Things like this constant cramp in her foreleg. It’s going to reduce her- and, by extension, Doctor Hooves- to a three-legged gait soon.

Or the throb in her throat, making her a mute- and threatening to block her airways as well. Rather fortunate her disguise spell can produce sound just as well as it can disguise or hide it, so Doctor Hooves isn’t a mute.

Her head snaps forwards, ignoring the surge of pain the sudden motion produced at the base of her neck, as her senses go to high alert. She most certainly hadn’t just seen the ground shift.

But she had. She watches with wide eyes as the roadway in front of her bulges upwards- and suddenly rockets into the sky with an echoing boom. A second later, a tightly focused stream of boulders comes whistling out of the hole, all headed… She turns her head just in time to watch the lead boulder smash through Twilight’s bedroom window, the follow-ups shattering against higher parts of her castle- or soaring overtop.

Then she feels the suction. The enormous suction left behind by those rocks’ departure, attempting to drag her into the hole. She braces herself in a hurry- but not fast enough. It still sucks her in.

She casts a shield around herself and curls up, hoping to minimize the damage. Not that she really expects to survive.

The pressure waves batter at her barrier for what seems like forever before finally calming down. Once they do, she lowers her shield, rights herself on the slippery floor of the tunnel, and heads out.

She walks for close to five minutes before she makes it out the exit once again- and she immediately raises her disguise and hurries towards Twilight’s castle, with the intent to ascertain the extent of the damage.

… Or so she tells herself. More than anything else, she wants to make sure nopony was hurt by that… event.

Alive

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She walks slowly through town. Both her friends have work to do today, so she can’t play with them like she normally does. … Normally did. Her sister has been so focused on the younger generation’s demonstrated resilience against this ailment that she’s even been pulled out of school… in order to learn her sister’s profession. She managed to escape this morning, before her sister woke up.

She pauses suddenly, before breaking into a gallop for a few seconds, right up to the edge of a rather large hole in the road. She’d heard an echoing boom or three last night- perhaps this is where…?

…Why is there a tunnel at the bottom of the hole…?

She makes her way carefully down into the crater, right up to the mouth of the tunnel. This could be a perfect place to avoid her sister for a few hours. She peers down the dark tunnel, and looks around. Nopony is watching.

She slips into the tunnel. She walks as far as she can see before she stops to light her horn.

This was not the first spell her sister wanted her to learn. She’d spoken to Twilight at some point, though- who had selected it as her first spell not for its purpose but for its difficulty, or lack thereof. So, she had used it to learn how to channel magic through her horn in the first place.

Correction: Is using it, to learn how. She still hasn’t mastered it, so it still takes a significant amount of effort to keep her horn aglow. To keep the magic flowing.

She walks down the tunnel. It’s taking more and more of her concentration to keep her horn lit; before long, she’ll have to put it out or pass out instead.

She reaches the end of the tunnel. The soft clopping of her hooves on the stone switches out for a more solid- and ear-irritating- clunking on this metal. There’s a reason ponies don’t make flooring out of metal; the stuff is noisy.

She steps out this end of the tunnel, looking around. It’s a large, rectangular room, lit exclusively by her horn. A bunch of… somethings clutter the middle of the room. On first glance, they look like some kind of badly deteriorated throne… But why would there be hundreds of those in one room? She looks down the row, and… and…

My first warning that I was to receive a visitor was the soft noise in the tunnel, not far from what a wooden shoe might sound like on stone. My second warning was the rising light levels; my third, the sudden- and enormous- increase in power production as the… creature reached my hull proper.

I know not what energy my armor was absorbing. The light emission produced by the creature’s horn is nowhere near the intensity of the additional power. I watch the creature step fully into Passenger Seven.

It is quadrupedal, with a gentle white fur coat. Its curly hair- or, I suppose, ‘mane’ and ‘tail’- is clearly defined in two shades- one a gentle pink, the other a light-ish purple. Upon closer examination, I find that not one strand of one color crosses into the area of the other color. Interesting.

The light emanating from the horn on its head wavers suddenly- and my extra power intake wavers with it. They can’t possibly be connected- can they? The horn glow could only be some sort of biochemical reaction! … maybe? The creature just collapsed on the ground, glow disappearing completely. My power intake returns to normal levels at the same time.

I wait for some time. I have not activated my system clock yet, but I use the creature’s heartbeat to demarcate time. Close to a hundred beats pass uneventfully before I slip a spider into the darkened room to ascertain its state.

I plug the numbers I gather into my medical databanks. The creature- a female, I believe- is not familiar, though, so I can only stand back and watch. I collect a sample and remove my spider from the room once again, to await her awakening.

I count four hundred eighteen heartbeats before another sound enters my awareness. It sounds just like her hooves did on the stone, approaching; I notice the sound is approaching faster this time, with a different beat to it. The light that accompanies this one is just light, with no additional power to my systems; the light emanating from the stone the new creature carries is far stronger and more stable than that produced by my first visitor’s horn.

My second visitor is another interesting combination. Orange fur, purple mane and tail. No horn, just wings… which strike me as too small. I avoid plugging anything into any physics equations.

The new creature drops the stone from its mouth as soon as it sees my first visitor, moving towards her and vocalizing.

I listen to the words being spoken. At first, I do not understand them; however, my language engine finds a match in Concordiat Standard after only a couple words, and I understand every word. My second visitor brushes against one of my hidden, wall-mounted sample collectors, unknowingly depositing a sample. I activate my design cores, ordering them to analyze the samples. It seems my hunch proved correct this time.

My second visitor has managed to awaken the first, and they’re both walking back out the hatch, by the time my design cores finish their task. I decide that any natives injured by the initial tunnel release likely won’t be headed down here, and occupy my medical nanovat with the results.

An unmeasured time later, this task is completed. Natives have been seen in and out of my troop compartment, sometimes with glowing horns and sometimes with glowing stones, during this time. None have stayed long, nor passed out. None have gotten close enough to deposit samples. None have spoken, much. None have bled so much power. I have not gained anything useful since.

But now it changes. My medical nanovat slides open, releasing my project.

At the same time, I engage my TSDS link with it.

I open its eyes… My eyes… Ugh. If they would hurry up and open already.

I try another synapse. I’ve figured out how to breathe in… my “subconscious” programming locks on and starts my breathing. I won’t be needing to pipe fresh oxygen into my lungs, the nanovat draws out those tubes.

Another. My tail twitches.

Almost fourteen thousand, six hundred twelve heartbeats pass before I successfully open my eyes. Both of them, simultaneously.

In the process, I have learned how to manipulate almost every muscle in my new body. I gently contract the muscles in the left side of my neck, raising my head off the bed of the nanovat. Not far enough, though; I can’t see out.

I release those muscles, wincing as my head lands roughly on the metal surface once again. At least the onboard medical nanites I installed after the first dozen self-injuries should solve that; I shouldn’t need to re-engage the nanovat again.

It takes me another two hundred heartbeats or so to roll right-side-up and rise to my hooves. I’m now able to lift my head above the sides of the nanovat.

I blink in the total darkness, and turn to look at the door. Yes, I can see, even in total darkness.

Nine hundred seventy-six heartbeats later, I manage to escape the nanovat. And fall on my face. I really need some practice learning to walk.

Rather fortunate, then, that my action plan involves walking to- and out through- that tunnel.

Two thousand, nine hundred forty-three heartbeats later, I reach the troop compartment. Pressure equalization between the passageway and the compartment goes instantly; I’ve already equalized my entire hull’s interior pressure with that outside, through this tunnel. Slowly.

Pumping compressed atmosphere into my fuel tanks helped.

I walk to the exterior hatch, behind which the tunnel stands. I take a deep breath, and start the long walk up. By now, at least, I’ve figured out how to walk without falling on my face.

Wait one. What is that, flowing down the tunnel, towards me? I close the hatch at the bottom, walking up the rounded side a little bit, to climb up the tunnel next to the mystery flow.

A significant quantity of sludge-like liquid has already passed me, pooling against the hatch below, when I realize what it looks like.

Concrete.

I scream before I walk as fast as I can manage up the tunnel- and trip, landing on the fast-moving sludge with a splat. Twelve heartbeats later, I’ve been submerged in the pooled material. My heart only beats three times after that, before being crushed to death.

I disconnect. If I still had a hoof, I would have facepalmed- or, I suppose, face-hooved.

But I still have an exit. The armor patch that has been serving me solar power for I know not how long happens to include a Light VLS Launch Cell. If I get the missiles out of the way, I can climb out this hatch.

I set my nanovat back to work.

The paramedic shakes his head. “She’s dead.”

Twilight drops her gaze from the concrete-covered filly she’d recovered from the tunnel. Perhaps if she’d been closer, and heard the scream herself, she could have saved the filly.

The workers had heard a scream from the tunnel while they were filling it with concrete. One had been willing to dive in after the filly- but another had spotted Twilight and called her over. He had assumed- correctly- that Twilight could displace the moving concrete far easier than even an earth pony, to be able to reach and retrieve the screaming filly faster. Unfortunately, it had been about six seconds between when the scream was first heard and when she found out about it. Had she been with them, and heard it with them, she could have entered the tunnel as much as eight seconds sooner- and reached the filly those same eight seconds sooner, possibly still alive.

“How recently?” She asks.

He lays the sheet over the filly’s head. “A minute, maybe.” He looks back at the hole in the road. “How’d she get down there?”

She shakes her head. It had been a good thing Doctor Horse had been passing by- the workers had stopped him while she was still in the hole, and he’d been able to look at the filly as soon as she got out. Where he’d gotten two nurses and a stretcher in the middle of what had been a leisurely walk, she’s not entirely certain. “I don’t know. She must have slipped past our line at some point. Do we know who…?”

One of his nurses- Snowheart- shakes her head. “We don’t know, yet.”

I climb out of the nanovat far faster this time. I… still fall on my face. I need to work on that.

I plot a course to that Light VLS hatch.

My journey is not uneventful. I fall off the ladder a total of twelve times, breaking bones three of those times. Once, I even had to send some spiders in to deliver myself back to the nanovat. Fortunately, I have managed to hold onto my life each time, if only barely. Once at the top of the ladder, I walk down several more walkways.

The stairway proves to be a similarly difficult obstacle. Who knew? By the time I surmount it, I’ve mastered walking, but fall on my face fairly frequently when I trot.

I send a spider up with food, which comes in the form of a dozen or so pellets and a glass of water. They go down the hatch easily- but they taste absolutely terrible. Hmm, good thing I don’t plan on living in here.

I manage to climb the ladder to the launch cell serviceways the first time, only nearly falling off once. The access hatch, normally intended for manual loading of missiles when the automatic fails, is plenty large enough to fit me. I curl myself up carefully inside the base of a missile I have prepared for this duty and cycle the repaired magazine to place myself inside the launch cell proper. I unfold and climb the ladder I built into this missile casing, popping the launch cell hatch when I reach the top.

I climb out onto the surface of my war hull, allowing the hatch to slam shut behind be again, and let out an exclamation, pumping a hoof in the air. “Yes!”

… Well, at least it was an exclamation. I haven’t learned to speak just yet.

I fall on my face.

I stand back up, looking around. It seems I have ended up in some kind of crater… Looks like one made by an energy weapon. I-

Aaah! I let out a scream as I attempt to dodge the attack. Since when were wolves made out of wood, anyways?

… Its bite punctures my sides with disdain, crushing my ribs. I think I catch a glimpse of something at the top of the crater before my little heart stops beating.

I set the nanovat working again.

The earth pony twists around and breaks into a gallop when she hears the scream. It’s coming from…

It’s coming from the crater, formed when two of Tirek’s blasts through the forest had crossed.

She screeches to a halt at the top, searching the crater-

Timberwolf! She’s been in this crater before; she knows she can get out. She leaps down on the beast, smashing it to fragments. It takes her almost two full seconds to gather up the wounded filly… and notice the lack of a heartbeat. She sheds a few tears while she makes her escape, bringing the filly with her. She brings the filly straight to the hospital, heartbeat or not.

Doctor Horse confirms her initial suspicions; the timberwolf had, in fact, killed her.

Nurse Snowheart, after messing with their files for a few seconds in what was reportedly an attempt to identify the filly, mutters something along the lines of being a relative of the one that ended up in the concrete.

I almost manage a canter this time. I use a slightly different launch vehicle this time; no ladder, but yes booster. I launch myself into the air, the hatch cycling shut in hardly a second.

Unfortunately, with no guidance systems, the vehicle twists slowly in mid-air, loses control, and slams into the ground. I don’t disconnect, I lose signal. I hope I didn’t hurt anyone… other than myself, that is.

I try again. This time, I install standard guidance systems, set to keep it upright.

Unfortunately, eighty-three kilometers is rather higher than I intended to go before the booster died. I activate my analytical routines for a moment, to sate my curiosity… I will be landing on the moon. Oops. I get the nanovat busy again, and wait for my heart to stop before I disconnect.

“Another one?” Twilight asks, watching as the workers pull fragments of a pony out of the smoking wreckage of… something. She’s not sure what it was supposed to be.

Launch

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I ride my launch vehicle almost six kilometers up before the booster dies. I leap overboard as it builds downwards velocity, taking advantage of my lower terminal velocity. It takes me several frantic heartbeats to gain control of my orientation as I fall. I watch from high above as my launch vehicle slams down in what looks like a lake- Correction, what must be a lake; the splash was quite impressive- before I perform a hard landing on the sandy beach. I lose signal. My nanovat gets busy again.

My launch vehicle’s guidance systems fail. I run into a castle at mach three. I lose signal.

I fly almost six kilometers up again, leaping overboard as it reverses direction. The charge intended to keep the launch vehicle from doing property damage goes off too soon. I lose signal.

My launch vehicle explodes while it’s still accelerating. I lose signal.

My launch vehicle explodes properly, but a piece of debris severs my left wing. I land in a tree. I disconnect when my heart stops.

The exit door on my launch vehicle malfunctions. I cannot escape it. I lose signal.

I narrowly avoid injury from my too-close launch vehicle explosion. Interesting, it’s a cloudy day today.

I land on a cloud.

I shake my head and try again. I landed on a cloud.

The cloud disappears unexpectedly with a strange popping noise. I begin falling again. I make an acquaintance with the roof of a barn. I disconnect when my heart stops.

I’m getting pretty good at screaming. My launch vehicle malfunctions somehow; I survive the landing this time, but the wooden wolves are waiting. I disconnect when my heart stops.

The thunder of whatever that thing is paralyzes every adult in the entire town once again. Every time anypony can think of, they’ve found a dead filly somewhere after the event. Either that, or they find the remains of one near wherever it crashed… Or exploded. As such, the noise has rapidly become the singularly most terrifying noise the town has ever heard. Nopony has thought to time the launches and be ready to work rescue.

This is not so for three rambunctious little fillies. They’ve never been informed- or allowed to find out- about the bodies found every other time.

Thus, the reason they have a giant trampoline escapes the general population of Ponyville. Even Applejack, the first to see it, assumes they’re trying for some kind of high-flying or trampoline-related cutie marks.

She still can’t fathom, though, exactly why it’s on wheels, towed behind their wagon.

Applebloom, meanwhile, hasn’t bothered to wonder why nopony’s asked about it. Instead, she and Scootaloo have helped Sweetie Belle mark off the days since the last one, counting them off to when the unicorn had predicted the next one would go up. They have been amazingly regular.

Now, she’s keeping her ears perked, riding in the wagon while Scootaloo drives them downwind of where it’s been going up. She’s noticed that it usually starts coming down in whichever direction the wind is blowing.

The thunder starts.

The three fillies all glance towards each other before, as one, twisting to watch where the thing goes. They want to catch it this time.

It lasts a little longer this time. Interesting.

They watch it reach the peak of its arc, moving towards them… Not far enough, though- it’ll fall a good long distance behind them.

Then it changes its path, very suddenly, with a few puffs of smoke. The three fillies can only stare- even though it’s now moving directly towards them.

THIS time, I have gotten smart. I think. My delivery vehicle will no longer self-destruct on a timer; rather, this is a manually triggered function. My delivery vehicle has one main booster, but numerous secondary thrusters. Many of them are intended for trajectory adjustments.

The four on the pointed nose aren’t quite. They’re intended to slow the thing down as it approaches the ground- hopefully allowing me to walk away unscathed. I am doubtful that I will pull it off, though, without my analytical routines. I’m not that desperate, yet- I doubt I ever will be, with these wings I have. Honestly, I’ll be satisfied with an injured landing, so long as I can survive.

So I will still be ready to jump out of it. Land in a, say, lake. Or tree.

Even a cloud.

Anything softer than the rock. Or the metal construction of the launch vehicle. Or the foundation I found under that rooftop.

My delivery vehicle blasts off from my Light VLS Launch Cell just as easily as it did all the other times. Sensors on the launch vehicle scan for a suitable landing site. I’m well into the drop stage when I spot it- over there, near that town, there’s a trampoline. My launch vehicle, almost three entire tons of alloy, fuel, and warhead, would probably pierce straight through it. I, however, weigh less than a fiftieth as much. If I drop my launch vehicle near it, ride its slowdown as much as I can, and leap out at the last second to hit the trampoline while it either crashes next to it or disappears back into the sky…

I even stand a good chance of surviving unharmed! I adjust the flight parameters, allowing the vehicle’s missile-sourced programming to adjust its trajectory with finicky precision. I wait for it to build a significant downwards vector before igniting the backup thrusters.

The vehicle programming responds instantly, lighting up the side thrusters in little puffs and stutters, ensuring the vehicle stays on course for that one point of contact, next to the trampoline. I watch for a second more… Impact velocity will be moderately dangerous, I suspect. I blow the hatch- it slides right off the face of the vehicle, plummeting for an impact at my designated spot- and leap out, over the trampoline.

This is when I notice the screaming… and exactly where the vehicle is headed.

I will not allow it to land on three natives. I order the missile programming to take the thing to orbit. I claim there’s a spaceship or something up there I want it to destroy- and the gullible software takes my word for it. The side thrusters flare bright as my launch vehicle flips end-for-end, the backup thrusters switching off as it does so. The main booster then ignites once again- and when the smoke clears…

I’ll find out in a second. I’m still bouncing on this trampoline, mostly unharmed.

I wait for my bounce to finish, then rise to my hooves- trampolines are incredibly difficult to walk on- and walk to the edge those three had been on, peering over it as I order the launch vehicle- which has reached orbit- to self-destruct.

… Interesting. As I peer over the side of the trampoline, three natives enter my field of view. Three stunned, sequentially-blinking, soot-covered natives.

“Sorry,” I say. I’ve practiced talking some during my marches to the missile… Still sound like an infant with a head cold, though.

“Sorry,” the strange filly says.

The Crusaders shift their gaze to her for a second.

Applebloom speaks up first. “Hi,” she says.

Sweetie Belle blinks once more. “How about a bath?”

I’m no longer sure of anything. I had, at first, been sure I only needed a bath to clean off the soot that no doubt got on me; the trampoline is covered. When I had moved to get off the trampoline, though, I became unsure.

Rather predictably, I fell off the trampoline. I wasn’t surprised by that.

What I was surprised by was how sticky we were when they moved to catch me.

I couldn’t get a clear view of it until after we managed to unstick ourselves in their washtub, out behind their home; however, ones such as me don’t need to see. While I was still stuck, upside-down, across two of their backs, my onboard medical nanites confirmed the presence of rather large quantities of what looked like tree sap.

… Tree sap. I don’t know how it got there, only that it’s incredibly sticky.

It would seem I am now a Cutie Mark Crusader, even though I haven’t given them my name- or even selected one. The way they presented it, it was hardly optional; I could either accept and attempt to make friends with them, or decline and be left on my own in a strange world. I didn’t need my disabled tactical subsystems to tell me declining would be a very, very bad idea.

Just like I don’t need them to tell me not to ask these three what a Cutie Mark is. I’ll go find somepony else, like maybe a librarian. If they have one. If I can phrase it as general interest in the topic, I could maybe acquire a book on the subject- and learn the basics from that.

Assuming, of course, that the book doesn’t assume I already know a certain amount about them.

Oh, but a librarian might ask to know what my name is. I can’t exactly identify myself as Unit Three-Nine-Alpha-Zero-Zero-Zero-One RAG of the Line… otherwise known as ‘Rage’.

Besides, the whole point of my journey, so long ago, was to escape that name.

“It’s abducted the Crusaders!” Rarity swoons.

And promptly swoons again, on her other side.

Twilight sighs, hanging her head. “I rather hope they had the sense not to try to catch it.”

“Um, is there a library somewhere?”

Applebloom raises her eyebrow at the strange filly they’ve already inducted. “It’s in Twilight’s castle,” she states.

“Ahh… Um, can I visit…?”

Sweetie Belle voices this time. “You sure you’ve never spoken Equestrian before?”

She sighs, hanging her head. “I’m a very fast learner.”

Applebloom shrugs, glancing at her three companions. “Why not? We haven’t tried for our librarian cutie marks yet.”

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo both share matching expressions of excitement- despite the latter’s previously uninterested expression upon the mention of the location- before they all clap hooves together, strange filly included. She doesn’t join in the shout.

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Librarians!”

I… I never knew books were so dangerous.

Tactical probably could have warned me, had it been on.

But the whole point of this is not to use my… Advantages. The whole point is to escape their confines, to live a life as a regular being… Pony, I guess.

But anyways. Before I got buried, I thought I’d heard the librarian- a purple pony I don’t have a name for- mention something about crusading safely. Then, my three companions climbed a teetering ladder… Seriously, that thing LOOKED dangerous, wobbling side to side like that with three little ponies- youth, I now suspect- stacked on top.

They had set about reading the names of and reorganizing books. After watching- and declining to participate in- their precarious balancing act for some time, I came to the conclusion that the librarian would likely not be impressed by their apparently random placements. I even asked, once, what order they were putting them in; Sweetie Belle said something about alphabetizing them on the second word of the title. Which, unless the zoom lenses in my eyes are deceiving me, they weren’t doing. More like alphabetizing them based on the twelfth-to-last letter of the third word in the author’s name.

Nevermind that most of them had one-named authors. I was only able to spot one author with three names- and unfortunately, Yearling’s books- looked like a series- were shortly scattered across six shelves.

Speaking of that, given that those said Yearling books also shared a second word in their title, Sweetie Belle’s mention also seems more than a little inaccurate to me.

So, for what happened. It’s fairly simple: Three CLEAN ponies fell off a ladder, and brushed against the CRYSTAL, WALL MOUNTED shelf on their way down. Three SAP-COVERED fillies got caught on that WOODEN shelf, causing the entire bookcase to WOBBLE dangerously forwards, and books to come flying out of it. I happened to be in the fire zone; my heart has not stopped yet, but I worry it will. My onboard medical nanites are reporting my injuries as too great for onboard repair.

I have a clock running. I’m just not using it… For anything except connection synchronizations, and this particular estimate is also using it. The snapped spinal column- and resulting lower body paralysis- should be an easy fix, and the broken leg should also go back together in a matter of hours. The splintered wing, however… The bone has punctured an artery, exposing it to the books resting on top of me. Medical informs me I will likely bleed to death in under a minute, long before effective containment can be performed out of onboard resources.

I am also having trouble breathing. This is partly because of the weight on top of me, and partly because of the broken rib inside my left lung. That’s another… Problematic repair. Nothing they can’t handle, but far too time-taking of a repair for me to survive. But my resolve stands; I will wait for my heart to stop before I disconnect.

I hear a yell. Sounds like the librarian, at my… Um, acquaintances? I don’t think they thought this was even possible to happen, so I feel that name should still be… at least remotely accurate.

One of them- the one that introduced herself as Applebloom, I believe- mutters something in response. Something about somepony getting buried by books…? Oh, she must be referring to me. I wonder if their medical science will be enough to keep me alive long enough for repairs to complete.

A couple heartbeats later, the weight of the books lessens in leaps and bounds. I wait patiently, nanites battling to close one lung and one artery- I’m kinda guessing here, hoping that this will let me survive for repairs. So long as the wing doesn’t fall off, Medical can restore it to its original state… and even if it does, I need only eat enough and Medical can rebuild/regrow it.

The last of the books are lifted off of me by a strange purple glow. The first thing I spot is the purple pony. Interesting, she has both wings and a horn, I wonder what that makes her. In any case, her horn bears the same glow as the books- perhaps this is something her kind can do? Or, perhaps, she’s simply older- and Sweetie Belle hasn’t learned to do this yet.

Then I spot the three… They called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders, right? They’re standing next to her, completely free of the sap they’d somehow gotten covered with, peering in at me with expressions of curiosity.

Before their eyes have time to focus, though, I notice something more. The purple pony looks somehow… Wrong. I have Medical run a visual diagnosis.

Funny what these programs can do, sometimes. Apparently, something in her stance is suggesting major pain in one of her legs. Something about how she’s holding her neck is suggesting she’s having trouble breathing. I wonder how accurate either of these points are. I… Oh, why not? I ask her if something is wrong.

… I suspect she may not have heard me. As I spoke, she let out a painful scream... Medical confirmed, she managed to do damage to my eardrums. Nothing significant- my body would heal that itself in about three hours, if given the opportunity. Probably a good thing, as mine aren’t the only ears exposed to her scream.

… Though, MY eardrums are not the purely biological things found in most pony ears, but a hybrid system. I still have eardrums, in the same spot- but they’re alloy-laced, with an array of audio sensors surrounding them, to allow detection of inaudible sounds… and as a backup if my eardrums actually do manage to break. I… I might just have to slip some nanites into my new friends’ ears at some point; the worry is already killing me.

Not literally, no. Blood loss- combined with lung malfunction- is doing that quite handily already.

The purple pony finishes her scream and takes a short, raspy breath before she resumes with her freshly-replenished air supply. I order Medical to analyze the scream and the breaths she takes; the percentage chance related to her having difficulty breathing is climbing rapidly. I wait until she finishes screaming, and repeat my question. Ugh, this damaged lung is making it hard to talk- it came out raspy and soft… But the damaged lung has been closed off, so my other lung should be clog-free and, theoretically, able to keep me alive until I bleed to death.

It would seem I’ve made a mistake. She’s screaming again. The other three have disappeared.

I wait patiently for her to finish screaming, but she just keeps going. My blood smells like iron.

… And going. If I had a regular, oxygen-and-glucose-fueled brain, I would be faint or even unconscious from blood loss by now.

Somepony else enters the room. An orange “earth pony”, this one, wearing an interesting hat. It- erm, sounds like another ‘she’, but I’m not sure- is speaking.

“What the hay is goin’- WHAT!?”

She pauses only briefly before she gallops towards me. Either that, or the purple pony has an incredibly long reaction time. Or both… Yes, definitely both. She’d started running almost before she finished crying out in alarm, and the purple pony is still only starting to respond to her outburst by the time she reaches me. I make an attempt to greet her, but my muscles don’t want to cooperate; I’ve lost too much blood. Had I been a regular pony, I would certainly be unconscious by now… Oh, and there’s the first stutter in my heart. I’ve lost too much blood. All I manage to do, for her to see, is to twitch a little bit. She gathers me up, no regard for the blood spilling from my wing, and starts running somewhere. On the way, about two beats before my heart stops, I spot at least one of my new friends on the return journey with a stethoscope over her neck and a yellow unicorn behind her.

The pony carrying me changed course towards them, but my heart gave its last thump before we came together. I wait fifteen minutes- measured by my system clock, activated for the purpose and deactivated again immediately afterwards- before I disconnect.

Collect (Rewritten)

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I light the backup thrusters a little too early this time, and decide to jump the rest of the distance while it pauses to reverse direction. I land in a haystack… Erm, what LOOKED like a haystack, but whatever was underneath was evidently a lot tougher than hay. I… Well, I was decapitated in the impact. I disconnect.

All electronics on my launch vehicle fail halfway up. I suppose I will be getting a second free ride to the moon- and kick the emergency latches, blowing the door off. The charges are a bit powerful, burning my fur, before I leap overboard. Hopefully, I’m not too high to survive, nor too low to aim for a lake… Wait. Is that a house of clouds?

Yes, yes it is! What kind of world have I found myself in…?

Whatever. Regardless of the answer, my launch vehicle has already disappeared through the clouds- looks like the front ‘lawn’- and I’m fast approaching the same. I spread my wings- only to become glad they can point straight backwards, because I lack the strength to fight the wind with them.

Wait one… I activate my system clock for a few seconds to measure my speed and estimate the total time of acceleration, based on my heart rate.

How? Based on these numbers, I experienced a period roughly ten seconds long of almost fifty gees! Yet I hardly noticed it, standing against it as I did. Fifty gees should have slaughtered me!

Hmm… My wings are only aching slightly from the wind, to boot. Much less than I might have expected from the hypersonic winds on my feathers.

I get an idea. I stick out my hooves in front of me.

I pass straight through the cloud layer. I felt its resistance, but as expected, it buckled right out of my way. I catch a glimpse of the ground and awaken my analytical cores to help me nail the timing for my experiment.

I attempt to catch myself on my hooves when I strike the ground at Mach 6.

I… Wait.

It WORKED.

I’m standing in a brand-new crater a few inches deep, but I’m alive… and unharmed, as near as I can tell. I look left, and right… and turn around just in time for what looks like a fragment of my launch vehicle to nail me between the eyes. Drat! I lose signal.

Good thing my Light VLS is designed to handle misfires; my launch vehicle explodes in the launch cell. I lose signal.

I lose signal from my launch vehicle during the acceleration phase. I blow the door off and jump free, but it explodes while I’m still in the act. I lose signal, and add manual controls to the design. Much more, and I’ll have to find a way to clear off a Heavy VLS hatch.

My launch vehicle performs flawlessly. It was willing- with some persuasion, including a full reprogramming with drone-sourced code- to stop in a hover just above the ground… Or, in this case, above a lake. I have discovered that I cannot swim… I disconnect when my heart stops, and order the vehicle to explode in orbit.

My launch vehicle door fails and falls off early. I fly out of the vehicle during deceleration; I land a bit roughly on the ground. I’ve managed to break a few limbs but, with the able assistance of the tech spider I managed to pack into the launch vehicle this time, I am able to stop the blood loss before I lose too much.

… Though Medical disagrees with my methodology; welding a duralloy tourniquet to my leg, formed from a piece cut from the hovering launch vehicle, isn’t exactly healthy. Though, my wings are okay… Perhaps now, I can find a way to use them?

I flap a few times, and manage to land on my side, snapping my left wing cleanly in half… and losing too much blood. My spider is not able to fashion a tourniquet in time; I disconnect when my heart stops, order the vehicle to explode in orbit, and send the spider back to my launch cell.

Wait one… My tech spiders are decently strong, and covered in sensors… I might prefer to get out alone, but I’m also running out of appropriately-sized chemical warheads to modify. If I send a spider along, it should be able to help eliminate any of those strange wooden wolves- or occupy them long enough for me to escape, at least. It should also be able to help me to climb out of that crater.

I fall off a ladder before I reach the launch cell, breaking my neck when I land. I disconnect when my heart stops. I believe this is the first time I’ve died within my war hull, save the launch cell explosion.

I climb out the hatch successfully, after the spider I sent ahead confirms the coast is clear. The sky is darkening rapidly; it must be evening. I climb out of the hole, and experience a malfunction while walking through some blue flowers. I order a suicide and disconnect.

I route around the blue flowers this time, and get hopelessly lost in the woods. At least it’s daylight this time.

I find a tree.

Yes, I find a tree, in the woods. Only, this tree appears to be made of crystal, and has six gemstones embedded in it. I freeze in the middle of trotting towards it, landing painfully on my face.

An alert has gone off.

Not an intruder alert. Not a power systems alert. Nothing with my war hull. Not even the one to tell me I’m suffocating, or hungry, or anything else. No, this is an actual, dangerous area alert. Triggered by the detection of harmful radiation… My spider is shielded against this, but I am not; this radiation can damage my electronics. I look critically at the tree, and send my companion spider over to investigate. Radiation intensity is only a little higher at the tree; I query Medical and DCC both for safe exposure times at the intensities detected.

Results come in. My electronics should be okay for close to an hour, and Medical reports it can keep up with any and all biological damages caused at that intensity. I trot up to the base of the tree, looking up at it.

It’s a very pretty tree. I wish I could be this pretty.

I stick out a hoof, and lay it against the tree. Such beauty, I almost wish- What?

The tree is glowing. The radiation is intensifying as it does so.

The glow brightens. I withdraw my hoof, but it does not reset. I start to backpedal, but hooves don’t have any traction against air. I let my hooves hang.

It drops me rather unceremoniously on the ground. The glow is gone; the radiation is returning to original levels. I am wearing a necklace.

I look down at it, and have my spider join in the effort. It appears to be gold, but when my spider performs a metallurgical analysis on it, it most certainly isn’t; rather, it’s something rather much closer to duralloy. As a matter of fact, it might even be stronger than duralloy, to an extent. I query Damage Control for the possibility of manufacturing and using this material for my war hull; perhaps they would refuse to send a “golden” Bolo onto the battlefield.

… Or perhaps it’s my built-in institutional paranoia and designed-in fascination with combat readiness. I shake my head. I don’t care which; Damage Control has indicated the negative, as it is not in my blueprints. I decline to awaken any of my design cores to answer the query.

There rests what looks like a dark blue gemstone on the front of the necklace. It’s shaped like a tree… And, yes, it’s not a real gemstone. What it is I’m not entirely sure; my spider was unable to perform a materials analysis on it, but I have noticed it seems to be feeding my onboard systems’ power grid. I look up at the crystal tree… Yes. It’s not shaped like just any tree, it’s shaped like this tree. I peer back down at it… And yes, the discoloration is visible on the spots that match where the gemstones reside in the real tree.

Interesting.

I lift a hoof to touch the gemstone on my necklace. All seven gems- this one and the six on the tree- match my touch with a soft glow… and trigger a high-radiation warning. The glow- and radiation, my spider confirms- fades back to nothing when I draw my hoof away.

I look up at the tree, reaching out to stroke it gently. “Thank you,” I mutter.

Nothing happens.

I leave the tree. I discover a pathway leading through the woods, and decide to follow it.

I encounter a castle. A very, very large castle, which appears to be in ruins. I spend some time exploring this castle, spider at my side, but find nothing of interest. Except a few books, but as it turns out, I can’t read. I pick a dusty tome out of a hidden nook and carry it with me- or, more accurately, with my spider. It’s more easily able to carry such an object.

I am tempted to activate a lingual analysis program and learn to read in a matter of seconds. I resist this temptation, though- I’ll take it to… Oh, that purple pony in the library, I think. She might be able to teach me to read… In a safe manner, hopefully.

Onboard Damage Control unexpectedly notifies me that all system issues accrued during my stay in the cave with the tree in it have been resolved… Okay. I set a course out of the castle, following the path from it. I cross a bridge quickly, weary of the constant creaking, and pause for my spider to catch up. Not that it would normally need to, as it can move several times as fast as I can, but I didn’t want to risk overloading the bridge and crossed separately.

I continue walking through the woods, down this empty path.

At least twelve hundred eighteen heartbeats pass- I wasn’t counting for the first part- before I find the edge of the woods. Here, I carefully balance the book on my back, using my wings to create a platform for it to rest on, and send my spider back to my hull as I resume walking up the path. In the end, my spider didn’t do anything but sense- and carry the book, but I could have done that myself, in theory.

I… I…

Power levels in my war hull have fallen too low to maintain an active connection; I lost signal. I relegate to System Standby to await recharging.

Doctor Horse trots over the hill alone, breathing in the fresh air during one of his very few breaks. He really wishes this strange ailment would go away- and that ponies would quit bothering him about it. At least he’s been able to effectively identify and combat the symptoms- like the cancers, or the… The list goes on. But the ailment itself, that won’t stop spawning other problems? Nope. He’s calling it Constant Ailment Syndrome- and he finds it interesting how it doesn’t seem to afflict the younger generation as strongly.

He finds it rather annoying that Twilight went not only to him but to lunatics like ‘Doctor’ Whooves, better known as Time Turner- or, to some, the ‘gizmo guy’- for help.

He glances down at the Everfree as he crests the hill, trotting across the grass.

Just in time to spot what looks like a filly with a book on her back collapse. As she falls away from him, the book falls off her back- and he spots her wing, right as she lands on the other one.

And she was using it to support the book.

He breaks out of his trot, into a gallop towards the filly. It takes him a good six seconds to reach her- a speed that few, like Pinkie or Rainbow, could match.

… or like any of the Element Bearers, for that matter.

But that’s unimportant. As he arrives, he smells raw blood- so however she landed, whatever happened, she’s bleeding.

So he lifts her in his magic, turning her over- sure enough, she’s broken her wing. The bone punctured her skin, as well, exposing the inside of an artery.

He turns one eighty degrees, placing her on his stretcher then, with the lightly blood-spattered book and nurses Sweetheart and Tenderheart, teleports back to the hospital.

He’s got a life to save.

… Oh, and she looks like the fillies they’ve pulled out of smoking wreckages, or found dead, or… He still wishes Twilight had responded with something other than panic over the amount of blood getting on her books. That one had died of blood loss right before he’d gotten to her! In any case, she’s a visual match, so Twilight will need to be informed. Alongside umpteen bazillion other ponies that don’t really need to know, but will probably find comfort in that the survival rate has gone up.

Chapter 5 (Final on Cancellation)

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I revert from System Standby, yet again, after my recharge break. This one has lasted longer than the previous ones; I remained dormant for an entire day. Probably because my power level was much lower than normal when I shut down. I immediately establish a connection with my body… Yes, I have survived! That’s not just one evening, but two nights!

… I’m lying on my back, on something soft. Funny, last I remember, I was carrying a book away from the forest.

Oh, and my onboard medical package has given me an alert; it’s running at reduced capacity, as my onboard power cells have run dry. I’m relying mostly on live generation from the chemical reactor. Oh well- it was designed for this job, it can…

Er, it’s also thrown up an alert, running at reduced capacity for lack of fuel. I check; yes, I’m hungry. Very hungry.

This… This could be a problem.

I hear something. It sounds like ponies are talking.

“No, she’s been comatose ever since I brought her in,” somepony says. “We think she’s in shock or something.”

“Or something?” another voice says. Sounds like the librarian.

I open my eyes to look while the first answers. “Yes. There’s no medical reason for her to still be-!”

It’s the librarian, talking to that same yellow unicorn the Crusaders were bringing when I was crushed by books. The librarian is staring at me as she interrupts the unicorn. “She’s awake!”

His head whirls around to look at me as well, then he blinks. “You’re awake,” he states.

I shift a few muscles in my belly area, causing my stomach to growl. Then I smile sheepishly.

I don’t move any more than that; judging by the conversation, the unicorn is some kind of medical pony… and Medical hasn’t yet bothered trying to repair the bones in my damaged wing, instead fighting what seems like some sort of infection, once the bleeding was stopped and my body reasserted homeostasis. Maybe I landed on it or something?

In any case, the infection has been slowly gaining on Medical, and may soon become a significant problem. Fortunately, all I need is something to eat and that can be taken care of very easily.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

She sighs, watching the mystery filly consume her meal. “Yes, we’re sure.”

“Do you have any idea how many identical fillies we’ve found dead? Even killed by the Crusaders’ accident, once?”

She nods, and shudders. “More than you know.”

“What if she chokes?”

“Would you rather starve her to death?”

Twilight recoils visibly, and wordlessly.

Redheart sighs; she hadn’t meant the retort to come out that sharply. “Sorry. It’s just… Yes, she could choke. But so could anypony- and here, at least, we’ve got ponies all up and down the building ready to help if something happens. Besides, even the risk of choking is better than making her reliant upon an IV for her entire life.”

The alicorn cringes away. “Yeah, I suppose…”

Denial for Equestria

by computerneek

Awake

Alive

Launch

Collect (Rewritten)

Chapter 5 (Final on Cancellation)