Chapter 3: Check Please

It’s not that you’re wrong, you’re just not right.

What makes a friend? I was asked this earlier... A fellow crewmate declared that we were friends, after he had taken a few too many mugs of cider from the barrel. The others expected me to be enraged, to scorn him. And for appearances I did, a deliberate turn, a snub to remind him that his dreams would never reach me. Yet his question still haunts me. ‘Aren’t we friends?” Disregarding his lazy syntax, I have to wonder... What is a friend? Nessy is the closest I could imagine, yet I never let her get as close as she may have wished. Others tried, but I never made it easy on any of them. Eventually, they just... Stopped. Leaving me at a comfortable distance, one where they respected my space and where I appreciated their consideration. Is that enough? Did that make us friends? Or is more required of me? Unfortunately, I have nopony to ask... After all, that is a question you only ask your friends.
~ From the Journal of Nevermore

The wind continues to howl, blowing furiously as it whips up the snow into a blinding frenzy. Yet, even under these conditions I can see the ruins of the Silver Maple Library. I had never been here myself, and it wasn’t important enough for anypony to have heard of it generally, so why had Sacred Oath sent me here? How did she know what it was I wanted anyways? I mull these thoughts in my mind for a while, trying to come to terms with the inscrutable mare. Of course, I do what I can to avoid hearing Knight Hazel as much as possible, the mare still continuing the chatter incessantly. If there was a limit to the words a mare could speak, Hazel’s at constant threat of overrunning the maximum. Folding my ears slightly, I zone the knight out as best I can, even as her voice is like a worm burrowing into a green apple. I was unused to the chatter once again, though it had only been a few years since leaving Detrot... Or was it more than that? Time, to the timeless, slips through my hooves like sand through an hourglass. Finite, yes, but hard to track exactly. I pray that my hourglass is almost empty. Still, her bulk provides both cover and an obvious target to any foes and I will take what small blessings that I can in these accursed wastes.

The library itself is nothing grand. A small structure, fit only for a small neighborhood. The insides are torn to shreds, as expected, literary debris and broken shelving exposed to the unforgiving sky. Already damaged items being torn apart by time and the elements. I close my eyes for a moment, imagining what this place was, how it used to be. Small, quaint. The smell of dusty books and forgotten coffee lingering in the air. Tables for ponies to-... I look around again, opening my eyes once more. Hazel seems to be nosing around some of the debris, but in a careless manner, as if she’s more bored than curious. Something’s wrong here, and I can’t quite place my hoof on it. I look around the debris again... Shelving, a desk for the librarian and returns... The entryway, the small closet for a lost and found... More shelving... It suddenly strikes me. There’s no place for ponies to read. Everything seems to have been taken by shelving or administrative sections. Granted, there may be libraries out there like that, but I do not remember them from my time before the war. Looking around again, I locate the center of the building, the shelving on it miraculously intact, though the books are long gone... Or perhaps not so miraculously... I take a gentle swing with my knife at the shelf, the blade splintering off a small piece of wood as I do so. With a careful eye, I watch the damage, noticing the wood slowly knit back together with a faint lavender hue. Slow enough that most wouldn’t notice it at first, but steady enough that it wouldn’t take too long to repair the entire thing.

Shaking my head, I let out a brief snort... Magic. Of a type that would be far more taxing to cast, considering how long it’s lasted, than an ordinary bookshelf would warrant. “Knight Hazel, over here. I require your assistance.” I might have been able to push them over myself, but when your problem is a nail, a hammer is probably the better option.

Despite her bulk, strength, and armored assistance, the mare clearly has to work to shove the shelves to the side, the enchanted shelving seeming to do its best to resist her attempts. Finally, she manages to wedge the shelf back, a hiss escaping her armor as she locks the joints to keep the shelf back, revealing a small hatch that used to be hidden beneath. Wordlessly, I slip past her before opening the small hatch, looking down into the yawing darkness. “... I will tell you what I find.” Even before she has a chance to protest, or unlock her armor’s joints, I drop down the hatch, leaving her fighting the stubborn bookshelf and ignoring her weirdly polite yelling at me.

The revealed hallway is dark and dusty, clearly abandoned and disused. My eyes gleam slightly as I peer through the darkness. Though I may curse my irradiated state, I must admit there are times that some of it is useful. Bending towards the ground, I see a thick layer of dust coating the floor. Upon closer inspection, however, are thin, almost invisible lines cut into the dust. Patterns and magical runes hidden on the floor, betrayed by their burning through the dust above them. Pulling a small piece of chalk from my saddlebag, I scratch a quick mark on the wall, to let Knight Hazel know that the way ahead was trapped... Assuming she ever made it past that bookcase. Satisfied that I would not be responsible if I came back to her on fire, I gently hover down the hall, my eyes scanning for more defenses. The Steel Rangers may prefer large turrets and loud speakers, raiders may prefer spikes and desecrated bodies... But in my experience, the areas to watch out for are the ones where the traps are subtle, almost invisible. That spoke of a care and patience that few could match these days. The best traps were the ones unseen, and it took only a few seconds before the second line of traps revealed themselves. Hovering over the runes was one thing, but a crafty planner would realize the possibility, and move to neutralize it.

My ears pick out a faint noise, even as I drop to the ground, my hooves landing in the spaces between the spidery lines twisting through the dust beneath me. Something swishes over my head as I press low, the blade sliding quietly through the stillness. Moving with caution, I start to pick my way down the hall again, before finally leaping the last few steps onto a solid slab. Though I may despise my condition, at least stamina wasn’t a problem normally, the pains of crouching then springing towards the next safe area lost on my numb frame. Looking at the door in front of me, I gently nudge it open, relieved when I hear nothing on the other side. Slapping a pair of switches on the other side of the door, a thrumming noise starts to reverberate throughout the facility, even as the hallway behind me springs to life, ancient lights flickering on in succession, revealing the hidden blades, now stilled and deactivated. Apparently, the building was still powered, despite its apparent state.

The hall in front of me is lit as well, descending further into the earth. I slip past the guard post, seeing the skeletal remains of the former occupant. The glass window separating them from the rest of Equestria was shattered, something large and heavy apparently breaking through. The body itself is strange, the skull apparently caved in by whatever broke the glass. Looking around the enclosure, I notice that their weapon appears to have been unfired, the revolver still lying in the decaying remains of its holster. Still, I have no need for such a weapon, and cutting myself on the broken glass to reach it would be inconvenient. Dead or not, I do not like pulling shards of glass out of myself. Seeing nothing else that looked interesting, I proceeded further into the facility. Different labs were lit, covered in dust and broken bodies. Pony remains lay twisted where they fell, telling a story of death and carnage. The equipment is broken as well, the shattered remains scattered about the floor like the victims of a foal’s tantrum. I whisper under my breath, asking what in Celestia’s name could have caused this level of damage.

Finally, I reach a door that seems to be intact, the heavily reinforced door showing signs of damage, but the sturdy frame was clearly still intact. A small plaque to the side of the door said simply “Eclipse, S and L” over a small terminal, patiently beeping, asking for a passcode. Intriguing, that it was still operational, despite the damage. Sighing, I look at the terminal for a bit. Technology had always eluded me, even back when everything was new. I never did like to partake of these terminals and whatnot... It’s not that I was afraid of them, of course not... But I had no idea how they worked, so it was better for those who cared more to deal with them. I stare at it a bit longer, wondering if I can stab my way through the lock. Idly, I start tapping at the panel, ignoring the complaints of the machine, the flashing red light as my hoof randomly picks buttons to mash. Finally, I mash my hoof into the panel, setting off a shower of sparks as the buttons break, the terminal smoking and giving a sad mechanical whine as it sputters out. As it does so, the door slowly swings open, the locking mechanism disengaging at the destruction of the panel.

Several corpses lie on the ground, just inside the door, but on closer look, the bodies were not flesh, but rather mechanical. Simple constructs, more akin to a doll than a living creature. Still, their presence makes my heart stop for a moment, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. Their frail frames seem weak and useless, the blank space where their faces should be. “... These seem familiar. I do not like it.” My voice rasps out, barely audible despite the deafening silence. Creeping closer, I look at one of the more intact models that lay still. Though years have passed, I can still envision them in my memories, the horde of robotic minions, weak and mindless, wearing us down, distracting us until... My voice hissed out from behind my mask, bitter and angry. “... Bishop.” The moon cursed monster had stolen a companion from me, and these creatures reminded me of the ones who supported her. I remember the large equine form of Bishop, blood red plating covering a mechanical heart. Tall, imperious... Yet we killed her. Killed her during the Dead Zone retrieval. Rage wells deep inside my soul, where I had buried the fury and the grief from the loss of Star Racer. “Only the good are taken...” Shaking my head, I turn away from the remains on the ground, ears flicking about for sounds of an ambush, of more dangerous creatures in these labs, heading into the office before me.

The room is covered in dust, but otherwise free from any of the destruction or chaos of the labs around it. Even the robotic bodies seem to have fallen in place, without any signs of damage beyond age and weathering. A whiteboard stands in the corner, covered by a spider web of text and diagrams, far too advanced for me to even pretend to understand. A pair of desks sit facing each other, but slightly offset, only touching about two thirds of the front. Several potted plants, clearly fake, dot the desks, papers and books strewn across every surface. Oddly, I don’t see any pictures on the walls, or any real personal effects, just a few pens lying about and one of those swishy ball things. Perhaps whoever’s office this was didn’t have anything here, or perhaps they decayed with time. Regardless, I start to rifle through the documentation, carelessly looking through another pony’s life work. Charts and diagrams, numbers I don’t understand. Even the writing appears to be in some sort of abbreviated messages, rendering it unintelligible. Digging through the desk, the one with L. Eclipse written on the nameplate, I find several old cassettes, ones that I remember from back before the war. The writing on both is too faded to read, so I glance around, wondering if they kept a way to view these here. Sure enough, a small projector is tucked into the corner of the room, and with a solid thwack, it starts up again, the side opening, waiting for the tape. Slipping the first cassette into the machine, I slap it shut, ignoring the mechanical whine and little bits of smoke coming from the ancient device as it does its best to comply with my demands.

Text runs up the screen as the machine starts ‘Continual Funding for Project Codename (TBD). Warning, per the Ministry of Awesome, any dissemination of information contained within is subject to penalties up to, and including, lifelong incarceration and/or execution. Have a nice day!’ Tilting my head slightly, I wonder why the MAw was involved. To my knowledge, there was little, if anything, the MAw normally did, but there were always rumors that some of the jobs we did during the war were under their auspices... Assassinations, sabotage, and other activities beyond ‘polite’ society. Still, those were only rumors, and to most it appeared the MAw did... Not a whole lot, actually. Once the title screen finishes displaying, I quietly watch as the recording begins, my mind briefly wandering to thoughts of old cinema and popcorn.

I see two mares standing there amidst the flickering light of the projector, strikingly similar, yet clearly distinct, both wearing a lab coat matching those found in this facility. The one on the left looks to the one on the right, her dull orange coat offset by a raven colored mane. “Are you sure, sister...?” Her voice is cautious and low, as if afraid that her voice would give rise to her insecurities. The other mare looks over, a reverse of her sister’s colors, though that’s the only distinguishing feature between them. “Of course I am.” In contrast, her voice is confident, bold. The sort who knows what they want and that they will get it. Behind them lies what seems to be a mess of robotic parts in various states of disassembly. It’s hard to tell exactly what is what, but it appears they’re in a lab, various equine-shaped pieces scattered around them.

The camera pans over to a robotic frame, wires and inner workings visible, as no plating or covering has been applied to it yet. Still, the figure is taller than either of the sisters, almost as large as an alicorn would be, though not nearly as graceful looking. A stallion walks into view neatly dressed in a suit and tie, addressing somepony not visible as he looks back at the mares. “As you can see, the Eclipse sisters are developing a weapon to protect Equestria against the Zebrican threat.” He motions to the bold mare. “Solar Eclipse has been working on armament and protection...” His hoof indicates the quiet mare. “And Lunar Eclipse has been working on locomotion and control.”

Solar Eclipse grimaces slightly as he says that, interjecting. “One problem we’ve run into is the fine motor control required. Over flat surfaces, the current control platform works just fine, but...”

Lunar Eclipse chips in at this point, finishing her sister’s thought. “But without a pony’s guidance, the machinery is unable to compensate for uneven or changing terrain. With some more funding, we think we could-”

The stallion glares the mare into silence, but her sister steps in immediately, not so easily cowed it seems. “We need funding to improve the computer mobility programming, or everything we’ve done here is completely useless.” As if to emphasize her point, she shoves at a disassembled leg with a hoof, knocking it over.

There’s an awkward moment of silence, the three ponies stealing furtive glances at each other. A voice from out of sight sounds out, heavily disguised by a voice changer, rendering it distorted and genderless. “Approved. Send your budget requirements, and I’ll see that you get it. Do you have a name for the project?”

The stallion looks up nervously. “Due to the sister’s interests, they named it, the uh...”

The twin sisters look at each other, sharing a giddy smile fueled with relief. “We named it the Chassis: Heavy Experimental Strike System.”

The distorted voice comes back. “Project Chess is approved. I look forward to seeing the results.”

The screen fades to black, the playback clearly done. Project Chess... I do not remember any such deployment, and I had seen more of the war than many line ponies had. The dark and seedy areas where honor was meaningless and your only friend was the knife between your teeth. Brutal fighting, where armored support would have been much desired, save for the need for speed and stealth. Through the front lines, the raids, the ambushes, I had never heard anything of this Project Chess, or anything that would have come from it. The designs were clearly different from the Steel Rangers, to the point that I doubted the designers ever shared notes, let alone used designs and inspirations.

Quietly, I put the other cassette in, trying to figure out what I just saw. While bearing superficial resemblance to Bishop, the half constructed frame had nothing of her size, armor, or sense of power. With a click, the machine whirs up again, showing the same office yet again, though instead of the bright, artificial lights, the room is plunged into near darkness, only a screen providing illumination.

"Beginning recorded playback."

The video starts to play again, revealing Lunar Eclipse from the previous video. She looks at the camera, her eyes puffy and tired. Her voice is a hushed whisper, robotic parts lying in piles behind her. The mare's mane is a mess as well, as if she hasn't slept in days.
"I've not told Solar yet, but I'm beginning to think that we won't be able to finish the Chess project. The logic programs can't keep up..." Her eyes start to well up, tears of grief and frustration. "They can barely compensate for terrain, let alone combat situations. All her work, all our dreams... Failing because I can't solve this. How many ponies are going to die if we can’t bring our systems out of trial? The stress is getting to me. I barely eat or sleep now. I know she's worried for me, but what can I do?" She looks off to the side. "... There is... There is one thing, but... But..." She bites her lower lip. "It's untested, unknown. How can we test it on an equine subject?" She closes her eyes, rubbing them with her hooves. "No... The transference unit isn't even ready yet. I have a few more things to try before I let Solar know..." She reaches up to the screen. "I'll... Think on it... Maybe Short Circuit will have a breakthrough, and it won’t matter soon..." With a click, the screen fades to black.

I reach over for another cassette, when the machine finally wheezes its last, belching a cloud of black smoke, causing ancient systems to start spraying water all over the office. The brim of my hat blocks much of the sprinklers, and my armored dress stops the rest. Short Circuit... That name was also familiar, but I can’t place it. That name doesn’t rest in my book, in the ponies slain for trusting in me... But like an itch I can’t reach, it lingers just out of my memory... I start to head out of the office, to try to find anything that would interest me, to explain why Sacred Oath would have sent me here. My muzzle forms a grimace, even as I voice my frustrations out loud. “... And what is Project Chess...?”

To my immense surprise, along with a few lost feathers as I fling myself to the side, a strange voice answers me. “Project Chess... Repurposed into the ChessMare Program. Entity has arrived as promised.” A pair of my knives skip off the table, leaving small scratches on the metal surface as a small box blinks while a voice comes through it. “You do not know me, though I am informed that your designation is Nevermore. Pre-War existence, former member of the Flickerjack. Current status... Unknown.”

My heart struggles to return to a steady beat, even as I slip around the side of the box. Rasping, I raise my voice just loud enough to carry to the box, prodding at the device with the tip of a knife. “What... Or who are you?”

“Irrelevant.” The voice returns, as deadpan as myself. “The important question is... Who are *you*, and why does the Red Bishop want to kill you?”

Author's Note

I mean... technically it wasn't 3 years in the making... it might have been 4.

I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things so... I have nothing to say except I'm sorry. Thank you to anyone who read this, I do appreciate it.