Born of Sinby UnholyheavenChaptersUnfaithfulUnbornUnforgivableUnchainedSequel (of sorts)UnfaithfulStedson Cog always knew he was a brilliant geneticist, even if his superiors would never recognize it. He was tired of always being the Dominions lapdog, and tired of never being allowed to pursue his own works. All he did was work to create an endless supply of near worthless drones, to inflate an already near worthless population. What he wanted to do was to create true perfection. A race of ponies that were built to be perfect from the ground up. Unfortunately, the Pegasus knew that in order to pursue any goals, he would need bits and lots of them. He hated selling out his creations for monetary gain, but it would be a small sacrifice for achieving greatness. The young stallion had arrived at the Serphentos system, a system of planets bordering Consortium and Confederate space. The system was only two planets and an asteroid belt. While technically this system was under the control of the Consortium, its close proximity to Confederate space attracted many wealthy Confederate business owners. Due to the Confederate ponies monopolization of most of that systems industry, it was no secret that the Serphentos government was always in the pockets of the wealthy Confederates. That however is what Stedson was counting on. He could never earn his own governments blessing for the project he was attempting, his ambitions were too dangerous they claimed. For that reason, what he was doing was highly illegal. If anyone found out he was about to sell Dominion secrets, he could find himself in a prison. The Confederate noble house von Rich however was willing to take a chance on anything, so long as it benefited their bottom line. All he needed to do was deliver a good selling pitch, and at long last he could bring his work to fruition. The Pegasus shuttle had finally arrived at a starport on the surface of Serphentos I. Of the two worlds, this one was the main population hub, as it was the only world that could naturally support life. Serphentos II was far too out of range of the suns warmth to ever support any natural life, and was mostly used as a mining world. After landing and exiting from the cities starport, he flew across the city to a large skyscraper where he would meet his future business partner. Stedson was admittedly worried. He was a geneticist, not a business pony, and he had very little experience giving effective presentations. Perhaps that is why his ideas were never taken seriously? As Stedson made his way up the skyscraper, he found himself in the waiting room outside of the office he was looking for. Checking his clock, he saw he was early and decided to use the bathroom. As he finished his business and began to wash his hooves, he got a good look at himself in the mirror and noticed he was a mess. His brown mane was sticking up, his purple eyes were completely bloodshot, and his yellow fur coat was drenched in sweat. Looking at his brown business suit, he could visibly see lines of sweat running down his sleeves. “Calm down Stedson, you have got this!” he said to himself. Stedson poured some water onto his hoofs, but unfortunately the water splashed off and hit him in the groin, making it appear he had just wet himself. “Damn it! Not now!” Stedson grabbed a paper towel and began trying to dry his suit, but then he heard a mare outside saying, “Stedson Cog, Mr. Hector von Rich is ready for you. Stedson Cog? Is there a Stedson Cog here?” Stedson ran out of the bathroom, not noticing he had stepped on a wet paper towel which was now sticking to his rear left hoof. “I’m here!” he shouted. The receptionist looked at the unimpressive stallion, sweat running down his suit, and paper stuck on his hoof. “Right… Mr. Hector von Rich will see you now,” she said. As he walked into the office, the mare noticed a wet spot near his groin area and began to laugh. As he walked into the office, he saw a brown stallion, with a red mane and red eyes. The stallion was clearly far older than he was, at least in his late forties, if not mid-fifties. Stedson took a seat and began with a greeting. “Thank you so much for your time Mr. Hector. I know your time is very-” “von Rich,” interrupted the older stallion. “Right… Mr. von Rich. I want to talk-” “Hector von Rich,” corrected the stallion again for the second time. Stedson never spent much time around Confederates, and had just unintentionally insulted the stallion he was asking funding from. It was Confederate custom that when you first met a new pony, you must acknowledge their house title at least the first time you address them. Stedson realized only too late that he just insulted the stallion. All he could do now was try to continue his presentation. “Umm… yes… of course Mr. Hector von Rich,” he said trying not to panic. “I have an exciting business proposition that I’m certain you would be very interested in.” “I know. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,” said the older stallion. Clearly Stedson unintentional insult had put him in a bad mood. That or he was always like this. “Get to the point, what are you trying to sell?” “Right… of course,” replied Stedson. “I’m an Imperial geneticist, and I have extensive knowledge of our cloning technology. I have also studied extensively on genetic engineering as well. I believe I can produce a higher quality stallion for use on the front lines. With my augmentations, I can increase aggression, stamina, dexterity, and strength by rewriting their genes to only use the best traits from both parents.” “Aggression?” asked Mr. Hector. “Yes… for better combat effectiveness. If I can increase aggression, I can remove things like hesitation, doubt and fear. Once I get the funding I need, I can create the army of the future,” assured Stedson. “And who would pay to train, feed and house these clones?” asked Mr. Hector. “Well… I suppose that part of the expense would be paid for by you. But don’t think of it as an expensive! Think of is an improvement of quality. By making sure the clones stay under our care through adolescence, we can start their training at a much earlier age. Everything from unarmed combat, to marksmen ship, to advanced infantry tactics,” said Stedson. “Who will provide this genetic material?” asked Mr. Hector. "My understanding of Dominion cloning technology is that it can only be obtained from children." “I’ve already thought of that! I’ve gone through an extensive list of soldiers who have shown exemplarity performance on the battlefield.” Stedson opens up his briefcase and reveals a picture of an orange Pegasus, along with his profile. “This is Vincent Iron Feather. He was a staff sergeant in the Dominion Marine Special Forces. His wife is currently pregnant. I’ve looked up her background, and just like her husband, she has no signs of any physical hereditary ailments. This couple’s child has the perfect genetic material for our perfect stallion. All it needs are some minor alterations.” Mr. Hector looked through the profile momentarily and commented, "It says he was discharged for mental instability." "He was found to be somewhat too violent. But that is exactly the trait we're looking for in our perfect stallion," replied Stedson. “I’m not seeing how this will result in any profits,” countered Mr. Hector. “If we can produce a strong first batch, we can present them to independent security firms. Once they demonstrate how well the clones have performed, we could start filling orders for large government armies. I’m certain they would pay well to get their hooves on soldiers this caliber,” assured Stedson. Mr. Hector’s eyes narrowed on him, then he gave his response. “So you’re telling me you want me to fund a program, where we will take genetic material from a child whose father we know already had psychological problems. Then you want to take these already unstable foals, and genetically alter them to make them even more violent. On top of that you want these psychologically unstable colts to be trained in advanced military tactics. Finally you expect us to hold onto these killing machines, until you can find buyer. As if they’ll just sit around, waiting to be sold off to the highest bidder like a gaggle of slaves. You don’t see at all how that can blow up in your face?” “Well anything can sound bad if you put it that way,” said Stedson. “Get out,” demanded Mr. Hector. “But Mr-” started Stedson. “Get out!” repeated Mr. Hector. Stedson got out of his seat and made his way out of the office. As he did so, a black earth pony stallion bumped into him, knocking him over. “Watch it!” shouted Stedson who was in rather bad mood at the moment. The black stallion completely ignored him and took the remaining elevator before Stedson could get up, forcing him to wait for the next one. Stedson got back up and noticed he had a small cut on his leg all of a sudden. “Clumsy idiot,” he muttered as he waited for the elevator. Eventually he made his way out of the building, back into the streets. He couldn’t believe. Another near sighted fool who couldn’t see just how brilliant an idea he was sitting on. The old grouch is probably just upset I didn’t get his name right the first time, he thought to himself. There were other wealthy investors on this world. At least one of them had to have the vision necessary to see just how great an opportunity this was. It’s not every day an Imperial geneticist with extensive knowledge on Dominion cloning technology comes along. As he made his way out of the building, he started feeling very weak for some reason. Apparently that disaster of an interview had taken quite the toll on him. Stedson was planning on flying back to the starpart, but he wasn't feeling up for it anymore. Fortunately a taxi was driving by and stopped in front of him. Feeling exhausted, he didn’t question it and stepped inside. “Get me… to the starport…” he said, sweating heavily. “No problem,” said the driver. “So, where are you heading?” “One of the other cities… wow… it sure gets hot on this world,” commented Stedson. The taxi driver asked, “Not from this world huh? What brings you here?” “Finding investors,” replied Stedson. “Got some ideas to sell.” The taxi turned into a mostly empty underground parking lot. As they entered the lot, the gate started to close. “What are we doing here?" questioned Stedson. "I said… go to the starport.” “By ideas to sell, I take you mean you want to sell technology that isn't yours right? I don’t suppose you were planning on handing over top secret Dominion cloning technology to the highest bidder were you?” asked the taxi driver. Stedsons eyes widened when the taxi driver said that. He quickly opened up the door and tried to make a run for the gate, but it had already closed. He turned around to see the taxi driver was that same black stallion from earlier that had knocked him over and forced him to miss the elevator. He was standing on two hoofs, wearing a set of precision gloves over his forward hooves, which acted as a set of robotic hands. “Who are you?!” asked Stedson. The pony pulled a bat out of the taxi and started to approach him. Stedson tried to run, but for some reason his legs didn’t want to cooperate, and he tripped after only a few steps. “That’s the drugs kicking in,” said the black stallion. “That little cut you got when I bumped into wasn’t on accident you know?” As Stedson tried to crawl away, the black stallion smashed the bat into his back, snapping his left wing. Stedson screamed in agony as he felt the bone snap. “I’m with Dominion Intelligence by the way,” he said as he swung a second time near the same spot. “I know I know, a lot of people think we’re just thugs,” he continued before swinging a third time, further breaking Stedson’s already crippled left wing. “But really there is more to it than that. After all, someone has to keep scum like you from selling out the Dominion.” Again he swung, and again the wing snapped in another position. “Please… I’m sorry… just stop!” begged Stedson. “I will I will. But first I need to make sure you remember what happens you commit treason,” replied the stallion before taking another swing. “There we go! I have a feeling that wing is never going to flap again,” proclaimed the stallion with a smile. Stedson was breathing heavily as he rived in agony. Tears were forming on his eyes, mostly from the pain of his crippled wing, but somewhat also from knowing he will probably never fly again. “Please… I’m sorry,” was all he could say. The black stallion grabbed him by his crippled wing and pulled him over to another car in the parking lot. He opened the trunk to reveal some rope and a gag. “What are you doing?” asked the terrified Stedson. “By the way. I’m Happy Day. Laugh at my name and I’ll smash your other wing too,” he threatened. “Please… no. Just let me go, I won’t do it again I promise!” begged Stedson. Happy showed no remorse. He delivered a blow to Stedson’s head, then began to bound and gag him. “We aren’t done just yet. Can’t let traitors off with something as simple as a maimed wing now can we?” asked Happy. Stedson didn’t reply. The room was spinning at the moment, and everything was blurry. He felt Happy picking him up and stuffing him into the trunk of the new vehicle. “I think you may have suffered a concussion. Try not to be stay unconscious for too long. It’s really bad for you,” said Happy as he closed the trunk. UnbornVincent stood outside of the waiting room while his wife was in the hospital room. It had been almost two hours now, and his constant pacing and sweat had practically drenched the hospital floor. His head still hurt from the car accident, but he wasn’t worried about that. What he was worried about was the fact his pregnant wife had taken the blunt of the collision. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, a doctor exited the room. “Mr. Iron Feather,” he said. “I’m pleased to say your wife will survive. She is still unconscious, but we expect her to wake shortly.” “Thank god,” said the relieved husband as he let out a relaxed sigh. “Thank you so much doctor. What about Scootaloo?” The doctor paused for a moment. His eyes shifted away as he gave the news. “I’m afraid you son… isn’t going to make it. He suffered severe trauma and is brain dead. We had to perform a C section. There is nothing that can be done.” Vincent fell to his knees. “No… please no… there has to be something you can do!” he shouted. “I’m sorry. Scootaloo is gone. Your son is currently under life support, but once we pull that plug it’s over,” explained the doctor. “I hate to add more bad news on top of that but… your wife sustained significant internal injury. Her uterus was severely damaged. She will probably never be able to have children again.” Vincent could feel the entire world crashing down on him. Why was this happening? His son was innocent, he didn’t deserve to have his life cut down before it even began! “If you’d like… you can see your son before we pull the plug,” said the doctor. “I want my wife to be allowed to see him too,” said Vincent. “Very well. She’ll probably awaken within the hour,” said the doctor before leading the stallion to his brain dead child. “I’ll leave you alone.” Vincent almost couldn’t believe it. His son laying still in that glass box, hooked up to that machine. Scootaloo would never be allowed to open his eyes, breath on his own, say his first words. He had been robbed of all the things he should have been allowed to experience. Vincent awoke in the hospital hours later. His wife was still hunched up beside him. She had taken it far worse than he had. Scootaloo still laid in his glass box, almost motionless except for his chest raising and falling as the machine filled his lungs with air. It wouldn’t be long now before the doctors would unplug him. “He would have been so beautiful,” said his wife who had also woken up. “He has your hair and eyes, and my fur,” she added. “We should go now,” said Vincent. His tone was hallow and without emotion, as if his soul died alongside his son. “You’re right… I don’t want to see this next part,” agreed his wife. The couple stood up and exited the room. As they did, they were met by a black earth pony stallion. “I’m sorry about your son,” he said. “Who are you?” asked Vincent. “You don’t know me yet, but you’re about to be glad you do. I understand your wife is sterile now,” he commented. His wife looked away, her eyes filled with shame and regret as if it were somehow her fault. “How would you know about that? Who are you?!” asked Vincent. “The name is Happy Day. I work for a research department within Dominion Intelligence, and I have an offer I don’t think you can refuse. What if I told you that you and your wife could have your son back?” asked Happy. His wife gasped and was suddenly looking very hopefully. “You can do that?!” she asked excitedly. Vincent on the other hand didn’t want to get involved in anything that had to do with Dominion Intelligence. He was immediately suspicious. “The doctor said he was brain dead, and beyond recovery.” “Well doctors tend to stop trying after the patients declared dead,” said Happy. “There are ways around death. That is if you're interested in what I have to say.” “Give us a moment,” said Vincent. “Of course,” said Happy. Vincent took his wife aside and whispered, “If he’s Dominion Intelligence, I don’t think we can trust him.” “Vincent please, we’ll never get a chance like this again! We should at least hear him out. I want my son back,” she countered. “I know you do Sarah, but Dominion Intelligence is bad news. They’d only offer help if they want something from us. There is good chance this is going to cost us even more than what we’ve lost today,” argued Vincent. “I don’t care!” retorted Sarah. “My son is dead. You think I’m not willing to pay whatever that stallion wants?!” Vincent sighed knowing his wife would not be swayed otherwise. “Fine. We’ll at least hear him out.” Vincent turned around to meet the stallion face to face. “What are you proposing?” “What do you know about the Dominions cloning program?” he asked. Vincent immediately had an idea where he was going with this. “We know that all clones are property of the Dominion until they come of age.” “Normally yes. But your son is of special interest to us,” said Happy. “If we could get ahold of some of his genetic material, we could produce another son for you.” “We can’t afford that,” said Vincent. “This hospital bill alone has put us in the poor house. Not to mention the totaled car.” “You missunderstand. We don’t want you to pay us,” corrected Happy. “In fact, I can assure you, you and your wife will be very generously compensated. I’m sure you can use the bits after what happened.” “A clone though? I’m not sure how I feel about that,” said Sarah. “Your son is the genetic combination of you and your husband brought to life. What difference does it make if he’s born in your uterus or in a pod? It’s still your son isn’t it?” argued Happy. “I… suppose it is,” said Sarah. “Alright, we’ll do it.” “Sarah wait,” said Vincent. “What do you get out of this? I know for a fact you aren’t just being a helpful neighbor. Dominion Intelligence only helps when it wants something.” “Well that should be a simple answer,” said Happy. “We’re always looking for fresh genetic material to breed more clones. We can only get it from children, and in limited amounts. An entire newborn body however give us plenty of material to work with.” “So our dead son is just raw material for you isn’t he?” asked Vincent. “You could say that. But if you get your son back, does it really matter?” he asked. Vincent could tell he was making a deal with the devil right now if he took his offer. But his wife wanted their son back, and they certainly wouldn’t get another chance like this. “How many other clones will you make?” asked Vincent. “That’s not for you to know. This is your only chance Mr. Iron Feather. Take it or leave it,” said Happy. “Vincent please! This could be our only chance to get Scootaloo back. I need this,” she begged with tears in her eyes. Vincent exhaled heavily, then put out his hoof. “Very well… you can keep the body.” “Excellent!” said Happy shaking Vincent's hoof. “I assure you this will be a win win for all parties involved.” Stedson had finally awoken. He had no idea how long he was out for. Hopefully not too long, as it was suggested staying unconscious was really “bad for him.” He was in a locked room, and his head felt like a ton of bricks. He was at least able to walk, if somewhat clumsily. Either that concussions effects were still taking its toll on his stability, or he had been drugged again. Stedson walked around the room, and tried to stretch his wings. That’s when he realized his left wing wasn’t moving; that black stallion had made true on his word about crippling him. The door finally opened, and a familiar black earth pony stallion entered. “Doctor Cog! It’s good to see you’re awake!” said Happy in a tone that lived up to his name. “We have much to discuss, come come,” said Happy gesturing Stedson to come with him. Stedson instead remained on the other side of the room, cautious about going anywhere near him. “Are you still upset about me crippling your wing?” he asked. “If I wanted you dead, we’d of taken it further. Now come here! Your research awaits.” Stedson finally decided to approach him. It’s not like he could stop Happy from hurting him again if he wanted to. Stedson wasn’t a fighter, and even if he was, he was still having trouble just keeping his balance. As Stedson stepped out of the room, he was led into a fairly large facility filled with what he recognized as birth pods used to grow clones. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why your research of course!” said Happy. “Let me reintroduce myself. I am Lower Rear Admiral Day of Dominion Intelligence, and I happen to be very interested in your research doctor.” “This is all… for me? For my work?” asked Stedson. “Well… you certainly got things underway. How much do you know about my research?” asked the young stallion. “Enough to know we’re on the same page. I think your idea has some potential. I’ve actually been very intrigued in the idea of the perfect clone army for years myself,” admitted the admiral. “Then why didn’t you start years ago?” asked Stedson. “Because my superiors seem to think that growing an army of soldiers with the sole purpose of killing other ponies would only end in disaster,” explained Happy. “Personally I think they have simply seen to many movies where clones or robots go rogue and turn on their masters or some other nonsense like that.” “I was told the same thing! Why didn’t you just ask? I would have helped." said Stedson. "You didn’t have to break my wing,” he muttered to himself. “Let bygones be bygones,” said Happy acting as if the whole thing never happened. “I needed to kill you first. Everyone thinks I killed you for treason. Now no one suspect you’re here.” “Where exactly is here?” asked Stedson. “You don’t need to know that,” replied Happy. “Alright… but if your superiors don’t agree with this, how did you fund this?” asked Stedson. “You don’t need to know that either. And you’re about two more stupid questions away from another visit from Mr. Baseball bat,” threatened Happy. “Of course,” replied Stedson nervously. “Well in order to get underway, I’ll need the right genetic material.” Already taken care of,” interrupted Happy as he led him to another room. Inside Stedson couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A frozen child. “Scootaloo Iron Feather. Born never. Died last week.” “How did this happen?” he asked. “One stupid question away from Mr. Baseball bat,” threatened Happy. “How he got in this state is not your concern. The point is he just happened to die, and I just happened to be there. Now let’s get to business.” Stedson couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He thought he would wait for the child to be born, then ask the parents for the genetic material. Some blood from a new born infant could easily provide enough material for hundreds of clones. But the whole body? This was enough to create an entire army. The idea that Happy had this child killed however was still unsettling. “I want one thousand units for the first batch. If the initial batch shows promise, we’ll extend into the thousands! You’ll be given bits, guards, training instructors, and the best college drop outs money can buy,” said Happy. “I’d prefer some experienced intern graduates if we’re going to do this,” said Stedson. “Fine, I’ll acquire some interns for you,” said Happy. “Can you define the term acquire?” asked Stedson thinking back to the dark possibilities of how the host child was acquired. “Where is that baseball bat?” asked Happy. “Never mind! Intern graduates are a great idea. I shouldn’t complain!” corrected Stedson. “Alright then, we’re in agreement. I’ll get you the staff you need within the month, and then we’ll get this project on its way. I’ll be back in half a year to see how you’re doing,” announced Happy as he walked away. He turned around again and shouted, “Six months Stedson! Don’t screw this up!” Stedson was nervous as could be. He had reached the end of his six month deadline, and Lower Rear Admiral Day was expected to arrive this day to inspect his progress. So far it all seemed to be going fairly well. Thanks to his augmentations, the clones were almost genetically optimal, inheriting only the best traits locked away within their gene pool. There was only one problem that had been discovered a bit too late. Stedson prayed that he could keep it under wraps for the inspection, then produce a new batch afterwards. As impressive as this batch was, they all shared the same fundamental flaw. Finally the Admiral entered the cloning chamber where the pods were held. “Dr. Cog, I trust the project so far has been a success?” asked Happy. “Yes, completely successful in every way,” said Stedson. “We’ve found absolutely no physical abnormalities. They show excellent muscle, heart and lung development. Perfect vision as well, and the increase in aggression that we had intended. 1000 thousands units of perfection,” assured Stedson. “Good, one thousand colts getting to fight for the Dominion,” he said as he looked at one of the unborn children still growing in the pod labeled thirty six. “Yes one thousand… units. Well as you can see, everything is perfectly fine,” he said sweating nervously. “So how far along are they?” asked Happy. “How big of guns are our boys packing?” he asked. Stedson’s eye’s shifted. “I don’t know what you mean sir.” “You know what I mean, never mind I’ll check myself,” said Happy. The admiral bent down and took a closer look at unit number thirty six. “Wait a minute. That kind of looks like a… the hell is that thing between his legs?!” Shouted Happy as he punched the pod, “What the hell happened Stedson?! You said no physical abnormalities!” he shouted as he punched the pod again. “Sir please, those pods are some very sensitive equipment. A malfunction could damage the unit’s development,” pleaded Stedson. Happy punched it again, grabbed Stedsons head, and forced him to look between the unborn foals legs. “How is that not a physical abnormality?!” he asked again slamming his head into the glass, then throwing him onto the ground. The Admiral began checking the other units and found the same thing on every one of them. “I said I needed 1000 stallions! Stallions not mares! What the hell am I supposed to do with 1000 mares!?” Happy put his hoof over the neck of the still downed Stedson. “You know what? This was a mistake. I think I’ll just clean house… starting with you,” he said as his began pressing down on his throat. Happy could hear the good doctor begging, and decided to hear him out. “You better have a damn good excuse for this. What the hell happened to my stallions? Why are these colts’ fillies?” He slowly released and let him speak. “Well there are X chromosomes and-” began Stedson. Happy pressed down again. “I know what a chromosome is! What I want to know is why they don’t have a Y?! Who is responsible for this?!” again he slowly released. “One of the interns made a slight error,” said Stedson. “Which one?” he asked. “Bic did,” confessed Stedson. “Call for Bic,” said Happy as he released Stedson. Stedson complied and called for Bic on the intercom. “Now tell me doctor, how do you plan to fix this?” “Sir, I can assure you they are every bit as capable as their male counter parts,” assured Stedson. “Just give them time. Come back in six years and you’ll see. They’ll show the potential I promised. They’re still genetically perfect and more than capable of living up to your expectations.” Before Happy could reply, a unicorn walked in. “Are you Bic,” asked Happy. “Yes sir,” replied the unicorn mare. He would have commented on how her name was stupid, but given his own name, he couldn’t bring himself to. “So why do my 1000 colts have the wrong anatomy?” asked Happy. The mare began to nervously explain her reasoning. “Well… I was trying to find the best genetic combinations possible. It just so happened that the best combinations I could find were located in the fathers X chromosome. I apparently overlooked that factor and gave it the fathers X instead of the Y. But I assure you, this has only improved the quality of-” Happy struck the mare in the face, breaking her nose. As she fell to the ground holding her fractured snout, he stomped on her horn, snapping it off. “Stedson, what did I tell you six months ago before I left?” he asked as the mare screamed in agony. Stedson looked down at the mare, blood oozing rapidly from her horn and snout. “Don’t screw this up,” he said. “And what did your intern just do?” asked Happy. “She… screwed this up,” he replied. “Yeah that’s what I thought,” said Happy. He reached down, grabbed her head and snapped her neck. “That’s you in six years if they don’t perform.” He got back up, took a deep breath and appeared to have relaxed. He threw one more punch at a pod, once again damaging unit thirty-six. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to explain to a certain couple why their son is now a daughter.” The Admiral then started to walk away as if the fact he just murdered that mare was no big deal. Like before, he turned around and shouted, “Six years Stedson. Don’t screw this up!” UnforgivableThe orange Pegasus filly stood inside of a large and long chamber. Across the chamber were five doors. Beside the filly was a box. The filly stood tense, unmoving, her eyes fixated on the box beside her. She was on two legs while wearing a set of precision gloves. She was five and a half years old now, and had spent most of her time on two legs, so she was perfectly balanced in her stance. The voice of Stedson Cog came over an intercom to announce her instructions. “This will be a live fire test 522. When the bell rings, you must assemble your weapon and hit the five targets. There is a soft timer involved, so make sure you move fast.” The orange filly smiled up at an observation room where she could see Stedson looking down at her. Beside him was Upper Rear Admiral Day, who was here to view the progress of the Iron Feather unites. She held her smile and shouted, “I won’t let you down daddy,” before looking back down at the box again. “Daddy?” asked Happy. “Well… they are still fillies sir. It’s only natural they’d try to label an adult as their parental figure,” explained Stedson. “It’s nothing you should worry about. Just enjoy the test, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.” He was confident in 522’s abilities. So far every single unit in today’s inspection had performed well. A bell went off, and the box beside the filly opened revealing a number of weapon components. Across the room the five doors opened, and five zerglings were revealed. The monsters were dog like creatures, with razor sharp claws and teeth, as well as an exoskeleton instead of fur. In addition to four legs, they had two more scythe like arms coming out of their backs. As soon as the box and doors opened, the filly quickly began gathering weapon parts and started assembling a rifle. The five hungry zerg, seeing fresh meat in front of them, quickly took off sprinting at full speed. The filly felt the sweat running down her fur as she frantically raced against the “soft timer” that Stedson had mentioned. After the weapon had been assembled, there were still five bullets left in the box, along with a magazine. 522 quickly loaded the bullets into the magazine, then inserted the magazine into the rifle and prepped it to fire. As the filly looked up, the five targets were but ten yards away. Due to the filly’s age and small stature, she was only rated for a small rifle befitting her size. The zerg creatures she was facing however were quite resilient to injury, and with a low caliber rifle, only a head shot would guarantee a kill. Anything else would simply anger them. She aimed in and fired four rounds, quickly bringing down four zerglings. She turned to the fifth zergling, now mere feet away, fired, and successfully landed a head shot. Unfortunately as it fell to the ground, its scythe arms were already extended towards her. One of the scythes fell on her, impaling her rear right leg through the center. As the creature fell, the scythe fell with it, making its way down her leg and splitting the bone down the middle. The filly shouted in pain and fell over, the scythe still shoved through what was left of her leg. “522!” shouted Stedson. He quickly ran out of the observation deck towards the lower chamber. Upon entering, Stedson ran towards unit 522 to see her leg was effectively crippled. She would likely never walk again. “I’m sorry daddy, I wasn’t fast enough,” she said with tears in her eyes. It wasn’t so much the injury that was getting to her, as much as the fact she had just let Stedson down. Stedson wrapped his hooves and right wing around the injured filly. “It’s ok, it’s ok. You did very good 522. I’m very proud of you.” “Really?” asked the filly as she smiled, despite the pain she was in. “I’m glad I could… make you happy daddy.” The filly started panting and finding it difficult to breath due to the blood loss. “Get a medic in here!” shouted Stedson. Stedson stood in front of the maimed Iron Feather unit as she lay in her hospital bed. Happy was busy inspecting the remaining units, so Stedson had been left alone to comfort the filly. It was a sad sight seeing his once perfect creation in this state. Half of her rear right leg had been amputated, effectively ending her career as a soldier before it could begin. Stedson brushed 522’s purple mane gentility. While an unfortunate fate, he was grateful she was still alive. “Doctor, you know as well as I do that thing won’t ever walk again,” said Happy as he entered the room. “We can’t sell bad merchandise, and we’re not wasting funds maintaining a damaged IF unit. Get rid of it,” demanded Happy. “Sir please, she’s just a child!” replied Stedson. Happy raised an eyebrow. “That’s a rather disturbing statement Doctor. I’m afraid all the time spent on this station has taken its toll on your state of mind. Perhaps we need to relieve you from this project,” suggested Happy. “Sir no! I assure you there is nothing wrong with me,” replied Stedson. “Then get rid of this IF unit,” repeated Happy. “Sir I’ll… I’ll pay for this unit!” said Stedson. “For that thing?” asked Happy. “Well… looking at the damage I guess you’d buy it cheap. The problem is we don’t pay you. You’re dead remember?” “I’ll… I’ll…” Stedson had to think of something to say. He couldn’t just let Happy throw her into a waste bin. “Actually I have a better idea. I think she’ll be more useful to us alive after all,” said Happy. “Thank you sir. I promise I’ll find a way to put 522 to good use,” said Stedson. “I’ve already thought of that. I have a contact in Consortium space who is always looking for test subjects. They’re always doing some crazy experiment or another, but finding willing candidates is always an obstacle. I’m sure he’ll find a use for this damaged IF unit,” said Happy. He looked down at the damaged product and thought about how much money had been poured into that thing. “If anything, it’ll help offset set the medical expenses of keeping it alive this long.” “Sir we can’t do that!” argued Stedson. “If you hand her over, she’ll just be a lab animal to them. They’ll dissect her, expose her to diseases, test weapons on her!” “And?” asked Happy. “And… we’ve invested too much into this unit just to throw away like that,” argued Stedson trying to appeal to his sense of logic. “It’d be a waste of a unit.” “Doctor I appreciate your concern for the project, but we still have 998 functional IF units. One unit will not be missed,” said Happy. “This failure aside, most of your test subjects performed admirably today Stedson, so keep up the good work. I’ll be back in six years, though expect to see other inspectors periodically. As always, cause any trouble, and the guards will put you down.” Happy started walking out of the medical bay. Before the doors closed behind him, he turned around and shouted, “Six years Stedson, don’t screw this up!” Stedson looked down at 522, who was still passed out. He bent down and wrapped 522 in his hoofs. He couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of horrors in store for her as a lab animal, but he knew he couldn’t let that come to pass. Stedson began going through the medical supplies, looking for a certain bottle. 522 had finally awoken, though she was still very weak. “Daddy… I can’t feel my leg,” she said. “Can you fix me daddy?” Stedson filled a syringe with a lethal dose of sedative and approached 522. “Daddy is going to fix you. He’s going to take you away to a better place now. You won’t ever have to do any of these horrible things ever again.” “Where am I going daddy?” she asked. “Remember what happened to unit one?” he asked. He was refereeing to the Iron Feather unit that was given to Vincent and Sarah Iron feather as payment for their dead son’s genetic material. “She went away to live with another mommy and daddy. You said they gave her a name and were going to take care of her,” replied 522. “You said she was adopted. “That’s right honey. You’re about to be adopted. You’ll have a new daddy, and mommy too. You’ll be given a name, and you’ll have a nice house to live in. You’ll be happy there,” lied Stedson. He hated lying to her face like this. He’d also have to tell her sister’s the same lie when they started to ask him where 522 went. 522 smiled as her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.” she said. “You’ll still visit right?” “Yes… I’ll always visit you 522,” assured Stedson. Finally he injected the weakened filly with the sedative. “Daddy… I feel… sleepy,” she said. “Go to sleep 522, it’ll all be better in the morning,” promised Stedson. 522’s eyes started to close. She got out one last sentence. “I’ll... miss you… daddy.” 522 finally went silent. Stedson began to cry as he heard those words. “I’ll miss you too. I’m sorry,” he said as he bowed his head in front of the motionless filly. He wasn’t sure if he could ever be forgiven for what he had been forced to do. Author's Note Guys I really need feedback on this one. Did anyone care when 522 died? Or was she just another nameless face in the crowed? UnchainedVice Admiral Day had once again arrived onboard the station, eager to inspect the progress of the Iron Feather program. Stedson however was less than enthusiastic to greet the old stallion. Both his wings were now disabled at Happy’s command. A punishment for destroying product six years ago meant for another client. Stedson may have even been killed had he not put 522’s remains to good use. She was still young when she died, so her body could still be used to create more clones. Even though Bic’s decision to use two X chromosomes cost the unicorn her life, it was a prudent call. There was absolutely no sign of degradation when using 522’s genetic material to clone another batch. This was indeed the perfect filly. Somewhat for the sake of efficiency, and also in honor of their genetic donor, the second generation kept the exact same make up as 522. Six thousand more fillies were now in basic training, while the first thousand were now in their intermediate stage of training. Happy noticed Stedson seemed rather displeased to see him today. “You seem upset. Is this over unit 36?” “She didn’t deserve to be sold off into slavery like that. She showed excellent piloting skills. Even if she wasn’t as physically developed as the others, she would have had a role to play,” argued Stedson. “She was defective Doctor. She couldn’t keep up with the others. You said so yourself, she was suffering from a very weak heart and was developing more slowly than the others. She probably won’t live past thirty,” replied Happy. “Her development was only stunted because her pod was damaged. If that requisition for a repair had come in when I asked, she wouldn’t have turned out the way she did,” responded Stedson. Or if you just hadn’t damaged her pod in the first place, he thought to himself. “One must not live in the past. We still have 997 active IF units remaining. Her presence won’t be missed,” assured Happy. Not by you perhaps, thought Stedson. “But enough about the prototype generation. I’m more excited about this next one. It’s good to see you’ve expanded the program Doctor,” complemented Happy. “This next generations looks every bit as promising as the first.” “Thank you sir. Unlike the prototype generation which was only one thousand infantry units, this 01 series is six thousand IF units, and being trained across a wide variety of skills. From pilots, to infantry, to battlefield commanders. This will be a stand-alone battalion of soldiers. I can assure you the 01 series will perform to your expectations,” replied Stedson. At the moment, roughly fifty or so of the five and a half your old 01 series fillies were currently on a target practice range. Stedson was grateful there simply weren’t enough zerglings available for all of them to go through the same live fire course that had claimed 522's life six years ago. “That all sounds well and good, but I do however have one concern. The prototypes have proven that they were willing to kill in order to survive. But since we don’t have enough living targets, how do I know the 01’s are as proficient killers as the prototypes?” asked Happy. Stedson anticipated this, and prepared an alternative test to show their willingness to kill. “Units 818-01, 4283-01 and 99-01 come here,” ordered Stedson. Immediately, three of the identical fillies rushed to Stedson’s side, eager to prove their worth. “Reporting as ordered sir!” all three of them said in unison. Stedson had made it very clear that in the presence of the admiral, they were to maintain a level of formality. “Girls, assemble a duty demonstration kit, and report back here immediately,” ordered Stedson. “Yes sir!” said two of the fillies. 99-01 accidently let slip a “daddy.” She was immediately embarrassed at the blunder, and quickly ran off with the other two. “I thought you said you were going to take care of that with this next batch,” said Happy shooting Stedson a glare. “Some habits are harder to kill than other sir,” replied Stedson. The three fillies each returned with a large box. In each box was a bottle of liquid, a long reach lighter, and a caged animal. 818-01 had a caged rabbit, 4283-01 had a kitten, and 99-01 had a puppy. “Girls, what are these things?” asked Stedson. “They’re our pets,” said 818-01. “You allow them to keep pets?” asked Happy. “I’m rather disappointed with you Stedson. How is this going to prepare them for combat?!” Stedson ignored the comment. “4283-01, how long have you had that kitten?” asked Stedson. “Four months now sir,” she replied. “I named him whiskers.” “Do you love whiskers?” asked Stedson. “More than anything in the world sir!” she replied. She took whiskers out of the cage and rubbed her nose against the kitten’s nose. Both her and her kitten smiled happily. “This better be going somewhere Stedson. I’m starting to reconsider your competence in leading this project,” said Happy. Again, Stedson ignored the Admirals comment. “99-01, what is your puppies name?” asked Stedson. “Her name is princes. I’ve had her for three months now. She likes to play fetch a lot daddy… I mean sir!” she corrected. “So all three of you love your pets don’t you?” asked Stedson. “Yes sir!” they all said together. “Good. Put them all in the cage,” he ordered. All three fillies complied. “Now dose them in the fluid,” ordered Stedson. Again all three of them complied. “You know what to do next girls.” As they all picked up their lighters, Happy started to have an idea of where this was going. “Stedson, are they going too-” before he could finish that sentence, all three of the fillies had already used their lighters to lite their “beloved” pets on fire. All of them did so without the slightest hint of hesitation. They looked up at their surrogate father with a smile and asked, “Did we do good sir?” “You did very good girls. Put out the pets, throw them in with the others, and return to your training,” ordered Stedson. “You’ve made me very proud today girls. Now get to it.” “Yes sir!” they shouted. Having received the always appreciated praise of Stedson, the girls performed their orders with great enthusiasm. Happy was still shocked by what he had seen. “I could have gone my entire life without ever seeing that image and died a happy stallion,” he said. “I trust they proved their capacity for violence sir?” asked Stedson. “Yes... I would say those three have. What about the others?” asked Happy. “Have they shown their willingness?” “Come with me sir,” said Stedson. Stedson lead Happy to a room that the three fillies had just finished running out of. They all shot Stedson a smile as they passed by. Before Happy entered, he noticed an atrocious smell. “Stedson, what the hell is in that room?” asked Happy. “Look for yourself sir. I think you’ll be pleased,” said Stedson. Happy held his breath and entered the room. In it he found a pit filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of dead creatures. Far more than there were active IR units. Some were burnt, others were chopped to pieces, some had missing eyes, but all had one form of mutilation or another. “Why so many?” asked Happy. “They perform this task multiple times a year. Some of the 01 series have gone through as many as twenty pets already. Many of the prototype series have actually turned it into quite the pass time, usually killing something at least once a week. The record so far is about nine hours,” said Stedson. “Nine hours? Nine hours of what?” asked Happy. “That’s how long someone was able to keep an animal alive for as they performed surgery while it was still concious,” replied Stedson. “Why would they do that?!” asked Happy. “Are they just doing this for fun now?!” “No sir! I can assure they're not just torturing creatures for fun," Stedson knew that was at least partially a lie. "Part of the first aid training they go through is injuring an animal, and then treating the wound. It helps simulate battlefield type injuries. Nine hours was simply how long a filly was able to continuously open and close a zerg for after she had shot it. Of course the regeneration factor did extend the life span.” Stedson chuckled. “That girls every bit as good with a scalpel as she is with a gun,” he said failing to hide his pride. “Stedson, you’re taking this too far! I wanted soldiers, not… this!” he said pointing to the pit of dead animals. “How can we expect these things to fight alongside other soldiers?!” “Sir you wanted fillies instilled with a capacity for violence. I gave you exactly what you asked for. When you finally ask them to kill, they’ll do so without mercy, thought or hesitation. It’ll be just like a game to them,” replied Stedson. “Doctor… the inspectors said you were going through a psychological decline. I suspected it was just you growing attached to the IF units, but it's obvious you have experienced a mental breakdown. I’m afraid I’m going to have to have to relieve you of your duties,” informed Happy. Always walking on two legs and wearing his gloves, the Earth Pony stallion reached for his pistol on his holster. Just as he did so, a throwing blade sliced through Happy’s right hoof, impaling it against his side. As Happy let out a shot of pain, another earth pony stallion entered the chamber. He wore a brown business suit, had a brown fur coat and eyes, with a slightly darker brown mane. Like Happy, he too stood on two legs and wore precision gloves. “You didn’t really think you could embezzle funds from DI for so long and not have anyone notice did you?” asked the stallion. As Happy tried to reach for his pistol with his other glove, the other stallion reached for a blade hidden away in his suit. He swiftly threw it at Happy, stabbing through his left hoof, effectively disabling him. “Who are you?!” asked Happy after letting out a shout of pain. “I am Mr. Penny Pincher. El contador for the Diamond Dog security firm. I’m sure you’ve heard of us,” replied Penny Pincher. Happy looked over to Stedson in shock. “You’re working with mercenaries now?!” Stedson simply shrugged, not bothering to give a real response. Happy could hear the sound of gun fire going off throughout the station, they were under attack. “I have to admit, you did a pretty good job hiding your funds each year. I myself almost didn’t find the discrepancies. It’s easy to see how you kept this station hidden for so long admiral. But the Prophet doesn’t just let anyone be her personal accountant. Never underestimate the power an annual budget portfolio,” said Penny Pincher as he pulled the dagger out of Happy's right hoof. Happy had no idea how a mere mercenary could even get his hands on that kind of information in the first place. “How… how did you-” “Get my hoofs on a Dominion Intelligence budget report? It wasn’t easy, but it helps when you have someone on the inside,” said Penny Pincher as he pulled out the second blade. Again Happy shouted in pain. “Twilight Sparkle sends her regards.” Two Diamond Dog stallions in power armor entered the room and pointed their rifles at Happy. “Wait!” shouted Stedson. Happy looked over towards Stedson and said, “Stedson, when the Dominion finds out mercenaries captured a top secret facility, they’ll come after you. I can get you out of this.” “This station doesn’t exist,” replied Stedson. “You can’t get me out of this, you killed me twelve years ago remember? I’m just waiting for a certain someone to show. Speak of the devil, there she is!” he said as one of the Iron Feather units entered. She was a prototype generation judging by her obvious age. “This is 588. She was a very close friend of 522. I told her what really happened to her sister. Fun fact, she also holds that nine hour record I mentioned earlier. She’s been looking forward to this for a while.” “I plan to break that record today,” she replied with a smile. Happy’s eyes widened. “Stedson don’t do this!” he shouted. “Guards do us a favor and break his remaining legs. Then take him to medical. 588 needs to practice her first aid,” requested Stedson. "You broke my wings Happy. But you also let me live out my dream, so I can let that go. But what you forced me to do to 522... I'm afraid I just can't look the other way on that one." The two armored ponies looked towards Penny Pincher who gave an affirmative nod. Wearing power armor, they had no problem snapping each rear leg with a kick. As Happy screamed in pain, they picked him up by his injured two front hoofs and dragged him off, with 588 following behind. “I trust the guards didn’t give your men too much trouble?” asked Stedson. “Resoc’s rarely ever do,” said Penny Pincher. “But your soldiers however, they're something else. They show much promise judging from the stolen inspector reports Miss Sparkle has sent our way. The Prophet is very interested in acquiring your IF units. In fact, she is already requesting production for ten-thousand more IF units be grown immediately.” “I can get started right away. Unfortunately none of the staff here has the knowledge to re-create or maintain the Dominion cloning technology. They keep these machines in a delicate state for a reason. They'll eventually start to break down, and only the Dominion has the means to repair these machines when they do,” informed Stedson. “Worry not. We are confident our source within Dominion intelligence will come through with the technology. You're working for the greater good now Doctor. Begin work on the 02 series immediately. Diamond Dog will provide you with all the resources you ask for,” assured Penny Pincher. “And I’ll have near complete control over operations from now on? No more red tape and annoying inspectors?” asked Stedson. “No more red tape,” promised Penny Pincher. “Our inspectors will try to keep their annoyance to a minimum. Do whatever you need to do. The only thing the Prophet ask for is good soldiers. We don’t care what methods you use,” assured Penny PIncher. The sound of Happy’s screams began to fill the hall way as 588 began to practice her “first aid” skills on the still conscious stallion. “Even those methods.” Stedson smiled at the news. “Good. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.” Author's Note This is a side story to the Koprulu Sector. If this universe interest you at all, I'd recommend reading that story. Yes the IF program will be in the main story. If you have questions, I'd recommend reading that story to find out more, or reading "KS Factions," which helps to explain much of the lore in this universe. If you are especially interested in what happened to unit 01 and unit 36, then I'd really recommend reading it. And yes, unit 588 will be making an appearance. That said, what did you guys think? Please leave a comment and let me know. Sequel (of sorts)Another story has been added. It's by a different author, but he is writing it with my blessing. It's called Born of Sin: Descent into Madness. When I wrote this story, it was mostly to get some background lore into Scootaloo (01), Jet Stream (36) and to a degree Mercy (588). Also to acknowledge Stedson and give him an origin story. Descent into Madness isn't really a sequel, or a prequel. It takes place between chapter 3 and chapter 4. It intends to go into much deeper detail on how and why Stedson eventually does the things he does. If you're interested in that, make sure to give the story a look. It's by Not so New Brony. It's his first story so far, but I think it shows promise. Just like Born of Sin, Descent into Madness is canon with the main story. So if you are a fan of Koprulu Sector, by all means check it out. Some of the things in that story will probably be reflected in the main story later.
UnfaithfulStedson Cog always knew he was a brilliant geneticist, even if his superiors would never recognize it. He was tired of always being the Dominions lapdog, and tired of never being allowed to pursue his own works. All he did was work to create an endless supply of near worthless drones, to inflate an already near worthless population. What he wanted to do was to create true perfection. A race of ponies that were built to be perfect from the ground up. Unfortunately, the Pegasus knew that in order to pursue any goals, he would need bits and lots of them. He hated selling out his creations for monetary gain, but it would be a small sacrifice for achieving greatness. The young stallion had arrived at the Serphentos system, a system of planets bordering Consortium and Confederate space. The system was only two planets and an asteroid belt. While technically this system was under the control of the Consortium, its close proximity to Confederate space attracted many wealthy Confederate business owners. Due to the Confederate ponies monopolization of most of that systems industry, it was no secret that the Serphentos government was always in the pockets of the wealthy Confederates. That however is what Stedson was counting on. He could never earn his own governments blessing for the project he was attempting, his ambitions were too dangerous they claimed. For that reason, what he was doing was highly illegal. If anyone found out he was about to sell Dominion secrets, he could find himself in a prison. The Confederate noble house von Rich however was willing to take a chance on anything, so long as it benefited their bottom line. All he needed to do was deliver a good selling pitch, and at long last he could bring his work to fruition. The Pegasus shuttle had finally arrived at a starport on the surface of Serphentos I. Of the two worlds, this one was the main population hub, as it was the only world that could naturally support life. Serphentos II was far too out of range of the suns warmth to ever support any natural life, and was mostly used as a mining world. After landing and exiting from the cities starport, he flew across the city to a large skyscraper where he would meet his future business partner. Stedson was admittedly worried. He was a geneticist, not a business pony, and he had very little experience giving effective presentations. Perhaps that is why his ideas were never taken seriously? As Stedson made his way up the skyscraper, he found himself in the waiting room outside of the office he was looking for. Checking his clock, he saw he was early and decided to use the bathroom. As he finished his business and began to wash his hooves, he got a good look at himself in the mirror and noticed he was a mess. His brown mane was sticking up, his purple eyes were completely bloodshot, and his yellow fur coat was drenched in sweat. Looking at his brown business suit, he could visibly see lines of sweat running down his sleeves. “Calm down Stedson, you have got this!” he said to himself. Stedson poured some water onto his hoofs, but unfortunately the water splashed off and hit him in the groin, making it appear he had just wet himself. “Damn it! Not now!” Stedson grabbed a paper towel and began trying to dry his suit, but then he heard a mare outside saying, “Stedson Cog, Mr. Hector von Rich is ready for you. Stedson Cog? Is there a Stedson Cog here?” Stedson ran out of the bathroom, not noticing he had stepped on a wet paper towel which was now sticking to his rear left hoof. “I’m here!” he shouted. The receptionist looked at the unimpressive stallion, sweat running down his suit, and paper stuck on his hoof. “Right… Mr. Hector von Rich will see you now,” she said. As he walked into the office, the mare noticed a wet spot near his groin area and began to laugh. As he walked into the office, he saw a brown stallion, with a red mane and red eyes. The stallion was clearly far older than he was, at least in his late forties, if not mid-fifties. Stedson took a seat and began with a greeting. “Thank you so much for your time Mr. Hector. I know your time is very-” “von Rich,” interrupted the older stallion. “Right… Mr. von Rich. I want to talk-” “Hector von Rich,” corrected the stallion again for the second time. Stedson never spent much time around Confederates, and had just unintentionally insulted the stallion he was asking funding from. It was Confederate custom that when you first met a new pony, you must acknowledge their house title at least the first time you address them. Stedson realized only too late that he just insulted the stallion. All he could do now was try to continue his presentation. “Umm… yes… of course Mr. Hector von Rich,” he said trying not to panic. “I have an exciting business proposition that I’m certain you would be very interested in.” “I know. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,” said the older stallion. Clearly Stedson unintentional insult had put him in a bad mood. That or he was always like this. “Get to the point, what are you trying to sell?” “Right… of course,” replied Stedson. “I’m an Imperial geneticist, and I have extensive knowledge of our cloning technology. I have also studied extensively on genetic engineering as well. I believe I can produce a higher quality stallion for use on the front lines. With my augmentations, I can increase aggression, stamina, dexterity, and strength by rewriting their genes to only use the best traits from both parents.” “Aggression?” asked Mr. Hector. “Yes… for better combat effectiveness. If I can increase aggression, I can remove things like hesitation, doubt and fear. Once I get the funding I need, I can create the army of the future,” assured Stedson. “And who would pay to train, feed and house these clones?” asked Mr. Hector. “Well… I suppose that part of the expense would be paid for by you. But don’t think of it as an expensive! Think of is an improvement of quality. By making sure the clones stay under our care through adolescence, we can start their training at a much earlier age. Everything from unarmed combat, to marksmen ship, to advanced infantry tactics,” said Stedson. “Who will provide this genetic material?” asked Mr. Hector. "My understanding of Dominion cloning technology is that it can only be obtained from children." “I’ve already thought of that! I’ve gone through an extensive list of soldiers who have shown exemplarity performance on the battlefield.” Stedson opens up his briefcase and reveals a picture of an orange Pegasus, along with his profile. “This is Vincent Iron Feather. He was a staff sergeant in the Dominion Marine Special Forces. His wife is currently pregnant. I’ve looked up her background, and just like her husband, she has no signs of any physical hereditary ailments. This couple’s child has the perfect genetic material for our perfect stallion. All it needs are some minor alterations.” Mr. Hector looked through the profile momentarily and commented, "It says he was discharged for mental instability." "He was found to be somewhat too violent. But that is exactly the trait we're looking for in our perfect stallion," replied Stedson. “I’m not seeing how this will result in any profits,” countered Mr. Hector. “If we can produce a strong first batch, we can present them to independent security firms. Once they demonstrate how well the clones have performed, we could start filling orders for large government armies. I’m certain they would pay well to get their hooves on soldiers this caliber,” assured Stedson. Mr. Hector’s eyes narrowed on him, then he gave his response. “So you’re telling me you want me to fund a program, where we will take genetic material from a child whose father we know already had psychological problems. Then you want to take these already unstable foals, and genetically alter them to make them even more violent. On top of that you want these psychologically unstable colts to be trained in advanced military tactics. Finally you expect us to hold onto these killing machines, until you can find buyer. As if they’ll just sit around, waiting to be sold off to the highest bidder like a gaggle of slaves. You don’t see at all how that can blow up in your face?” “Well anything can sound bad if you put it that way,” said Stedson. “Get out,” demanded Mr. Hector. “But Mr-” started Stedson. “Get out!” repeated Mr. Hector. Stedson got out of his seat and made his way out of the office. As he did so, a black earth pony stallion bumped into him, knocking him over. “Watch it!” shouted Stedson who was in rather bad mood at the moment. The black stallion completely ignored him and took the remaining elevator before Stedson could get up, forcing him to wait for the next one. Stedson got back up and noticed he had a small cut on his leg all of a sudden. “Clumsy idiot,” he muttered as he waited for the elevator. Eventually he made his way out of the building, back into the streets. He couldn’t believe. Another near sighted fool who couldn’t see just how brilliant an idea he was sitting on. The old grouch is probably just upset I didn’t get his name right the first time, he thought to himself. There were other wealthy investors on this world. At least one of them had to have the vision necessary to see just how great an opportunity this was. It’s not every day an Imperial geneticist with extensive knowledge on Dominion cloning technology comes along. As he made his way out of the building, he started feeling very weak for some reason. Apparently that disaster of an interview had taken quite the toll on him. Stedson was planning on flying back to the starpart, but he wasn't feeling up for it anymore. Fortunately a taxi was driving by and stopped in front of him. Feeling exhausted, he didn’t question it and stepped inside. “Get me… to the starport…” he said, sweating heavily. “No problem,” said the driver. “So, where are you heading?” “One of the other cities… wow… it sure gets hot on this world,” commented Stedson. The taxi driver asked, “Not from this world huh? What brings you here?” “Finding investors,” replied Stedson. “Got some ideas to sell.” The taxi turned into a mostly empty underground parking lot. As they entered the lot, the gate started to close. “What are we doing here?" questioned Stedson. "I said… go to the starport.” “By ideas to sell, I take you mean you want to sell technology that isn't yours right? I don’t suppose you were planning on handing over top secret Dominion cloning technology to the highest bidder were you?” asked the taxi driver. Stedsons eyes widened when the taxi driver said that. He quickly opened up the door and tried to make a run for the gate, but it had already closed. He turned around to see the taxi driver was that same black stallion from earlier that had knocked him over and forced him to miss the elevator. He was standing on two hoofs, wearing a set of precision gloves over his forward hooves, which acted as a set of robotic hands. “Who are you?!” asked Stedson. The pony pulled a bat out of the taxi and started to approach him. Stedson tried to run, but for some reason his legs didn’t want to cooperate, and he tripped after only a few steps. “That’s the drugs kicking in,” said the black stallion. “That little cut you got when I bumped into wasn’t on accident you know?” As Stedson tried to crawl away, the black stallion smashed the bat into his back, snapping his left wing. Stedson screamed in agony as he felt the bone snap. “I’m with Dominion Intelligence by the way,” he said as he swung a second time near the same spot. “I know I know, a lot of people think we’re just thugs,” he continued before swinging a third time, further breaking Stedson’s already crippled left wing. “But really there is more to it than that. After all, someone has to keep scum like you from selling out the Dominion.” Again he swung, and again the wing snapped in another position. “Please… I’m sorry… just stop!” begged Stedson. “I will I will. But first I need to make sure you remember what happens you commit treason,” replied the stallion before taking another swing. “There we go! I have a feeling that wing is never going to flap again,” proclaimed the stallion with a smile. Stedson was breathing heavily as he rived in agony. Tears were forming on his eyes, mostly from the pain of his crippled wing, but somewhat also from knowing he will probably never fly again. “Please… I’m sorry,” was all he could say. The black stallion grabbed him by his crippled wing and pulled him over to another car in the parking lot. He opened the trunk to reveal some rope and a gag. “What are you doing?” asked the terrified Stedson. “By the way. I’m Happy Day. Laugh at my name and I’ll smash your other wing too,” he threatened. “Please… no. Just let me go, I won’t do it again I promise!” begged Stedson. Happy showed no remorse. He delivered a blow to Stedson’s head, then began to bound and gag him. “We aren’t done just yet. Can’t let traitors off with something as simple as a maimed wing now can we?” asked Happy. Stedson didn’t reply. The room was spinning at the moment, and everything was blurry. He felt Happy picking him up and stuffing him into the trunk of the new vehicle. “I think you may have suffered a concussion. Try not to be stay unconscious for too long. It’s really bad for you,” said Happy as he closed the trunk.
UnbornVincent stood outside of the waiting room while his wife was in the hospital room. It had been almost two hours now, and his constant pacing and sweat had practically drenched the hospital floor. His head still hurt from the car accident, but he wasn’t worried about that. What he was worried about was the fact his pregnant wife had taken the blunt of the collision. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, a doctor exited the room. “Mr. Iron Feather,” he said. “I’m pleased to say your wife will survive. She is still unconscious, but we expect her to wake shortly.” “Thank god,” said the relieved husband as he let out a relaxed sigh. “Thank you so much doctor. What about Scootaloo?” The doctor paused for a moment. His eyes shifted away as he gave the news. “I’m afraid you son… isn’t going to make it. He suffered severe trauma and is brain dead. We had to perform a C section. There is nothing that can be done.” Vincent fell to his knees. “No… please no… there has to be something you can do!” he shouted. “I’m sorry. Scootaloo is gone. Your son is currently under life support, but once we pull that plug it’s over,” explained the doctor. “I hate to add more bad news on top of that but… your wife sustained significant internal injury. Her uterus was severely damaged. She will probably never be able to have children again.” Vincent could feel the entire world crashing down on him. Why was this happening? His son was innocent, he didn’t deserve to have his life cut down before it even began! “If you’d like… you can see your son before we pull the plug,” said the doctor. “I want my wife to be allowed to see him too,” said Vincent. “Very well. She’ll probably awaken within the hour,” said the doctor before leading the stallion to his brain dead child. “I’ll leave you alone.” Vincent almost couldn’t believe it. His son laying still in that glass box, hooked up to that machine. Scootaloo would never be allowed to open his eyes, breath on his own, say his first words. He had been robbed of all the things he should have been allowed to experience. Vincent awoke in the hospital hours later. His wife was still hunched up beside him. She had taken it far worse than he had. Scootaloo still laid in his glass box, almost motionless except for his chest raising and falling as the machine filled his lungs with air. It wouldn’t be long now before the doctors would unplug him. “He would have been so beautiful,” said his wife who had also woken up. “He has your hair and eyes, and my fur,” she added. “We should go now,” said Vincent. His tone was hallow and without emotion, as if his soul died alongside his son. “You’re right… I don’t want to see this next part,” agreed his wife. The couple stood up and exited the room. As they did, they were met by a black earth pony stallion. “I’m sorry about your son,” he said. “Who are you?” asked Vincent. “You don’t know me yet, but you’re about to be glad you do. I understand your wife is sterile now,” he commented. His wife looked away, her eyes filled with shame and regret as if it were somehow her fault. “How would you know about that? Who are you?!” asked Vincent. “The name is Happy Day. I work for a research department within Dominion Intelligence, and I have an offer I don’t think you can refuse. What if I told you that you and your wife could have your son back?” asked Happy. His wife gasped and was suddenly looking very hopefully. “You can do that?!” she asked excitedly. Vincent on the other hand didn’t want to get involved in anything that had to do with Dominion Intelligence. He was immediately suspicious. “The doctor said he was brain dead, and beyond recovery.” “Well doctors tend to stop trying after the patients declared dead,” said Happy. “There are ways around death. That is if you're interested in what I have to say.” “Give us a moment,” said Vincent. “Of course,” said Happy. Vincent took his wife aside and whispered, “If he’s Dominion Intelligence, I don’t think we can trust him.” “Vincent please, we’ll never get a chance like this again! We should at least hear him out. I want my son back,” she countered. “I know you do Sarah, but Dominion Intelligence is bad news. They’d only offer help if they want something from us. There is good chance this is going to cost us even more than what we’ve lost today,” argued Vincent. “I don’t care!” retorted Sarah. “My son is dead. You think I’m not willing to pay whatever that stallion wants?!” Vincent sighed knowing his wife would not be swayed otherwise. “Fine. We’ll at least hear him out.” Vincent turned around to meet the stallion face to face. “What are you proposing?” “What do you know about the Dominions cloning program?” he asked. Vincent immediately had an idea where he was going with this. “We know that all clones are property of the Dominion until they come of age.” “Normally yes. But your son is of special interest to us,” said Happy. “If we could get ahold of some of his genetic material, we could produce another son for you.” “We can’t afford that,” said Vincent. “This hospital bill alone has put us in the poor house. Not to mention the totaled car.” “You missunderstand. We don’t want you to pay us,” corrected Happy. “In fact, I can assure you, you and your wife will be very generously compensated. I’m sure you can use the bits after what happened.” “A clone though? I’m not sure how I feel about that,” said Sarah. “Your son is the genetic combination of you and your husband brought to life. What difference does it make if he’s born in your uterus or in a pod? It’s still your son isn’t it?” argued Happy. “I… suppose it is,” said Sarah. “Alright, we’ll do it.” “Sarah wait,” said Vincent. “What do you get out of this? I know for a fact you aren’t just being a helpful neighbor. Dominion Intelligence only helps when it wants something.” “Well that should be a simple answer,” said Happy. “We’re always looking for fresh genetic material to breed more clones. We can only get it from children, and in limited amounts. An entire newborn body however give us plenty of material to work with.” “So our dead son is just raw material for you isn’t he?” asked Vincent. “You could say that. But if you get your son back, does it really matter?” he asked. Vincent could tell he was making a deal with the devil right now if he took his offer. But his wife wanted their son back, and they certainly wouldn’t get another chance like this. “How many other clones will you make?” asked Vincent. “That’s not for you to know. This is your only chance Mr. Iron Feather. Take it or leave it,” said Happy. “Vincent please! This could be our only chance to get Scootaloo back. I need this,” she begged with tears in her eyes. Vincent exhaled heavily, then put out his hoof. “Very well… you can keep the body.” “Excellent!” said Happy shaking Vincent's hoof. “I assure you this will be a win win for all parties involved.” Stedson had finally awoken. He had no idea how long he was out for. Hopefully not too long, as it was suggested staying unconscious was really “bad for him.” He was in a locked room, and his head felt like a ton of bricks. He was at least able to walk, if somewhat clumsily. Either that concussions effects were still taking its toll on his stability, or he had been drugged again. Stedson walked around the room, and tried to stretch his wings. That’s when he realized his left wing wasn’t moving; that black stallion had made true on his word about crippling him. The door finally opened, and a familiar black earth pony stallion entered. “Doctor Cog! It’s good to see you’re awake!” said Happy in a tone that lived up to his name. “We have much to discuss, come come,” said Happy gesturing Stedson to come with him. Stedson instead remained on the other side of the room, cautious about going anywhere near him. “Are you still upset about me crippling your wing?” he asked. “If I wanted you dead, we’d of taken it further. Now come here! Your research awaits.” Stedson finally decided to approach him. It’s not like he could stop Happy from hurting him again if he wanted to. Stedson wasn’t a fighter, and even if he was, he was still having trouble just keeping his balance. As Stedson stepped out of the room, he was led into a fairly large facility filled with what he recognized as birth pods used to grow clones. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why your research of course!” said Happy. “Let me reintroduce myself. I am Lower Rear Admiral Day of Dominion Intelligence, and I happen to be very interested in your research doctor.” “This is all… for me? For my work?” asked Stedson. “Well… you certainly got things underway. How much do you know about my research?” asked the young stallion. “Enough to know we’re on the same page. I think your idea has some potential. I’ve actually been very intrigued in the idea of the perfect clone army for years myself,” admitted the admiral. “Then why didn’t you start years ago?” asked Stedson. “Because my superiors seem to think that growing an army of soldiers with the sole purpose of killing other ponies would only end in disaster,” explained Happy. “Personally I think they have simply seen to many movies where clones or robots go rogue and turn on their masters or some other nonsense like that.” “I was told the same thing! Why didn’t you just ask? I would have helped." said Stedson. "You didn’t have to break my wing,” he muttered to himself. “Let bygones be bygones,” said Happy acting as if the whole thing never happened. “I needed to kill you first. Everyone thinks I killed you for treason. Now no one suspect you’re here.” “Where exactly is here?” asked Stedson. “You don’t need to know that,” replied Happy. “Alright… but if your superiors don’t agree with this, how did you fund this?” asked Stedson. “You don’t need to know that either. And you’re about two more stupid questions away from another visit from Mr. Baseball bat,” threatened Happy. “Of course,” replied Stedson nervously. “Well in order to get underway, I’ll need the right genetic material.” Already taken care of,” interrupted Happy as he led him to another room. Inside Stedson couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A frozen child. “Scootaloo Iron Feather. Born never. Died last week.” “How did this happen?” he asked. “One stupid question away from Mr. Baseball bat,” threatened Happy. “How he got in this state is not your concern. The point is he just happened to die, and I just happened to be there. Now let’s get to business.” Stedson couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He thought he would wait for the child to be born, then ask the parents for the genetic material. Some blood from a new born infant could easily provide enough material for hundreds of clones. But the whole body? This was enough to create an entire army. The idea that Happy had this child killed however was still unsettling. “I want one thousand units for the first batch. If the initial batch shows promise, we’ll extend into the thousands! You’ll be given bits, guards, training instructors, and the best college drop outs money can buy,” said Happy. “I’d prefer some experienced intern graduates if we’re going to do this,” said Stedson. “Fine, I’ll acquire some interns for you,” said Happy. “Can you define the term acquire?” asked Stedson thinking back to the dark possibilities of how the host child was acquired. “Where is that baseball bat?” asked Happy. “Never mind! Intern graduates are a great idea. I shouldn’t complain!” corrected Stedson. “Alright then, we’re in agreement. I’ll get you the staff you need within the month, and then we’ll get this project on its way. I’ll be back in half a year to see how you’re doing,” announced Happy as he walked away. He turned around again and shouted, “Six months Stedson! Don’t screw this up!” Stedson was nervous as could be. He had reached the end of his six month deadline, and Lower Rear Admiral Day was expected to arrive this day to inspect his progress. So far it all seemed to be going fairly well. Thanks to his augmentations, the clones were almost genetically optimal, inheriting only the best traits locked away within their gene pool. There was only one problem that had been discovered a bit too late. Stedson prayed that he could keep it under wraps for the inspection, then produce a new batch afterwards. As impressive as this batch was, they all shared the same fundamental flaw. Finally the Admiral entered the cloning chamber where the pods were held. “Dr. Cog, I trust the project so far has been a success?” asked Happy. “Yes, completely successful in every way,” said Stedson. “We’ve found absolutely no physical abnormalities. They show excellent muscle, heart and lung development. Perfect vision as well, and the increase in aggression that we had intended. 1000 thousands units of perfection,” assured Stedson. “Good, one thousand colts getting to fight for the Dominion,” he said as he looked at one of the unborn children still growing in the pod labeled thirty six. “Yes one thousand… units. Well as you can see, everything is perfectly fine,” he said sweating nervously. “So how far along are they?” asked Happy. “How big of guns are our boys packing?” he asked. Stedson’s eye’s shifted. “I don’t know what you mean sir.” “You know what I mean, never mind I’ll check myself,” said Happy. The admiral bent down and took a closer look at unit number thirty six. “Wait a minute. That kind of looks like a… the hell is that thing between his legs?!” Shouted Happy as he punched the pod, “What the hell happened Stedson?! You said no physical abnormalities!” he shouted as he punched the pod again. “Sir please, those pods are some very sensitive equipment. A malfunction could damage the unit’s development,” pleaded Stedson. Happy punched it again, grabbed Stedsons head, and forced him to look between the unborn foals legs. “How is that not a physical abnormality?!” he asked again slamming his head into the glass, then throwing him onto the ground. The Admiral began checking the other units and found the same thing on every one of them. “I said I needed 1000 stallions! Stallions not mares! What the hell am I supposed to do with 1000 mares!?” Happy put his hoof over the neck of the still downed Stedson. “You know what? This was a mistake. I think I’ll just clean house… starting with you,” he said as his began pressing down on his throat. Happy could hear the good doctor begging, and decided to hear him out. “You better have a damn good excuse for this. What the hell happened to my stallions? Why are these colts’ fillies?” He slowly released and let him speak. “Well there are X chromosomes and-” began Stedson. Happy pressed down again. “I know what a chromosome is! What I want to know is why they don’t have a Y?! Who is responsible for this?!” again he slowly released. “One of the interns made a slight error,” said Stedson. “Which one?” he asked. “Bic did,” confessed Stedson. “Call for Bic,” said Happy as he released Stedson. Stedson complied and called for Bic on the intercom. “Now tell me doctor, how do you plan to fix this?” “Sir, I can assure you they are every bit as capable as their male counter parts,” assured Stedson. “Just give them time. Come back in six years and you’ll see. They’ll show the potential I promised. They’re still genetically perfect and more than capable of living up to your expectations.” Before Happy could reply, a unicorn walked in. “Are you Bic,” asked Happy. “Yes sir,” replied the unicorn mare. He would have commented on how her name was stupid, but given his own name, he couldn’t bring himself to. “So why do my 1000 colts have the wrong anatomy?” asked Happy. The mare began to nervously explain her reasoning. “Well… I was trying to find the best genetic combinations possible. It just so happened that the best combinations I could find were located in the fathers X chromosome. I apparently overlooked that factor and gave it the fathers X instead of the Y. But I assure you, this has only improved the quality of-” Happy struck the mare in the face, breaking her nose. As she fell to the ground holding her fractured snout, he stomped on her horn, snapping it off. “Stedson, what did I tell you six months ago before I left?” he asked as the mare screamed in agony. Stedson looked down at the mare, blood oozing rapidly from her horn and snout. “Don’t screw this up,” he said. “And what did your intern just do?” asked Happy. “She… screwed this up,” he replied. “Yeah that’s what I thought,” said Happy. He reached down, grabbed her head and snapped her neck. “That’s you in six years if they don’t perform.” He got back up, took a deep breath and appeared to have relaxed. He threw one more punch at a pod, once again damaging unit thirty-six. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to explain to a certain couple why their son is now a daughter.” The Admiral then started to walk away as if the fact he just murdered that mare was no big deal. Like before, he turned around and shouted, “Six years Stedson. Don’t screw this up!”
UnforgivableThe orange Pegasus filly stood inside of a large and long chamber. Across the chamber were five doors. Beside the filly was a box. The filly stood tense, unmoving, her eyes fixated on the box beside her. She was on two legs while wearing a set of precision gloves. She was five and a half years old now, and had spent most of her time on two legs, so she was perfectly balanced in her stance. The voice of Stedson Cog came over an intercom to announce her instructions. “This will be a live fire test 522. When the bell rings, you must assemble your weapon and hit the five targets. There is a soft timer involved, so make sure you move fast.” The orange filly smiled up at an observation room where she could see Stedson looking down at her. Beside him was Upper Rear Admiral Day, who was here to view the progress of the Iron Feather unites. She held her smile and shouted, “I won’t let you down daddy,” before looking back down at the box again. “Daddy?” asked Happy. “Well… they are still fillies sir. It’s only natural they’d try to label an adult as their parental figure,” explained Stedson. “It’s nothing you should worry about. Just enjoy the test, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.” He was confident in 522’s abilities. So far every single unit in today’s inspection had performed well. A bell went off, and the box beside the filly opened revealing a number of weapon components. Across the room the five doors opened, and five zerglings were revealed. The monsters were dog like creatures, with razor sharp claws and teeth, as well as an exoskeleton instead of fur. In addition to four legs, they had two more scythe like arms coming out of their backs. As soon as the box and doors opened, the filly quickly began gathering weapon parts and started assembling a rifle. The five hungry zerg, seeing fresh meat in front of them, quickly took off sprinting at full speed. The filly felt the sweat running down her fur as she frantically raced against the “soft timer” that Stedson had mentioned. After the weapon had been assembled, there were still five bullets left in the box, along with a magazine. 522 quickly loaded the bullets into the magazine, then inserted the magazine into the rifle and prepped it to fire. As the filly looked up, the five targets were but ten yards away. Due to the filly’s age and small stature, she was only rated for a small rifle befitting her size. The zerg creatures she was facing however were quite resilient to injury, and with a low caliber rifle, only a head shot would guarantee a kill. Anything else would simply anger them. She aimed in and fired four rounds, quickly bringing down four zerglings. She turned to the fifth zergling, now mere feet away, fired, and successfully landed a head shot. Unfortunately as it fell to the ground, its scythe arms were already extended towards her. One of the scythes fell on her, impaling her rear right leg through the center. As the creature fell, the scythe fell with it, making its way down her leg and splitting the bone down the middle. The filly shouted in pain and fell over, the scythe still shoved through what was left of her leg. “522!” shouted Stedson. He quickly ran out of the observation deck towards the lower chamber. Upon entering, Stedson ran towards unit 522 to see her leg was effectively crippled. She would likely never walk again. “I’m sorry daddy, I wasn’t fast enough,” she said with tears in her eyes. It wasn’t so much the injury that was getting to her, as much as the fact she had just let Stedson down. Stedson wrapped his hooves and right wing around the injured filly. “It’s ok, it’s ok. You did very good 522. I’m very proud of you.” “Really?” asked the filly as she smiled, despite the pain she was in. “I’m glad I could… make you happy daddy.” The filly started panting and finding it difficult to breath due to the blood loss. “Get a medic in here!” shouted Stedson. Stedson stood in front of the maimed Iron Feather unit as she lay in her hospital bed. Happy was busy inspecting the remaining units, so Stedson had been left alone to comfort the filly. It was a sad sight seeing his once perfect creation in this state. Half of her rear right leg had been amputated, effectively ending her career as a soldier before it could begin. Stedson brushed 522’s purple mane gentility. While an unfortunate fate, he was grateful she was still alive. “Doctor, you know as well as I do that thing won’t ever walk again,” said Happy as he entered the room. “We can’t sell bad merchandise, and we’re not wasting funds maintaining a damaged IF unit. Get rid of it,” demanded Happy. “Sir please, she’s just a child!” replied Stedson. Happy raised an eyebrow. “That’s a rather disturbing statement Doctor. I’m afraid all the time spent on this station has taken its toll on your state of mind. Perhaps we need to relieve you from this project,” suggested Happy. “Sir no! I assure you there is nothing wrong with me,” replied Stedson. “Then get rid of this IF unit,” repeated Happy. “Sir I’ll… I’ll pay for this unit!” said Stedson. “For that thing?” asked Happy. “Well… looking at the damage I guess you’d buy it cheap. The problem is we don’t pay you. You’re dead remember?” “I’ll… I’ll…” Stedson had to think of something to say. He couldn’t just let Happy throw her into a waste bin. “Actually I have a better idea. I think she’ll be more useful to us alive after all,” said Happy. “Thank you sir. I promise I’ll find a way to put 522 to good use,” said Stedson. “I’ve already thought of that. I have a contact in Consortium space who is always looking for test subjects. They’re always doing some crazy experiment or another, but finding willing candidates is always an obstacle. I’m sure he’ll find a use for this damaged IF unit,” said Happy. He looked down at the damaged product and thought about how much money had been poured into that thing. “If anything, it’ll help offset set the medical expenses of keeping it alive this long.” “Sir we can’t do that!” argued Stedson. “If you hand her over, she’ll just be a lab animal to them. They’ll dissect her, expose her to diseases, test weapons on her!” “And?” asked Happy. “And… we’ve invested too much into this unit just to throw away like that,” argued Stedson trying to appeal to his sense of logic. “It’d be a waste of a unit.” “Doctor I appreciate your concern for the project, but we still have 998 functional IF units. One unit will not be missed,” said Happy. “This failure aside, most of your test subjects performed admirably today Stedson, so keep up the good work. I’ll be back in six years, though expect to see other inspectors periodically. As always, cause any trouble, and the guards will put you down.” Happy started walking out of the medical bay. Before the doors closed behind him, he turned around and shouted, “Six years Stedson, don’t screw this up!” Stedson looked down at 522, who was still passed out. He bent down and wrapped 522 in his hoofs. He couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of horrors in store for her as a lab animal, but he knew he couldn’t let that come to pass. Stedson began going through the medical supplies, looking for a certain bottle. 522 had finally awoken, though she was still very weak. “Daddy… I can’t feel my leg,” she said. “Can you fix me daddy?” Stedson filled a syringe with a lethal dose of sedative and approached 522. “Daddy is going to fix you. He’s going to take you away to a better place now. You won’t ever have to do any of these horrible things ever again.” “Where am I going daddy?” she asked. “Remember what happened to unit one?” he asked. He was refereeing to the Iron Feather unit that was given to Vincent and Sarah Iron feather as payment for their dead son’s genetic material. “She went away to live with another mommy and daddy. You said they gave her a name and were going to take care of her,” replied 522. “You said she was adopted. “That’s right honey. You’re about to be adopted. You’ll have a new daddy, and mommy too. You’ll be given a name, and you’ll have a nice house to live in. You’ll be happy there,” lied Stedson. He hated lying to her face like this. He’d also have to tell her sister’s the same lie when they started to ask him where 522 went. 522 smiled as her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.” she said. “You’ll still visit right?” “Yes… I’ll always visit you 522,” assured Stedson. Finally he injected the weakened filly with the sedative. “Daddy… I feel… sleepy,” she said. “Go to sleep 522, it’ll all be better in the morning,” promised Stedson. 522’s eyes started to close. She got out one last sentence. “I’ll... miss you… daddy.” 522 finally went silent. Stedson began to cry as he heard those words. “I’ll miss you too. I’m sorry,” he said as he bowed his head in front of the motionless filly. He wasn’t sure if he could ever be forgiven for what he had been forced to do. Author's Note Guys I really need feedback on this one. Did anyone care when 522 died? Or was she just another nameless face in the crowed?
UnchainedVice Admiral Day had once again arrived onboard the station, eager to inspect the progress of the Iron Feather program. Stedson however was less than enthusiastic to greet the old stallion. Both his wings were now disabled at Happy’s command. A punishment for destroying product six years ago meant for another client. Stedson may have even been killed had he not put 522’s remains to good use. She was still young when she died, so her body could still be used to create more clones. Even though Bic’s decision to use two X chromosomes cost the unicorn her life, it was a prudent call. There was absolutely no sign of degradation when using 522’s genetic material to clone another batch. This was indeed the perfect filly. Somewhat for the sake of efficiency, and also in honor of their genetic donor, the second generation kept the exact same make up as 522. Six thousand more fillies were now in basic training, while the first thousand were now in their intermediate stage of training. Happy noticed Stedson seemed rather displeased to see him today. “You seem upset. Is this over unit 36?” “She didn’t deserve to be sold off into slavery like that. She showed excellent piloting skills. Even if she wasn’t as physically developed as the others, she would have had a role to play,” argued Stedson. “She was defective Doctor. She couldn’t keep up with the others. You said so yourself, she was suffering from a very weak heart and was developing more slowly than the others. She probably won’t live past thirty,” replied Happy. “Her development was only stunted because her pod was damaged. If that requisition for a repair had come in when I asked, she wouldn’t have turned out the way she did,” responded Stedson. Or if you just hadn’t damaged her pod in the first place, he thought to himself. “One must not live in the past. We still have 997 active IF units remaining. Her presence won’t be missed,” assured Happy. Not by you perhaps, thought Stedson. “But enough about the prototype generation. I’m more excited about this next one. It’s good to see you’ve expanded the program Doctor,” complemented Happy. “This next generations looks every bit as promising as the first.” “Thank you sir. Unlike the prototype generation which was only one thousand infantry units, this 01 series is six thousand IF units, and being trained across a wide variety of skills. From pilots, to infantry, to battlefield commanders. This will be a stand-alone battalion of soldiers. I can assure you the 01 series will perform to your expectations,” replied Stedson. At the moment, roughly fifty or so of the five and a half your old 01 series fillies were currently on a target practice range. Stedson was grateful there simply weren’t enough zerglings available for all of them to go through the same live fire course that had claimed 522's life six years ago. “That all sounds well and good, but I do however have one concern. The prototypes have proven that they were willing to kill in order to survive. But since we don’t have enough living targets, how do I know the 01’s are as proficient killers as the prototypes?” asked Happy. Stedson anticipated this, and prepared an alternative test to show their willingness to kill. “Units 818-01, 4283-01 and 99-01 come here,” ordered Stedson. Immediately, three of the identical fillies rushed to Stedson’s side, eager to prove their worth. “Reporting as ordered sir!” all three of them said in unison. Stedson had made it very clear that in the presence of the admiral, they were to maintain a level of formality. “Girls, assemble a duty demonstration kit, and report back here immediately,” ordered Stedson. “Yes sir!” said two of the fillies. 99-01 accidently let slip a “daddy.” She was immediately embarrassed at the blunder, and quickly ran off with the other two. “I thought you said you were going to take care of that with this next batch,” said Happy shooting Stedson a glare. “Some habits are harder to kill than other sir,” replied Stedson. The three fillies each returned with a large box. In each box was a bottle of liquid, a long reach lighter, and a caged animal. 818-01 had a caged rabbit, 4283-01 had a kitten, and 99-01 had a puppy. “Girls, what are these things?” asked Stedson. “They’re our pets,” said 818-01. “You allow them to keep pets?” asked Happy. “I’m rather disappointed with you Stedson. How is this going to prepare them for combat?!” Stedson ignored the comment. “4283-01, how long have you had that kitten?” asked Stedson. “Four months now sir,” she replied. “I named him whiskers.” “Do you love whiskers?” asked Stedson. “More than anything in the world sir!” she replied. She took whiskers out of the cage and rubbed her nose against the kitten’s nose. Both her and her kitten smiled happily. “This better be going somewhere Stedson. I’m starting to reconsider your competence in leading this project,” said Happy. Again, Stedson ignored the Admirals comment. “99-01, what is your puppies name?” asked Stedson. “Her name is princes. I’ve had her for three months now. She likes to play fetch a lot daddy… I mean sir!” she corrected. “So all three of you love your pets don’t you?” asked Stedson. “Yes sir!” they all said together. “Good. Put them all in the cage,” he ordered. All three fillies complied. “Now dose them in the fluid,” ordered Stedson. Again all three of them complied. “You know what to do next girls.” As they all picked up their lighters, Happy started to have an idea of where this was going. “Stedson, are they going too-” before he could finish that sentence, all three of the fillies had already used their lighters to lite their “beloved” pets on fire. All of them did so without the slightest hint of hesitation. They looked up at their surrogate father with a smile and asked, “Did we do good sir?” “You did very good girls. Put out the pets, throw them in with the others, and return to your training,” ordered Stedson. “You’ve made me very proud today girls. Now get to it.” “Yes sir!” they shouted. Having received the always appreciated praise of Stedson, the girls performed their orders with great enthusiasm. Happy was still shocked by what he had seen. “I could have gone my entire life without ever seeing that image and died a happy stallion,” he said. “I trust they proved their capacity for violence sir?” asked Stedson. “Yes... I would say those three have. What about the others?” asked Happy. “Have they shown their willingness?” “Come with me sir,” said Stedson. Stedson lead Happy to a room that the three fillies had just finished running out of. They all shot Stedson a smile as they passed by. Before Happy entered, he noticed an atrocious smell. “Stedson, what the hell is in that room?” asked Happy. “Look for yourself sir. I think you’ll be pleased,” said Stedson. Happy held his breath and entered the room. In it he found a pit filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of dead creatures. Far more than there were active IR units. Some were burnt, others were chopped to pieces, some had missing eyes, but all had one form of mutilation or another. “Why so many?” asked Happy. “They perform this task multiple times a year. Some of the 01 series have gone through as many as twenty pets already. Many of the prototype series have actually turned it into quite the pass time, usually killing something at least once a week. The record so far is about nine hours,” said Stedson. “Nine hours? Nine hours of what?” asked Happy. “That’s how long someone was able to keep an animal alive for as they performed surgery while it was still concious,” replied Stedson. “Why would they do that?!” asked Happy. “Are they just doing this for fun now?!” “No sir! I can assure they're not just torturing creatures for fun," Stedson knew that was at least partially a lie. "Part of the first aid training they go through is injuring an animal, and then treating the wound. It helps simulate battlefield type injuries. Nine hours was simply how long a filly was able to continuously open and close a zerg for after she had shot it. Of course the regeneration factor did extend the life span.” Stedson chuckled. “That girls every bit as good with a scalpel as she is with a gun,” he said failing to hide his pride. “Stedson, you’re taking this too far! I wanted soldiers, not… this!” he said pointing to the pit of dead animals. “How can we expect these things to fight alongside other soldiers?!” “Sir you wanted fillies instilled with a capacity for violence. I gave you exactly what you asked for. When you finally ask them to kill, they’ll do so without mercy, thought or hesitation. It’ll be just like a game to them,” replied Stedson. “Doctor… the inspectors said you were going through a psychological decline. I suspected it was just you growing attached to the IF units, but it's obvious you have experienced a mental breakdown. I’m afraid I’m going to have to have to relieve you of your duties,” informed Happy. Always walking on two legs and wearing his gloves, the Earth Pony stallion reached for his pistol on his holster. Just as he did so, a throwing blade sliced through Happy’s right hoof, impaling it against his side. As Happy let out a shot of pain, another earth pony stallion entered the chamber. He wore a brown business suit, had a brown fur coat and eyes, with a slightly darker brown mane. Like Happy, he too stood on two legs and wore precision gloves. “You didn’t really think you could embezzle funds from DI for so long and not have anyone notice did you?” asked the stallion. As Happy tried to reach for his pistol with his other glove, the other stallion reached for a blade hidden away in his suit. He swiftly threw it at Happy, stabbing through his left hoof, effectively disabling him. “Who are you?!” asked Happy after letting out a shout of pain. “I am Mr. Penny Pincher. El contador for the Diamond Dog security firm. I’m sure you’ve heard of us,” replied Penny Pincher. Happy looked over to Stedson in shock. “You’re working with mercenaries now?!” Stedson simply shrugged, not bothering to give a real response. Happy could hear the sound of gun fire going off throughout the station, they were under attack. “I have to admit, you did a pretty good job hiding your funds each year. I myself almost didn’t find the discrepancies. It’s easy to see how you kept this station hidden for so long admiral. But the Prophet doesn’t just let anyone be her personal accountant. Never underestimate the power an annual budget portfolio,” said Penny Pincher as he pulled the dagger out of Happy's right hoof. Happy had no idea how a mere mercenary could even get his hands on that kind of information in the first place. “How… how did you-” “Get my hoofs on a Dominion Intelligence budget report? It wasn’t easy, but it helps when you have someone on the inside,” said Penny Pincher as he pulled out the second blade. Again Happy shouted in pain. “Twilight Sparkle sends her regards.” Two Diamond Dog stallions in power armor entered the room and pointed their rifles at Happy. “Wait!” shouted Stedson. Happy looked over towards Stedson and said, “Stedson, when the Dominion finds out mercenaries captured a top secret facility, they’ll come after you. I can get you out of this.” “This station doesn’t exist,” replied Stedson. “You can’t get me out of this, you killed me twelve years ago remember? I’m just waiting for a certain someone to show. Speak of the devil, there she is!” he said as one of the Iron Feather units entered. She was a prototype generation judging by her obvious age. “This is 588. She was a very close friend of 522. I told her what really happened to her sister. Fun fact, she also holds that nine hour record I mentioned earlier. She’s been looking forward to this for a while.” “I plan to break that record today,” she replied with a smile. Happy’s eyes widened. “Stedson don’t do this!” he shouted. “Guards do us a favor and break his remaining legs. Then take him to medical. 588 needs to practice her first aid,” requested Stedson. "You broke my wings Happy. But you also let me live out my dream, so I can let that go. But what you forced me to do to 522... I'm afraid I just can't look the other way on that one." The two armored ponies looked towards Penny Pincher who gave an affirmative nod. Wearing power armor, they had no problem snapping each rear leg with a kick. As Happy screamed in pain, they picked him up by his injured two front hoofs and dragged him off, with 588 following behind. “I trust the guards didn’t give your men too much trouble?” asked Stedson. “Resoc’s rarely ever do,” said Penny Pincher. “But your soldiers however, they're something else. They show much promise judging from the stolen inspector reports Miss Sparkle has sent our way. The Prophet is very interested in acquiring your IF units. In fact, she is already requesting production for ten-thousand more IF units be grown immediately.” “I can get started right away. Unfortunately none of the staff here has the knowledge to re-create or maintain the Dominion cloning technology. They keep these machines in a delicate state for a reason. They'll eventually start to break down, and only the Dominion has the means to repair these machines when they do,” informed Stedson. “Worry not. We are confident our source within Dominion intelligence will come through with the technology. You're working for the greater good now Doctor. Begin work on the 02 series immediately. Diamond Dog will provide you with all the resources you ask for,” assured Penny Pincher. “And I’ll have near complete control over operations from now on? No more red tape and annoying inspectors?” asked Stedson. “No more red tape,” promised Penny Pincher. “Our inspectors will try to keep their annoyance to a minimum. Do whatever you need to do. The only thing the Prophet ask for is good soldiers. We don’t care what methods you use,” assured Penny PIncher. The sound of Happy’s screams began to fill the hall way as 588 began to practice her “first aid” skills on the still conscious stallion. “Even those methods.” Stedson smiled at the news. “Good. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.” Author's Note This is a side story to the Koprulu Sector. If this universe interest you at all, I'd recommend reading that story. Yes the IF program will be in the main story. If you have questions, I'd recommend reading that story to find out more, or reading "KS Factions," which helps to explain much of the lore in this universe. If you are especially interested in what happened to unit 01 and unit 36, then I'd really recommend reading it. And yes, unit 588 will be making an appearance. That said, what did you guys think? Please leave a comment and let me know.
Sequel (of sorts)Another story has been added. It's by a different author, but he is writing it with my blessing. It's called Born of Sin: Descent into Madness. When I wrote this story, it was mostly to get some background lore into Scootaloo (01), Jet Stream (36) and to a degree Mercy (588). Also to acknowledge Stedson and give him an origin story. Descent into Madness isn't really a sequel, or a prequel. It takes place between chapter 3 and chapter 4. It intends to go into much deeper detail on how and why Stedson eventually does the things he does. If you're interested in that, make sure to give the story a look. It's by Not so New Brony. It's his first story so far, but I think it shows promise. Just like Born of Sin, Descent into Madness is canon with the main story. So if you are a fan of Koprulu Sector, by all means check it out. Some of the things in that story will probably be reflected in the main story later.
