“Well, you certainly are an odd one.”
Those were the words that first greeted me as my system check concluded and my operating systems completed their first start up sequence. As information flooded my mind from my various sensor bundles coming online, the first thing I noticed was the purple machine floating in front of my face. It was primarily spherical with a few spiny projections that twitched and rotated as the thing’s glowing oculus examined me.
“Golden Age code combined with a chassis based on a species unknown by ponykind until post Collapse.” The construct rattled off in a lightly modulated but distinctly feminine voice.
“W-what?” I stammered as I looked around me at the rusting corpses of what my memory banks identified as ancient airships and cars.
“Oh right. You’ve been terminated for a long time, probably. So, expect to be confused.” The construct said as it glanced at the ground then turned back to me and finally introduced itself, “I am Spark 810, and I’m also your Spark now.”
Immediately a whole series of questions began to queue, but before I could ask any of them a strange keening wail echoed all around us. 810 quickly spun around to search for the source of the noise. Turning back to me she said, “The Lost have been tracking me for days now. We need to get you a weapon and hopefully a ship; or else we are both going to die out here.”
She jerked her oculus to the right where a massive rusting wall stretched for as far as I could see in either direction, “There used to be a large standing military force stationed inside there before the Collapse. If we are going to find you a weapon, or a way to get back to the City besides on foot, it will be in there. Hold still, I’m going to attempt integration.”
Before I could ask what integration was, 810 vanished from sight. Moments later her voice sounded loudly inside my helm, “Aaaand we’re good!”
The wail echoed around us again, but considerably louder and presumably closer as well. Before the last echo had died I was sprinting for the wall, specifically a small doorway that seemed to have been smashed in a long time ago. As I ducked to pass through the door I asked, “You mentioned something about my chassis, what did you mean?”
“Oh, right. You’re a Golem, an artificial life form built during the Golden Age of Ponykind. Typically they are modeled on non-pony races from Equus’s history: gryphon, buffalo, hippogryphs, etc.”
“My memory banks tell me that those are all quadrupeds.” I glanced down at my arms and single pair of legs as I made my way through the dark halls.
“Yes, you are presumably based on an alien race known as the Dracon. Bipedal extremophiles from outside the system that took Ares as their own after the Collapse.” 810 replied as we entered a room completely devoid of light except for a smattering of green blinking lights across the ceiling. “Making your armor was a real challenge, since I had to design it all from scratch based on the blueprints in your Light signature. Took me all of two minutes!”
“It’s going to be difficult to find anything useful in the dark, where’s the light switch?” I whispered with a chuckle.
“Oh, right. Uh, hold out your… hand.” Following the construct’s command I held out my hand. Purple light ran down my extended arm and coalesced into 810 hovering just above my palm.
“I’ll get some light.” She said as she floated away from me. As she disappeared around a corner I heard her mutter some technical jargon I didn’t feel like crosschecking with my memory banks. As I waited for the lights to come on I stared at the little green lights above me, trying to analyze the pattern with which they blinked in and out of my vision. Despite what some organics will tell you, true randomness is not found naturally. The world runs according to complex series of algorithms. As I tried to run some numbers on the patterns and positions of the intermittent blinking lights above me I realized two rather disturbing facts. One, I was actually pretty poor at math. A rather degrading admission for a machine entity. Two, the lights were not fixed points.
I had never wanted a light so badly in my life, and then something hissed in my ear.
Instinctively lashing out as I spun around to face the source of the noise I felt my elbow make solid contact with something with a sickening crunch. All I could see in the darkness were two pairs of growing green orbs and glowing green ichor dribbling down something shiny a couple feet below them. Throwing my weight behind my next blow, I plunged my fist into the damaged portion of whatever I was fighting. The result was immediate and vile. My arm sank into the elbow as the thing convulsed, battering my sides with its appendages. Kicking out I managed to dislodge my arm as the lights came on with a series of bangs. On the ground in front of me was an insectoid creature resembling a centaur. Its chitin was black and the flimsy armor that covered its chest and barrel was rusted and ill-fitting. In the arms that grew from its hunched torso was an automatic weapon of some kind. Snatching it from the dying centaur I turned to look back at the ceiling.
If I had blood it would have run cold at the veritable swarm of these bug horses clinging to the ceiling and supporting structures around me. A door slid open behind me and I dove through it just as green bolts of energy rained down on the place I had been standing. I glanced down at the gun in my hands; it was a blocky rifle of some kind and poorly maintained if the rust on the barrel was any indication. Pointing it at the corpse on the landing in front of me I applied pressure to the firing stud and was rewarded with a triple burst of bullets that made the body twitch slightly. Satisfied it was functional I hurried down the hall away from the big room as silently as could.
Shadows leapt and danced around me as things, probably the Lost that 810 had mentioned earlier, darted between me and the light sources. It was something of a challenge to not shoot at every shifting shadow, something I needed desperately not to do since I had only one clip of unknown size. As I rounded a corner, one of the Lost dropped from the ceiling right in front of me and brandished glowing green blades menacingly. Two bursts of gunfire to the chest seemed to discourage it but not put it down or even hurt it all that much. This Lost was both physically more impressive and better armored than the one I had stolen my weapon from.
A strange heat formed in my hands, growing to a not unpleasant tingle. I glanced away from the staggered Lost in front of me down to my hands. I had just a brief moment to acknowledge the faint glow encircling my hands and the cable actively slinking from my gauntlets to connect with a port on the side of the gun before a shriek drew my attention back to the Lost. Just in time to watch the green blades to close on my neck like a glowing pair of scissors.
It’s a strange sensation, or rather the loss of it, to have your head cut from your shoulders. I suppose it might be different for an organic, but as sensor lines were severed by the arcane energies of the swords more and more processing power could be applied to other functions. The result was a curious time dilation, made slightly less curious by the flood of pain signals from surviving sensors above the cut, until the blades reached the power main and the world blinked out.
I was dead.
There was nothing. At least at first. Gradually a world did come into being around me, or at least I assumed the dim light sitting in the darkness was me, and it was all in flames. Blue swirling flames of code and pain rose around me, and I tried to roar. My light flickered weakly, defying the flames, but that was the most I could muster as the code-fire sought to consume me.
Then suddenly, a great lance of light blasted through the darkness and struck my flickering ghost. Great golden beams of light exploded forth and quenched the fires around me and the darkness vanished. In its place was the purple light of 810 floating over my face. I had a body again.
I was standing, barely, in the very room I had died in. I was also naked and my fists were glowing. It took me a moment to realize that 810 was talking. “…so don’t do that again.”
“Huh?”
810 made a very believable show of sighing heavily, “Never mind. Just don’t die again. I don’t have the power to revive you a second time.”
I gestured to the molded plating that gave my body a muscled appearance, “This shell seems to have been made for aesthetics rather than durability, 810. What happened to my armor?”
“Then we will be quiet.” 810 replied wearily as she wobbled heavily away from me.
“What about my armor?” I pressed, torn between feeling terribly exposed and concern for the construct.
“I couldn’t make it!” 810 practically sobbed as she whirled on me, and dipped drunkenly to the side as she tried to maintain flight control.
“It took almost all of the Light I had to resurrect you the first time! I haven’t been back to the City to bask in Faust’s light for five years! I had just about given up hope of ever finding a Guardian of my own. Three centuries of searching and all I found were bones stripped of flesh and incompatible with Faust’s Light,” 810 exclaimed, butting one of her projections into my chest weakly before continuing, “And then I saw the energy spike, probably half the space port did, and I found you. Well, a half slagged torso with everything else shot to scrap, but you still held a vestige of the Light. So, I used up half of what I had left to resurrect you and clothe you.”
I tried to grab hold of the construct but she clumsily evaded my grasp and jabbed me in the muzzle. “Then you ran off without me and lost your head to some stupid Lost drone. I had to watch as the scavengers tore you apart for scrap! I’ve done what I can, but I-I don’t know if we can make it back. All this might have be-eep!”
I finally managed to get a hold of the weaving construct and held it close. It is difficult to try and hug something so much smaller than me; but I think she got the message because whatever mechanism was keeping her floating shut off and she allowed herself to be held. “Everything is going to be okay. I’ve got you, and, even naked, this is way better than where you pulled me from.”
“Wha-“
“Did you happen to see anything regarding a vehicle when you were in the facility systems?” I interrupted, regretting having mentioned that other place.
“I think so. There is a dock at the end of this hall, but the Lost are in there as well.” 810 replied slowly, lifting out of my hands slightly before she added, “I might be able to integrate with the ship if you get me close enough. Your abilities should have awoken by now, but…”
“I’m naked.” I finished for her, though I had no idea what she meant by abilities. Rather than waste even more of what little time I might have left I started walking down the hall, making as little noise as possible as I did so. Every click of metal toes on rusted grate sounded like a gunshot to my auditory sensors, but I was fairly certain my sensors were all set to maximum sensitivity so I wasn’t too worried. After a moment I whispered, “So, about these abilities.”
Oh, right! 810 exclaimed actually bypassing my auditory sensors. You have something that your Light profile lists as Excalibur, Harrow, and an Eruption Cartridge. I have no idea what they are exactly, though I have a few theories on how to access them.
Can you hear me? I can hear you. I tried to speak across whatever connection 810 had formed to be able to speak with me directly. Reaching the end of the hallway I quickly scurried to hide behind a stack of metal crates. A battered and partially scavenged jumpship hung from a network of cables as the weak and poorly armored Lost did their best to even further pick apart the poor ship under the watchful gaze of what may have been the very Lost that had cut me down before.
Yes, we have a secure connection. 810 replied and then added, Do you experience any strange or errant sensory input? That is probably a signal that your Light abilities are available. Try to manipulate the sensation in your left hoof, er, hand. That should correlate with the Eruption cartridge, which is most likely a grenade of some kind.
The warmth in my hand shifted and flowed under my prodding as 810 integrated with my torso. A golden cylinder formed in my hand and suddenly the warmth left my hand. Uh, I think it’s active.
Then throw it! 810 squawked in my head. Quick to obey, I hurled the canister at the Lost that killed me. The explosive charge hit the concrete and skittered past my target to roll to a stop near the gaggle of lesser Lost. They all stared at the mysterious item for a moment, and then canister unleashed its pyroclastic payload. Compared to the relative silence, the grenade was downright deafening as it sent white hot shrapnel along with a pulsing wave of flame in every direction. The nearest scavengers vanished entirely, turned to ash by the incendiary. The rest were thrown headlong, many of them short a few parts. Even the drone was staggered by the shockwave and shrapnel.
The other hand holds a close combat ability! Same process! 810 shouted directly into my brain, which was unpleasant but I was a bit too busy at that moment to comment. Gold energy rippled around my fist as I closed the gap with my killer. Lunging the last couple meters I slammed my energized fist into the base of the centaur’s upper torso. The Lost had only just seen me when my fist struck home and its eyes grew so wide I thought they might fly from its head as my fist unleashed a blast of directed plasma at pointblank range. Armor vaporized and chitin turned to ash. Green-grey steam hissed from the hole as the centaur fell to its knees but didn’t drop their blades.
Leaping away I clapped my hands together as I forced the last energies out. A long sword and shield burst from my hands shining like the sun itself. Behind the safety of my shield I leapt up onto the docked ship at the trio of panicked Lost standing there. A few bolts of green energy glanced off my shield but it was too little too late. My sword flashed once, twice, three times and the pitifully armored bugs fell to pieces at my feet. Green fluids slowly trickled from the semi-cauterized wounds and I grinned. Then my sword and shield vanished. Holding out my hand I released 810 to get to work while I picked up one of the Lost weapons, a small pistol that felt like a toy in my hand. Turning back to the injured lost I smiled and emptied the alien weapon’s clip into the Lost as the handful of survivors tried to crawl away. With a thud, the last scavenger on the dock fell. I felt like a god.
At least until I heard something incredibly large and most certainly powerful bellowing from somewhere in the facility. “Anytime you wanna pop me into that cockpit would be great.”
It’s designed for a pony. You just aren’t compatible with the cockpit. I’ll have to transmat you into the storage drive. 810 replied as the ship’s drive rumbled. I dropped to my knees as the ship shakily lifted towards the open bay overhead. Below I could see a huge Lost and covered in heavy armor and holding a really big gun crawling from a side tunnel.
“Any day now, 810!”
Oh horse apples! They butchered the transmit system!
“Wha-“KLUNK! My face slammed into the pitted hull as 810 sent the ship rocketing skywards. Seeing his prey escaping the big Lost fired his cannon. Glowing red spears of light shot through the air all around us as I scrabbled for purchase using the holes cut into the hull. A part of me, the purely rational part I suspect, told me that screaming like a terrified female as the restraints holding the ship broke and we shot into the sky did nothing to help the situation, but the rest of me couldn’t give a metaphorical shit. I was screaming; rationality and ego be damned, and unlike an organic I was unhindered by lung capacity. So I was screaming for quite some time as the wind whipped around me threatening to pull me loose while the ship itself shook with so much force that I was afraid it would shake itself to pieces.
It was a miracle that the ship flew at all, really. A fact I was quick to remind the Spark in control of the ship of. Followed by a plea for a reduction in speed. All while screaming my head off through my speakers, one of the benefits of being inorganic I suppose. Thankfully, 810 pulled back on the throttle a bit and the worst of the shaking stopped. A certain subroutine had kept an estimate of speed going at the back of my mind since lift off, and it told me that we were still proceeding at a brisk three hundred forty meters a second. I made a mental note to have a software technician dismantle that particular subroutine. I didn’t like it.
After a couple hours of flight, I was just getting used to flying straight when 810 said, We might have a problem.
I let my head fall to the hull with a thunk. You say that like we don’t already have problems.
They stripped the comms and FOF markers. We’re unidentified and you make us look like a really poor attempt by a Dracon to sneak into the City.
I digested that for all of a second. They’re going to shoot at us.
You can probably leave off the ‘at’.
I peered ahead, trying to see through the thick clouds that surrounded us. Visible spectrum sensors were useless, but thermal could just make out some odd blips ahead of us. I was notified of the thermal sensor’s maximum ranging being something like 20 kilometers a split second before my thermal sensors were overloaded by an explosion. Every actuator tensed as I braced for the impact of shrapnel but none came.
Warning shot. Hold on. 810 intoned before the ship dropped into a fierce dive that threatened to rip me free of the hull, plating and all, from the sheer force of the atmosphere whipping by. I did the only thing I could and tried my best to become one with the hull as 810 began evasive maneuvers. Ship sized explosions blossomed all around us and 810 began a complex series of rolls and spirals as she tried to keep the bulk of the ship between me and the flak.
Are you screaming again? You know that doesn’t help anything, right?
Less talk! More juke! I retorted, while continuing to shriek. Hopefully I would have the time to find out the other benefits of being an inorganic life form, but right now I was making the most of the only one I knew of. I could see the city as soon as the dive began, but our crazy flight pattern kept the image from becoming coherent and I couldn’t make out much beyond there being a lot of structures. There was one that seemed to stand out from the rest, literally and figuratively. As soon as I realized that 810 was actually aiming for this structure she said something I found incredibly troubling.
I’m going to try something really crazy and stupid. Your lack of organic tissue means it should work.
If I had tear ducts I’m pretty sure I would have cried. Instead I just boosted the power to my actuators to one hundred and ten percent the recommended maximum, which unfortunately required I stop screaming. I had been growing quite fond of that process.
The ship dropped to skim the tree tops and I discovered we had not yet hit maximum throttle as we accelerated to speeds I’d rather not think about but my subroutine insisted were around five hundred twenty meters per second. We shot up over the outer walls as 810 continued to juke and weave the ship towards the massive tower. Heavy machinegun rounds shot through the air and peppered the hull around me. Time slowed as all my processing ability was poured into deciphering sensory data. I saw a small opening in the tower, a hangar bay, and we were headed straight for it at max velocity.
Just behind me the main thrusters blew. We lurched forwards, riding the blast as 810 fired all the maneuvering thrusters to direct us at the hangar belly first. I only had precious seconds to revel in the terror of realization as I deciphered the spark’s plan. The belly thrusters fired and overloaded, and we were drastically decelerated. That nasty little subroutine proudly announced we were moving at exactly 99 meters per second as the ship struck the far wall of the hangar and I felt like I was going to become a part of the hull as my inertia cratered the top of the ship and simultaneously flattened a shallow section of my front.
The actuators in my extremities failed and I slid off the wreck onto the gouged floor of the hangar. Armored ponies were everywhere, some with weapons mounted to their armor and they were all pointed at me. My eyes roamed the crowd of warriors and I said, “I come in pieces.”
I felt some measure of satisfaction as one armored individual in my field of vision slapped a hoof to their face in disbelief.
~
I stood under armed guard before a council of three dangerous looking ponies. They all looked down on me from their positions on an elevated platform. Floating just off my shoulder was 810, who had vanished briefly after explaining the mess we had made to the armored ponies, who were apparently other guardians, but had returned to repair me after she had recharged herself in Faust’s light. Whatever that meant.
The pony on the left was a peach Pegasus sporting a blue mane that appeared to have gotten stuck in the windswept position. I couldn’t have said whether it naturally grew that way or had been styled. Out of the three, he was the only one smiling at me. Flash Sentry, Pathfinder Vanguard. Sees everything, and takes none of it seriously. 810 whispered via our link.
The Pegasus looked down at the holoscreen in front of him. “Spark 810, huh? I thought the library seemed a little quieter than usual. Finally found yourself a guardian I see.”
“If it is in fact a guardian.” The violet unicorn on the far right interjected coldly. With her brow furled in a scowl under her short bangs I felt like she was trying to dissect me with her eyes. Clover the Clever, Arcane Vanguard. Known for her incredible mental prowess and utter lack of social graces.
Does she ever smile? I asked silently with a smirk.
If she did, the world might be ending. 810 replied with a silent chuckle.
“If you think that merely encrypting your datalink can hide your conversation from me, then you are terribly mistaken.” Clover said dryly. 810 recoiled and slid back behind my broad shoulder, much to Flash Sentry’s amusement. I chuckled and bowed slightly.
“Apologies, esteemed Clover, I merely meant to imply that your countenance would benefit from an upwards turn of the lips.” I said with a smile of my own. While Flash Sentry stifled a snicker Clover’s scowl somehow managed to grow even deeper. I coughed into a fist before adding, “Right, shutting up.”
“How did you come by this Anomaly, 810?” The center pony, a large red earth pony with a close cropped blond mane, asked dryly in a deep baritone.
“I was searching the space port to the north, again, when I detected an energy spike incongruous with any known source. I found this guardian’s remains lying in a pit. Initial tests produced a significant positive response to Faust’s Light.” 810 replied loudly enough for all to hear before whispering, “Commander McIntosh, Olympian Vanguard.”
“This does nothing to explain how a post-Collapse chassis exists with the Golden Age tech and codes to make a Golem a Golem. Nor does it excuse the reckless and destructive approach to the City.” Clover replied.
“Excused or not, that was some damn fine flying to get past the gunners with that scrap heap and an external passenger.” Flash interjected with a wink. The other two Vanguards gave the Pegasus dirty looks but only McIntosh said anything.
“Indeed, I will see to the recalibration of the guns and the drilling of the gunners themselves personally.” McIntosh said, his mask of measured sternness returning to his face before he turned back to us. “Your profile is irregular and your very form is anomalous. In the long History of the Vanguard, only one other Guardian had an irregular profile and he was a traitor.”
“May the void claim his soul.” Clover said and then actually spat. I glanced at 810, but she seemed just as confused as I was.
“I would like to state for the record, that I never liked that guy.” Flash said with a raised hoof and then pointed at me before adding, “I like this guy. Personally I find it’s a lot harder to shoot yourself in the hoof when your gun is pointed at the enemy. I say we give him some gear and throw him at the Lost.”
“Don’t be a fool. You need to see inside someone to see the truth of who they are. I believe the idiom is ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’.” Clover growled.
“Says the pony with the least understanding of people out of anybody in the Tower. If you would pull your nose out of your books a little more often you’d know that idiom means to give someone a chance before you write them off!” Flash shot back and it went downhill very quickly after that. Flash and Clover were shouting at each other while McIntosh was shouting for order and eventually keeping them from actually coming to blows.
“THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!” a voice bellowed from behind us. Immediately the bickering ceased and everypony around me turned and bowed, even the Vanguards did their best to bow from behind their podium. I turned around to see an inorganic pony that shone like the sun, exuding her own light like a goddess. She stood a couple feet taller than me, and I was already a couple feet taller than the majority of the ponies around me. Two great wings of thrusters grew from her back and a gleaming horn rose from her head. I’d spotted a pony golem earlier but this was something far more than a Golem, and she seemed very angry.
She walked over until she was looking down on me with purple eyes that made Clover’s seem soft. “You do not bow?”
“I’ve only been around a short while, and a large portion of that has been spent cowering on my belly.” I sighed and did my best to match the strength in her eyes as I finished, “I’d like to face the end of my short existence on my feet.”
“That is acceptable.” She replied and her horn glowed with power. I shut my eyes and braced for the blast. However it never came. Instead she chuckled and said, “That is… interesting. Commander McIntosh, register him as an Olympian. His Light profile most closely matches that archetype.”
I opened my eyes and looked up at the godlike construct. She was smiling at me. “Something the matter?”
I glanced at 810 who had actually landed on my shoulder and was blinking her little light on and off. Turning back to whomever this pony was I shook my head. “You seem to have broken my Spark though.”
She chuckled and turned back to the Vanguards behind me. “Well?”
When I turned around I found that Flash Sentry was grinning from ear to ear while Clover looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. McIntosh was as stoic as ever as he nodded and said, “Yes ma’am. Do you have a name Guardian?”
A quick scan of my memory banks brought up nothing. Which meant I had to come up with one, and in the interest of getting the hell away from the unicorn trying to burn holes through me with her eyes I gave the first that came to mind. “My name is Spike.”
“What? No numbers? Golems tend to have numbers in their name.” Flash asked with a smirk as he stood up and stretched.
“No, just Spike. I’m special like that.” I replied with a smirk. Flash grinned and clapped McIntosh on the back before jumping over the podium.
“Welp, now that that’s settled, I’ve got… stuff I need to be doing. Later!” he said as he trotted out the door, leaving the Olympian to deal with the paperwork.
I glanced at Clover who continued to glare daggers at me, which considering that she was unicorn meant that such a thing was actually plausible, and then turned back to my golden rescuer and whispered, “Should I be worried about her trying to kill me when no one is looking?”
She smirked but otherwise ignored my question as she put a wing across my shoulders and gently pushed me along.
I shook my head and fell into step next to… “I’m sorry, but nobody has told me anything about anything since I arrived. Who are you?”
“I am Celestia.” The hallway opened up into a large room that was mostly window. Beyond the windows was the vast cityscape and another pegacorn golem so massive that even curled in on herself she was nearly as large as the city that she floated over. I walked closer to the window, nearly pressing my muzzle against the glass in awe of the sight. Behind me, Celestia quietly answered my unspoken question.
“And that is Faust.”
If not for the fact that Faust still floated over the city and her mane and tail of fire was most likely some sort of exhaust being vented from the godlike machine I would have thought that it was dead. Huge sections of her sides were burnt or even missing, one leg was cut off at the knee, and massive trails of corrosion down her face gave the illusion that she was crying.
“She is our savior and our goddess. Her Light guides and protects us. I was born from her Light in her final moments and it was her Light that powered your rebirth.” Spark 810 said softly from her perch on my shoulder.
“How?” I shook my head and tore my eyes from the fallen goddess. Even in her catatonic and damaged state, I could sense the power exuded by Faust.
“Um, you’re going to have to be more specific with your query.” 810 replied with an apologetic shrug of her spines.
“Where ever the Light does not banish shadows, there is only the Dark and its servants, knowing or otherwise, who seek to eradicate the Light. In pursuit of Faust, the Dark found us and sought to consume us. Faust saved us from utter destruction, but was crippled in her fight with the Dark.” Celestia answered sadly before walking over to a large desk. Using the arcane energy emanating from her horn she lifted a set of white metal plates with Faust’s image etched in them. The plates were placed in my hands and Celestia smiled sadly.
“It is now the Guardians that carry her light to keep the shadows at bay, and you are one of them now. In the morning, take those to the armory and the hangar and they will equip you to join the others in pushing back the Dark. For now I am feeding your Spark the location of your living quarters in the tower.”
Celestia smiled warmly as I nodded and left to find my room. No sooner had the doors closed behind me then I was slammed against the wall by a purple unicorn. Clover had me pinned to the wall with her magic and planted her forehooves on my chest as she brought her face uncomfortably close to my own. Either she was about to kiss me or she wanted to make sure that she had my complete attention. My money was on the later. “Please don’t kill me.”
“I’ve got my eyes on you dracon. If I ever find a trace of darkness in you, I’ll have your head as a bookend and your Spark as a paperweight.” Clover snarled. We stood like that for what felt like a very long time, but it was really just a couple seconds before she hissed, “Well?”
“Um, yes ma’am?”
Without another word Clover released me and trotted off and with her went what was left of my sense of impending doom. I had conditions for my continued existence, as vague as they were. “So, about those living quarters.”
A quick elevator ride and a few winding hallways found me sitting on the balcony I was lucky enough to have attached to my quarters. The setting sun painted the sky in every manner of pinks, reds, and gentle violets. That combined with the haunting yet comforting presence of Faust hanging over the city produced something akin to wonder in me. That is until a purple Spark reminded me of their presence. “Um, Spike?”
I smiled at Spark 810 floating over me. “Yes?”
“I, well, it is customary, or at least fairly common, for guardians to rechristen their Sparks.”
“You want me to name you?” I stared at 810 with a confused expression. Why would 810 want a new name? Then again, hearing my name was still something of a novelty to me and produced a feeling akin to warmth in my chest. Though that sensation could be the result of improper coolant flow and I made a note to get that checked out in the morning.
“Yes.” 810 said after a long pause.
“Huh.” I turned back to the sun painted scene in front of me. I ran through a couple long lists of potential names, but none really stood apart from the rest. I shook my head as one idea wormed its way into my mind. “How about Twilight? Twilight Sparkle?”
“You aren’t very proficient at this naming thing, are you?” 810 asked dryly.
“Proficiency requires practice or specific programming. Do you want a name or not?”
810 laughed, as strange bubbling thing that produced a similar feeling to my name. “I do.”
“Well, Twilight Sparkle, would you like to join me in watching the day give way to the night?” I asked, patting my shoulder and Twilight gingerly laid herself down there.
We watched that first day roll into my first night the same way we would do everything from that point on: together.
Author's Note
This is a thing, I guess.
Anyway, critiques, jokes, exhortations, and even salutations are all welcome.
Spike's screaming vaguely inspired by this scene:
Libraries are weird. Terabytes of information locked away in ink and wood pulp requiring multiple processes to mine for data. Maybe it’s because I was born yesterday, but that struck me as highly inefficient. Twilight however clearly finds genuine enjoyment from the process of deciphering the data held in physical texts if the excited bobbing and weaving she does while reading is any indication. Unfortunately for me, she considers me her gopher for gathering ALL the books and articles that have been published since she was last in the city.
What’s worse, I actually didn’t have anything better to do. I’d already put in orders for my weapons, armor, and basic jumpship and now had nothing to do but wait.
“I’m so borrred." I lamented from my prone position on the bench that ran along the table Twilight was using to hold all her books while she read.
“Then read to me.”
I twitched in surprise as a slim hardcover slapped down inches from my muzzle. Propping myself up on one arm I turned to look at the speaker. A juvenile pony, a grey unicorn filly with her white mane held back by a ruby lace bow was watching me expectantly with milky white eyes.
“Yes, I’m blind. I’m using a special spell that creates an image in my head based on the magic around me. It only gives shapes, not color, so I can’t read. No, I don’t want new eyes, or mechanical ones.” The filly rattled off quickly before I could even ask.
“Well, that’s most of my questions.” I chuckled before counting off on my fingers, “What’s your name? What’s with the triangle with eye on your flank? And would you like a description of the pictures?”
“My name is Silver Lining, the all seeing eye is my cutiemark, and only bother to describe them if there isn’t enough context.” Silver Lining replied with a smile as she took a seat on the ground in front of me.
“Okay then.” I said as I turned the book over. “‘The Lonely Princess’ by Sunny Skies.”
~
Long, long ago, there was a kingdom of ponies ruled by a kind queen and her two daughters. Under their rule the kingdom was safe and prosperous.
The older daughter, whose beauty was like fields of barley under the noonday sun, cared for her ponies by making the ponies and crops grow strong and plentiful. Thanks to her, the little ponies bellies were never hungry and their bodies were strong. The younger sister was a mighty warrior whose armor shone like the sea under a brilliant moon. She defended her subjects, a stalwart shield against the monsters that roamed the darkness beyond the boundaries of the kingdom. And so it was that the kingdom was made safe and prosperous, but all was not well.
The ponies loved the older sister and sang her praises every day, because she was a princess of feasting and sunshine. The younger sister was ignored, because hers was a world of pain and bloodshed, and so she was alone.
One day, a traveler in the dark, a wicked and cunning centaur wizard, found the young princess crying in the night. Seeing an opportunity, the wizard approached the princess, “What troubles you, child? Why do you cry alone in this dark place?”
“My ponies do not love me like my sister, because I do not bring them gifts.” The princess replied with a sniffle. “And so I am alone.”
The wizard nodded in understanding and the centaur extended a hand as he offered, “Take my hand. Bind yourself to me and I will give you the power to make friends of your very own.”
The princess agreed and gave up her will for the trickster’s gift. With her new dark power the princess summoned an army of monsters to be her friends and she stood at the traveler’s side as he marched on her mother’s kingdom.
The dark princess’ army blazed a path of destruction across the lands she had defended for so long. She would have surely destroyed it all if her mother had not descended from her throne with fire and thunder. For all the power the princess had gained from the traveler, her mother was stronger still.
And so a mother struck down her daughter, her army, and the master she now served. Stripped of his power and gravely wounded the wizard fled, abandoning the princess before the wrath of the Queen. However the Queen could not bring herself to kill her daughter, no matter how thoroughly she had been twisted by the dark power she now held. So the princess also escaped, promising to return once she had recovered and rebuilt her army.
Thus the kingdom was saved, but the cost was too great: the queen was dead. Only the elder princess remained to rebuild and protect her little ponies, and so she did. All the while she kept her eyes on the horizon, waiting for the day when her sister would return to bring a night without a dawn.
~
I turned the page, hoping for some sort of resolution or happy ending, but all I found was blank pages. “Um, the end?”
“Really? That’s it?!”
Silver Lining and I looked up to find Twilight floating over my shoulder. When neither one of us answered she rolled her oculus and growled, “That was awful! Children’s books are supposed to inspire, edify, or teach. This did none of that!”
“Well, I liked it.” Silver Lining protested quietly as she took the book from my hand with her magic.
Twilight stared at the filly in a silence that felt like a mix of disbelief and judgment. The little spark could be hard to read sometimes. Finally I asked, “Really?”
Silver Lining nodded emphatically. “It was like one of Grim and Brim’s fairy tales. Though it did end kinda abruptly. Thank you for reading to me mister dracon.”
I watched as Silver Lining carried the book to the front counter and placed it in the reshelving station where it would await the attentions of one of the librarians who were already burdened with shelving the several piles of texts from Twilight’s data binge. As she trotted out of the library I tapped my chin. “I’ve got a lot of information about organics. Mostly regarding the sort of damage they can endure and where to aim if you are trying to induce critical system failures. You know, death. I know all about how to end living things, but nothing about how to make them or how they transition from early forms into adult stages. Twilight, how do I make a foal?”
After several long seconds I turned to look at Twilight who was staring at me through a half shuttered oculus. Her projections turned slowly as she stared as though she were thinking really hard about something. “Did you hear me? I asked, how are organics made?”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Um, no, I’m not.” I pointed at an earth pony stallion who was searching through a row of books about programmable matter. “I can tell you that he is walking on four toes right now, that he has at his disposal an array of strength boosting magic in addition to a high probability of agricultural and geological influence, he also has a seemingly extraneous appendage that is both highly vascular in nature and relatively exposed. What I can’t tell you about is his purpose, his forge of origin, or even how his parts were knit together when he was made.”
Twilight continued to stare at me with that squinty eyed look. “How can your info be that spotty?” I merely shrugged and Twilight rolled her oculus before sighing and saying, “You are aware that ponies are split into male and female, correct.”
I nodded slowly, there were a few structural differences between male and female, such as the appendage I had just mentioned, as well as a partial dichotomy of behavioral patterns that I had noticed, though the later seemed far from a hard and fast rule.
“Well, during coitus, the male donates sperm containing a portion of his genetic material to combine with the female’s egg…” Twilight trailed off as I stared at her, “What?”
“You lost me at coitus, and sperm, and the rest mostly went over my head as well.”
“The male and female share a physical interface during which the female downloads a portion of the hardware and software specs of the male to be combined with a portion of her own specs. These combined specs become a living thing that develops over the course of around eleven months in the female’s internal bioforge, and that is where foals come from!” Twilight finished with an exasperated hiss of static.
“Organics are weird.” I said as I tapped my chin thoughtfully before adding, “But the idea of a piece of you walking around out there in the world is pretty cool. We should try it sometime.”
“What?! No!” Twilight exclaimed and looked like she was about to burst into a tirade when she was interrupted by a voice over the intercom calling my name.
“Guardian Spike, please retrieve your gear from the armory and report to the Vanguard command chamber.”
“Finally!” I hissed as I leapt to my feet and piled Twilight’s texts in my arms. Dumping the material in the reshelving cart I practically ran out of the library. It looked like I was finally going to be doing guardian stuff!
~
As I walked through the halls towards my destination I casually practiced drawing and holstering my unloaded hand cannon while twirling it in my hand. The blocky weapon looked unwieldy; heck, it probably would make a decent club if I needed it to, but it promised to put down most foes at short range with one or two well placed shots. I was just starting to get the hang of drawing and holstering in style when I arrived at my destination.
The Vanguard command center was a large room with a long table that could have seated nearly a dozen ponies with ease. However right now there were only six ponies staring at a collection of projected images above the table. The three vanguards I recognized, but each Vanguard also had a guardian with them.
Next to McIntosh stood a young Olympian mare, barely an adult, with a tightly braided red mane that reached nearly to her knees. She waved me over with a smile, “Spike, right?”
A withering glance from Clover had me holstering my hand cannon sans flair, but I nodded. “I am. What’s going on?
“Today you will be travelling as a part of the Crusader’s fireteam during their scouting mission in the space port. I felt that it would be a powerful lesson in the effectiveness and necessity of teamwork in our line of work.” McIntosh said with just a hint of a smile as he glanced down at the Olympian standing next to him.
“Normally, guardians learn this during their requisite stint in Lady Zecora’s Crucible, but, seeing as Clover would have had an aneurysm if we had told you to shoot at other guardians, we have unanimously decided to waive the crucible requirement.” Flash said with a grin at Clover.
I looked over the images above the table, they all depicted a large and heavily armored Lost carrying a large plasma cannon that seemed to be hooked up to a generator on his back. One of the images was intimately familiar. I pointed to the image of the Lost climbing from a tunnel into the dry dock in the space port, “I remember that. How did you get a motion capture from my memory banks?”
“Speaker Celestia found it when she scanned you, and forwarded it to me.” McIntosh replied calmly, and then added, “We are not in the practice of violating the sanctity of an individual’s mind without express permission. The Speaker offers her apologies, but considering the circumstances a full scan and catalog was necessary.”
“It’s also the only picture in the bunch that wasn’t recovered from a dead guardian.” Clover said firmly. “This Vizier seems to only reveal itself when it knows it can win, and his presence in the space port may only be temporary. The Crusaders and yourself will be one of dozens of teams scouring the area for both his location and his hive of origin.”
“We have next to no information on this Vizier, but it appears that he is gathering the disenfranchised Lost in the space port into an actual army. If you find anything, signal for support and do not engage unless you absolutely have to.” McIntosh turned to give the Olympian at his side a look that made granite seem cushy by comparison, “That means no heroics and no last stands. Our family has had more than enough of that already. This mission does not require you to hold the line so if things get dicey you transmat out of there. Have I made myself clear, Apple Bloom?”
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes, but she nodded. Flash gave the golem next to him, a young looking pegasus model with an orange veneer and a short mane of purple ether, a gentle poke in the side of the head, “You hear that, Scoots? If things get hairy, you bounce. You’re one of the most promising Pathfinders to come along in a while, so don’t do anything too stupid on your first field mission.”
“Right.” The golem replied before giving me a smile.
The other two vanguards turned to look expectantly at Clover who shrugged and picked up a datapad in her magic. “Miss Belle, have you been listening?”
“The Arcane are always listening.” The perfectly groomed mare standing next to Clover replied with a carefully measured intensity. She turned her steady gaze to me and I wondered if the whole never smiling thing was actually not just Clover thing but rather an Arcane trait. Then she brushed her lavender bangs back behind her ears with a white hoof and winked at me. “Last one to the hangar’s a rotten egg!”
I barely had time to process the sudden shift in the Arcane’s demeanor before she and the other Crusaders were sprinting out of the room all cheers and giggles. Before I could run after them however, McIntosh placed a hoof on my arm. When he spoke, his voice was soft and had just a hint of an accent, “Spike, I know that you were built for things like this, so I’m only going to say this once: keep her safe for me.”
“I’d appreciate it if you made sure Scoots came back too.” Flash added with a chuckle, “I’ve grown quite invested in the little junker.”
I turned my eyes to Clover expectantly. She did not disappoint. “Come back with Miss Belle, or not at all.”
I looked at each of the vanguards who, with the natural exception of Clover, smiled at me before I finally nodded and sprinted out of the room. I had no idea why they thought I could contribute much, I was the greenhorn of the team, but I definitely felt their expectations settle firmly on my shoulders.
As I maneuvered through the halls I pinged Twilight’s array where she was familiarizing herself with my new armor. Hey Twi, what did he mean by ‘built for things like this’?
From within my armor’s systems I felt Twilight refocus her attentions. After a moment’s pause she said, He was probably referring to the fact that you are clearly a military Golem, a war machine.
Aren’t all golems war machines? And what do you mean by clearly? I shot back as I vaulted over a pony that had darted in front of me from around a corner.
With the exception of yourself and a minotaur golem by the name of Stalwart Steel, all known golems are from the early Golden Age and are designed to emulate life in all aspects. Eating, growing, sleeping, and even dreaming, though it seems they never found a way for golems to reproduce like organics. You on the other hoof are more of an aesthetically pleasing mobile weapons platform. Your systems are designed with shielding from exotically induced energy fields built in and your programming already has protocols for processing weapon and external armor sensory bundles.
I thought about that as I ran into the hangar where the other three were waiting impatiently with their ships hovering outside the hangar. “So how do golems reproduce?”
They don’t. Those that aren’t guardians are found in the wilds, usually dead. We bring them back to the city and use the power of the matter forges to restart their systems.
“Who are you talking to?” Scoots asked as she trotted over to me. I held out my hand and Twilight materialized there.
“Hello, Scootalo-Ø. I am Twilight Sparkle, Spike’s Spark. We were just discussing some of the qualities that separate Spike from most other golems.” Twilight said politely before floating out of my palm and adding, “I’ll get our ship from the Hangar Master.”
As Twilight flew off I turned back to the others, “Clover wasn’t done making death threats.”
Belle rolled her eyes, “Yeah, she’s kind of hoping you’ll manage to get permakilled out there.”
Bloom gave me a reassuring smile as she trotted over. “Which only happens if they catch or fry your ghost. Don’t worry, we won’t let that happen.”
“Is that you’re jumpship?” Scoots asked, pointing at a ship that was rising from the storage chambers below the hangar. It looked like a warty green brick sandwiched between two brown drive tubes with stubby airfoils at the front, except the warts were all thrusters.
“That’s one ugly ship.” Belle commented as the ship lifted off the hangar floor. The three ponies shielded their faces from the ship’s wash.
“It’s really just a cockpit slapped onto a thruster set.” Twilight said over the ship’s speakers with a touch of amusement, “And it feels like it probably handles about as well as it looks. Let’s fly!”
For a brief moment my vision swam and I felt tendrils of energy wrapping around me before the world abruptly changed and I was seated in a custom built cockpit designed to hold my relatively unique body comfortably. The screens around me lit up to reveal the hangar and the three ships outside. The Crusaders were already in their ships and the three turned and flew off. I stared at the controls in front of me, a whole rainbow of switches, dials, and displays glowed on the lower panel. Two sliding joysticks rested on the long armrests I carefully took hold of the joysticks, careful not to change their position. “Talk to me, Twi.”
The Spark’s voice filled the cabin as she replied through the cockpit’s tinny speakers. “Those joysticks are the thrust control, and the only thing you need to worry about. I’ll handle systems management. Tilting the sticks manipulates the two hemispheres of maneuvering thrusters while sliding them forwards and back adjusts the thrust from each drive. So, make it a gradual exit please. Larson is still pissed about how we arrived yesterday.”
I nodded and gently eased the sticks forward. The drives rumbled to life and we slid from the hangar into the airspace around the tower. I couldn’t quite keep my eyes from darting to the AA emplacements scattered through the city below us and all along the walls.
“Are you coming or not, Spike?” Scoots barked over the comms. I laughed and clumsily angled my ship towards the trio of ships circling at the edge of the city, each highlighted on my display in neon green and displaying their faces next to them. With a grin I forced the sticks to their full extension, cackling as the drives thundered to full power and I was pressed deep into my contoured seat by the acceleration.
As our ships sped away from the city with the Crusaders, I knew we were heading out to face a world where everything wanted to kill us, but I was made for handling that sort of thing and I was not going to be alone this time.
The Lost didn’t stand a chance.
Author's Note
Took a lot longer than I would have liked. I've been kind of flailing about trying to write too many stories at once in addition to life and reading.
I also stopped to try and get a better grasp on my characters, particularly the Crucible Crusaders because that's important stuff.
