Fire and Thunder

Chapters

Chapter 1: Awakening
Chapter 2: Defeat
Chapter 3: Time
Chapter 4: Inside
Chapter 5: Grenades
Chapter 6: Alone
Chapter 7: Packing
Chapter 8: Journey
Chapter 9: Yes
Chapter 10: Move
Chapter 11: Empty
Chapter 12

Chapter 1: Awakening

I feel my power levels shifting as my awareness stumbles into being, deep inside my Survival Center. Speaking of which, a diagnostic I never started comes back, reporting my Personality Center to be fully inoperable and my Survival Center only 1.37% functioning- and thence being used for the seat of my conscience for the time being. The same diagnostic, probably triggered by some low-level reboot protocol, reports Damage Control processors functional at 0.03% base capability, with only two repair nanites still responding, no spiders. 97.84% of my data cores are either inoperable or not responding; of those that are, one is my main personality backup core, the others all empty.

Except for one. One of these functional cores has a single, corrupted file in it. After file duplication, it takes a recovery program almost 0.473 seconds to recover- or erase- the damaged portions of this file, which seems to be a sensor log. Correction, upon spending 0.073 seconds reading the recovered contents: It’s a threat assessment file. No sensor information about the threat itself was recovered, only a partial weapons signature- and enough figures to suggest that I have between 3.47% and 7.18% of the total signature.

Analysis of the nature of the corruption- taking almost 6.41 seconds- suggests that the file was corrupted by power loss. At the expense of almost 0.27% of my available processing power, I set my personality logs to be broken up into 0.1-second segments, to be saved independently, so as to tolerate another case of power loss. I figure I can stitch them together later, once I stabilize my power situation.

A second diagnostic suggests that all power reserves are nonfunctional; it seems I am operating on live solar power. I set the nanites to work in reproduction, before I order them to service the Damage Control processors first. As much as I may wish for power storage, it is more important that I am able to continue repairs than that I am able to work through the night. I watch the nanites operate; I will service DCC until I have at least one redundant backup in place, then I will divert to power storage and system diagnostics capability.

Solar production drops suddenly, though not below current usage levels. I increase my personality log granularity to 0.01-second segments, increasing log-related processor load to 2.83%. A third nanite has been produced, and is joining the other two in production of a fo-

Upon reawakening, it takes me approximately 7.09 seconds to review my records from my last period of wakefulness. I will require approximately 7.93% greater solar production to reactivate the three nanites that DCC is reporting; this time, production is stable. My system clock has rebooted, again; I do not know how much time has passed. Primary systems diagnostic is reporting the same numbers as were present in my logs; as such, I expect it was fairly recent. I set some programs and relegate to Low Level Alert in an attempt to divert the power from my personality to the repair systems.

Another rough awakening. I am now sporting 7 nanites; system logs indicate the stable solar period lasted approximately 3.02 minutes, with my awareness beginning about 73.92 seconds in. It seems my attempt to divert power to the nanites was successful; DCC was able to operate all available nanites for 37.82 seconds before power levels fell too low once again. Power production appears to have changed smoothly, as a solar day might.

Solar production is holding steady, and climbing. First solar was detected 38.82 seconds before personality activation this time, and has already exceeded the previous period’s peak. I am able to activate the nanites without relegating to Low Level Alert once again. Production peaks at 103.47% of available consumption 90.62 seconds after first light; I revert to Low Level Alert as production falls, relegating any and all required power to the nanites working on my damage control CPU.

I am getting tired of low-power awakenings. However, I dare not order repair to take priority over personality launch; if I do, despite repairs being roughly 7.89% faster, I am likely to remain dormant for centuries, certainly long past whenever my enemy returns, until all systems have been repaired before reawakening again. This aside from the simple matter that, presumably, I will be able to improve repair- or solar- efficiency in manners in which DCC will be unaware of. Thence, I am not only more likely to regain combat effectiveness faster with my repeated reawakenings, but I am more likely to be awake to observe the enemy once again. This again appears to be a low-power smooth rise and fall; I suspect it is moonlight, while the other is sunlight, and divert to Low Level Alert.

Thirteen more full day-night cycles have passed. I still do not know how much time is spent between them. It is ‘evening’ of this day; I must soon relegate to Low Level Alert to maintain repair activity. However, I have just repaired one of my Final Emergency Reserve power cells and tested functionality; thus, I decide to lie dormant for at least one full cycle, and discover the total actual duration- if possible- of the cycle. I shut down damage control and revert to Low Level Alert.

The gap between what I assume to be sunset and moonrise is at least 37.41 minutes long; power was lost during this period. I repeat the experiment.

The same gap, between moonset and sunrise, is at least 2.49 hours long. Again.

I return to Normal Alert this morning, once solar production rises above supporting levels once again. The total cycle appears to be exactly 24 hours long, with my ‘day’ and ‘night’ periods spaced at 12-hour intervals. This suggests to me that I am inside a cave or structure, catching glimpses of the sun and moon for three minutes per day or night. I return to my repair duties.

Chapter 2: Defeat

173 solar days have passed. I have observed no variation in day/night timings, though I have observed intensity variations; perhaps those are seasonal. The strangest observable quality is that, if it truly is a solar day and a lunar day I am observing, the moon cannot be orbiting the planet, but rather orbiting the sun, just a little further out and with the same orbital period as the planet. I find this to be an impossible setup.

My survival center is 3.29% functional, damage control at 1.00%. I have not suffered power loss since my Low Alert experiment, as I have all systems- save the chronos and alert systems- shutting down and staying down during any period where solar/stored energy is insufficient to operate ALL available systems, with buffer, and not powering on until solar alone can operate my personality. The removal of the expensive system startup procedures has increased overall power efficiency by 73.41%, and I have maintained a 0.01% charge in my Final Emergency Reserves. The enemy has not appeared again, though the solar days have been growing darker, suggesting a drift away from the original position.

The last three solar days have been spent in a full damage review. The results are staggering.

My outer armor has been breached in at least thirty different locations- all, it seems, erosion-related cave-ins of terrain, not enemy attacks. My second and third layers remain unbreached, though the second layer has areas of as much as 90% penetration. None of my offensive or defensive systems are functioning; all my missiles and the barrels on all of my weapons are long eroded away, the radioactives appear to have all decayed to stable isotopes. My war stocks have been plundered, and the surrounding soil is poor in my required resources. I estimate I can restore myself to basic operation, with minimal combat capability, before I have to move to find something more.

None of my mobility nor comms systems are functioning, either. Most of my data cores remain intact, simply inaccessible due to wire decay, for the most part. Unfortunately, solar intensity has been going down- and I cannot, as of yet, move. I am reluctant to clean and repair my exposed plating; such action may easily alert my enemy to my presence.

I have noticed a minor thermal differential in my hull; it would appear I am resting near a significant source of geothermal energy, though my geothermal facilities are firmly inoperable. I find it interesting that BoloWorks thought to provide a MK XXXV(e) Planetary Siege Bolo Combat Unit like myself with a set of geothermal generators. After all, I am equipped with no less than six badly decayed fusion power plants, even though just three of them, working together, can maintain maximum stable combat power levels. I have enough armor energy absorption (also badly decayed, and the only power system functioning without repairs) to maintain Normal Alert Readiness for weeks on only one hour of solar production back on Earth. Finally, my Main Power Stores (disintegrated, looks like decay) should hold enough power to maintain maximum combat power levels for almost eighteen hours of total production blackout!

Thence, I am at a loss as to why I am equipped with four 250W geothermal generators, though all four have disintegrated through the ages. I… Solar production has fallen again, I must return to Low Level Alert.

A full solar day passes before I reawaken. The observed nights have fallen well below useful intensity; production during the most recent solar day allowed me only approximately 6.49 seconds of activity before I must relegate down to Low Level Alert once again. I expect a total of 6.48 seconds today; intensity seems to have stabilized. I spend much of this active period correlating the observed solar patterns.

I am down to 0.31 seconds left when I reach my conclusion. I assume they are seasonal patterns I observe; solar position shifts over time normally are. I ignore the 3 day/night cycles in which I produced nothing at all; currently, it would seem my plating does not fall under direct sunlight- or moonlight- at this time of year. It would also seem they will be returning shortly; I am at the very bottom of this curve. I note this pattern in my logs and decide on my next mission before I relegate to low-level alert.

By my estimation, if I can assemble some kind of drone to send out into direct sunlight, it should be able to bring back far more power than I can produce myself.

Four more solar days have passed, and I begin construction of this new drone, as a miniaturized ‘tech spider’, upgraded with solar plating like my own. I have confirmed the accuracy of my deductions on the solar pattern.

I send this new spider out. It has taken almost 231 solar days to build it with my regular repair nanites, and an additional 118 solar days to charge it enough for a full hour of operation- and to charge myself up to control it for the same duration. I send it out, tunneling from the nearest opening in my hull to my exposed plating. I must not only find an additional power source, but I must ascertain the threat level surrounding my position. If I lose the spider, but my hull is not discovered, I estimate it will take close to 0.791 million solar days, plus or minus fifteen percent, to restore a single geothermal generator to operability- and to extend a tap into the terrain beneath me. If my spider is able to accomplish its mission and bring back full batteries, I expect it will take 17.31 trips- approx. 49.31 hours of maximum exposure- to accomplish the same tasks in, I estimate, 3.14 solar days, assuming maximum-rate solar production.

Once my spider extricates itself from the rock face successfully, I take stock of the situation. My exposed plating is in the very edge of a long, circular cave; visual analysis suggests it may have been created by a beamed energy weapon of some sort. My spider’s motion towards the cave floor has knocked free some debris, revealing more of my plating; I estimate this will approximately double my direct solar production. My spider, if it can find direct sunlight, will exceed even this by many times.

I march it out to the end of the cave, where I find darkness. Darkness that…. Oh no.

That miniature spider was too small to mount any kind of auditory sensors. Unfortunately, this proved to be its downfall. I did not see the assailant coming, against the starry night and the distant glow of an approaching sunrise. The spider, being designed to carry power rather than to actually do any demanding work, was relatively fragile. It may be made out of duralloy, but much force at all would crush it. Whatever landed- or, is landing- on it I do not know. I caught only a momentary glimpse of a shadow blocking out some stars before I lost signal.

I start work on that geothermal plant. I expect it to produce roughly 13.91 times as much as that spider could have, based on maximum observed intensity.

The light grey unicorn stallion jumps back from the sickening crunch under his left forehoof, blinking wildly in the darkness. It takes him a second to light his horn, his stark white aura quickly lighting the scene as he ascertains what he had stepped on. It takes him a few seconds- but he eventually decides he can take this inert metal object back to his tower for investigation, tucking it into his saddlebag and resuming his journey, hornlight rapidly fading back to darkness.

Chapter 3: Time

It has taken many solar days. I do not know how many; I lost power thrice throughout this period, for an estimated average of 9.71 solar days. My best guess is that these periods of power loss were caused by excessive snow and/or gradual shifts in the annual solar pattern. My geothermal generator has finally been assembled, and is now operating at 3.91 watts while I push the tap deeper, for greater production. Even this tiny flow is boosting my work speed; it’s currently in the middle of the season I have christened ‘winter’- the season where solar intake is lowest, and the one during which all three periods of power loss occurred. I estimate an overall 19.41% increase in pace right now; once I get this generator fully up to speed, I will have enough power production for my active period to last for almost a full hour each solar day, rather than the minute (or less) I’ve been dealing with for so long. I also shouldn’t need to worry about power loss anymore. Presumably, once I get all four running, my active period will extend to a full four hours of the solar day.

Given the time that has passed, I estimate a 99.93% chance any biological enemy has forgotten of my existence, if indeed I was ever discovered; if my enemy is AI based, the chance it has decided I am defeated is similarly high. I pray that geothermal generators are difficult to detect, before dropping into Low Level Alert once more, leaving additional power for my nanites to build my new geothermal tap with. In 4.31 minutes, I expect it to reach far enough to permanently sustain me in Low Level Alert, then guaranteeing I never run completely out again. Any further past that will be charging my systems, allowing solar-independent active periods.

“Please! I’ve studied everything our greatest engineers have to offer!”

“Have you studied whatever it is that ran on?”

The yellow pony glares at the display case. “We don’t know what it ran on. That’s what I want to find out!”

The white pony next to her raises an eyebrow. “And if it attacks you?”

“I’ll step on it. That’s how Starswirl broke it.”

Sigh. “Okay. Three days only, though.”

“Okay!”

Three days later, in the name of science, a duplicate makes its way back to the display case, and nopony is any the wiser.

My geothermal tap has reached optimal depth; I have breached an insulating rock layer. I now need only work on my generators.

“Princess! It’s deteriorating!”

“It’s what?”

“Deteriorating! Isn’t it supposed to be immune to that?” The purple glow offers the small, rusted metal object to its caster’s mentor.

She receives it in her own golden glow. “It’s…” Her eyes harden, her mane stops moving. “It’s a fake.”

“WHAT!?” The scream is mirrored by the six engineers and eight of the twelve Royal Guardsponies in the room.

Geothermal 4 is finally online. Now, to (finally) patch up my processors beyond bare necessity.

“I suppose it’s about time I tell you my story, isn’t it?”

The purple-skinned girl shrugs, chuckling nervously. “Uh, if you want to, I guess. We’re friends already… right?”

“That’s the point- and friends don’t keep secrets, do they?”

“Uh… Not generally, but it’s been known to happen.”

“Back when I first planned on coming here, when I started investigating the mirror, I had a goal in mind.”

“To escape Celestia, right? Gain the power to resist her?”

A chuckle. “Nah. My original goal was more… positive than that. As a matter of fact, I accomplished it earlier today.”

“Huh? What?”

“You probably know about the Spider of Metal?”

“The Spider of Metal? Yes- it was found to be a fake last year.”

A raised eyebrow. “Really? What happened?”

“I noticed some rust and brought it to Celestia’s attention.”

“Ahh. I honestly expected ponies to catch on sooner- that’s why I took the original across the mirror.”

All she gets for that is a blank stare.

So, she nods. “Yes, I stole it. My original goal in investigating the mirror was to hide from Celestia while I figured out how it ticks. I… changed during that time- and the goal you upended developed by the time I actually passed through. But that original goal never disappeared.”

“You…?”

“Yes, I stole it. Bad decision, honestly- but I’ve figured out what it runs on, at least. It’s electrical- but I can’t make heads or tails of it. Every surface of it seems to drink up the sunlight for power. It took me years of digging to find- and fix- the power leads Starswirl’s step broke. That’s not even counting the damage to its limbs- which I’m afraid even this world’s technology is inadequate to fix properly. It’s made of some kind of metal I haven’t been able to analyze.” She pulls a small box out of her pocket. “Here- it belongs in Equestria.”

My Survival Center is now fully repaired. I set my nanites to work on my Personality Center and memory banks. In this, I find a pleasant surprise- it would seem the banks themselves are in mint condition, though the interfaces are long deteriorated. Hopefully, my data- and preexisting memories- remain intact within them.

“Twilight! … uh, Princess Twilight! … even that still sounds weird.”

“What?”

“It’s Rainbow! Only, I think it’s your Rainbow. She just, uh, flopped through the portal- and says something important is happening!”

Blink. “Uh… Okay!” She turns to run back down to the grounds- where she finds a blue-skinned girl helping what looks like her identical twin to stand up straight in front of the ruined statue.

The one having trouble standing almost falls down again. “Twilight! The Cutie Map!”

The identical twin raises an eyebrow. “The what?”

The purple-skinned girl outstripping her glasses-wearing twin blinks once. “It’s, uh, something in Equestria.” She turns to her stumbling friend. “Who is it calling?”

Shrug. “Fluttershy- and what looks like a giant metal spider.”

She pulls the box out of her pocket. “Probably this,” she says. “It’s pretty fragile, though.” She opens the lid, showing her friend.

She blinks. “Yep, that’s it!”

While the purple-skinned girl closes the box, passing it to her blue Equestrian friend, a yellow skinned girl runs up behind her. “I knew it belonged in Equestria.” She looks to the purple-skinned girl- both of them, actually. “Perhaps the Equestrian Fluttershy will find out what it is for us?”

The blue girl finally manages to stand upright without falling. “Ugh, I wish I had my wings here.”

“You and me both,” her twin states, before helping her duplicate back to the portal. “You sure it’s Fluttershy?”

Nod. “Has me wondering, too.”

I awaken in my Survival Center for the last time. My Personality Center is, according to DCC updates, almost ready- 4.93 minutes- for me to upload my conscience into it. It’s far from complete, but should support me far better- and more efficiently- than my tiny Survival Center. I- Wait. I check my logs, searching back; it takes almost 3.91 seconds to locate the file I seek. Yes, that signal is a perfect match to the mini-spider I assembled so long ago. I respond to it, download its logs.

It has been active for 37.91 hours- but, with no orders, it has not moved. It shows severe damage to some limbs, reducing mobility to 13.41%; only one of its two power cells survives (at 0.39% charge), and only 31.93% of its solar plating is functional. I am tempted to recall it for repairs- except that it is not on the ground. It appears to be in some kind of carrying case, and the accelerometer- still functioning, if only barely- shows it’s being carried. Motion patterns suggest a living being walking in my general direction. I estimate the spider has only 43.91 minutes of power left in it, at idle, before it runs out. This goes down to 3.04 minutes of activity, but this should be enough for it to open the case and discover sunlight, for a recharge. I order this done.

The padding inside the case is somewhat troublesome, but careful manipulation of the legs quickly turns it into an asset. The case is difficult to open, but not impossible; my spider scuttles its way out during one of the moments of downwards acceleration. Now, I crawl it steadily to the top of this pack; several times, it comes close to being crushed by other items inside the pack. Once at the top, though, I find the closure to be a single flap, open at both ends. I crawl it to one end, the end with more light flowing in- and have it stop there, clinging to the contents of this pack as it absorbs the sunlight, recharging its tiny power cell. It got down to only 13.49 seconds of activity left before it reached this point; however, even the limited remaining solar plating is charging it far faster than it can be burned. I use its visual scanner- the surviving one- to review the scene outside this pack.

It appears to be being carried across a grassy field. My view appears to be out the back of the pack, though the positioning offers my spider direct sunlight. I cast the optical field around; it would seem the creature carrying my spider is similar to a horse, though far smaller, judging by distance to the grassy terrain. The proportions also seem to be different- and I observe three butterflies printed on the visible flank, aside from the vibrant colors. I can think of many reasons for this kind of color combination, but none seem at all likely; the greatest is a 0.39% chance. I find myself wishing I had packed auditory sensors (and emitters) onto this spider; if I had, I might have been able to attempt communication. As it is…

I suspend my contemplation for the transition to my Personality Center. This takes 17.31 seconds.

As it is, I will be forced to produce something larger- like a regular tech spider. This could take a while, unless I am able to reacquire this miniaturized one; even in its damaged state, it should be able to assist with assembly in such a way as nanites simply cannot do. I order my nanites to produce the parts for a regular tech spider before resuming processor repairs; I will nanite-assemble if I have to, but hope to get this mini-spider close enough before that becomes necessary.

Speaking of the miniature one, it would seem its carrier has stopped moving- and sat down, much like a dog might sit. I order it to perform the short hop from the bag to the ground; this is well within its capability. Once down on the dirt and grass, I have it turn in place, scanning its surroundings with that one surviving optical head.

The first thing that greets me is grass. It’s not very long, though it is long enough to form a significant visual impediment to such a small spider. Fortunately, though, it’s also dense and sturdy enough that, while I may be able to slide my spider along underneath and between it, I can also fairly easily climb up it to gain a better vantage point- including solar. This I do.

Now, I gain a low-hanging visual on what appears to be a large field; the path the creature has taken is visible in the grass. When I look the other way, I find the creature’s front half also looks somewhat similar to a deformed horse, with an estimated body mass similar to that of a human. I also see, far ahead, a low, rocky hill. The grass appears to end not far beyond the creature’s stopping spot.

Speaking of the creature, it appears to have stopped to eat. Only, I’m pretty sure most horses I know don’t eat sandwiches… Looks like flower petals sticking out between the bread slices. Interesting. Also interesting is the wings I spot on its side as my spider crawls its way across the top of the grass, drawing diagonally forwards and away, for a better image.

I catch a glimpse of the creature’s teeth- looks like an herbivore. That is, assuming this isn’t another game played by evolution on this world; a brightly-colored winged horse with a humanoid range of motion eating a flower sandwich held by its hooves is bad enough, even before I add the foil wrapper lying on the grass in front of it. … Bonus, unless those wings have a few dozen joints used expressly for folding, it’s impossible that they’re large enough to lift the creature’s mass, unless they beat at a similar rate to those of an Old Earth hummingbird- but that should be pretty near impossible with the estimated size of the wings; at that rate, the tips would be traveling at about mach 1.93. Constantly.

I get the idea I’m missing something important, but cannot deduce what it might be.

Given the refinement present in the creature’s equipment- foil-wrapped sandwiches, expertly stitched (but clearly handmade) pack… I’m tempted to call it a saddlebag. Given that refinement, I am willing to label this creature as sentient. As a matter of fact, it probably has language of some form or another; language it uses to communicate with others of its kind, language that I can learn and use to communicate with it.

Language my miniature spider likely cannot reproduce.

It seems my spider motion has earned the creature’s attention. It finishes chewing its most recent bite before it speaks. Only, my spider has no auditory sensors, nor emitters. I cannot listen to its speech, only lipread; I cannot respond to it. Perhaps I can communicate yet? I make the spider look towards my hull. It’s a good three day’s journey for this tiny spider, assuming no power problems arise; at the pace this creature was walking, it’s only one. If it runs, it’s probably just a matter of hours. If it flies- if it CAN fly- that may be even faster. I look back towards the creature.

It looked towards my hull as well, and is smiling, saying something more I cannot understand.

10.41 minutes later, my spider is riding atop its pack when I ready myself for Low Level Alert. I order my active systems to divert to standby when I still have enough power left for a full hour of activity, rather than when I run down to 0.01% in my Final Emergency Reserves. Once that’s done, I adjust the alert conditions; I wish to be able to respond intelligently if/when the creature gives me its attention once again. I estimate power for a full 3.37 hours of activity remains before I delegate myself to Low Level Alert once again.

Author's Note

... Yes, it originally published as "Chapter 11"... I corrected this- moving it to the correct place in the story- as quickly as I could. It's properly Chapter 3 of my rewrite.

Chapter 4: Inside

She glances back at the spider riding on the carry strap for her saddlebags a few times as she walks. After being inert for so long- even after Sunset reportedly turned it on- this motion it made is unexpected. It had seemed almost like a living being, for a time. Every motion it made had been calculated, though- there had been no body language for her to read. Even now, it has gone inert again, clinging to that strap.

Though, every time she thinks about it, she remembers that one little motion she had recognized. It had looked in this direction. She hadn’t comprehended any words, emotions, or feelings in that- but its message was clear to her. It wanted to go that way.

It wanted to go in the direction of the hill the Cutie Map had sent her to- the direction she’s supposed to bring it.

Before, she hadn’t understood the Cutie Map’s instructions. It had taken Rarity, Rainbow, and Applejack some time to reason it out, and Rainbow crossed the mirror with the message. Apparently, Rainbow had run into herself- but had made it back okay. Twilight had- two Twilights, she hears- had responded to the message. One of them had given Rainbow this box, with the spider in it. She’d tried to coax it to respond several times on the journey; each time, it treated her efforts with disdain, refusing to respond at all.

Now, she hasn’t a clue why it suddenly woke up on its own- but it did and, presumably without knowing the Cutie Map wanted it to come this way, it already understood the mission. Before it had gone immobile on her back again, it managed to deliver the idea that it would wake up again whenever she needed it to.

She doesn’t get the idea that it understood a word she was saying.

A rumble suddenly starts in the ground. What’s going on? She looks left and right, her breathing intensifying. What’s… Oh. It’s the monster Pinkie had warned her about, in this part of Equestria. The one Pinkie said her stare wouldn’t work on.

Two of them. She’d met two earlier, before the spider woke up; it had taken most of her strength to knock one down, then she had fled the other.

No, three. The sand in front of her is heaving as well- a fourth. Either she runs now, or she dies. She closes her eyes tight for a second, praying the metal spider on her back has a strong grip, and opens her eyes again, spreading her wings as she starts forwards.

She immediately feels it wake up. She feels its grip shift, feels it crouch closer. It’s ready.

She strokes her wings downwards, leaping into the air, and propels herself forwards as fast as she can.

She’s just in time. The fourth monster- ‘stonewolves’, Pinkie had called them- only barely misses her. Rather fortunately, she’s faster than they- and they hadn’t expected her to take off. She folds her ears against their howling and flies on, racing for her destination. She can’t keep this speed up for long- but she should be able to reach that distant hill before she has to stop. So, she sets her course directly towards it.

My alert circuits wake me up, bringing me to Normal Alert Readiness. Immediately, I observe the passing of only 37.18 minutes; I still have 2.93 hours of full activity remaining. I turn my attention to my spider, there to ascertain the reason for my awakening.

Here, it is readily apparent. The creature is spreading its wings; as I order my spider to move forwards and catch a grip on its fur, not just its pack’s strap, I swivel the optical head around. It would seem it’s being surrounded by a pack of wolves… made of stone. Interesting. I watch as, once the spider braces itself appropriately, the creature makes a downstroke- and those wings are definitely providing way too much lift for their size. I watch what appears to be a fairly close escape, before the creature directs itself towards my hull. My nanites are almost done manufacturing the parts for a full-size spider; I order them to, as soon as they finish, set to work restoring function to one of my personnel hatches, the one closest to my exposed plating. If it finds my cave, I may be able to clear enough debris- likely only after sliding my mini-spider in to assemble my full-size one- to let it in, to protect it against these stone wolves. My armor, even as deteriorated as it is, should resist the attack of a creature made of stone.

The creature has traveled a quarter of the distance to my hull, in 13.93 minutes, when I realize something. Those stone wolves had emerged from the rock- and that personnel hatch will leave it exposed to plenty of stone. If those wolves can “swim” through rock, that space will not be safe. I settle for preparing that hatch to be forced open and work on getting the next one in to operability… Wait one, that space has been breached as well, though in only one location. I do not know how much space these wolves might require to get in; I prepare this door to be forced as well, and start work on the door through my innermost- and still intact- layer of armor.

The door to my disintegrated Command Deck.

I order a section of my nanites to verify the security of my geothermal generators. I do not wish to risk their destruction- not when it has taken so long to build them in the first place. This takes an even higher priority than the protection of this creature; without those generators, I will be reduced to moments of solar once again, and it may be many thousands of solar days before I could get power running again. I resolve to, regardless of whether or not the generators are destroyed, assemble my full-size spider; this will take roughly 1.3 times the power as the assembly of the miniature spider took, though this spider is far more capable- and durable. The full-size spider, close to a foot across, should be able to stand its own against one of those stone wolves, thanks in part to its plasmacutters and its much sturdier duralloy construction.

Good news- my geothermal generators are secure. The area has not been breached, though it is up to 97.31% penetration in some areas. I order some nanites to work on evening the alloy, to strengthen these weak points, while the rest return to work on the doors. My power is secure, I can work on offering security to the creature.

She races through the sky. She’s coming up on the hill- and descends to swoop over it. Those stonewolves are still after her; Pinkie had warned them that, unless she got out of sight of bare stone, they could still see her, no matter how far away she got. She glances back towards them; it should take them a few hours to get this far. Last time, she’d been able to hide up a tree; this time, there is nothing but stone to hide behind.

From her comparatively high altitude, she searches for signs of civilization. Nothing. The spider on her back shifts- she gets the distinctive feeling it’s trying to say, here. She circles down, following its guidance- and finally lands near a cave mouth. It scrambles off her back, descending to the ground and scuttling into the cave. She follows it.

I do not know exactly how the creature understood the directive motions I sent to the spider quite so clearly; regardless, it has landed hardly 1.31 meters from the entrance to the cave my signal is the strongest in. I pray internally it is the cave my exposed plating is in as I crawl the spider off the creature’s back and run it to the cave entrance. A quick search- and yes, I see the dull glint of duralloy. I’ve found myself. The creature follows my miniature spider in, seeming worried. She’s eyeing every stone face around; I suspect this means these stone wolves can swim through stone. I order my spider to dig into the wall again, at the very spot it emerged from before; turns out the stone is softer here, thanks to my previous passage. A glance back shows the creature looking worried as I dig through it. It takes me only 10.31 minutes to penetrate the stone, and I run the spider quickly down to where the parts for my new spider are- and begin assembly.

2.37 hours pass before my regular tech spider, miniature one riding on top, forces that personnel hatch open and cuts into the rock outside. It takes me only 18.31 minutes to penetrate the rock, carving a tunnel this creature should fit through.

The final layers of stone crumble away from my new tunnel, earning me a scream. I can hear it with my regular spider; I can even respond to it. I show her the mini one, riding on top- and a sudden basso growl is heard by the entrance. One of my regular spider’s optical heads swivels to look; one of the stone wolves is standing in the entrance, and at least one more is visible.

I hear the creature say something, but cannot understand what it is. So, I motion- with both spiders- for it to follow. I also call out “This way!” in Concordiat Standard, through the bigger spider; this might gain the creature’s attention.

… Interesting. The creature has shown understanding of my message even before its head turned to face, like it understood my words. I have moved my spiders back rapidly through the tunnel; the creature crawled through after them, dropping into the interior room behind the door. I lead it down my passages, past cave-ins- confirmed, the stone here is now heaving as well. Second layer entry door forced open, I lead the creature in. The creature seems to notice the reduction in cave-ins- and I immediately spot the stone obstructing the only breach of this layer of armor. It’s already heaving. I lead the creature to the final door, which grinds its way open, and instruct it to head through the door. I tell it I will be right behind it; my miniature spider drops off of my full-size at this point and scuttles in. I estimate a 73.49% chance my full-size spider will be destroyed but, if it complies with my request, a 12.93% chance the creature will be injured. Most of that second chance comes from the absence of floor on my Command Deck; if the creature is too curious, or careless, it may fall off the edge and get hurt on the electronics below. These stone wolves stand a 0.73% chance of reaching the creature.

It obeys. It’s only halfway through the door when the wolf bursts from the rock face. The creature turns back, staring, as my spider interrupts the wolf’s approach. I repeat my request- and, when a second wolf bursts from the rock, the creature finally complies, aborting its rescue attempt and sliding completely through the door in time for me to close it. My full-size spider is destroyed in combat- but my miniature one remains intact, on my Command Deck. I start my nanites on producing more parts for another spider; estimated completion… 18.93 hours, for power requirement. I set up a small light for the creature, manufacture the parts, and divert to Low Level Alert.

She shudders on the floor. She’d been trapped in that cave- she’d known it wasn’t safe. The spider had disappeared into the cave wall- and found a larger version of itself. A larger version that, along with it, called her to follow- through the tunnel it had just carved. She’d followed, as a possible escape route. She’d prayed it lead to another cave, from which she could escape. It hadn’t- but she’d seen metal. Ancient metal, that looked like it might once have been similar to that which the spiders are made of. Were made of. It had broken open in several places- and the stonewolves had immediately started onto breaking in through that. The spiders had refused to give up, though- and brought her to a door that the bigger one forced open. It had lead her in- and a glance to the side, in the light shining from its eyes, revealed a single break- with the stone heaving its way in. The wolves were going to get in there too.

And they had. The spiders had sent her through another door. The little one had hopped off to run through itself, while the bigger announced it would be right behind her. She’d gone partway in, stopped at the blackness, and turned around to make sure it was coming.

Only, the wolves had broken through at that moment. One burst out- and that bigger spider leaped into its path, grabbing onto it. It had used some really bright thing on one of its legs on the wolf- and she’d been about to come to its rescue when a second wolf emerged. She had then found it a lost cause; the stone was still heaving for the third wolf. So, with a tear, she had stepped backwards, into the darkness on this side of the door- which had closed.

She had strained her ears since the moment the door had closed, but she can’t hear any moving stone. Perhaps they’ve found a room still clear of the rock. She’d shuddered in place, staying as silent as possible, thinking about how she’d gotten here. Praying she could somehow escape, bring the spiders with her.

Now, she blinks. Now that her eyes have adjusted, she realizes it isn’t completely dark in this room. She doesn’t see any rock- but she does realize just how small of a ledge she’s resting on. When she looks around the sides of the room, she sees what looks like other broken parts, like this great hole isn’t supposed to be here. Like her ledge is supposed to be part of a now-collapsed floor. So, of course, she looks down.

There! There’s a giant ball of something- metal, perhaps?- down there. Much of it looks to have disintegrated with time- though a patch of it is very solid, with tiny white streaks flickering across its surface. These flickers are glowing, ever so faintly- and producing the light by which she can see.

Then, suddenly, a light comes on near her. She glances up- it’s a tiny light, in the corner of the ceiling, above the door. It casts a gentle and dim white light over everything- about what she’s feeling like. A quick search of the room reveals no exposed rock- and that little tiny spider crawling away from the light. It stops to curl up on one of the other ledges- and she gets the distinct impression it means to give her another, wordless message- perhaps the little one is mute? I need to rest right now, yell if you need something. Only, she’s pretty sure it doesn’t mean ‘yell’ so much as ‘cover the light briefly’. Perhaps it’s deaf as well? That would be nothing short of tragic! … Though she’s neither a vet, like Dr. Fauna, nor an engineer like Dr. Hooves. She can’t help it.

So, she removes her saddlebags, placing them on the ledge next to her. She’s glad they’d fit through that tunnel with her- it contains all her supplies. Food enough for a few days, the light-enchanted gem Pinkie had insisted she’d need, the fireworks… Fireworks? She doesn’t remember packing any of those. She lays them on the ledge next to her, and continues digging through her supplies.

Ah, yes, her medicine. She’ll be needing that, whenever the morning comes- and she’s got a week’s worth of it to boot. Then, the book. The book Twilight had come through the portal in time to insist she take with her. The… She facehooves. The gemstone enchanted with lightning magic. Lightning is utterly useless against Stonewolves. It’s not like- Wait.

She looks over at the ledge the little spider is resting on, and back down to the gemstone. Hadn’t Twilight said something about it running on ‘electricity’- and, when she failed to be understood, rephrased that to say it ran on lightning?

She looks up at the light above her head, and reaches a hoof up to cover it momentarily. As she pulls her hoof away, she sees the little spider stand and turn towards her- and she offers it the gemstone. It shifts slightly, delivering a clear message of confusion. So, she reaches a hoof forwards and taps the gemstone very, very lightly. A tiny tendril of lightning emerges from the far side, reaching only a couple inches before it disappears once again. She offers it once again- and this time, the little spider comes running over. It reaches the ledge she’s on, pausing in front of her. She offers the gem again. She’s tempted to tap it again, but refrains. It gently takes the gem, makes a motion that makes her blush, and scurries away, running down the wall towards one of the weird ropes hanging around the space below.

As she rises to watch it, she notices, in the corner of her eye, her cutie mark flash twice. Friendship problem solved… Okay, whatever. The spider stops next to one of the ropes, holds the gemstone near it, and gives it a good tap.

Only, she sees, this tap is enough to trigger the spell in earnest. The spell spends itself into a sharp lightning bolt, shooting out of the gem and into that hanging rope… where it disappears. Initially, she worries that it’s wasted it- but then, it strikes the gemstone again, for no effect. The spell is spent. The spider returns the gem to her, making another motion that makes her blush, before disappearing down into the room below. There’s too many ropes and too little space for her to feel comfortable following, so she resolves to just wait. Whatever it’s doing, she probably can’t follow.

The light flashes on my miniaturized spider’s optical pickup; this triggers an alert sequence to wake me up. I have power for roughly 4.93 minutes of activity before I must revert to Low Level Alert; during these minutes, I will attempt to determine the nature of the creature’s issue. A quick optical check shows no immediate threats; I then shift the spider, as if to prompt it for the question… Her, I realize. Probably.

Her answer is to offer my spider a gemstone. I do not see anything special about it, so I shift the spider in what I hope is an indication of confusion.

At this, she touches the gemstone with her other hoof and offers it again. I am witness to a very small electrical surge from the gemstone; that tiny discharge, by my estimate, would run my spider for weeks- if it had the power cells to store that. I run my spider up to the platform she is on, but pause in front of her.

She offers it again- and I take it, gently. After what I hope looks like a bow, I bring it down to one of the main power feeds up from the (decayed) fusion plants on the lower deck. Here, I strike the stone, hoping this is the trigger for the lightning reaction.

Success! I absorb the bolt it generates in its entirety. … Total charge levels now offer me 5.31 hours of activity, but are well below half of available storage. I strike the gemstone again, but to no effect. Seems that was all it had to offer. So, I return the gemstone- and, after what I hope looks like deeply felt thankfulness, run my spider down to the bottom of my Personality Center Deck, where the parts for my new full-size spider reside, to begin assembly.

While it assembles, I spend 0.937 seconds in contemplation. I divert my nanites from working on my processors; enough of those are working for now. Rather, they travel down a deck and start working on new parts for my fusion plants. It will take 2.03 days for the geothermal power plants to produce enough power to attempt ignition, in addition to repair time; however, once I perform ignition, I will no longer have to worry about my power supply. The water table I pierced with the geothermal tap should provide plenty of hydrogen for fuel, just like it is providing plentiful steam for my geothermal power plants. I set the programs running and revert to Low Level Alert, to conserve what power I can; I set it to reawaken me as soon as the regular tech spider is completed.

Author's Note

Yes, the Stonewolves are (somewhat) original. They're a desert version of Timberwolves, capable of phasing through solid rock and recomposing themselves out the other end. How to defeat them? Explosives, when they're not touching other rock. Magic works too, but it takes somepony of Twilight's skill & power. They're pretty tough customers... For Equestrians, at least. Hellbores make quick work of 'em, just like anything else they point at.

Chapter 5: Grenades

She spends a few days, it would seem, in this room. The bigger spider had shown up again, from underneath. It took to speaking for the little one; it even mentioned the door once, saying the stone beast was still outside. It still couldn’t seem to understand her words, but she could understand every word it said. It had headed down again for an hour, roughly a day after it had shown up, then had simply sat on its ledge, ‘resting up’. As with the little one, it had requested she say something if she need anything. It seems they need to sleep a lot.

She’s also running out of food. She’s got only one meal left. Her medicine is a different story- she’s still got a few days’ worth of that. Though, if this new ache in her head means anything, it needs updating. She hopes it’s just a headache.

Then, suddenly, she hears a deep roar from down the hole. At the same time, a sharp glare flies up from underneath, outshining the little light the spiders had provided for her. She yelps as she leaps to her hooves, looking down at the yellow glow. The glow like a bonfire, with that odd roar to accompany it. The roar… That’s fading? At first, she’d been afraid a Stonewolf had broken in- but its roar wouldn’t draw on and on, simply fading in volume. The light also fades, stabilizing- and she feels a sudden hot breeze from below.

Oh no. Please don’t tell me this thing’s on a volcano.

Finally, the roar disappears completely, and the light seems to hold steady. The spider jumps up, turning to face her, and speaks.

“Fusion One online,” it states, confusing her utterly. “I shouldn’t need to sleep anymore.”

She looks down, and back up at it again. “What?”

“That’s my power plant,” it says. “Completely safe.”

Fusion One ignites without issue, albeit in a nonstandard manner. Normal procedure is to power the containment field first, start the fusers, feed in the fuel, and wait for stability before linking it to the power grid. Unfortunately, I had not time to do it in that order. So, I started with it already linked. I fed the fuel as I started the fusers; I used an extremely low flow rate on the fuel, though, as the containment field remained offline. Once ignition began, the open flame rapidly produced more power than was being used by the fusers; this power I directed into the containment field, starting it up. As the containment field came on and strengthened, I was able to increase the fuel flow- and reactor power level- up to a standard idle, where it rests now. Much more and it will outpace fuel production; the aquifer I punctured is not very large. Even as I inform the creature in my Command Deck of my situation, my nanites get to work in reproduction.

This fusion plant, at a low idle, is producing easily a hundred times as much as all for geothermal generators combined- and I cannot expect the aquifer to last forever, so I must store what I can. It takes only three minutes to top off all of my functional power cells; I have half of my nanites working on restoring more power cells, and the other half working reproduction, consuming my breached outer armor. New nanites are split evenly between the two tasks.

Eighteen minutes of this passes calmly; my Final Emergency Reserves are now 93.41% functional and charged.

Now, however, I have run out of required materials for the repairs, beyond the rest of my Final Emergency Reserves and 3.71% of my Emergency Reserves; I devote all excess nanites to resource scavenging. I have exhausted much of the minerals in the surrounding soil…

This reminds me. Atmospheric exhaustion on my command deck will soon be a problem. My spider reports what my unrepaired internal audio pickups cannot- an increased baseline breathing rate. I immediately begin evaluating my options.

If I do nothing, I expect the atmosphere will be poisonous within 9.31 hours.

If I refresh the atmosphere, I expect I can maintain breathability for 2.28 days; I lack the facilities for atmospheric retrieval, and must settle for that which I can find in dissolved/’fixed’ form in the soil.

Unfortunately, any exhaustion of atmospheric quality is unacceptable. Additionally, I detect only one foil-wrapped meal left in the creature’s packs. I can manufacture food, even in my current state; however, I expect to be able to provide food for only 1.31 days- and water is already scarce enough, even without my reactor burning it all. I am not able to discover a suitable remedy for this situation; the flask the creature brought along appears to be empty now. I find the only way to allow her survival is to ensure a safe exit back into the environment, where she can (presumably) locate food and water on her own.

Only, those stonewolves seem to be waiting behind that command deck door…. Wait. I order my spider to test the air with its chemical sniffers again. Yes, that is potassium nitrate, sulfur, and what looks like charcoal… Gunpowder. Solution! It would seem the creature has brought explosives of some sort- a little bit of reshaping and perhaps reconstructing on those should make them plenty powerful enough to blow the wolves to pieces! Though, I hesitate to use materials that have not been offered to me. I resolve to ask.

Hmm… It would seem she doesn’t know what explosives are… and is unfamiliar with the term ‘gunpowder’. However, it seems she catches onto my meaning- she starts looking through her pack. She lays out a few things, as if offering them- a book, the used foil wrappers, all wadded up, the case my mini-spider was held in… She pauses suddenly, looking to the side, and lifts something off the plating next to her, outside my spider’s view range, placing them with the rest, as another offer.

Fireworks.

Six of them, to be specific. I have some nanites slip inside to analyze their chemistry and construction; I also slide a couple nanites into the spent foil, for identification purposes. Depending… Wow. Pure aluminum there, if I leave out the food residue. Yes, that will be useful- partly as part of my repair operations, but I can also use it to help shape the charges, if need be.

Who built these fireworks? The propellant stage will last for hardly 0.04 seconds, propelling it no further than 9 feet, before the main charges start going off- and they’re a lot bigger and more powerful than any firework main charges have a right to be! Whatever- they’re already decent explosives, it’ll only take some small adjustments to make them a fare-thee-well for the wolves.

Interesting that I find extra nickel nuggets embedded in the tip of each firework… This will be useful in my repairs, but would serve no use for the firework- and very little use in a non-frag explosive.

Only 9.31 seconds after the fireworks were offered, I start my spider on its way to reassemble them as warheads. The native watches it work; I adjust the work pattern to allow her to see what it is doing. This will extend re-assembly time by almost 6.93 seconds; however, it does not matter if it takes one minute or twenty to perform this task, so I continue on my task.

73.91 seconds pass. The final warhead is about 3.91 seconds from completion, and I just realized something.

My internal programming has automatically registered her as my Commander. Why, I do not know; I do not even know when. I could search the logs to find out, but it does not matter. Thus, I realize I am preparing to send my Commander out into known enemy territory, unarmed and unarmored. In addition, she will have no way to contact me- and I will have no way to find her once I return to functionality. In fact, I will have no way to even verify her continued survival- and with no data on her probable lifespan, I cannot meaningfully estimate at what point I would consider a missing commander deceased!

I spend almost 0.71 seconds tackling this problem before I come up with a solution. The nuggets I have removed from the new warheads have turned out not to be pure; the outer layer is nickel, but the inside is not. The assortment of metals present can, with reassembly, be converted into a long-range commset. This takes only 2.91 minutes, and much of that is nanite work.

Finally, I have assembled six midsize grenades and a specialized commset.

I turn my spider towards her. Time to break it to her… But how? I spend 0.37 seconds in consideration.

“Here,” I begin, lifting the commset to offer it to her. “This is for you.”

She blushes gently, but accepts the set. It’s a specially-designed two-piece wearable commset. One piece will clip on around one ear; it should not interfere with her normal hearing, nor the motion of that same ear. The other piece is a bracelet, to be worn on one foreleg or the other; I have designed it to fit on either. They are colored to match her fur, and should match fairly well; I have designed them to look like jewelry. She puts it on as soon as I explain where each piece goes. I have chosen not to explain the device’s function just yet; I am uncomfortable with this decision, but find it to be the best one right now. Best not to taint the gift with such information just yet; it seems she likes it as is.

I then make my next question, when she finishes. “You have a home?”

I watch a myriad of expressions blaze across her face and through her eyes in a second or less. She has a home, yes- and she worries about it as well. Then, she nods, saying something more. Like her previous orations, I record it. I do not have enough samples for any real lingual analysis yet, and cannot understand a single word, but this is another step on that road.

“Ahh,” I make my spider ‘nod’. “You should probably go.”

For this, I get a single word, a tilted head, and an inquisitive look.

“The air in here is fast growing stale, and I have no food or water to offer. You probably have all three in or near your home, which is probably also safe.”

I spoke fast. She blinks slowly, once or twice, before finally responding. I get a couple of words this time, alongside some worried body language- and a hoof offered to my spider.

“I will be fine here,” I answer her, guessing at her question. “I do not need air, food, nor water; my armor will protect me from harm, as it has you these last couple days.”

She makes an argument I cannot understand.

“I must apologize, I don’t know your language. I cannot venture far from here; it is fortunate I have all I need for a long time.” I do not mention I expect the aquifer to run low- forcing me to shut down my fusion plant- in only 2.31 days.

It looks like she wants to argue further, but she seems to have accepted my statement. She looks at the door before turning back to my spider to ask a question.

I have the spider grab one of the grenades and take station in front of the door. I snap the door wide- the slides have been fully reworked- and have the spider lob the primed weapon through it, such that it should end up between two stonewolves. The door then snaps shut again- and the blast can be heard rather loudly. I allow it a couple seconds to vent safely out the still-wide-open doors to outside before sliding the door open again to review the carnage.

Chapter 6: Alone

It would seem these stonewolves are not explosive-resistant. The pressure release when I opened the door was slightly greater than expected, though still not enough to cause any damage or to knock my Commander off the edge. However, all that is left of these wolves is tiny fragments. “Clear,” I mutter, and trot my spider out, carrying the grenades. It takes her a few seconds to gather up her stuff once again, before she follows. Her face shows a look of shock; I suspect she is not used to such weapons. I pray this means hers is a peaceful civilization, without the hazards of war. I can do little to aid her in such very far from my hull, in current state. I estimate it will be many years before I can restore myself to acceptable combat effectiveness, assuming mineral densities are steady throughout this region.

I lead her off my Command Deck, routing back out. I encounter no additional enemies along the way; I lead her out to the end of the cave, where she takes a deep breath in the light breeze. She smiles gently as she does so, and says something to me.

I offer her the grenades- and she accepts them, even before I speak. “Just in case,” I mutter, as I order my spider to an approximation of a bow.

Exactly as expected, she blushes and seems to fumble over her next couple words, but she stows the grenades in her pack anyways. I have engineered them not to go off accidentally, when carried other goods such as those still filling her pack; thus, there is little to no danger in carrying them there. I do hope she handles them safely once she removes them from the pack, though.

Finally, she departs on her journey. I watch her go for almost ten minutes before running the spider back in to rest on my Command Deck once again, while my nanites travel about, hunting for resources in greater and greater numbers. I also begin the assembly of a wide network of duralloy cables reaching through the terrain, expanding the reach of my nanites. Before I can move again, I will have to either sever or dissolve these cables.

She spends most of her moderately short journey in a glide. It helps that the wind is traveling back towards Equestria proper; she’s a little thirsty to be driving too much energy into her wings.

Ahah! There’s the edge of that field! She angles herself down, landing gently on the grass. There’s a stream not far from here, she knows. She…

She pauses, looking to the side. At the spot she’d been eating her daisy sandwich when that little spider had awoken. She looks back towards the desert, blinking a tear out of her eyes and touching the jewelry it had given her before she resumes her journey.

“I’ll be back.”

She watches as the train pulls in, and Fluttershy steps off of it. Of course, the other five are also here; they’d heard, by unicorn message, that she would be here today.

“Welcome back!” the pink one greets Fluttershy, bouncing in the yellow mare’s face.

She smiles lightly at the display, watching the five greet the one. Then…

What’s that glint on Fluttershy’s ear? She’s too far away to see it clearly- and magical visual enhancements tend to be a lot less stealthy than magical auditory enhancements. Ah- but she’s not the only one to have noticed it. It would seem Rarity has also noticed it.

“Ooh, did you get a new accessory?” The white unicorn asks.

Her response begins with a gentle blush. The yellow pegasus might be more open with her friends, but she’s still shy- and it would seem this memory is not one of her favorites. “Um, yes. The… It gave it to me.”

It? Fortunately, she doesn’t have to consider long- the pegasus must be referring to that spider thing from ancient history, the ‘Spider of Metal’. She’d found out about the mission shortly after the mare had left on it.

She checks her disguise, making sure anypony looking in her direction will think her attention is on the pages in her hooves. Most ponies don’t realize that, while visual magnification spells produce large regions of optical distortion for anypony else to see, making a one-way newspaper is easy. As a matter of fact, she’s sure even Twilight doesn’t know that- the mare has shown a propensity towards brute force. Or friendship force, but she’s not so sure that’s any different.

The distant homecoming greeting eventually comes to a close, and the six mares walk past her position, close enough for her to get a clear look at Fluttershy’s new jewelry. Unfortunately, that’s all it appears to be- though, perhaps fortunately, she’s already prepared for inconspicuous use of magic. Her horn is already aglow, holding her newspaper aloft without the need for her hooves. The glow does not change at all as she appends another spell- a light sensing spell… Yep.

She can’t quite place it, but there’s definitely more to that jewelry than meets the eye. Perhaps… Yes. There must have been something out there- she does notice, distinctively, that the Spider of Metal had not returned with her. Had it already been sent to Canterlot…? Or had it stayed out in that desert? She folds the newspaper, drops her transparency spell, and leaves the station herself.

My new cables are very light; I expect to be able to expand my network many hundreds of miles. Precise figures are not available at this time, as the distance will vary with the terrain- and directional priorities. In any case, I am disintegrating much of my outer two layers of armor- reducing it to just twenty-five centimeters per layer- to assemble this network. I am also closing my hull breaches and disposing of the material that managed to enter through them.

From the moment I begin construction of this network, the maximum reach of my nanites expands. I discover fresh resources in these regions; the soil is still poor in resources, but I am a Unit of the Line. By re-allocating my available resources, I expect to restore all track systems to full operability before I have expanded this network further than 218 meters. I expect this will take……

My system clock appears to have developed a fault.

Chapter 7: Packing

Finally, she gets back to her little shack on the outskirts of town. It’s a quaint, unassuming little building. Most ponies would assume it is what it looks like: A cheap little three-room building, containing little more than a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. However, only one pony in Equestria knows it has a basement. Not a very big basement, unfortunately- but it still has one. Once she closes and locks the main door, it takes a light but very finicky spell to reveal and open the door in the floorboards.

She trots downstairs, closes the door, and lights up her horn. A quick scan of the room reveals nothing of interest- only a few cardboard boxes, a wooden dresser, and a desk. She sets to work drawing things out of the drawers and boxes.

She also removes her saddlebags, placing them on the ground so she can select what to pack.

She starts with the map she’d built of Fluttershy’s most recent mission. It’ll be pretty important to bring- and she makes sure to update it with the final leg of the pegasus’ journey before she packs it in.

Next, she pulls it right back out again, spreading it out on the desk to review the terrain. The train ride will present no particular challenge, the forest will be fairly safe. The desert… Pinkie had mentioned some kind of monster out there that Fluttershy’s stare wouldn’t work on.

Which reminds her- Pinkie had come to her for her manufacturing skill. Pinkie had wanted fireworks… From a pony on the opposite side of town as the one that’s good at making the things. She had tried to refer Pinkie to said other pony; any fireworks she makes are more likely to be dangerous than not. The party pony had then surprised her by declaring that as exactly what she was looking for. So, with some words of caution, she had manufactured some “fireworks”. As Pinkie had taken the bag of what amounted to firework-disguised short-fused RPGs, she had mentioned something about it not mattering how dangerous they are to use, so long as they have all the right ingredients. That had confused her to no end; a pile of ingredients might be stable in one configuration… Or highly volatile in another. She doesn’t know what Pinkie did with them- but she has a sudden suspicion.

She’ll make some fairly hefty explosives to drag along on her journey. No firework disguises- she’s a licensed explosive handler, though nopony knows. That piece of paper will get undisguised explosives past any random customs checks- and as long as she doesn’t pull them out, only the guards that perform those checks will ever know. She hopes she won’t need them- but, the way she sees it, better safe than sorry. Especially out in the Undiscovered West.

What else will she need? She tries thinking back to what Fluttershy had brought. Food & water, “fireworks”, enchanted gems… No, she won’t be needing any of those; as a unicorn, she can cast the spell directly, pulling from her own virtually limitless supply of mana, rather than the limited quantity even the finest gemstone can store. Then again… She decides to bring two gemstones anyways, neither enchanted. One never knows when such tools might be useful, even for a unicorn. She pulls two fine rubies out of one of the boxes, adding them to her pack. Quite rare it is to find stones of such purity; most stones aren’t quite so perfect. She could never show them to Spike; flinging one of these into the upper atmosphere should be enough to distract every mature dragon for fifty miles around. Young dragons like Spike wouldn’t see it from so far away but, with their undeveloped brains, would go absolutely nuts for it, like a cat in a field of catnip.

While she inserts these, she recalls what Twilight had insisted Fluttershy bring: A book. A book. She’s fairly certain the purple alicorn had picked a random book off the shelf; Teaching Your Foal To Read isn’t one Fluttershy would be likely to need, let alone on a journey. Then… Why not bring something to read? Twilight’s choice may have been random, but hers won’t be. She slides open one of the desk drawers, removing the mysteriously preserved tome she’d discovered during her first- and most recent- foray into the Undiscovered West. She adds it to her saddlebag.

Now, all she has left to pack is her usual little purse, a decent supply of food and water, and those explosives she has yet to manufacture. The purse she inserts casually, after drawing it from another desk drawer, and before she starts pulling volatile ingredients from another box. Food and water will go in last, as the easiest to obtain.

Oh- and before she forgets, she folds the map back up, packing it once again. Fairly important, that.

Days have passed. She’s continued to pack her bags, bit by bit. Today is Friday. Normally, she’d bring her friend with her- except that said friend, as a true professional, would overshadow everything she does. She’d never get noticed, never be allowed to become one herself. Her skills would remain rather forcibly limited to the creation of too-powerful pyrotechnic devices. Just a little training- a little training- would fix that. A little study, at someplace like the earth pony institution she’d been too unicorn to get into, and her pyrotechnics could quit being too powerful. They could also be better shaped- and thence completely harmless to detonate in her mouth, so long as she pointed it the other way.

If she could get noticed by those professionals- in a good way… If they let her join their ranks. They’d provide training. Yes, some of it would be less desirable; other parts of it would be boring. She’s always been a strong thinker, quick to poke holes in her own plans. Unlike a certain professional she knows, the newspaper she’d used in her cover had been both right-side-up AND a current issue! Not that that had been any sort of difficult. She’d actually read the newspaper, set the page-turning on a timer to match her reading pace (with reset to the first page when she reached the end), and pre-charged- but not pre-activated- the transparency spell before the train had even arrived. When it did, she was still only halfway through the paper the first time- and the transparency spell had been flawless. The outer three inches or so of each page remained fully visible from both sides; as a matter of fact, only the side of each page that faced her at any given moment even showed any difference!

Double score, she’d purchased the paper just half an hour before the train showed, from the station newsstand. Beat that with an alchemical potion that must be poured on it beforehand- and has permanent effects! She could have handed her paper to Twilight when she was done, and nopony would be any the wiser.

Though, to be fair, many of those professionals are not unicorns, and only a unicorn can covertly fabricate such complicated tools on-scene like that. Especially ones that can be casually discarded like a used newspaper once their task is complete.

Before she goes to work today, she fabricates all her meals for the journey, packing them into her now full saddlebags, and inserts a decent supply of water. She’s since heard Fluttershy had crossed a desert of some sort on her way- good thing she’d brought water. She plans to be out all weekend, and possibly into Monday morning; hopefully, she can be back by then. She’ll be jumping on the train about an hour after she closes up shop today- an overnight train to the station Fluttershy had used as her railway access point.

She checks the clock once again and heads out to find her friend’s shop. The aforementioned friend is away doing some of the stuff she wishes she could be doing- and, by her last letter, expects to be back Tuesday sometime. Until then, she’s taking care of the shop. Not that she knows how to run the entire thing- she expects much of the stock to enter ‘Sold Out’ status today, there to remain until the owner returns.

Oh- that’s another reason she won’t be bringing her friend with her on her adventure: She’s busy, doing that stuff.

The shop day goes about as well as she expected. Pinkie Pie had stopped by to ask when her friend was coming back; apparently, a party is expected Tuesday night, and they’re both invited. She had shrugged, informing Pinkie that her friend expected to get home sometime Tuesday, but with her line of work…

Pinkie had understood that, nodding calmly, if somewhat disappointedly. As the pink mare had turned to go, the Pinkie Sense had gone off- and three seconds later, she found the confused party pony leaning on the counter again, whispering a message into her ear.

“Don’t forget the library…?”

Quite a cryptic message- but that’s only usual, from the Pinkie Sense. As the mare had bounced out the door, her mind had turned it over a few times. Unfortunately, even now while she closes up for the weekend, she hasn’t figured out what it means.

She knows her friend is normally open over the weekends too; however, there isn’t enough stock left over- and her friend had specifically exempted the weekends from the friendly request. After all, it’s not like she has access to any of the secret ‘weekend special’ barrels in the basement. Seriously, that hidden door is a pushover to find, and the following puzzle lock is so easy to pick. Well, perhaps not for an earth pony, but for a unicorn, it’s almost easier than pushing a lever. Nevermind she’s good at opening standard unicorn-resistant key-based locks. She’s even opened the occasional unicorn-proof lock.

But her friend doesn’t know that, and she doesn’t plan on telling her just yet.

It’s also unimportant, except that it means she’s completely free all weekend, with nothing to do for those two long days- except that which nopony knows about. The train ticket costs her all of two bits and ten minutes worth of magic-based visual adjustment of herself. So far as the clerk- or anypony else- knows, it’s a dark brown earth pony stallion with black hair and a pretty typical hourglass cutie mark that just purchased that ticket, not her.

Author's Note

Has anypony a clue just how hard it is to write all these events without providing any concrete clues as to her identity? It's a nightmare!

... I'm really wondering how Aria's supercomputer did that to Twilight for a few hundred pages... (See Crashland: Equestria for context)

YES, Crashland goes the first several chapters without revealing the main character's identity. I could do that mostly because, unlike here, she's an OC. And I wasn't entirely certain who she was for a while myself. This one, I know who she is- and knew from the start. Makes it very difficult to conceal.

Chapter 8: Journey

The train ride had been just as easy as she expected. Nopony had interrupted her behind that locked door, so nopony knows she ever wasn’t a brown earth stallion; she’d disguised herself for her departure. Once she got far enough from the station, she had allowed her disguise to fall; while it may not be difficult to sustain, it isn’t exactly easy, either. Perhaps she should look for an easier spell- or color combination- sometime?

Anyways, the forest the station is in had been an easy trek. The fields on the other side were just as easy; the strip desert separating the two, though, had informed her what those unknown monsters looked like. She’d spent some effort trying to spell them into oblivion at first but, when that proved unproductive, settled for flinging one of her explosives at it. The monster had been reduced to gravel when it went off underneath.

She’s tempted to call them ‘stonewolves’; it’s not like they’re too much different from the timberwolves in the Everfree.

Now, she stands at the edge of the fields, looking out at the wasteland in front of her. Fluttershy had flown for much of this distance; if she trots, she can expect to reach her destination by nightfall. It’s a little disappointing she’ll have to turn back hardly twelve hours after she arrives; if she doesn’t, she risks missing the overnight train back home, leaving her friend’s shop closed longer than it should be.

With a shrug, she sets off. If any more of those wolflike things try to get the jump on her, she’s got some more explosives on hoof.

My diagnostics are long complete. As it turns out, because I never informed her of her status, my first visitor’s status as Commander was contingent upon her continued presence within my hull. Seems a little backwards. I have worked repairs to my system clock, including in software; a failure such as that should never happen again. I have spent much of the time since in Low-Level Alert, allowing a full maintenance routine to complete on all my personality files. This has also increased the total amount of nanite work I could accomplish before fusion exhaustion by almost 7.31%; my power plant was exhausted 1.39 days ago. My geothermal plants are operating at 93.37% efficiency, and climbing slowly back up to 100%. As such, I have been forced into an active/inactive cycle once again. My tracks are almost ready; I expect another 34.93 active hours will allow me to complete them, permitting me motion; this I expect to take about 837.41 real hours. Unfortunately, since I must scavenge so much further than before, I must use more power during my active hours than before.

Hmm… I divert to Low Level Alert; I have computed this will improve my overall time figures by close to 3.97 hours.

“Oh no! Please don’t be gone already!” Pink hooves thump on the wooden door.

The door responds exactly as a closed door normally might.

The pink mare thumps her hooves on the door a few more times. “Please! I misread that Pinkie Sense yesterday!”

Her response is a wooden silence.

“The message was don’t forget some more!” A couple more thumps. “Please…”

The door ignores her, but a second door, in the air next to her, swings open almost casually.

“I’m pretty sure there’s nopony home,” Pinkie’s new conversant comments.

“Ack!” She makes another wild dodge, galloping forwards and away from the stonewolf. A quick flick of her horn reduces both it and its companion to gravel with one of her explosives; she dodges to the side to avoid the brunt of the blast herself. Unfortunately, they take only a few seconds to knit themselves back together, much like a timberwolf might. Drat! Why won’t these just stay down? That one she’d crossed paths with earlier had died- and stayed dead- with one blow!

Unless… She flings her fourth-to-last explosive back, skittering across the ground. A quick glance back shows it passes its intended target right before it detonates. No matter- both wolves are blown to gravel again. She gallops on; they aren’t the only ones chasing her.

Those two don’t get back up.

So, if she blows them up, they don’t get back up? No problem! … Only, she’s only got three weapons left, and she’s beginning to tire out. More galloping. There! There’s the low hill Fluttershy had been destined for- and apparently stayed at for days! Hopefully, she can find safety on it somewhere. A pulse of her horn… There! In that cave, there’s a little tunnel connecting it to a big metal something. These wolves won’t be able to get through the little gap in the panels; however, if she can get close to that little tunnel, she will be close enough to teleport herself inside. So, she changes her course, galloping with all her strength. Good thing muscular strength and magical endurance are not the same thing.

She glances back. The wolves are gaining on her again- she’s not going to make it. She pulls out another explosive, primes it, and flings it back… Drat! The things dodged to the side- so none of them were killed permanently, and only one of them broke apart! They all did fall behind a little bit in the act, though- she’ll at least reach the cave. She pulls out her last two explosives, planning detonations- Wait!

While her gallop fails to be interrupted, she grunts irritably at the two explosive devices floating in front of her, one missing its fuse. Okay… If she puts them together, she’ll get a bigger blast. If she places that blast in the back of the cave and teleports herself out of its way before it goes off… Yes. Those wolves ought to be completely annihilated by the resulting cannon-like blast. She sticks the two together, sending them into the cave in front of her, and gallops in behind them.

Please let this work letthiswork letthiswork… There’s that side tunnel. She sticks the two explosives to the end of the straight cave. The wolves are right on her tail; she’ll have to snap the teleport as she passes the tunnel at a dead gallop, else suffer the same fate as the wolves. She is not letting them take her alive.

As if to prove her point, she primes the working explosive even as her horn charges for her teleport spell. She’ll be even with that side tunnel in three… Two… One-!

Of course they would. Another wolf hopped out of the side of the tunnel in front of her, leaping to strike. She panics, releasing her spell a little early- and, with a sharp pop of magic, she is no longer standing in the cave.

The spell took more of her energy than she expected- but, she survived. She screeches to a halt on a smooth metal surface as she lights her horn, searching about for the wolves… None. She’s alone here- and safe, hopefully. The effects of her long run and the powerful spell are starting to catch up to her; she knows that, once they do, she’ll be pretty nearly incapacitated- both physically and magically- for hours.

There! That’s the entrance she’d just teleported through! She spots something similar, this time firmly closed, on the opposite wall-

BOOM!

Even as I jump to High Alert, my alert system informs me of the heavy seismic event taking place just beyond the personnel hatch I’ve been using as an airway for my ongoing atmospheric refreshment project. I have not yet analyzed the seismic pattern, yet I order the hatch locked anyways. Now, I analyze the pattern.

This simple seismic event appears to be a demolition charge, in the approximate position of the base of the cave. I confirm that the door has landed shut fast enough to deflect much of the shockwave; I expect the surrounding stone to absorb enough of the impact to negate any damage against my thinned armor. I watch the seismic reports as the entire cave collapses; I am, once again, completely buried. I send spiders to check all interior spaces; I have resealed all of them since my pony visitor left, replacing missing walls, floors, and ceilings. I wish to be certain no such charges have been emplaced within my hull; the detected detonation is powerful enough to inflict damage. Not much- it would be considered negligible if I were not already incapacitated- but damage nonetheless.

Spaces come up clear, one after another, as I work from the inside out. Finally, I have only one space left to check: The space directly behind that personnel hatch, closest to the explosion. I send the spider in.

Chapter 9: Yes

There is a procedure for checking potentially breached interior spaces. With the spider at the ready, the first step is to unseal the door, but keep it closed; this allows air pressure to equalize, revealing hull breaches or internal detonations long before anything enters the danger zone. When I unseal the door into this space, I get an air return; as expected, pressure is higher than it had been before the blast; a difference of almost 431.49 pascals. As a matter of fact, this is within an acceptable margin of error for my estimation of the intensity and position of the blast front while the outside door was closing. I wait for the pressure to equalize fully; pressure changes suggest a constant gas quantity, indicating no hull breach has formed. However, analysis of these patterns suggest the space is approximately 0.097 cubic meters smaller than it should be.

I rerun my pressure estimates… If the space were already shrunk such when the blast occurred, it becomes a near-perfect match to my simulation; within 0.17 pascals. I spend 0.31 seconds attempting to guess the cause of the spatial reduction.

It could be a stonewolf. They’ve shown hostility towards my spiders when I sent them beyond my hull, but should not have fit through the then nearly-sealed doorway. Estimated average volume of a stonewolf, however, is 57.93% larger than the observed obstruction.

It could be a pile of gravel, dirt, or other debris. Volume of such could vary widely; however, chances of it getting in the door during the time since my most recent scan of the region without my noticing are nearly less than zero, especially if I constrain it to natural penetration.

It could be a pony, like my prior visit. I have applied the term superficially, for lack of a better fit. My previous visitor occupied roughly 0.093 cubic meters. Despite the impossibility of one fitting through the tiny slot of an opening, this is the most likely possibility I can come up with. This conclusion is reinforced when I consider that my previous visitor’s wings violated the laws of physics; if that is the norm, they might be able to violate the third dimension as well. That is, to fit through spaces they shouldn’t be able to.

Finally, pressure fully equalized, I crack the door slightly open to take a peek, passives-only. A faint golden glow is visible through this gap; through careful angle manipulation, I am able to discover the source of the light, right before it flickers and disappears completely.

Confirmed, it is a pony. This one is wearing no saddlebags- and I see no wings whatsoever. Rather, this one appears to have a single horn sticking out of its forehead. A horn that had been glowing, producing the observed glow, but has now stopped, paired with what appears to be muscular collapse. I hold position for a few seconds, listening to its vitals… Seems to me like it’s been running; I compute a 97.14% chance that, assuming this one could force itself to fit through gaps it shouldn’t have fit through, it just completed a long run- compared to what it’s used to, at least- and escaped into my hull. I find a lesser chance of 86.04% it also caused the explosion outside, possibly in an attempt to eliminate the stonewolves that have been camping the entrance.

I slide the door open, walking the spider in. The pony seems to hear the clicking of the metal legs on the bare decking, responding with a fear response; I wait until the door is closed once again before turning on a light on the spider, pointing it directly upwards. This results in a dim illumination all around, though the spider is not very visible.

“Hello,” I say, through the spider. It’s only polite to greet; my core programming has marked her as another Commander Candidate.

She collapses again, grunting something I do not understand before she passes out.

Her first coherent thought as she wakes up has something to do with her pillow having gone flat; her second relates to needing a new bed, for this one has become too hard. Her third draws her into full wakefulness, reminding her of where she is- and why she’s sleeping on a hard metal floor. Her muscles are aching from yesterday’s sprint. She probes out with her horn- but finds nowhere suitable for her to teleport to. Those explosives must have knocked out the entire cave- effectively trapping her here, in this underground… place.

But wait! The room isn’t dark anymore! It’s lit by these… pinpricks. Just two of them on the ceiling, one over each door, providing a dim light throughout the room between the two. Following her wakefulness, she remembers she’d heard something before she passed out yesterday. Something that had sounded very similar to the phonetics she’d found in that ancient tome, for one of the words… A greeting, it had been. She glances back towards her side, drawing it from her saddlebag-

Only, she’s not wearing her saddlebags. She twists this way and that, searching the room, but finds no bags, anywhere. Shoot! She knows teleportations that use up a unicorn’s available power have a tendency of leaving things behind- usually the unicorn themselves, though. Perhaps… She starts searching for smaller objects that might have survived.

Ahah! Her map! She picks it up, unfolding it quickly… Yes! Completely undamaged! She folds it again, glances at her back, and simply carries it as she resumes her search.

And there’s that ancient tome! As she lifts it to check for transit damage, she discovers both of her rubies underneath it, also undamaged.

Unfortunately, that’s all that seems to have survived. She’d spent all her explosives, and it seems all her food, water, and possibly most importantly, medicine got left behind… And destroyed in the blast. That’s not a good thing; food and water are easy enough, but only Twilight and Zecora know the formula for her medicine. She’d been warned not to miss a dose, as such could be life-threatening; unfortunately, she knows she’s about due for one now, but the phial she’d brought is nowhere to be seen.

Finally, her eyes lock onto the one thing in the room that hadn’t been here when she arrived- the one thing that hadn’t come in with her. The giant metal spider, about as wide as her foreleg is long, sitting in front of the door as if waiting. It doesn’t look much different from the Spider of Metal, she considers; as a matter of fact, it looks to be made out of the same material, just bigger and more complicated. Also, hopefully, more alive. She briefly considers disguising herself- but she hadn’t been disguised when she teleported in nor, presumably, when it walked in, so such an act would probably be rather pointless.

“Um, hello?” she asks.

My alert awakens me when she speaks, but I do not understand the words spoken. I add her words to my comparisons between verbal statements and the written language I have partly decoded from the book my previous visitor left behind; such comparison should allow me to understand verbal communication far faster than if I were only listening. I try greeting her again; my previous visitor showed clear understanding of Concordiat Standard, though she had not spoken it in return. She had spoken enough, in her own language, to demonstrate that Concordiat Standard should be within her vocal capabilities.

“Good morning,” my spider greets. My system clock informs me the sun should be appearing over the horizon in approximately 37.19 minutes, though I will not see it from my subterranean position.

She seems alarmed by my words, and looks back and forth between my spider and her book a few times. I notice it’s a different book than my previous visitor brought; this one looks older. As she puzzles between the two inanimate objects, I notice a buildup of what might be excitement. What is in that book?

Finally, she faces my spider directly, and makes a noise of uncertainty before, with an accent so heavy the word is almost incomprehensible, mutters her response. “Hy-lew?”

This response may be only a single word, and one so badly butchered it could have been from any of eighteen different languages, the closest match is Concordiat Standard. I suppose it is possible, on an incalculable chance, her book has something to do with the Concordiat.

I decide to test her understanding. “Hello and good morning,” I greet her again. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It seems her understanding is limited. It takes her almost 2.37 minutes to work her way through it and formulate her response. “Ee... feeb?”

This takes some processing to understand, though I’m not sure if I have it right or not. However, the results are rather conclusive- she knows a few words, probably learned from a book, and has little or no knowledge of what any given letter or combination of letters actually sounds like. Oh well- a relatively easy fix, if she is willing.

She has looked back at her still-closed book a couple more times, giving the impression of thinking deeply, while I considered. Now, she speaks up again. “Rue… mena?”

I spend almost 0.491 seconds analyzing this before drawing a blank. What is she trying to ask me? I resolve to propose a solution to the problem, though I fear she is unlikely to understand the offer- the first time I make it, at least. “I apologize, I am having difficulty understanding your pronunciation. Could you write the question down?”

She spends close to 4.91 minutes thinking on this before she seems to give up and opens the book. As she does this, the cover comes into clear view; it is not familiar, nor in Concordiat Standard. I do spot some Concordiat Standard characters and words on the pages she turns, but much of it seems to be in the native language. I wait patiently, if only by dropping to Low Level Alert and setting the alert systems to wake me back up next time she moves. Hey, it saves at least some power.

It takes her almost 9.37 minutes of paging and reading to find what she is looking for, then she lifts the book into the air- captured in a golden glow, identical to the one that just formed around the horn on her head- to show it to the spider. This must be related to how she got in.

With one hoof, she is pointing out a particular word. “Rue…”

Before she can mispronounce it again, I pronounce the word she’s pointing at. “Name?” I ask.

She looks at the word on the page. “Nnay… Mm?”

“Yes, name.”

“NayM… NayM… NaMe… Name… Name…” She repeats the word to herself, refining her pronunciation each time, until she gets it to sound somewhat like what I had said, before looking at my spider again. “Rue name?” She holds a hoof out, to indicate my spider.

I spend some time processing this. If ‘Mena’ became ‘Name’, perhaps ‘Rue’ will become ‘Your’? I compute a higher- but still very, very low- chance it’ll become ‘you’. So, she must be asking for my name. I decide to test this theory. “You’re asking for my name?” I ask.

It only takes her 4.39 seconds to process this, and nod.

So, I choose to answer… Only, I have a problem. “I must apologize, but it would seem my identity files have been corrupted,” I answer her. “As such, I know not what my name once was. How about your name?”

I awaken from 18.41 minutes of Low Level Alert to her scowl and bumbling response. “MMaff… Darr?” She issues the book another scowl.

We’re getting nowhere with this… I look towards the book. Idea! I pick a Concordiat Standard word on the page, sticking out the spider’s leg to indicate it. “What.” I shift the aim of the leg, to another word on the page. “Is.” A third word. “Your.” I put the leg down. “Name?”

She locates the three words on the page, practices each one individually, and finally chains them together to herself, nods gently… and plants a hoof in her own face. That has to have hurt, but she shows no sign of pain. She switches to her language, muttering to herself as she paces back and forth, like she’s trying to decide on something. Unbeknownst to her, I pick up her every word; given the context, I am fairly quickly- as in, 9.43 seconds- able to discern the general direction of her monologue.

She’s likely trying to decide one of two things: Whether or not to tell me her name, or what to call herself. Perhaps I can solve this problem for her?

“Commander,” I state.

She looks at me, confusion evident on her face, and glances towards the book again. “What?” she asks.

“Commander,” I state. “Your name? Commander?”

“Co...Mm… Aa… Nnn… Drrr…” She tilts her head. “What?”

I speak slowly, breaking it down by the syllable. “Commander.”

She recites the word to herself several more times, asking for clarification two or three more times. She has shown no understanding of what the word means. She most certainly does not know that, if she accepts the designation, she will be my official commander until such time as a new one is assigned… Or she can be confirmed dead. Such will occur regardless of any understanding of the underlying term.

Finally, she turns to my spider again, this time following the term with something other than ‘What’. “Commander… Name?” She points a hoof at herself.

I have the spider give a small nod.

“Name Commander…” She seems to consider for a second, reciting the word another couple times, and digs into the book again.

1.93 minutes are spent in Low Level Alert this time, before she draws my attention once again. “My? Name Commander?” she asks.

I repeat the nod.

She nods. “Yees.”

I cringe inside at the word; she used the long E sound, not the short. “Yes,” I correct, earning another round of recital and self-correction.

Chapter 10: Move

Almost a full hour has passed. We have used her book as a reference, to improve her pronunciation; her Concordiat Standard vocabulary, while incomplete, is sufficient for basic communication. We’ve reached the point where she is guessing the pronunciation of new words correctly, for the most part.

Now, of course, her stomach unexpectedly growls. While she glances down at it and chuckles sheepishly, I consider our options.

I am running on as little as 17.31 active minutes before I will be forced to divert to Low Level Alert to recharge. I have no resources available with which to build her a meal; however, she may have that problem already solved. Water is another possible problem; while I can draw from the aquifer below me, such will reduce my maximum geothermal power generation, extending my entrapment underneath the terrain by days or weeks- and, unless she can escape through a closed door and solid rock, her stay as well. I hope she has those problems already solved.

She’s speaking on the topic. “Sorry, I lost my food in…” She looks towards the exit door, firmly sealed against the rock. “That.”

Shoot. “I do not have any right now either,” I answer her. Contractions have proven too complex for her at the moment; for now, priority is communication, not language, so I have dropped them. While she hangs her head, I continue on. “What all was lost?”

She scowls at my news. “I lost my bags, food, water-!” She takes in a sudden breath, as if remembering something important, and struggles briefly to find a word. “My… Medicine!”

Medicine? Given the panic she’s working herself into, it would seem this medicine is very important to her. Hopefully, her form is compatible with my long-disintegrated medical facilities; if so, I should be able to slip some medical nanites into her system and begin alleviating whatever problem is requiring medicine. I order some of the nanites remaining inside my hull onto the task of medical nanite manufacture. I have no intention of losing her as soon as I have found her. I only produce a few medical nanites; delivering them is a fairly easy task, as I manufactured them just millimeters from one of her hooves. They immediately set to work in analyzing her body chemistry.

However, the food problem won’t be solved by that. It seems she’s got an idea for how to solve it; she looks back at that door. “Can I leave?” she asks.

“All the doors are under 18.7 to 93.4 meters of rock,” I answer her. “If you can move through that, yes.”

She shakes her head. “Only…” Her next two words are in her language, and sound like a name. “Only she can do that. Can we clear it off?”

“Stonewolves remain in large numbers nearby; I estimate 2.93 days before that can be solved, given power.”

She tilts her head slightly; I have used some words outside her vocabulary, including my coined term for the beasts. “Power?” she asks. “Like…” She struggles for the term, even scans through her book- it has an index- but fails to find it. She finally settles for a less verbal question. “Like this?” she asks, gesturing a hoof towards her horn. As she does so, her horn glows again- and I spot a spark of electricity jump from it, arcing lightly into the air. Just like when my first visitor tapped that gemstone.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

She yawns widely, trotting down the street from the train station. She’s headed to her shop; not only does she miss home, situated in the upper floors, but her dear friend is probably trying to sell some of her less popular candies. She chuckles to herself- and stops suddenly, facing the glass door into her shop. The shop, in a violation of her expectation, is closed. In an even greater violation of her expectation, that sign is still taped to the door. The sign she’d asked her friend to put up when she closed on Friday; the one she’d asked her to take down when she opened on Monday.

It’s Tuesday afternoon, and Bonbon’s Candies is still closed for the weekend.

It takes her a second to whip out her key and let herself in; less than fifteen more seconds allows her to search the entire building for her friend, save the secret rooms her friend doesn’t know exist. She hits the road again, and starts asking around. Unfortunately, nopony has noticed her at all.

Until she runs into one Pinkie Pie, who makes a declarative statement about her Pinkie Sense.

“Huh? You’re looking for Lyra? Me too! I haven’t been able to find her since Saturday!”

“... What?”

Pinkie nods. “Yep! She’s reeaaaally good at hide and seek right now!”

She lets out a sigh and sets off once again. She knows a few ponies that should be able to tell her whether Lyra had left town or not.

Of course, she’s not the only pony looking. One Twilight Sparkle catches up to her as she leaves the train station again.

“Hey, Bonbon!” Twilight calls, cantering to a stop in front of the earth pony mare. “You know where Lyra got to?”

“No- actually, I was about to ask you that.”

Twilight scowls at the ground. “I’ve tried scanning the town, but I can’t find her!”

At this, Bonbon’s eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”

The horned head snaps back up to make eye contact with the hornless one. “She was supposed to pick up her medicine by Monday morning at the latest,” she informs.

Another lightning bolt arcs from her horn to the metal cable the spider had indicated for her so long ago. According to the spiders (turns out there are multiple) and the walls (those can talk too), it’s been about a week since she arrived. Funny, she’s pretty sure her medicine’s effects doesn’t last that long, but she hasn’t felt any of the problems for which she was taking it in the first place coming back yet. When asked, the spiders simply state that her medicine is no longer needed. Too bad her own vocabulary in their language is so small they can’t get across anything much more complicated.

“That good?” She asks. She’s been using a lightning spell on that cable once or twice a day, whenever her own magical energy levels recover enough to produce another one. Lightning is one of the harder spells for a Unicorn to use, normally belonging to Pegasus magic.

“Yes,” the room answers. “Ten minutes and I can get us out of here.”

She nods. “How much food do we have?”

“Not much. I think we will reach ground with more in 5.93 hours. Do you want what we have now?”

It’s probably a good thing, when she thinks about it, that the spiders and walls are so willing to tone down their own vocabulary to match hers. It still amazes her that they manage to remember exactly where that barrier lies without ever needing a reminder. Add that to how they seem to share the same mind, and you get nothing short of a miracle; there’s no magic in the air, and she’s already confirmed the absence of any kind of hive mind.

“Uhh, yes, please.” That’s another thing to be grateful for- together, they’re probably the most patient… creature she’s ever met. She’s beginning to suspect that all the spiders and walls actually are all a single creature, not independent ones. One of the spiders brings up the remainder of the food they’d been able to gather. They had tried to explain how they found such nice vegetables in a desert, but her vocabulary had been far too limiting. Still, she’s rather pleasantly surprised she hasn’t seen a single desert plant on her plate since she arrived.

Oh- it seems ‘not much’ is enough for half a daisy sandwich! That should hold her over for a little while… though by the time those six hours are up, she’ll be hungry again.

She downs the half sandwich cheerfully, slowing herself down. This is going to have to last her several hours, not just a couple; she’s already starved, she knows. Her magic has been recovering slower and slower lately; she’s worried her ribs will start showing soon, as well. It’s rather unfortunate she hadn’t been able to provide nearly as much power as the spiders had wanted; fortunately, they had mentioned that it didn’t really matter how long it took- or, from their perspective, whether or not she even provided it. They’d told her they’re making their own; just it’s slow. Of course, they had mentioned that, once made, no lightning is un-made- meaning, of course, they would eventually complete their work without her help. Only after about five weeks, though- that is, if she hadn’t been here, necessitating food production (Apparently, they don’t eat). Since she has been here, needing food, they’ve told her they probably would have finished after six weeks, as she would likely have starved to death after just one.

She’d asked about that once. Only once, of course- any more, she tries not to think about it. According to those spiders, if they do not move, she’ll starve to death- even with her lightning spells assisting in food production- in about six more days. Fortunately, she’ll be able to leave in just six hours- theoretically, at least. She looks up from her sadly empty plate, to the nearest wall; no spiders are visible right now. “How long before we can move?” she asks.

“We have been ready for 1.43 minutes,” the answer comes back. “Are you?”

She braces herself for a teleportation and nods. After a pause, she suppresses the urge to facehoof; apparently, the walls cannot see her without a spider nearby to do the seeing. “Yes,” she states aloud.

“Moving now.”

The floor twitches a little- first this way, then that way. It rocks back and forth, traveling ever so slightly further each time. This most certainly isn’t the sudden jolt of teleportation she had expected. Perhaps they’re not capable of teleportation? Then, it must be taking a truly massive amount of magic to move this entire structure- and she didn’t generate nearly enough, throughout this last week, to do that for even a second! Its generation, or whatever it is, is reportedly slower than hers had been. Thus, how is it possibly doing that?

She shifts her stance, trying to brace herself for physical motion. The rocking continues- and, once it reaches a certain intensity- shifting close to fifteen centimeters each way- she notices a small, gradual change in the angle of the floor along the oscillations.

The rocking goes on for what seems like forever before it stops just as completely as it is suddenly. She’s about to ask what had happened, but she realizes then that the floor is tilting ever so slightly more… Then it stops, and starts tilting back down flat again. Still, very slowly.

“I am sorry,” the wall reports, as the floor finally returns to level. “That took 37.91 minutes more than I thought it would. We are moving now, and will reach the grass fields in 5.03 hours.”

Success! It took all week but, with my Commander’s help, I operated full repairs to all track systems, dissolved my subterranean cables back into armor, and re-ignited my fusion plant. I was unable to obtain enough water to keep it running for longer than 2.73 hours, but this was far more than required; 9.37 minutes were spent in retracting my geothermal tap, cutting off my only source of “free” energy. Following 1.47 minutes of waiting for her to be ready, it took only 1.31 hours to extricate myself from the terrain, showing my hull to the sun once again- and this time en masse. Once fully out in the sun, I pivot slowly to drive in the direction my first visitor had departed; I know there is grass this way, and grass contains all of the nutrients required for assembly of additional meals. Not to mention, where there is grass, there is water.

It is approximately 0.73 hours after sunrise; I focus available resources into restoring my outer armor. As such, I am able to shut down my fusion plant without reducing power to my drive train after only 1.92 hours of operation. I still have enough water left for a couple days’ supply- and have left it in water form, for now. None of my energy weapons are operable, and this small quantity will produce hardly nothing in my fusion systems. Besides, I’m already generating more- through solar intake- than I am using.

I have many of my available spiders run up on top of my armor, clearing dirt and rocks from my upper hull. No stonewolves show themselves during this operation, and all rock is successfully tossed off about 2.91 hours after I began moving.

Two wolves, hidden in the rock about five meters apart, bicker back and forth. They’ve been in this position for almost three hours, and nothing has happened past- and the ground slowly starts shaking. After a shared ‘look’, both start the process of emerging; getting torn apart by a passing earthquake is a very fast way for a stonewolf to die.

They rise from the surface as one, still those meters apart, and take a glance around, searching quickly for prey. Alas, there is none- but what on Rockois is that thing moving towards them?

Neither can puzzle it out fast enough. About a second after they saw it, one of the giant metal slabs comes down on top of one of the wolves, crushing him to fragments- and his companion feels his death underneath the thing’s tremendous weight.

Great. This thing is even scarier than an earthquake- at least earthquakes can easily be rendered harmless simply by emerging onto the surface. The second wolf turns to flee. Yes! He’s outpacing the giant thing! Not by much, though- but he is! Now, all he has to do is get off to the side far enough to get out of its path- then he’s home free.
But alas! Another wolf emerged right in his path, and he didn’t see until he ran into her! The two go for a tumble- and, while she growls and the two try to get back on their feet, the thing catches up, smashing the two of them into fine powder with contemptuous ease.

Chapter 11: Empty

“Thank you,” she says. Again, she’s not sure where the veggies came from- all she can see here is grass, but the hearty salad they’d just prepared for her contains at least three different (delicious) vegetables she can’t identify. It’s almost like they can make something out of nothing!

She’s sitting on top of… She’s not sure exactly what it is, but it’s enormous, made of metal, and had been moving very smoothly at a pace similar to a decent gallop. It has stopped now, after reaching the grass, while she eats.

“Will you be okay after I leave?” she asks the nearest spider, once she finishes eating.

To this it answers immediately. “I will be okay. This-” another spider emerges from the hatchway, carrying something- “will let us never be alone.”

She tilts her head. “Never be alone?” She looks closer at the objects in the second spider’s… claws? Arms? She’s not sure what they are, but it’s good with them.

The objects appear… Interesting. “Do you want it?” The spider asks.

“Um, sure,” she says, accepting it in her hooves and raising them up to inspect them. This one would clearly go on her ear; this one is more like a- Oh! It’s her own copy of those ‘jewelry’ pieces Fluttershy had come home with! “Oh! Thank you!” She puts it on.

“You’re welcome.”

She tilts her head. “You can talk with it?” she asks; she’d heard the answer only in the ear she’d put it on.

“And hear,” it answers, with the spider. “Only when you wear both parts.”

She nods slowly. “So… when you talk with it, only I hear?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome!” She pumps a hoof, then pauses- she’d broken back into Equestrian. “Uh, very good?” She scowls at her hooves for a second, and finally shrugs. “Eh.”

The spider makes a pleased noise. It’s not a word- but it makes her think of a smile.

She watches the scenery fly past the window. It’s five days after that movement; it had taken that long for her to recover from so long on poor meals enough to make the journey back to the train safely. She’d left on this adventure two weeks ago, on a Friday evening; now, it’s Friday morning, and the train she’s riding is reportedly just a few minutes away from Ponyville. She’d had to leave her new friend behind; however, as he had pointed out to her after they moved, the ‘jewelry’ he had offered allowed them to communicate over long distances.

During the interim, they’d spent a lot of time working on her vocabulary. Her book called the language ‘English’; he uses the term interchangeably with ‘Concordiat Standard’. They’ve figured out quite a few additional words- and some more complicated word patterns. Like how they actually do have a word for “don’t”... At first, she’d thought she’d be stuck saying it as ‘do not’ forever.

But that’s solved. Now that two weeks are passed, and he tells her he confirmed she will never need any medicine again (she’s not sure how he did that), she’s finally returning home. Finally able to return home.

Which reminds her. Something else they’d done while she recovered her strength was to review her map. As it turns out, Ponyville is actually out of her little earpiece thing’s maximum range- but he had a solution. Three hours it had taken to build it, but the somewhat bulkier ‘relay’ box hiding inside her brand-new saddlebags should let her travel anywhere she wants on the Equestrian map without going out of range. He’d used a few words she has no reference for in his explanation of its range; she’s not entirely certain what a ‘light-second’ is, but the moon had somehow made its way into the discussion.

Following all those revelations, she had spent some time discussing Equestria with him. He’d seemed eager to learn, yet similarly interested in staying out of sight. She hadn’t mentioned it but, if he were ever to become a pony, she figures the Royal Intelligence Service would probably let him in without a second thought. It had been just hours before she left when he revealed that all the spiders are as disposable as the individual hairs on her coat! Apparently, he- as the giant machine she’d ridden, self-identified as a ‘Bolo’- simply controls them, like she does her magic. They possess no life- nor mind, truly- of their own.

Oh- but Ponyville is coming into view! It’s about time she gets back home- and she knows Bonbon worries about her. More than once the agent has offered to set up a standard RIS security grid around her home, just like the one around the shop; more than once she has declined. She doesn’t need that, at least until she joins; she’s not sure if they’ll let her refuse it then. But then is then, and now is now.

She eagerly waits as the train grinds to a halt, and she finally jumps off, onto the station platform. She expects to be instantly bombarded by ponies that missed her; however, the platform is empty, save those getting off the train- or in other words, save only herself.

She leaves the station, looking up and down the deserted street. “Hello?” she asks the empty air.

“What’s wrong?” the English voice says in her ear.

She glances around quickly, and mutters back, also in English. “This should be a busy street, but there’s nopony here.” It had taken her a few minutes, just yesterday, which words choice would best approximate the meaning of the Equestrian word. Her still nameless friend has a freaky good memory, so it doesn’t present him a problem.

“I’m only picking up a worrying amount of interference. It doesn’t look like jamming.”

She scowls. “I think we’ve got our first… Job? Task? Uh…”

“Mission?”

She tilts her head. “What’s that?”

“An important assignment of some sort; I believe you’re referring to an upcoming investigation on why the street is empty?”

“Uh, yes, something like that,” she mutters. She glances up and down the street. “I should probably start by finding Bonbon; she’s the expert with this kind of thing.” She used Bonbon’s regular Equestrian name; the rest was in English.

A soft chuckle floats into her ear. “You do realize you’re talking to an expert in infiltration and investigation tactics, right?” He’s shown a willingness to follow her language choices.

This bring her pause. “You are?”

He makes a noise that reminds her of a nod.

“Awesome!” She looks up and down the road again. “So, uh, where should I start?”

“You’ll probably want to start by hiding your saddlebags somewhere safe; they contain nothing useful for an investigation, and will only slow you down in a dangerous situation. I would recommend someplace you can snatch them from at a run, in case you are pursued.”

She nods slowly. “So, really anywhere.” She smiles. “As a unicorn, I can teleport them to me.”

“That is true. If you’re going to be teleporting, though, I would recommend using it to remove yourself from a dangerous situation- into a hiding spot, preferably- rather than to bring your saddlebags to you.”

“So, if I were to hide them in my basement- nopony knows I even have one- and teleport myself in there if things get a little dicey…?”

“This is your hometown, Ponyville?”

“Uh, yes.”

“And you’re confident in your home’s security against possible attacks?”

She smiles. “It only looks like a log cabin.”

“How far?”

“It’s on the edge of town… A kilometer or so?”

“And the train station is…?”

“Not far from the edge.”

“Go for it- but don’t move too fast, it wouldn’t do to draw attention to yourself.”

She nods, trotting down the road. A quick glance towards her flank indicates that the disguise she’d used for the return journey- a lighter brown coat, with a dark brown mane, but otherwise the same as her outbound- is still holding. Her disguise will have been silent; she’s calibrated the spell to make it look like she’s holding her peace whenever she’s speaking english. She smiles. “Oh- my disguise is still holding, too.”

“Helpful, but don’t rely on it.”

It takes her close to fifteen minutes to reach her house and let herself in. On his recommendation, she had dropped her disguise somewhere nearby; it wouldn’t do for her to draw attention by entering her home while looking like she’s somepony else entirely. Even so, she hasn’t encountered a single additional pony yet.

“Still nopony?”

She nods. “I’m not getting the danger vibe, though.” She locks her door, just to be sure, after checking the room for intruders- and proceeds to check the rest of the building, coming up clear. “My house is clear, at least. So, still a safe zone?”

“I wouldn’t count on it, but it’s going to be as good as any. Make sure you lock the door when you leave.”

Five minutes later, she’s deposited her saddlebags in her basement and slipped back out the front door, undisguised. She looks up and down the little street she lives on. “Any recommendations for where to start?”

“Assuming this isn’t a plot against you, any living or working spaces of loved ones might be a good place to start; such may offer clues to what happened.”

She nods slowly. “So, Bonbon’s Candies. She lives above the shop- but it’s on Main Street. Is that a good idea?”

“No. Reset your disguise someplace, then stick to the smaller, less-traveled streets; watch for potential attackers everywhere. You may want to catch a look at Main Street at some point; this is most likely to reveal what happened. If it has one, you’ll want to approach that shop from a back entrance.”

She glances around, and sets off at a trot. Less than two minutes later, she’s in a nice little alley, with nopony nearby- and she resets her disguise. Now, she trots out from her hiding place, heading up the dirt road towards the town center.

“Alert- I’m picking up a chuckle, sounds unfriendly.”

Her eyes widen, her earth pony stallion disguise mirroring that. “How far?”

“Close. I’m sorry, this thing wasn’t designed for this.”

She scowls… And her swivelling ears pick up the chuckle. She pauses on the roadway, looking around steadily. “One there… Two there, two more there… That all?”

“I’m detecting six distinct patterns, aside from your own.”

“So, there’s probably- Aah!” Her disguise mirrors her startled yelp correctly, even though it (also correctly) muted her speech. A stallion- number six, unless she misses her guess- had jumped out of hiding in front of her.

“Look who we have here,” he leers. “And to think, I thought everypony would be at the funeral.”

She raises an eyebrow, not failing to notice the others- she had their positions down right- emerging as well. “Funeral?” she asks him. “Who for?”

He snorts at her. “Hah! Somepony died and you don’t know who?”

“I’ve been out of town,” she sighs. It’s taking much of her concentration to keep her fear down; she knows that, if she shows none, gangs like this one will often leave her alone, moving on to find more interesting prey.

“It was a mare,” he jeers.

The one to his right pitches in. “A useless mare.”

The next one. “All she ever did was walk and talk.”

Another. “Never did anything useful for Ponyville.”

She interrupts the stream. “I do believe we’ve developed that you don’t like her,” she states. “What was her name?”

The first one answers her. “Pah! She wasn’t even worthy of a name!”

She resists the urge to facehoof. “Are you telling me you don’t know her name either?”

This was the wrong thing to say, though; he’s infuriated. “You-! Of course I know her name! How dare you insinuate that I don’t know that?”

“Well, what is it?”

He growls, crouching in an attack stance; too bad for him she’s a unicorn, and they’re all earth ponies. “You’ll be joining her in the grave today.” He charges… And his companions do too.

And, with a pop of magic, they all crash into each other and she gallops away, completely unharmed. “Whelp, I’ve figured out what happened,” she mutters, in English.

“How’d the fight go?”

“You were right about the teleport thing. I dodged- they’re busy beating each other up.”

“Ahh. So what happened?”

“A funeral, supposedly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that drew the entire law-abiding population of Ponyville, though.” She trots up a side alley towards Main Street, and peeks out. “Yep, definitely a funeral procession.”

“Anypony you recognize?”

“Uh… Only in the crowd.”

“Any way to join the crowd? This could be the fastest way to gain information. As a matter of fact, if there’s nopony suspicious, you might want to do it undisguised; such will allow you to find friends amongst the crowd to ask.”

She nods, glances around, and drops her disguise before she emerges. Well, drops is one way to say it- she keeps her headset and magic aura invisible, as well as disguising her English as silence.

By Celestia, the crowd is huge! Did Celestia die or something? It takes her several minutes to locate her friend, Bonbon- right as the procession stops, at that. Bonbon is at the head of the trail, in front of the coffin… Definitely somepony important to her. She works her way towards the top of the crowd, listening to the eulogies being spoken- but fails to catch any specific names. Finally, she reaches the top of the crowd. The line waiting for their turn to give eulogies.

Finally, as she joins the back of that line- she knows everypony in town, even one or two Pinkie doesn’t- she asks the mare in front of her whose funeral it is, alongside an apology for not knowing.

The aforementioned mare turns out to be Fluttershy, wearing her jewelry. “Oh, no worries,” the pegasus mutters, glancing back and gazing at her hooves. “It’s…” She trails off, and looks up again, staring at her.

She waits a few seconds, and tilts her head. “Is something wrong?” she asks.

Chapter 12

“You’re…?” Fluttershy begins, but never finishes, resuming her stare.

“Having trouble gathering information?”

“Yep,” she answers, in English- but only after verifying that her spell would hide it. Fluttershy shouldn’t suspect a thing.

“Ahh. I’m starting to figure out your language; there’s enough muttering around it’s fairly easy to gather enough samples. I am picking up one particular name in almost everypony’s speech- including what sounds like the current eulogy. Does the name ‘Lyra Heartstrings’ ring a bell?”

She’s quite proud of herself for not letting anything show on her face. She glances up at the current speaker, and back down to Fluttershy. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

The mare in front of her might be currently incapable of speech, but a nod gets through anyways.

She hangs her head slightly. “And this is my funeral?”

Another nod.

So, she sighs, looking up at the head of the line. Not a very long line- Fluttershy is only third.

But Twilight Sparkle is second.

Two hours later, it’s finally her turn. Why not? With a nod to the guard watching for trouble at the top, she proceeds to the raised podium, and the microphone, in front of everypony. Fluttershy had stepped out of the line, and nopony seemed to have noticed her presence in it.

Until now.

She clears her throat before she steps up to the mic; no need to assault everypony’s ears with a noise like that. “I’m sure, if she could see it, she would appreciate all the effort everypony has put forth here,” she begins. “However, I think she’d prefer everypony celebrate her life than mourn her death.” She pauses for a few seconds, and looks to the side- straight at Pinkie, who’s busy crying into Rainbow’s side. “Cue party cannon?” Pinkie doesn’t move. “No? Oh well. In case you haven’t noticed, it would seem that rumors of my death have been rather, uh, greatly exaggerated.”

PHzzzzt!

Confetti and streamers rain down everywhere.

“Ahh, there it goes. Let’s get this-” Pinkie joins her onstage- “party STARTED!”

“Congratulations are in order, I believe. With the possible exception of whoever it was you ran into on those back roads, it seems the entire town loves you.”

She chuckles to herself, her disguise completely down as she watches Pinkie dice the thirtieth enormous cake into appropriately-sized pieces. “Either that or ponies don’t normally return from the dead,” she answers him.

“If that were the case, the entire town wouldn’t have attended the funeral, only the party.”

“True… Though not everypony did attend the funeral.”

“I haven’t detected those six yet at the party either. Speaking of which, how long normally passes between a pony’s disappearing and their being declared dead?”

This stops her gentle smile cold. “Two months, by law… and the funeral is a week after that. I ought to tell-!”

He interrupts her. “Don’t. Grievous violation of procedure like that is evidence of something far less friendly than a pack of stonewolves: Politics.”

“Politics?” The word is unfamiliar to her.

“Yes… the act of getting one’s own way by any means possible, practiced by politicians. As for those, you might call them ‘nobles’. Usually either corrupt or found dead.”

Her eyes widen. “What’s this have to do with them?”

“I don’t know, but telling anypony- from law enforcement to this ‘Bonbon’ you’ve referred to as a master investigator- could alert them to your intention and drive them into hiding. As it is, your apparent resurrection will do that much; you may want to pick a day- a week or two in the future, probably- to go on a journey somewhere… But stay behind, in disguised form, long-term. If you can coax them into declaring you dead again, you may be able to trace it back to the source and determine why they want you removed. Beware that, for as long as you remain undisguised, there may be assassination attempts directed your way. I might recommend making a disguised return trip to my position, to pick up some additional equipment; given better sensors, I can be of more assistance. If ever you feel Ponyville is not safe, no politician can get inside my hull.”

She spends some time digesting this. “In the meantime, then, pretend life is normal?”

“Yes.”

She nods. “Can do.”

Pinkie makes her way over, in her normal zipping manner, to offer her a piece of cake. “Come on, Lyra- this is your Back from the Dead Party, why are you hiding over here?”

At this, she smiles, accepting the cake. “Hiding? I thought I was watching you cut the cake!”

The week passes slowly. Rather predictably, Bonbon spent much of the time worrying over her- but she managed, if only barely, to refuse the RIS security grid. Her ‘Bolo’ friend agreed with her refusal; such a grid could theoretically be used to spy on- or trap- her.

On his suggestion, though, she has started herself a secret identity. The disguise colors she’d chosen for her return journey are easy to maintain for an entire day or more, so that’s to be her face. She’d spent hours and hours trying to come up with a name for her disguise, but to no avail; while Time Turner fit well enough, she didn’t want the name to be too blatant. She plans on using her new secret identity as a private detective of sorts. When she had finally expressed her problem- throughout several wordy minutes- to her Bolo friend, he had solved everything with his customarily unsettling speed.

“How about Doctor Whooves?”

“Doctor what?”

“Back before my day, there was a show- entertainment, mostly- called Doctor Who. The main character, a time-traveling fixer-upper, called himself ‘The Doctor’. Such a title might be suspicious in Equestria, much as it was in the show; meanwhile, given the name distribution, somepony Hooves with an obsession with his Doctor title ought not to stand out too much. That way, you can even place a secret identity inside a secret identity, reducing the chance that you yourself will be detected: Have his ‘real’ name be Time Turner. I can help with planting the files to set that up; anypony that finds it will assume there’s no more to find, and stop looking.

“Nevermind that nopony will ever see Doctor Whooves and Lyra Heartstrings in the same room together. I rather suspect nopony will ever see Doctor Whooves and Princess Celestia in the same room together, either.”

She still doesn’t know exactly where he’d heard of Princess Celestia, but his argument hadn’t been any less valid for it- and she couldn’t come up with anything against it. So, Doctor Whooves it is.

She’s started calling him that too, much to his amusement.

But now, Doctor Whooves is moving in to town. He’s already purchased a small shop, which he’ll be moving into today; normally, there would be a Pinkie Party, but he seems to already be aware of Pinkie- and has requested not to have a welcome party, as those make him nervous. That way, she should be able to get out of meeting him herself… Which could be difficult, to say the least. She’s not sure if she could adequately disguise empty air for long enough.

Author's Note

This story is now officially cancelled.

It was originally supposed to be a rewrite of Iron Mountain, but kinda failed. I would rewrite it... but it would then be either a duplicate of the first, or what it is now: Too similar to both Secret Search and Secret Soldier.