Reactivated

The gentle tap of liquid could be heard, falling at a slow steady pace in the darkness. A moment later the clang of metal rings through out the silent halls as two hydraulic powered claws clamp down on the rusted valve and with a heave attempt open it for the forth time today and again they release it as the metal begins to bend for fear of permanent damage. The owner of said tools sighs, the first sound hes made in weeks, as he looks over the stubborn valve. A green light flickers on where his right eye should be as he contemplates his options.

When was the last time he even needed light? After all he knew every inch of this place, he doesn’t need sight in order to find his way or to work on even delicate equipment. When was the last time he even bothered to check the docks for supplies that had stopped centuries ago simply to see the sun or starts?

He rolled the joints of the six metal limbs attached to his body grimacing as many popped or squealed in protest of the action. A thought later a readout of his systems dominated his sight, showing far more yellow or even orange lights than he was comfortable with. What was the most worrisome though was the percentage displayed in the spectra engine in his chest. He frowned. He had replaced it not that long ago, it shouldn’t read below ninety percent for years.

Two smaller metallic limbs came forward, ready to catch their prize as he readied his back up power and after a moment the fur covered chest plate split open and began shining a rainbow light. The five digit claw came forward and gently pulled the spectra filled sky prism from its socket and held it out carefully to be inspected.

The orange pony looked at it carefully, the green lens of his right eye shifting to yellow in order to see it in its own light while the organic yellow orb on the left squinted at the sudden abuse after being in the dark for so long. Two multi-joint metallic limbs that attached to his back where wings once stood handled the crystal with care, one of which pushed aside the long leather bound mane from his face, brushing the steel plate covering the right side of his head as he did. The mane would have come close to the ground on a normal pony but standing on four large metallic legs kept it well from the surface. They were not underneath him, rather jutting out from his sides from ball joints with another such joint at the mid section forming an elbow and at the end large hydraulic four finger clams large enough to grab a pony or in his case traverse the piping of the facility with ease.

The lens of his right eye shifted to red as he inspected the prism in his claw in order to see past the brilliant display of light, his face went sour moments later. A micro crack. At some point it had been damaged, not enough for a critical failure, but enough to leak its precious contents. After a few more seconds he returned the gem to its socket and closed his chest panel, the seam not showing where the two halves met.

Another sigh escaped his lips as the room returned to darkness and right eye flicked back to green, he was going to have to deactivate.

Each leg turned upward in quick succession to grasp the pipes above him as he quickly plotted a course to a emergency repair bay. After choosing his destination he started off, moving in a smooth unhurried fashion as he deftly avoided valves, pipes, and switches by pure memory. Watching his mane sway slightly with each step he lost himself in thought. The others had already shut down per his orders to save power and be spared the loneliness of the abandoned factory. Not that it mattered, supplies were at zero much of the equipment was in ill repair and he long ago threw away any hope that the Pegasus Weather Center would send anyone for any reason. They had been thrown away, abandoned on the order of those damn Sisters, snarling the last three words into the dark.

It took only minutes to reach the bay he had selected as his tomb, he would likely never open his eyes after today and it bothered him little. Laying down into the harness he placed his legs into their proper restraints, the smaller limbs on his back placing his mane is a safe position before locking together and resting on his neck as he laid his head down into the restraint and thanked the winds that the lighting rods had kept the liquid thunder charged enough to operate the bay as it begins to close around him. His last thought as his eye dimmed was of a pink mare he sorely missed and a small smile crept onto his lips. Maybe he would dream this time.