Five Tales

Liberation War, Year 1

10 months, 14 days, 3 hours, 40 minutes, 30 seconds After Battle of Canterlot (A.B.C.)

Project Pinkerton [CLASSIFIED]

I was… just trying to have fun… Wasn’t I?

“You were… but you didn’t realize what you were doing.”

I’m sorry… If I wasn’t so full of myself…

“It wasn’t your fault... You just didn’t know how to handle what was happening. Rest… Let me do the work.”

Ok… I’ll be around if you ever need me!...

…

The room grew quiet.

“… Uggh… All this hair gets everywhere. I miss those curls.”

Lifting her head from the hard desk, Pinkamena rubbed her tired eyes. One would think that she was just napping, but quite the contrary. Pinkamena had spent the last hour staring at the colorless paint on her bedroom wall. Somewhere along the way her head met the table.

Pinkamena pushed herself away from the desk and stumbled towards the nearby fridge. Pulling the door open, she sluggishly grabbed a jug of grapefruit juice and slinked back towards the table, plopping herself onto the chair. She ignored the empty cup nearby and gulped down half the jug.

Now that Pinkamena’s mind was clearer, other thoughts flooded in. Thoughts of her work, her friends and her home. Thoughts of a time when the idea of war was once nonexistent. The memories seemed like they came from another, far away world. Her cheek fell to rest on the cold desk. Her lips formed a frown as he eyes met the wall once more.

A plethora of papers filled her gaze, pinned and stapled to the wall across from her. Snippets of Haven Alliance reports hung there, each one with the subject of soldiers and units disappearing along the furthest fronts all over Equestria. The vanishings had been blamed on the caribou, but Pinkamena knew that was too simple. There had to be more to it.

Pinkamena sighed. She couldn’t spend any time focusing on solving such mysteries. She was too preoccupied with her research and manufacturing. Her friends in the Ring would keep her up to date on the troubling issue, but for now, nothing could be done.

“… Can we ever truly heal?”

DING! DING!

The booming doorbell sent Pinkamena out of her chair and to the ground. She quickly collected herself and exited the room, taking the grapefruit jug with her. Only a tank top and shorts covered her as she made her way down the hallway and up the stairwell of her old home and workplace.

Sugarcube Corner hadn’t been touched in years. The old storefront was in desperate need of repair, though Pinkamena always forgot about it. She had become so used to living in the brand new basement; the Consulate’s first completed project since Ponyville was liberated nearly nine months ago.

Pinkamena reached the front door and opened it. On the other side was a familiar sight.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie has arrived, with… Oh. Trixie, uhh… hopes she didn’t interrupt anything.”

“No, don’t worry, Trixie. I was on my break. Lunch break.”

“It’s seven in the evening.”

“… Dinner break. Come inside. It’s cold out.”

The former magician stepped inside as Pinkamena closed the front door. In stark contrast to her past attire, Trixie donned a much more humble and torn brown cloak, which covered most of her grey vestments. Strapped on her back was a combat staff, toting an enchanted blue gem on one end and a wide blade on the other. Such staffs were made to help unicorns with coping with a sudden loss of magic.

Trixie wore the clothes of a battlemage in training, but she lacked any confidence in her stance. She had adopted a sense of sheepishness, clearly showing in her posture and expressions despite appearing to act like her old self. Pinkamena could easily see when the Fall had scarred somepony deeply. She saw it in herself every day.

At least Trixie was making a physical recovery. Her lack of scars was likely due to the meticulous care that Heartmenders were so well known for.

As Pinkamena set aside her grapefruit juice on the bakery’s dusty countertop, she noticed the package resting in Trixie’s hands.

“Is that for me?”

“Oh, yes. It was on your doorstep. Trixie thought it was the better decision to bring it in for you.”

The box wasn’t anything special. Simple cardboard with regular sealing. Though there were no mailing stamps or markings. The box felt somewhat heavy as it slid into Pinkamena’s arms.

“Huh. I don’t remember getting any word of a package… Thanks for bringing it in. I’ll take it to my room real quick.” Pinkamena said, “So, decided to pay me a visit tonight Trixie? What’s the occasion?”

“You told Trixie to meet with you again at this time tonight. Remember? For more testing.” Trixie said. It wasn’t the first time she had to remind Pinkamena of scheduled appointments.

“Oh, right, right. Good. I really should get back down to the workshop to finish some things. Let’s go now.”

Heading down the steps, Pinkamena quickly dropped off the package in her room before leading Trixie further into the hallway, entering through the door at the very end of the hall and into an elevator car. Pinkamena pressed a button and the doors slid shut, rocking the elevator and slowly sending it down.

“Have you heard from your sisters?” Trixie asked.

“They’re not here.”

“Trixie knows… Have you heard anything from them?”

“Oh… No I haven’t. I haven’t heard from anyone.”

Hey! What about me?

“That’s not what I meant.”

Trixie cocked her head. “What?”

“Nothing, sorry. Don’t worry if I ramble. Just been tired, is all.”

The elevator slowed to a halt at its destined floor, opening to reveal a hallway made of hardened metal instead of drywall and wood.
The hall was lit with electric lamps, flanked by several rooms full of research equipment and crafting necessities. The low hum of the passing lights above and the differing thuds of Pinkamena’s bare feet and Trixie’s boots echoed along the walls.

The underground complex was a secretive part of the New Monarchy’s Reconstruction Program in Ponyville. The town was barely scraping by, only becoming livable for a scant few. For Pinkamena, her only home was the shallow, hollowed out ground connecting what was once Sugarcube Corner and the Golden Oaks Library. She often forgot that she spent most of her days below the earth.

The two came into a larger room populated with scattered tables hosting an assortment of Alliance projects. Pinkamena opened a nearby locker to fetch more clothing for herself while Trixie went about the room, looking over the many tables bathed in observation lights. Blueprints adorned every available space. Several prints pinned to the walls held designs for automatic wagons retrofitted for military roles, labeled as ‘combat augons’. Other prints showed rifle designs, using combinations of noctral and griffin projectile weapons. The entire workplace seeped with both brilliant innovation and subtle mismanagement.

“You’ve made progress on your cannon.” Trixie mentioned as she examined a table with the nearly-complete frame of a small cannon on it. It was about the size of a large crate, made with a compact barrel and two caterpillar tracks on both sides of the loading chamber. Trixie gripped the handle on the top of the cannon and lifted it, surprised at the weapon’s lightness.

“It’s nearly finished. Once it’s ready it can be mass-produced, now that we’ve taken back larger cities like Manehatten. I’ve designated it the Portable Ranger’s Tracked Cannon.”

“So it’s the P.R.T. Cannon? That’s fitting.”

Did somepony say PARTY?! I can still do those!

“No pony said party. Please stop calling it that.”

Trixie stuttered at Pinkamena's demand. “You… do realize that’s what the acronym sounds like, right?”

“No, I know what it… Ugh. Never mind. Let’s move on, please.” Pinkamena shook her head, moving back to her locker to retrieve her working gloves and her lab coat.

Walking further into the elongated room, Pinkamena stopped as they neared a small, sham-shackled living space. A blanket-draped couch laid nearby. The cover rustled and groaned as a hand and foot stuck out.

“Trixie, you remember Val.” Pinkamena said as she pulled the sheet away. Beneath was a half-asleep mare, a unicorn with a bright grey coat and a blue mane. She brought her hands to her head, rubbing at her tired ice-blue eyes. Her horn was a healthy size, showing no signs of mutilation or recent growth. Pinkamena was happy to have found a unicorn who could help her with her field testing and spell casting. Even if she hadn’t gotten to know her that well yet.

“Hello again.” Trixie said somewhat humbly.

“Argh… mffbh… Hey…” Val responded just before letting loose a yawn.

Pinkamena took notice of Val’s sweat-soaked body. “Feel any better from your nap?”

“Ugh, these... a bit. I just… these cramps are killing me. Literally, I think. I feel like I want to tear out my… auauggh…”

“Go take a shower, Val. We’ll work on those magic charges for the arquebus when you’re up for it.”

“Will do…”

Exhaling shakily, Val limped off towards the workshop exit. Pinkamena turned back towards her path, though Trixie stopped her short. “You’ve never explained to me how Val still has her horn. Was she a conspirator?”

Pinkamena glared at Trixie’s whispering as a teacher would to gossiping students. “Val chooses not to say why. I couldn’t care less if she was a red collar, conspirator, or whatever. Her magic is crucial to the developing projects here, just as crucial as your knowledge of magic application is. If you’ve got some sort of jealousy here, drop it. We’ve got work to do.”

Pinkamena truly did not understand how Val was able to keep her horn, though she had some ideas as to how. But Val’s secret would remain a secret for all Pinkamena cared. She didn’t keep the mare around to study her, only to have her work. Pinkamena discarded any more thoughts on the matter as she led a disgruntled Trixie onwards.

The next room was much larger than the others, holding some of the more unusual equipment in the workshop. The nearest table held a gauntlet fashioned from steel. It was merely a frame, splayed out like a dissected animal under an examining light. Excess amounts of steel and other building material sat in storage containers packed into the corners of the room.

“The Consulate has been sending you a lot to work with.” Trixie noted. Pinkamena diverted herself to the gauntlet’s table, retrieving tools from the drawers beneath it.

“It’s an unnecessary amount, all thanks to the Alliance’s logistical nightmares. Of all the problems we have, logistics shouldn’t be one of them. We have ponies out there disappearing and our commanders are still trying to figure out the difference between material labels and shipment notes.”

Trixie swiftly turned to Pinkamena. “What? Disappearing? Where did you hear that?”

“I get most of what I hear from the Ring.” Pinkamena replied.

Trixie leaned closer. “The Ring? You mean the spies led by the draconequus? How do you get permission to receive their findings?”

“Yes,” Pinkamena said plainly, “I know most of them personally. I’d rather get my sources from them than the Night Sentinels. The Ring doesn’t have any ulterior motives, unlike Luna’s hounds.”

“Trixie thinks that is debatable, but… what did they say about disappearances?”

Pinkamena sighed. She kept her hands busy with her tools.

“Some Alliance units have been suddenly vanishing. They’re infrequent, but it’s enough to warrant concern. Of course, the caribou are suspect, but some reports show the caribou going missing too. This is a pressing issue… But our infallible Consulate is too busy trying to find its own tail, the Alliance is barely keeping itself together, and Luna doesn’t seem to be interested. I’d rather devote my time to investigating these disappearances than making more weapons. If not that, then at the very least I would rather be trying to find a way to better protect those units in the first place…”

Pinkamena took a long pause. She put her hands at rest and stepped aside, directing Trixie’s attention to the table.

“I’ll rant later. Let’s stay productive. Have a look.” She gestured to the gauntlet.

Trixie took a step forward and inspected the object. It was of a particular metal not often seen in that of Alliance equipment. It appeared very technologically advanced, and its innards displayed from an opened metal panel proved just how complex it was by design. The blue crystal within had an all-too familiar look to that of a caribou item.

“It looks like a caribou shock weapon.” Trixie winced, taking a small step back.

Pinkamena nodded. “It’s essentially a repurposing of the typical caribou weapon design. Instead of runes, Val’s been helping me infuse it with weather-related spells. Wearing this gauntlet would allow the user to have the power of lightning at their fingertips… I have yet to test the magic itself, which is where I was hoping you might help me. And don’t worry, it’s a far cry from the shock batons the caribou used.”

“Uhh, sure…” Trixie guardedly stepped forward. She stared at the gauntlet before turning to Pinkamena again, “…You know, I never realized you were so brilliant. I mean… You were a fantastic baker and event planner, but… Since when have you been able to do all of this?”

Pinkamena grunted. “I’m simply a mare of many talents.”

It had been a long night. Or day. At this point, Pinkamena didn’t care. All she knew was that there was a bed she so desperately wanted to lay on.

Pinkamena closed the door behind her and shrugged off her lab coat, letting it fall to the cold floor. It had only occurred to her now that she had been barefoot the entire day. Or night. She was surprised Trixie hadn't noticed during her time over. Or maybe she had, and simply chose not to say anything. That explained the glances Trixie made towards the floor on her way out.

Before she could make it to the soft pillows and warm covers which drew her near, Pinkamena stopped. A box on her desk caught her eye. She cocked her head and questioned the box’s origins, though quickly remembered Trixie had given it to her, claiming that it was on the front steps.

Pinkamena took a closer look. It was nothing but an ordinary box, much like those of Equestria’s pre-Fall days. Cardboard, taped securely shut, no markings, just as she observed before. It was begging to be opened.

Rummaging through her desk, Pinkamena found a knife and opened the lid of the package. Beneath it was a thick layer of packaging film. Pinkamena sliced it open, only for it to reveal another box.

Though it was baffling, the unique attributes of this second box further grabbed hold of Pinkamena’s attention. It had an ornate design, something which harkened back to days of antiquity. Aesthetics like this were rare even for pre-Fall standards.

Pinkamena felt the complexity and rigidness of the box, running her fingers lightly along its side. She nearly jumped back a step as the box suddenly clicked open. And this time, what she found inside stunned her.

A chrome-like cylinder, with markings Pinkamena had never seen before, sat there. Its lines and curvature glowed faintly with a blue light. Whatever this was, it wasn’t caribou or pony in origin.

Immediately taking interest, Pinkamena felt the object’s texture. She withdrew her hands as the cylinder vibrated, revealing more of its light through the grooves of its silvery metal coat. The glowing grew in intensity, nearly blinding Pinkamena.

After a brief moment, the light slowly faded, withdrawing back inside the cylinder. Pinkamena stared at the foreign object a minute longer, before noticing the additional contents of the ancient box.

A small, folded note stuck to the inside of the lid, kept in place with a piece of tape. Thee thick and heavy lead was barely legible, though the penmanship looked to be from a studious hand. There were only two lines.

For the mare with two minds.

This is the key.

- W.

Spooky!

“Strange… ‘This is the key’? The key to what?” Pinkamena asked herself.

Hey, I know as much as you do! What else is inside?

Seeking the answer to her question, Pinkamena searched through the box, finding a few other items. An old smoking pipe, an oxidized and illegible medal, and only dust, but beneath the mysterious box was something else.

A tightly packed binder sat pressed on the bottom of the box. It was unmarked on the front, but as Pinkamena gently picked it up and flipped through it, the binder revealed a vast amount of detailed papers. Instructions, references, and depictions all gave way to the gift’s true purpose.

“These are… designs for a golem.”

Oh, golems! The huuuuge clay ponies in those old stories, right?

“It would seem so… But they were just folklore… And yet these documents have everything on how to make them. Out of metal. And using… this cylinder.”

Pinkamena skimmed through the roughly drawn schematics on aging parchment. Legs, torso, arms, and head, all noted with specific construction steps regarding underlying framework and metal application. Like the referenced images cut out from old books on mythology, the designs resembled a stallion in shape. The finished golem would tower over most stallions, however.

“This ‘W’ wants us to make a golem. But why? To help the war effort? I’m not even sure how to apply this…”

What about like how the folk stories went? Golems protected ponies. W wants us to make golems to protect ponies!

“You could be right… It would be a good project to make use of all that extra material that was sent our way… And we’ll need Val for the spell infusions…”

Yay! New project!

A tiny smile tugged at the edge of Pinkamena’s lips.

“… A new project…”

One week later

Wow, that was quick!

“Where’ve you been? I don’t think I’ve slept that entire week.”

In your head, silly!

“Yes, I know.”

Pinkamena stood before the marvel of her handiwork. One week of tireless work had produced the intended yet enigmatic product of W.

A massive chassis, resembling that of an eight foot-tall stallion. It lied upon the large slab used as the base for its assembly. All of the excess metal and materials the Consulate had sent went into its creation, with just a few scraps left over.

Val moved beside Pinkamena, checklist in hand.

“I went over the specifics again, like you said. Everything seems in place.”

“Seems?” Pinkamena raised an eyebrow, “We have to be sure, Val. There’s no room for ‘seems’.”

“I’m not an inventor like you. I don’t know what any of this is supposed to mean. I just checked off what matched.” Val groaned, agitated.

“… Noted. Let’s begin the final step.”

Carefully grabbing hold of the strange cylinder with protective gloves, Pinkamena rushed it over to the power generator connected to the golem frame, just as the instructions specified. She placed it within the generator’s clamps, adjusting it to make sure it fit snugly. A singular energy tube lowered onto the top of the cylinder and locked in place.

Pinkamena triple checked the generator and the cylinder it now held. Nothing was being rejected on the generator’s behalf. The pipes and wires feeding into the chest of the frame appeared stable. Everything was ready.

Pinkamena dashed back to the control panel, joining Val behind its armored screen and donning goggles to shield their eyes. Her finger hovered above the transfer switch. There was no way to know what would happen when she flipped it.

“There’s only one way forward.”

Click!

...Sorry! I’m just so excited! I’ll let you flip it.

Rolling her eyes, Pinkamena flipped the switch.

The generator pulsed and shook rapidly, rattling the very walls and forcing Pinkamena and Val to grab hold of the console.
The cylinder within unleashed its light, bathing everything in a blinding beam of white. They braced for the possibility of something going wrong. But within only a second, the great beam of light faded, and the generator hummed and slowed to a standstill.

Lifting her head, Pinkamena removed her goggles and stared at the golem. Nothing seemed to have changed. Everything was quiet.

Pinkamena darted around the screen and up to the slab, leaning in closely to the side of the golem’s head. Seconds more ticked by. And then, a tiny rattling echoed from the framework within.

His ‘eye’ creaked open, and a tiny spark of light shown through.