The pegasus was sure of one thing: she had to be fast. If that damnable spy had meant what she said it meant they were close. It was only a matter of time.
Normally navigating the twilit streets of Vanhoover would be difficult, even for a pegasus, but not tonight. Fueled by adrenaline and fear, it seemed that the light green pegasus made all the right turns, ducking through alleys and over buildings incase somepony was watching her.
Had the pegasus not been so focused on her destination, she might have noted a sort of abstract beauty in the black monoliths that were skyscrapers, with only a few lighted windows that marked truly dedicated. But she didn’t see those things. She thought only of returning to base as quickly as possible.
A mere hooffull of minutes later and she was soaring over a part of the city where few of the buildings were taller than a single story. In this part of the city streetlamps went unlit, and ponies never left their homes after dark. For all their prattling that Equestria was a safe place, without much in the way of fear, slums like this were the dark secret of Equestria. Everypony pretended that the world was bright and innocent and happy. Everypony pretended that everypony else found their one true calling in life and lived happily ever after. Sometimes that did happen, but not always. This putrid slum was a testament to that.
The pegasus alighted on the partially gravel, partially smooth stone road, and barged into a crumbling brick ruin. As soon as the door opened she began shouting orders.
“Biggs, Purple, go grab the foal. Hurry! The rest of you, burn every file. Every scrap of paper. Pack what we can carry, and burn the rest. Move!” Without waiting to see if anypony even heard the orders, the pegasus bodily shoved a desk into the center of the room. It toppled over, along with the files on it. Then she rushed to a large box of papers and threw them on too.
Two ponies, Biggs and Purple, slipped out the door to carry out their appointed task. Nine other ponies began to throw whatever meager furniture and files they could find into the growing pile in the center of the room. Several began to tie up bedrolls and gather what food stuff they could find. Somepony lit the pile on fire.
Within minutes, twelve packs waited by the door and a blazing fire occupied the center of the room. With a word from the pegasus the nine ponies present took a pack and went their separate ways into the night.
“Ice.” A white unicorn mare was grabbing her pack. She stopped and looked at the pegasus.
“Boss?”
“Do you have the amulet?”
The unicorn looked guiltily at the floor. She knew what came next. “It’s in your pack, boss.”
The pegasus nodded and the Ice hurried out the door. Closing the distance to her waiting pack with a sweep of her wings, she removed the amulet.
It was a beautiful, if simple affair. A brilliant ruby, carefully cut, hung from a brass chain. Etched on the amulet were a series of magical runes. Such amulets are incredibly expensive things, and while not technically illegal they were heavily frowned upon. If one knew the command word, anypony of any race could activate it’s enchantment. It was said most of them were relics from before the time of Celestia, when they were used by knights on fanciful quests or soldiers in times of war. This amulet was not one of those. It was new. Her employer had had it made, and gave it to her for expressly this situation.
Biggs and Purple slipped in through a back door, an unconscious filly in tow. A bit of blood matted the fur around her temple.
They deposited the filly in front of the pegasus, took their packs, and disappeared.
The pegasus looped the brass chain around the filly’s neck. She reached down and took the ruby in a hoof, then her resolve wavered. What if nopony reached the building in time? What if this poor, innocent filly died so they could escape?
The moment passed. What was the life of one filly compared to the fate of Equestria? She spoke the command word.
A great bout of fire burst from the face of the amulet. Any surface the flames licked instantly started ablaze. It was more than enough to reduce the crumbling building to ash and destroy any possible evidence left behind.
Dropping the amulet, and letting the filly sag to the floor, the pegasus took the final pack and disappeared behind the building. She walked a dozen blocks before taking off into the night. It wouldn’t do to be caught now.
With a final glance at the city she had spent the last six months in, the pegasus turned and flew east, to the rendezvous.
Sapphire Bolt was elated. Three longs months spent posed as a shopkeeper at a toy store, and she’d finally found where the chaos cult was hiding.
She had attended meeting after meeting, from official city meetings to illicit deals in the slums. She had talked to everypony she could find. She had scoured the city back and forth, and she finally had what she was looking for.
It complicated matters that so few ponies even believed in the chaos cults, and even fewer were willing to speak of them. ‘Anti-celestia?’ they all said ‘But who would want to do that?’ It was infuriating. What’s more, she couldn’t just ask random ponies on the street. If she did word could get back to the cult and they would disappear.
She’d long suspected that a particular neighborhood in the slums was the center of their activities, but short of negotiating a deal with the local swat team and police departments to search every home, she had no idea how to find out where they were. Finally a homeless ruffian had told her of some strange goings on in a abandoned building that side of Vanhoover, in the neighborhood she suspected, and only after he’d received a hundred bits.
And now she was here, galloping through the streets of Vanhoover. She didn’t really have a plan yet, of course, but maybe she could just improvise. There would certainly be more than one or two of them, so force was hardly an option. She’d have to watch the place for a while, confirm her suspicions, and things could go from there.
Sapphire rounded the last corner, and stopped dead. Further down the street was the building she was looking for, and from it great licks of fire leaped into the air.
All her plans of surveillance forgotten, the purple earth pony sprinted to the building and hit the door with her shoulder. The door crumbled away from the impact.
The whole building was just smoke and fire. She couldn’t see anything, not even her hoof in front of her face. Against her better judgement Bolt took several steps into the room, shouting for anypony. Then she stepped on something soft, or softer than stone at any rate.
It was a filly, lying unmoving while fire raged around her licking at her fur. Sapphire Bolt took the filly’s leg in her mouth and dragged her outside.
After moving the filly a few feet from the burning building Bolt became aware she was severely burned but still breathing. What interested her more was the necklace around the filly’s neck.
Reaching out a tentative hoof, she lifted the chain, revealing a glittering ruby. A ruby etched with runes.
Bolt yanked the necklace off the filly, breaking the chain. Was this the source of all the commotion? A filly, and presumably her friends, playing in an abandoned building. While not common, it was not unheard of for pony’s to accidentally find amulets like this one, and sometimes they even discovered the command word.
Bolt angrily pitched the necklace across the street, and at that moment a firepony chose to approach her. He looked between the mare and the filly for a moment.
“Help her!” Bolt snapped.
The firepony bent down to attend to the filly, Bolt retrieved the amulet and began to trudge back to her temporary home, defeated.
A dozen ponies were in a small clearing in a small forest. Some of them had been there for days, others only a few hours. All of them were full of dust from the roads.
Most of them laid on their bedrolls or else stood around the fire in the center of the clearing. One pony did not however. A light green pegasus stood at the edge of the forest, staring into the trees.
A metal device was about one foreleg. There was a small lighted panel for readouts and messages, a disc of white material, and a series of buttons.
A white unicorn approached her.
“Have you contacted him yet?”
The pegasus sighed and turned to face him. “No. I’ve been trying, but there’s been no word. I sent an emergency report back, but all I said was that the operations in Vanhoover were shut down.”
“Maize-”
“No, it’s not okay. I failed. My first ever operation as a sergeant, and I failed.” The pegasus briefly entertained notions that her boss would send a ‘cleanup crew’ to kill anypony who knew anything. She knew it was foolish, that such things only happened in books, but some days her life felt like a book.
As if on cue, the device on her foreleg began to beep.
“It’s him.” The pegasus said, glancing down at the device. The unicorn left her.
She nervously pressed a few buttons with her muzzle, and within moments a stallion appeared over the white disc. Or rather, it was a holographic image of a stallion. The image’s colors were somewhat diluted, and slightly transparent, and the image was only a hoof in diameter, but her boss seemed no less imposing.
“Si-Sir, there’s been a situation. Our campaign in Vanhoover had to be abandoned.” The stallion was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity.
“Were you discovered?” It sounded as if he was standing right in front of her, rather than being thousands of miles away on the opposite coast.
The pegasus swallowed nervously. “I...We...I–”
“Agent, were you discovered?” The stallion’s voice took on a hint of steel, each of his words becoming clipped.
“No, sir. When an operative of the covert guard got too close I immediatly shut down all operation and evacuated.” The stallion was silent again, for too long this time.
“Sir,” the pegasus broke the silence, “It was my responsibility, my choice. I’ll take any punish-” The stallion cut her off with an upraised hoof.
“Maize, you’re certain that any evidence that could implicate us was destroyed?” He knew her name. The pegasus was almost giddy at the thought, but instead responded with a sharp nod.
“Then you made the right call. I would sooner a thousand missions had to be evacuated than a single one discovered. You were briefed on the return route should an event like this happen, correct?”
“Yes sir, before the mission.”
“Well, here’s to your safe return.” The boss cut the communications.
Maize returned to the group. “That was command. We are in the clear and will begin the return trip home. Unfortunately, since things did not go as expected, we can’t simply cram into a train and return to Baltimore. They could be watching us.
“We are to split into groups of no more than two and each go our separate ways. In no event is anyone to board a train or come within a league of Canterlot, understand?” The group murmured their affirmative.
Maize looked into the dying sunlight. “We’ll break at dawn.”
Thousands of miles away an older stallion with flecks of grey around his muzzle stepped off of a luminescent blue panel. His once vibrant coat of light brown, and mane of dark brown, was dulled by age. His cutie mark was obscured by a white lab-coat.
The walls were made of a strange bluish-grey metal. Put together in large blocks they had been fused together, a process that only made them stronger. Wire’s ran in and out of the walls, heavily insulated wires made of intricate alloy fine tuned to transmit signals flawlessly. The room was large, large enough that between the darkness and the machinery that one could not stand in the center and see all four walls. The only light in the room came from the luminescent blue panel in the floor.
The panel was an odd affair. Roughly four feet by four feet, it was made of what appeared to be blue glass, but every hoof-length or so and black strip perhaps a half-inch in length ran along the length of the glass. This pattern was repeated on both sides of the rectangle, creating a grid of small blue panels about the same area as a hoof.
He took a long, deep breath, closing his green eyes as he did so, and then slowly exhaled. Months of planning had all gone to waste. Being discovered now would’ve destroyed everything but it was still a setback he could have done without.
Still, the end was approaching. He pressed a button on the device around his foreleg, a much more intricate version of the one his agent had worn. A burst of static sounded, and then the voice of his head of production filled the room.
“Sir?”
“Increase production of laser rifles. I want to make sure every employee can have one in hoof.”
The train trundled down the tracks, the constant sound of the wheels clacking against the iron was always present. Black smoke billowed from the engine at the front, rising and dispersing into the air. The landscape whirred by, faster than anypony could have dreamed of half a century ago ago.
Sapphire Bolt didn’t really care about the farmland rolling by, or the smoke from the engine, or the bright and colorful interior of the train compartment. She didn’t even care about the dozen or so travel-worn ponies she saw as the train whizzed by. She did stop to ponder where they were going, since there wasn’t a town for miles and the only thing in the direction they were going was the frozen peaks of the Unicorn Range.
But after a moment of pondering she couldn’t really bring herself to care about that either.
There were other passengers in the compartment, hurtling along for Canterlot to destinations unknown. The mood was bright and cheery, but Bolt just didn’t care.
Ten years. Ten long years as an agent in the Covert Guard and this was all she amounted to. She had spent the last three months in Vanhoover, posing as a shopkeeper, while trying to investigate the rumors of a chaos cult. She had spent eight hours a day standing behind the counter of a toy shop, and the rest of her time had been bent on finding the cult. In the end all her leads had turned up false. It had just been a foal and an ancient amulet of terrible power.
Since signing on to the Covert Guard she had had one exciting job. She had been tasked to infiltrate the highest levels of the Canterlot Society for the Betterment of Children. And she’d pulled it off flawlessly. Oh, sure, there’d been no anti-Celestia or anti-Equestria activity but the accountant and the founder had been embezzling charity funds. After that it had been dead end job after dead end job. Nearly every assignment ended like the latest one.
Memories dredged out of the depths of Bolt’s mind. A little wooden counter, with a cash register. The blank walls. Inane chatter. Boring, useless customers.
Bolt rubbed a temple with a hoof. It was bad enough she had a terrible job; she couldn't afford to live in the past. Bolt turned her attention to the train compartment. It was colorful, with a pink ceiling and a pink runner on an otherwise wooden floor. There were a series of seats, with room enough for two. Two seats would face each other, with one facing the front of the train and the other facing the back. The cushions were a deep red, but the seats themselves were made of wood. Even the wood of the compartment striked Bolt as being especially colorful. The whole thing came across as being very bright and happy. Other ponies were in the compartment, having conversations Bolt could not hear. And Bolt didn’t care.
The world became a blur, and then became black. Bolt seemed to float in the darkness for a second, then the world burst into color. It was fuzzy at first, an unidentifiable mass of brown and blue, with darker and lighter patches of color in splotches. Then the colors came into sharp relief, with the fuzzy masses resolving themselves into well defined shapes.
Bolt saw a large, ornately carved wardrobe, which had been carefully painted. It was a mural of a beautiful princess of myth and legend. There was a toy chest next to the wardrobe, but she had long ago filled it with materials with which she could build: bolts and nuts, bits of scrap metal, screws, nails, rocks, mesh filters, wooden scraps, anything she could scrounge up.
On the opposite wall, at the foot of the bed she was lying on, was a fairly plain writing desk. Instead of books of philosophy or works of classic literature there were books on designing and engineering, books of science. Rather than the works of a young artist trying to find her own there were diagrams for swords, reinforced axles for carts, and a device that stored eggs efficiently.
Then Bolt became acutely aware of the unicorn standing in the room. He was tall and slender, like most male unicorns. A cutie mark of a blank canvas adorned his flank. His face was a mask of rage.
“Sapphire, what is this?” A diagram trapped in his magic waved itself before the young earth pony. Bolt had gotten carried away. Father had said she was only supposed to work on art, not her ‘foolish science’. Bolt stared at a point just over her father’s shoulder.
“It’s a… it’s art.”
“Pah! This isn’t art. This,”–he gestured at the wardrobe–“is art.”
“It is art.” Bolt insisted. It was a sketch of a sphere, where she had labeled the functions necessary to make those shapes. She’d learned about it in a book in her father’s library. “It’s a sphere.”
“Why does it have–” Bolt’s father turned the diagram to face him “–math all over it?”
“It’s...It’s how you make a sphere.” Her father gave her a long look. Then he put all her papers and books into the parts chest.
“What are you doing?” The filly demanded. Her father said nothing.
His work done, Bolt’s father wrapped the chest with his magic and dragged it from the room.
“Wait, dad, you can’t” Bolt sprung from her bed. Hooves hitting the floor, she began to run as fast as her little legs would allow. The door slammed shut behind her father, locking from the outside.
“You can have these back once you make some real art.” Bolt heard her father’s hooves ring out against the hard floor as he walked away. She curled up, weeping with despair.
Then she was somewhere else. She was standing in the drawing room with her father, who was staring at an empty canvas.
“You can’t deny it now!” Bolt shouted, turning to show her cutie mark to her father. A gear was prominently displayed. “I’m destined to be an engineer.”
Her father stood there for a long moment, staring at the canvas. “I should’ve made your mother take you. She was an earth pony, like you. Just a maid. It was a mistake. I couldn’t let her stay, what would everypony think if I Leopardo Da Pongolo the third married a maid. I couldn’t do right by her, but that didn’t mean our child deserved the same fate.” He turned to look at her.
“Six generations of the most prolific artists in history, and you’ve broken that. I brought you into my home. I sheltered you. I tarnished my reputation for you, and this is how you repay me? Your stepmother is right, I think. You would be happier in a boarding school.”
A hoof suddenly connected with her father’s face. “How dare you. How dare you insult my mother.” Her father looked at her dispassionately. When it became apparent that Bolt had no further retaliation in mind he opened his mouth, then closed it and opened it once more.
“You’ll be going to the Fillydelphia academy of science. The train leaves tomorrow. Please make sure you take all the possessions you’ll need.” He walked back through the doors of the drawing room.
Bolt jumped awake, nearly upending the cider in front of her. She must have fallen asleep. She was sitting on a stool in a dingy but busy bar. The whole establishment was made of warped, twisted lumber. Through cracks in the wall darkness was visible outside.
The room itself was arranged like a saloon, with a bar against the far wall from the door. There were a smattering of tables and chairs littered throughout the main floor. Ponies, mostly earth ponies, crowded at the tables and chairs, all ordering varieties of liquor. They were all grubby, working ponies, who had come to this place after a hard day of laboring under a hot, merciless sun.
Bolt’s train had arrived in Canterlot that afternoon. Going to the palace she had been quickly debriefed. Now, until she was contacted by a fellow Covert Guard agent, Bolt had nothing to do. When she had first come to Canterlot she had been amazed by the upperclass of the city. She had lived her whole life in the presence of the upper class but the Canterlot elite were the envy of upper class ponies everywhere. Her father had nearly turned green with envy at the mere mention of Celestia’s court artisans.
As the years had trudged onward Bolt had begun to see through the illusion of those ponies. It was all thinly veiled insults and unhappiness. Sure, these ponies were unhappy but at least they were upfront about it. They didn’t try to hide behind nice clothes and fake marriages.
The bar was located in a place known as ‘The Shadow of Canterlot’, or ‘The Shadow’ for short. If one exited from the north of Canterlot they would find the Shadow at the base of the mountain, very nearly underneath Canterlot proper. The farmers of the countryside came here, those that could not afford Canterlot itself, those that could see through the lies. These ponies were the butt of a joke that the world played against them. The most honest ponies in the world, and they were forced here, they were laughed at and spat upon by the upper echelons of society.
But what if, thought Bolt, these ponies are the way they are because of their station in life. Maybe if they were raised to the status of lords they would quickly become deceitful.Bolt couldn’t reach any conclusion, and instead took a drink from her cider.
Her father had offered to pay for her education, but Bolt had refused. He only offered because he believed he had to to keep his reputation. At least Celestia had waived her education fees after her induction to the Covert Guard. With a bitter smile Bolt leaned her head back, holding her mug of cider horizontally so as to drain the last golden drops from it. When she lowered her gaze back to the countertop a letter sat in front of her.
The whole world seemed to slow down. In a heartbeat Bolt looked at everypony in her field of vision. There was nopony out of place, nopony suspicious. The bartender was on the far side of the bar from where Bolt sat. Bolt spun off of her stool, only to stumble and fall heavily to the floor. There was nothing. Regaining her feet, Bolt sat back down on the stool.
Finally given up on seeing the agent involved, Bolt took the letter in her hoof. There was no marking on it to indicate who it needed to go to. One can always tell when a unicorn not skilled in the finer points of telekinesis writes a letter, the letters always come out a little blocky. At least that’s what her professor of Equestrian had said. It was a trademark of the Captain of the Covert Guard she served.
The letter read:
‘The smithy.’
Bolt grimaced, tossed a few bits on the counter, rose from her stool, and started to trudge up to Canterlot.
Red was happy. For the first time in his life he was walking the streets of Canterlot. Canterlot! It was here that famous ponies walked the streets, as if they were any other pony. And the Princesses were here, well most of the princesses anyway. Princess Celestia and Luna ruled all of Equestria from here, while Princess Cadence was overseeing the Crystal Empire’s transition into Equestria. Princess Twilight lived in Ponyville, but Red wasn’t sure what she did, and besides his mother always said that Celestia and Luna had all the power anyway.
Presently, a unicorn was giving some sort of street performance. He was standing at the top of a four-story building. Red couldn’t make out what he was saying but the crowd gathered at the base of the building were cheering up at him. Then Red turned at a corner and lost sight of them. Canterlot was so cultured.
Red looked over to the other side of the street to see unicorn stallion wearing a suit and sporting a monocle. It was Fancy Pants, what other unicorn was sporting that well made mane?
Red called out to the dignified unicorn, but he must not have heard him. Red called out again, and the unicorn lifted his chin higher, nearly prancing down the street, but he did not look at Red. Drat, he didn’t hear.
Red had been attending an art school in Trottingham, a small farming community to the west of Manehattan. The day he graduated a mysterious pony had approached him and given him a letter. The letter had instructed him to go to the new Princesses favorite donut shop three weeks after her coronation. He had received that letter two months in advance of the coronation, giving him plenty of time to prepare.
Of course Twilight Sparkle was the newest princess, and her favorite doughnut shop was Doenut Joe’s. Joe had been advertising that all over Equestria, after all.
Entering the shop, Red took a seat and ordered a doughnut from Pony Joe himself. Canterlot really was full of famous ponies. A large silver platter was toted from the counter to the table, a single doughnut in the center.
Taking a bite from the doughnut, Red set it back on the platter to stare out the window. Then he perceived that somepony was passing by him from inside the restaurant. Turning to look, there was nopony there. In the restaurant there was just himself and Pony Joe.
Red turned his attention back to the doughnut, only to discover that it was gone. In it’s place a letter sat on the tray. Rather than question why he would be delivered a letter in this fashion, or where the delivery pony had gone, why his doughnut was gone, or even the possibility that his doughnut had spontaneously transformed into a sealed letter, Red took the letter in a hoof and ripped open the envelope.
The letter read:
“The old smithy, beneath the castle.”
Without questioning anything, or looking for his doughnut, Red went off to ask a guard about how to reach the old smithy.
The old smithy was a small, dilapidated room deep within the mountain that Canterlot jutted from. It was so deep in the now abandoned reaches of the castle that most of the castle staff did not know of it’s existence. As such it made for an ideal meeting place for one who did not wish to be seen.
The tunnels, which were a small city within the mountain, were relics from a time before the founding of Canterlot. When the unicorns had used the gem reserves deep below this mountain for their talismans, assorted magic apparel, and wealth.
The unicorns had built this place as an all-purpose community. It had been designed as a military fortification, a gem and metal processing area, civilian housing, and had a bank for holding gems and gold.
There was an official contingency plan that if Canterlot fell, the Princesses and Royal Guard could fall back to this place, since it was easily defensible. Of course all other access points to these mines had been sealed when Canterlot had been founded. If the enemy proved to be overwhelming after the Royal Guard had dug in, there would be nowhere to run. Then they would have little choice but surrender or fight to the death, which is why that particular contingency plan was a ‘last option’.
As Bolt exited the portcullis that led to the particular landing where the smithy was she had to step over the fallen remains of a statue. She saw the first light she had in hours flickering out of the partially obstructed doorway to the smithy. Instead of a torch Bolt had relied on a gift from the Captain, a talisman that allowed her to see in total darkness. It was so useful that it really was a shame that she could not take it on most jobs. It would seem out of ordinary for some lowly shopkeep or janitor to have an intricately crafted, powerful, expensive talisman.
Bolt made her way to the doorway the light emanated from. A stone archway had collapsed in front of the door, blocking it completely. Some force had taken the crumbled mass of stone and had flung it aside. Entering the smithy Bolt saw a single, armored unicorn stallion standing in a far corner of the room. He was older, his grey mane flecked with white, and white peppered around his muzzle. His coat was a lighter grey, well-maintained. His cutie mark was a black shadow of a pony. Bolt didn’t know what his special talent was, he’d never told her, but she assumed that he was adept at hiding or some other stealth related activity. A single torch sat in a bracket on the wall.
“Captain.”
“Operative Bolt.” Bolt waited for a moment to allow the Captain to explain why she had been called here. Likely, he had another mission for her to embark upon but even that would be out of the ordinary, as there were usually weeks or even months between assignments.
Bolt coughed, drawing the Captain’s attention.
“Operative, we are waiting on your partner. Please sit down and wait.” Bolt rocked back, her eyes dilating in surprise. Ponies in her line of work didn’t have partners. Partners created a dangerous liability if one of the team was captured. The only time she’d even come close to having a partner is when the Captain sent another Operative to the same location to investigate the same happenings as she had, but neither of them had been told of the others existence. In the end that had created problems and both herself and the other pony had become aware that somepony was operating on the sidelines, leading them to spy on one another, each believing the other was the enemy. It had culminated with a hoof-fight across the rooftops of Las Ponysus, the non-pegasi version Las Pegasus.
Bolt knew better than to voice her concerns, and instead went to the corner opposite the Captain at the far end of the room, and waited.
An hour later a red earth pony walked into the old smithy. He saw the single torch in the brazier on the wall, an armored unicorn stallion in one corner of the room and a purple earth pony mare in another. The mare appeared to be staring at her hooves, while the stallion was staring intently at the red pony.
“Is this the old smithy?” The red pony asked.
“Yes, it is.” The stallion spoke up. His voice was a bass rumble like a low thunderclap. “I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the place.”
“It was no trouble at all. I only got lost twice and had to ask a few guards for directions.” The red pony smiled proudly.
“You what!” The mare looked up from her hooves, her voice high and grating.
“I asked a guar–”
“I know! You can’t just ask a guard when you find a note telling you to come to a dark ruin under a castle! Are you trying to blow everything!?”
The red pony shrunk under the outraged shouting of the mare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
“Captain, who is this fool? Why is he here.”
“Operative Bolt, this is your partner Red.” Bolt stopped her ranting and stared slack jawed at Red. The stallion waved at her.
“B-B-But he’s an idiot!” Red winced at the barb. The Captain watched with a neutral expression.
“Operative, these orders come from the top.” Bolt knew what that meant. She had no authority to question an order from Princess Celestia.
“Alright. Alright! Captain, why are we here exactly?”
“I was told to gather you here and wait.” At that exact moment a cloaked figure appeared in the center of the room with a loud crack. It was taller than any of the other ponies in the room, and longer. A large white horn jutted out of the hood that concealed the figure’s face.
Bolt and the Captain bowed to Celestia. Red simply stood there, unsure of who the newcomer was or why the others were prostrating themselves before it.
“Please, I’ve asked you not to do that.” The figure’s voice was flowing a melodious. Bolt and the Captain righted themselves.
“Ma’am, what business is there.” It was the Captain who spoke, a note of reverence present in his gravelly voice.
“Captain, we must first attend to our newcomer.” The Captain nodded his assent.
Celestia approached Red. “Red, you were a different pony before you came here. You had different dreams, different loyalties. You must leave that behind. Now, if you chose to accept it, your loyalties lie with all of Equestria. Do you consent, Red Remington?”
Red nodded mutely.
“Then I hereby admit you into the Covert Guard.” Celestia turned to the Captain.
“Now, time is short, Captain. There are whispers and secrets surrounding a company on the east coast of Equestria, near Baltimore.” Bolt paled and even the Captain nervously gulped.
“I must return before my presence is missed.” Celestia left a scroll for the Captain and disappeared, golden light surrounding her form as a loud crack sounded once more.
“Who was that?” Red asked. Nopony answered him.
“Captain, why am I being paired with this fool? Why did the CG seek him out? Why did Celestia deliver those orders?” The Captain ignored Bolt’s questions and instead wrapped the scroll in his gray magic, undoing the seal.
“Captain, what’s going on!”
“Operatives, the two of you are going to infiltrate the Progress company.”
Bolt and Red boarded the train to Baltimore the day after their meeting with the Captain. It was remarkably similar to the train Bolt had rode back from Vanhoover. Maybe even identical.
Progress. Bolt could not believe she was actually going to be hired at Progress. When she had been in the Fillydelphia Engineering academy working at Progress had been everypony’s dream. They had the most selective hiring program of any organization in Equestria, including the throne. Progress only took the best of the best.
Appearing out of nowhere sixty years ago, Progress rose from utter obscurity to being the most powerful company in Equestria in only ten years. There were many places for engineers to be hired in Equestria but all of them were nothing before Progress, and that included the crown. It was rumored that they only accepted government contracts, or else did work across the sea, as nopony actually heard of anything Progress had worked on. Irregardless, Bolt had never believed they would hire her, despite being in the top ten of her class, but now, because of Celestia, she was going to be.
No, her name was not Sapphire Bolt, it was Gentle. Gentle Marth. She was a mare from the streets of Manehatten, where her parents ran a junk shop. She had discovered her natural talents and between her parents (despite their caring for her five brothers and three sisters) meager means and hefty scholarships she had graduated top of her class from the most prestigious academy in Manehattan. After a distinguished career in Tall Tale Gentle had decided to apply for a job with Progress.
Those were only peripheral details. In most jobs those might be the most important details, as she was usually working alone as a shopkeeper or janitor, somepony who didn’t get asked many questions. This job was different. Despite Celestia’s connections she would still need to interview for the job. Then, if she was accepted, she would likely spend months working side-by-side with ponies she did not know. As such she would need to do more than know the story of Gentle Marth. She would have to become Gentle Marth. Gentle’s favorite colors would become her favorite colors. Gentle’s love for her parents would become her’s. Food preferences, disposition, loves, hates, fashion, vocabulary, everything.
As the train pulled away from the station Bolt spent a few moments in quiet anger towards her partner. She had spent most of the night trying to counsel him on how to prepare for his job, and he had mostly asked her who the pony who had delivered the orders had been and where his doughnut had gone. Idiot.
Gentle stepped out of the train station and went in a different direction from a red stallion she didn’t know named Bernard. Her first priority was to check into a motel. She found a place not two blocks away from where she was having her meeting. By the time that was done with it was time.
Gentle walked two blocks to the Progress Recruitment Center. It was the first time Gentle had ever seen the building, or any structure even remotely similar. It was a massive grey rectangular prism. The building had no seams or cracks, no bricks or timber. It looked as if somepony had made a grey rectangular prism, hollowed it out, and dropped it into the streets of Baltimore.
It was a complete contrast to the buildings around it, or the buildings of Canterlot, or any Equestrian architecture. Whereas the surrounding buildings were bright and colorful, with ornate woodwork and flower boxes, the recruitment center was an angular, blank, drab building.
The only things that marred the smooth surface was a single door, made of heavy metal, that appeared to be in the exact center of the building, and a set of evenly spaced windows. Gentle approached the door, then stepped inside.
The room Bolt was standing in was remarkable similar to the outside. It appeared that she had stepped inside of a grey, smooth, rectangular prism. The interior walls were made of the same grey material as the outside. Gentle would say it was stone, but it was too smooth and too perfect.
The windows were set too high and were too small to see out of, but let in some light. Despite that the room was well lit, but not by the sun or candles or torches, but glaring white panels in the ceiling. Gentle was amazed. She had no idea what they were, but she had a burning desire to learn how they worked.
The room she was in appeared to be a waiting room, if the metal benches on either side of the door were any indication. There was a glass panel set into the wall, and a young mare sat behind it. She was wearing a grey, drab uniform. Gentle saw no pictures or other personal affectations. She was also staring intently at a glowing rectangle standing on the desk. If not for the small plaque that read ‘Receptionist’ Gentle might have thought that she walked into a military installation, one with strange and experimental technology.
Approaching the receptionist Gentle introduced herself. The receptionist consulted her glowing rectangle and told Gentle to take a seat, and that somepony would be with her shortly.
It was not long before a pony in a grey uniform, identical to the one the receptionist wore, opened a door next to the receptionist’s station and told her to come back. Gentle entered into a narrow hallway of the grey stone-like material. The pony showed her to another door and told her to take a seat. The room within was nearly empty, with a single lighted panel above a table with two chairs. Gentle took the chair nearest the door.
An earth pony mare wearing a suit, like a stallion might wear to a formal gathering, entered and took the far seat. The mare stared at Gentle for a moment, then consulted a folder.
“You are Gentle Marth?”
“Yes”
“It says here you were born in Manehattan, is that correct?”
“Yes it is.”
“Your parents ran a small shop, but you, through talent alone, managed to attend one of the most prestigious academy’s in the world.”
“Yes.” The mare wrote something in the file.
“I see. Now, you left a lucrative position with Pony Pro in Tall Tale.” Gentle nodded. “Why?”
“Pony Pro was a good company made of good ponies but…” She’d practiced this. She knew what to say. “There wasn’t any challenge there. My life was quickly becoming a boring routine. They did not innovate, but instead reacted to consumer demand.”
“And you were looking for something more exciting.”
“Yes. Progress is by far the most innovative company in Equestria, you don’t tailor yourselves to market demand, you create market demand.” The mare opposite her looked down at the table to hide a smug grin.
“And why do you think you deserve this job?”
“Because you need me.” Gentle said, without hesitation.
The mare looked at her expectantly.
“Progress is a company of innovation, but to be innovative you need innovative minds. That’s what I do. It’s why I was top of my class. I didn’t always follow the rules, but I made whatever I did mine, and I always did a better job then the next guy.” Gentle’s voice rang out strong and confident.
The mare made some notes in her file.
“Alright. Now, before you worked at Tall Tale…” The rest of the interview was easy. Gentle was certain she got the job.
After the interview Gentle left the strange building and returned to her motel, awaiting her next contact with Progress.
Two days later Gentle stood outside a barnes and stables bookstore, on the farthest southern edge of Baltimore, waiting for the escort. The only other pony around was a red stallion named Bernard.
“Hey, Sapphire, when do y–”
“You idiot. Are you trying to blow our cover! My name is Gentle Marth, and we don’t know each other.
”
“Sorry Gentle. When do you think they’ll be here?”
“Whenever they want to be.” After that the two ponies lapsed into silence. Several minutes later two pegasi appeared.
“Gentle Marth? Bernard Red?” Bolt turned her head aside to cough, but actually swore under her breath. The idiot had forgotten his last name was Mackle and used Red instead. But what about the official documents with Bernard Mackle all over them?
Gentle and Bernard nodded their assent.
“We’re from Progress, here to escort you to our facilities. This way please.” Then the Pegasi began to trot off in unison towards the south.
It was a long trek, perhaps thirty miles or so, skirting around the coast of horseshoe bay. Eventually they had reached a steep cliff face with a narrow path carved into it. Upon reaching the top of the cliff Gentle had her first real look at Progress.
Even from a mile away Gentle could see the facility. It was an obsidian wall that seemed large enough to contain all of Baltimore. Above the city-compound rose a towering, black office building, taller than any of the surrounding landscape. It was taller than many of Canterlot’s spires or most of Manehattan’s skyscrapers. It was a glorious sight to behold.
A short while later the four ponies stood outside of a massive gate set into the walls. The walls themselves were made of an odd bluish-grey metal that Gentle could not place. One of the escorts was consulting with an intercom.
Then something amazing happened. The great metal door did not swing outward or inward. Rather, the door split down the middle and slid into the wall. Gentle stood, her mouth agape as she stared at the door.
The escorts and Bernard were moving on, so Gentle gathered herself and moved on too. Beyond the door was a path of smooth stone similar to that of the recruitment center. The path seemed to stretch away from Bolt, running parallel to one of the massive walls of the compound. Following the path, Gentle couldn’t help but look around at the place she had dreamed of for so long. Off to her left the compound seemed to go on forever.
A grass field large enough for several games of hoofball was what greeted her inside the compound, with an occasional tree here or there. Beyond the grass field were buildings tightly clustered together, with space in between for small lanes. Gentle could hear the sounds of industry that she somehow didn’t reach her before entering through the gate.
The little group came to a statue. The path went around the statue in a circle with tributaries forking off in different directions. Two went to the cluster of buildings. The other led to the gargantuan office building. Her escorts were already heading to the office building when Gentle looked at the statue. It was a pony, perhaps twice the size of life. Chiseled out of marble, or stone, it was utterly featureless. It had a mane and tail, but they were not styled in any particular way. The face was without mouth or eyes, and shaped ambiguously enough so that gender was not inferable. It also lacked the other regular means of determining gender. The more Gentle looked at the featureless pony the more it disturbed her.
Gentle suddenly realized she was alone. Her escorts and Bernard were up the path towards the office building. Hurrying to catch up, Gentle focused at putting one hoof in front of the other, staring at ground to avoid gawking and losing her focus. Unfortunately the path was made of the same seamless stone that the recruitment center had been made of. Gentle resolved to stare at the escorts ahead of her, who were far less interesting.
Reaching the office building, it was clear to Gentle that the building was made of the same bluish-grey metal that the walls were made of. The door appeared to be made of the stuff as well. One escort opened the door and turned to her, telling her to give her personal information to the receptionist. Then they left with Bernard.
The lobby, while it’s construction spoke of the same cold efficiency as the recruitment center, felt somehow warmer. Perhaps it was the bluish-grey walls as opposed to the stark grey of the recruitment center. Maybe it was the wooden benches and cushioned chairs instead of hard metal benches. Maybe it was the fact that the receptionist wore no uniform and had a picture of her family. Or maybe it had been the receptionist’s friendly tone as she had motioned to the chairs and asked her to wait.
The lobby was still angular, like the recruitment center. In fact, as far as Gentle could see, there were no curved archways, no rounded walls to create a circular room, just sharp angles. It was at odds with all other Equestrian architecture, but that only intrigued Gentle.
Gentle couldn’t help but notice there was not a single candle, a single torch, but instead there were more of the harsh white panels in the ceiling. What manner of technology are they?
The receptionist called out to Gentle. She directed her to go to the office of one Dr. Punch, the head of engineering. She was told to take an elevator to floor sixty. Gentle wasn’t sure what an elevator was, but luckily it was well signposted.
The elevator appeared to be a metal door set into the wall. Gentle looked at it for a time, but she could not figure out the secrets of the grey metal. She was about to go find stairs when she saw buttons on the wall next to the door. There was an arrow pointed towards the ceiling and another pointed towards the floor. Taking a guess, Gentle pressed the up button. Nearly instantaneously the metal door opened, in the same many as the great gate to the compound, presenting Gentle with a view of a very small wooden room. Gentle went in the room and the doors shut behind her.
The room was nearly featureless. Another of the white panels was in the ceiling, providing it’s harsh light. The only other features of the room was the metal door and a series of buttons going from b1 and b2, all the way to sixty, the floor number she was suppose to go to. Gentle shrugged and pressed the sixty.
Suddenly the whole room jerked. It was slight but Gentle wasn’t expecting it and stumbled, nearly falling. Then there was a feeling that her stomach was rolling. That stopped abruptly as the elevator rapidly decelerated. There was a dinging noise and the doors swung open.
Gentle stepped out onto the landing. A large number sixty was painted on the wall. There was a stairwell and a doorway to her left and a doorway to her right. The rest of the hallway was just the bluish-grey metal that the whole place was built of. Several potted plants were scattered about, as were some cushioned chairs and couches. There was a small window allowing sunlight to filter in at either end of the hall.
The door to her left had frosted glass with the name Dr. Brown Punch, in black lettering, on it. A subtitle said Head of Engineering. Gentle steeled herself and pushed through the door. Inside was a small waiting room and a secretary who was sitting at a desk in front of a glowing black rectangle. Gentle introduced herself and was told to go back to Dr. Punch.
Doctor Brown Punch was a beige unicorn mare with a pink mane. She looked up from a file as Gentle entered.
“Ah, you must be Gentle Marth. Please have a seat.”
Gentle did as she was asked. The office was not particularly impressive. The head of engineering sat behind a small desk, with what appeared to be an oil-lamp burning brightly. The desk, while small, was excellently crafted. On the desk was a black rectangle, glowing like the secretary’s. A series of degrees hung on the wall behind the desk, and a painting of some old General. The only other feature of the room were the bookshelves that lined what space was left. Every shelf was full of books, but unlike the bookshelves of so many government bureaucrats and business executives, all of Dr. Punch’s books had cracked spines and worn covers.
“Miss Marth, I’m going to be frank. Your arrival here is, well, strange.” Dr. Punch waited a moment, then continued: “You had an excellent job in Tall Tale. Full benefits, job security, a house, and you give all that up to try and work for us.”
Gentle watched the doctor for a moment more, pondering how to respond. “I gave the best years of my life to Hooves Pro. I gave them my intellect and in return I had a comfortable life, but I was tired of that.”
“Tired? Of what? Your hot food or your comfortable bed?”
“I was tired of the boredom.” The doctor tried to conceal her smug smile. She’d known all along. “I was tired of putting all of myself into designing shoes and rackets and tool cabinets. I was tired of wasting my time.”
“And you think we won’t waste your time.” It wasn’t a question.
“Well, you’re right. You won’t waste your time here. However, we demand nothing but the very best. If you give this company any reason to think you are anything other than the very best you will lose any prestige you gain and be laying bricks in Saddle Arabia.”
“Gentle Marth, effective immediately, I am appointing you head of lower engineering. Floor fourteen.” Dr. Punch’s tone made it clear she was dismissed.
Head of Lower Engineering? As in the boss? “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t thank me, this isn’t a reward. If I wanted to reward you, you never would have walked through that gate.”
It was easy enough to find floor fourteen, after another trip on the elevator. The landing outside the elevator was nearly identical to floor sixty. There was a set of double doors and a large ‘14’ painted on the wall.
The doors had a large plaque next to them that read: Lower Engineering. Gentle walked in and was almost immediately greeted by an earth pony with a violet coat and blue mane.
“Hello. Ohh, you must be Miss Marth, our new supervisor!”
“Yes, I’m Gentle Marth. And you are?”
“Sugar Drop. Here, let me show you to your office.” Gentle followed Drop through the room. There were about a dozen ponies in cubicles, all of them staring intently at black rectangles like the ones the secretary, receptionist, and Dr. Punch had. To her left was a large room, full of boxes and files.
Entering into a little office, Gentle noticed the door already had her name painted on it, with the subtitle head of lower engineering. There was a small desk with a chair on either side, a stack of papers, and one of those black rectangles.
“Well, this is it. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do, so–”
“Wait. I want to ask you a few questions.” Sugar Drop looked at her expectantly. “What are the bosses like?”
“Well, there is Doctor Punch. She’s tough but fair. As long as we do a good job, she’ll be good to us. Then there’s Mr. Sparrow. He’s the CEO, but we don’t see him much. Sometimes he give speeches and holds banquets, but most of what he does is on the business end. Ya know, dealing with rivals and whatnot. I’ve heard he’s real dedicated though, sleeping in his office and working into the wee hours of the night. And then there’s you, of course.” Drop laughed a little at that.
“Alright. When I was in Baltimore I heard rumors of ponies coming out this way and never being seen from again.”
“Oh yeah, they mentioned that at the safety seminar last month. Some ponies blame us, but I think ponies are just getting lost in the Hayseed forest.”
“Thank you, Miss Drop.” Sugar Drop left, asking Gentle to call her Drop on her way out.
Gentle began to go through the papers on her desk. There was one welcoming her to Progress. One with rules of conduct. One with instructions that said to use the ‘telephone’ to call a technician if one needed help operating something called a ‘computer.
Gentle lifted up the stack of papers and a card fell out. Picking up the card she unfolded it. There was a simple message, in odd blocky letters that read “Everything you need to know is in vault 43.”
Gentle’s first thought was to find Sugar Drop and demand to know where vault forty three was. Her second thought was to destroy the letter. She settled on just doing nothing. Obviously somepony knew who she really was and why she was here. It would only draw further suspicion to her. For now she would wait and do her job. There would be time later to investigate.
Hours passed. Gentle figured out how to use the telephone, and after a couple hours of instruction she was using the computer with ease. Perhaps it had been designed that way, since it was so foreign compared to the rest of Equestria’s technology.
Now she was in a program browsing a three-dimensional diagram of the facility. It was massive. A small city existed to house the workers, complete with shops and restaurants. There was an industrial section with a main building called ‘The Crucible’ for processing and smelting metals, and the creation of metal alloys. There was a small lake, complete with a marina, and a facility for purifying water.
Then there was the underground. Under the whole facility there were tunnels, everywhere. Some were used for transporting materials. Other’s were maintenance shafts to access deeply buried pipes. Other’s still were hallways lined with massive rooms, vaults. On the diagram vault forty three was identical to most of the other vaults.
Gentle’s plan consisted of waiting out the day then going to find the vault. It wasn’t a good plan, anypony could be waiting, but it was her only option, her only lead.
Of course all that meant was browsing the computer until it was time to quit. Hours ticked by and Gentle discovered more and more. There was an encyclopedia on the computer with all the knowledge that Progress had. Most of it was so foreign that Gentle didn’t understand it.
Eventually it was time to quit. Her workers were filing out of the office. Sugar Drop knocked on her door. Gentle motioned for her to come in.
“Hey, boss. Have they given you an apartment yet?” Gentle stared at her for a moment, then remembered seeing a piece of paper about a residence.
“Yes, but I’m not sure where it is.” Drop held out a hoof for the piece of paper. She scanned it over and handed it back.
“I know right where it is. Do you want me to show you?” Gentle’s first thought was to say no and go find vault forty three, but what if it was a trap and Drop was in on it. Or what if she mentioned it offhoof to somepony involved. And if the vault turned out to be nothing it would be nice to have someplace to sleep.
As they were about the leave the office her computer emitted a bell tone. Turning back to look at it, a message had appeared on screen. It read ‘Come to vault forty three for your surprise.’
The walk was long, most of which Gentle spent thinking silently while Drop prattled inanely about her student life. Finally they reached a brick building.
“This is you.”
“Thank you, Drop.”
“It’s no problem. See you tomorrow, boss.” Drop went off into the night.
Gentle looked again at the piece of paper. It said she was in apartment number seventeen. Gentle made her way into the building and found her apartment, using the key provided.
The room was beyond spartan. Painted a uniform white, the only articles of furniture were a small dresser, white, a desk with a computer on it, both were white, and a queen-sized bed with white sheets.
Gentle waited for a few minutes and then turned around and left her apartment. She had memorized the route to the vault. It involved entering through a grating near the crucible building, navigate through miles of underground tunnels, and then locating the correct vault.
Several hours later Bolt found herself in a metal hallway. Trotting down the hall she noticed there were numbered doors at regular intervals. Great metal doors with spinning wheels rather than handles. Vault doors.
Walking. 17...19…. The light panels in the ceiling here were different. Some were flickering, most were dim, and some were just dark. Despite that the hallway was no clogged with dust. Maybe maintenance just didn’t make it down here. Bolt was surprised at how little she knew. She had been a good engineer but this place was beyond everything she had ever learned. 39...41…. Then she was in front of vault forty three.
Other than the forty three emblazoned on the door, the entrance to vault forty three was identical to all the other vault doors. Bolt shrugged and went to turn the wheel when she heard the clip-clop of hoofsteps coming down the hallway.
There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Maybe if she started to run they’d never see her. Maybe–
“Hey Bolt.” Bolt turned around and saw Red.
“Bernard,” Bolt said through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here.”
Red held out a note. Snatching it from him Bolt looked it over. It was identical to hers, in every way.
“How did you find this place?”
“I just asked a guard.”
“You what!” Bolt actually thought he might be joking. “You receive a cryptic note, directing you to come to an underground vault, and you ask the security how to find it! What if they’re involved?”
“Bolt, everything–”
“My name is Gentle Marth. Not Bolt. Marth.” He mewled something while Bolt fumed.
“Well what’s through the door?”
“I haven’t opened it yet.” If Red was aware of the sarcasm in her voice he didn’t show it. Instead he shrugged and spun the wheel. The door began to open.
“You fool!”
“Surprise!” Bolt looked inside the now open vault and saw...a party. There were several tables, with cloths covering them, with bowls of food. A cake was on one table. A banner read ‘Welcome Gentle and Bernard.’ Bolt recognised the several ponies from her office, including Sugar Drop.
“Hey boss.” Drop called.
“Drop, what’s going on?”
“Well, we knew you were new and wanted to welcome you to the company.” Drop giggled lightly.
“What about him?” Gentle asked, indicating Bernard.
“Well, we don’t get a lot of new ponies here and we heard he was hired on the same day you were.”
Bolt swallowed her rage and smiled happily at the purple pony. “Thanks Drop. Really, this was all very sweet. But why send the note? Why the vault? I had to walk through miles of tunnels.”
“Oh, of course you didn’t know. There’s an elevator in the basement of the office building that comes right down here. And if you mean the alert I sent your computer, I suppose I could’ve been a little more specific.” Drop sheepishly hoofed at floor.
“You didn’t leave a note on my desk?”
“No. I guess it could have been one of the others.” Gentle wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“Well, I’m here now. You might as well introduce me to everypony.”
Gentle spent the next few hours mingling with the ponies who worked under her, as well as a few from the department where Bernard worked. Apparently they worked on propaganda for the company.
Dr. Punch approached the desk of her boss.
“You asked for me?”
Mr. Sparrow looked up from the file he was reading. “Yes, about our newest employee, Gentle Marth.”
“I’ve got some questions about her myself. Why did we hire her? I was under the impression that our recruitment centers were there to keep up appearances.”
Sparrow looked into her eyes, an incredulous tone in his voice. “Did you see her credentials? How could we not hire her?”
“She doesn’t know the first thing about the technology here. Why didn’t you have her immediately put into classes?”
“I have my reasons, doctor. Now, you assigned her an apartment, right? At 402 Nickel street, number 17?”
“Yes.”
“And, according to the file, before she came here she had a blooming career with Hooves Pro in Tall Tale. Now, she hadn’t gotten married but undoubtedly had a house. Clothes, pictures of loved ones, that sort of thing.”
“One would assume so.”
“Then why didn’t she bring anything? I could understand not bringing her furniture right away but no clothes, no pictures of her parents? No money?”
“What do you know?”
“Nothing concrete. Keep an eye on her, Punch.” Dr. Punch turned to head for the door.
“Oh, doctor, make sure she gets an assignment.”
Dr. Punch spun around to face him. “But she doesn’t know anything about even the simplest of our technologies!”
“That’s the point. Just see that it happens, you never know, she might surprise you.”
Dr. Punch looked at Sparrow for a long moment. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” She turned and stalked from the room.
“I do, Punch. I do.” Mr. Sparrow said to the now empty room.
Gentle was sitting in her office. Humming as she did so, Gentle was reading a history of Baltimore on the computer. Suddenly realizing that she was humming to herself, she schooled her emotions into calm. Despite herself she had enjoyed the party. It was good to get to know the ponies, who all seemed honest and kind. Still, there was something niggling in the back of her mind.
Gentle’s train of thought was broken as Drop barged through the door. The violet earth pony dropped a letter on her desk.
“We’ve–” Drop was panting. “ah- we’ve been given an assignment.”
Gentle smiled at the frazzled pony. “Slow down, Drop. Talk me through it.”
“Well, I only glanced at it, but there’s a problem with the pipes that bring up groundwater and Dr. Punch want’s us to fix them.” Gentle picked up the note and began to read it.
Drop continued talking. “It’s kind of an honor, actually. Usually these kind of tasks are left to the other engineers.”
Left to the other engineers? This is little more than maintence, and she called it an honor. What exactly do we do? With a sudden feeling of dread Gentle looked up from the letter to Drop.
“Drop, what exactly do we do?”
“Oh-um, We just- uh- just do general maintenance.” Drop stared at her hooves.
Gentle really didn’t know how to feel about that. She, and all the ponies in her department, were on the lowest rung of the ladder. But she’d still been put in charge. Maybe this is how everypony got their start here, working their way up from the bottom.
A new thought occurred to Gentle. Just a day after her being put here an important job had come down the pipeline. It’s a test, it has to be.
“Well, then, if we impress them maybe we’ll get more jobs.” Gentle did her best to sound confident. “Now, is there a boardroom or–” Drop shook her head, “–right well then we will just have to clear a space in the office.”
“I’ll go tell everypony.” Drop left to rally the troops.
Gentle noticed some other papers on her desk. Blueprints, readouts on the pipes, layouts on where the pipes were laid, and other vital information. Gentle gathered up the papers and prepared for a long day.
“How are we supposed the fix pipes we can’t get to?” Gentle said for the upteenth time. For two hours she and her staff had been brainstorming and they’d gotten nowhere. The most obvious solution was to build new pipes that wouldn’t leak but everypony insisted that it was impossible to replace all the water-bearing pipes in this facility. How could they fix pipes they couldn’t reach?
“Right, well, you’ve all been working here longer than I have. What would you do?” Gentle did her best to look at all twelve of them in turn.
“Ma’am–” it was a stallion who spoke up, with a yellow coat and mane. “we’ve never faced a problem like this before but I would suggest we look through all of R&D’s non-confidential files. Maybe they’ll have an answer.”
“Right, good. Somepony get us those files.” Gentle affected her most commanding tone.
An hour later two rather disgruntled looking ponies wheeled in stacks of boxes on two carts. Gentle looked up from the book she was reading, A Guide to Atomic Theory. Of course, some of her professors had talked about atomic theory but it had still been very much in it’s infancy. This book had been written by one of Progress’s employees twenty years ago, long before she had been in academy, and yet the writer talked at length about ‘subatomic particles’ and ‘quantum mechanics’, as if they were second nature. Gentle was fairly confident her professors had no idea what those terms meant.
Getting up from her chair she looked around the office. Four ponies were gathered around a blackboard discussing how to address the problem. Well, they called it a dry-erase board’. Drop was talking with the two ponies who had brought in the files. All the rest were looking over books and papers, or else on their computers.
Gentle approached Drop.
“This is everything they’ve got.”
“Right, well–” the rest of the office had gathered around, “Everypony take a box and let’s get started.”
One hour and a dozen shot down ideas later, Gentle picked up her fiftieth file. Most of the files were about obscure matters, matters that only the scientists understood. Strange ‘chips’, developmental ‘grass’, reports on atomic structures of molecules. But then there were the practical things. Things Gentle could understand.
Looking at the file Gentle was instantly intrigued. R&D had been making a putty they could use to mass produce molds. According to the file the putty could be ‘taught’ to bind to specific materials or reaction sites. She just had to figure out how to manipulate it to bind with the pores in the pipes.
“I’ve found something.” Gentle announced to the room. She proposed the idea and it was briefly debated but all agreed that, hypothetically it could work.
They put in a request with the brass and convinced them to retrieve one of the faulty pipes. Later that day the pipe was delivered to the office. Gentle discovered that there was a door in the room with all the files that led to a work room.
The next day they had rigged up a short pipe system. Pumping water through it, they put the treated putty into the water supply. The putty worked exactly as predicted, binding with the pores, and within minutes the pipe had stopped leaking.
Then Gentle had to convince the people at the water treatment facilities to test it, at least on a small scale, to see if the putty would contaminate the water. They got back to her late in the day, with the news that all the putty filtered out and the water showed no trace of contaminates.
Gentle spent the rest of the day writing an official report to submit to the board of engineers. Drop had informed her that she would be brought before the board to defend why they should follow through with her experiment. It would then be given to another department to thoroughly test and then, if it passed all tests, put into effect.
Gentle had commented that it all seemed rather inefficient and redundant.
Drop had come back saying: ‘It is, but it has to be. Imagine if you found, after weeks of testing, that the putty would eventually erode away. Someponies might lie if they are too close to an idea and let the company implement a faulty process. Of course some of the senior heads of departments get to skip the review step and implement it themselves, but they do have to at least send a report to the board to be approved first. We will just have to prove ourselves.’
It was two days before the board sent word that their solution had been approved and that Gentle was to argue her case before them the next day.
The days in-between had mostly been spent pacing and reading more books about all the things she didn’t know. It really was amazing what Progress had achieved.
The office celebrated their small victory, but the coming review hung over the event, generally dampening the mood.
A knock sounded at Gentle’s door. She called out for them to enter. Drop stepped tentatively into the office.
“It’s quitting time, boss.”
“Drop, call me Gentle.”
The violet earth pony smiled. “Gentle, I just wanted to say that you’ll do great tomorrow and not to be nervous. Besides, if the board rejects our idea we’ll just put our nose to the grindstone and find another solution.”
“Thanks Drop.” They exchanged goodbyes and Drop left to her apartment.
The room that housed the Council of Engineers was foreboding. It was large, cavernous and poorly lit. The council sat at a raised, half-moon table. Six in all, they seemed to tower above the presenter, like Gods looking down from a mountain to judge ants.
Fim Maremore, Wrench, Reflective Rock, Sunny Hooves, Rafale, and Doctor Punch. In total there were two earth ponies and three pegasi. Dr. Punch was the only unicorn. Three of them were heads of various engineering departments, two worked in Research and Development, and Puch oversaw the whole thing.
Dr. Punch sat at the center of the table, in the position of power. However, there was a seventh pony at the table. Sitting behind and to the left of Dr. Punch was Mr. Sparrow. Officially his role was to moderate and represent the business interests of Progress. Unofficially he was in charge of the room. He would lean forward and whisper to Dr. Punch or Rafale (who sat on his left). The whispers eventually traveled around the table. Technically all the power rested in Dr. Punch’s words. There was a vote between the council members but Punch could override that vote. However, whatever Sparrow said is what went. If he said the idea was to be axed, it was gone. If he liked it, no matter the opinion of the council, it passed.
It was three days after the last tests had been run on the pipes, and Gentle Marth was standing before those judges, preparing to present her idea. She was fully aware that this could be her ticket to the top, or it could end with her a worse position than before.
A commanding voice called out from the center of the table. “Head of Lower Engineering, Gentle Marth, you may begin.”
“Right, well–” Gentle looked through her papers, “Five days ago we received word that pipes moving ground water were breaking.” Fim and Wrench seemed to be only half paying attention. Rock and Sunny were talking amongst themselves. Rafale was giving her a patronizing smile. Dr. Punch’s face was unreadable. She was looking directly at Gentle, her eyes cold, he mouth set in a straight line. Mr. Sparrow was far enough back that his face was obscured by both the desk and shadow.
“M...my...ahem, my team informed me that we could not simply replace the pipes, so another way had to be found. One of my staff suggested that we look through R&D’s files. We found something.” Gentle had hoped to get some reaction from Reflective Rock or Sunny, as they were the head and second-in-command of R&D, respectively. They simply continued their quiet conversation.
“We found putty.” That was enough to get Fim, Wrench, and Rafale to perk up. Punch remained unreadable. “A special putty designed to create casting molds. We discovered that with a little manipulation the putty could be made to bind to the pores in the pipes that the water leaked through.”
“Putty in the water supply, that’s ridiculous! Why are still listening to this swill?” It was Sunny who had blurted that out. So they were paying attention. Dr. Punch shot Sunny a glare across the table.
“Please continue, Miss Marth.”
“Right well, we tested it thoroughly and the putty is more than sufficient to bind the pores. Furthermore,”–Gentle took a step forward and looked at Sunny. “The filtration system will catch all of the putty that’s left over. If any gets past the filters the purifiers are sure to take care of it.”
Mr. Sparrow suddenly leaned forward and whispered in Punch’s ear. Punch in turn relayed the message to Rafale and Reflective Rock. There was a quick moment of hushed deliberation between the council.
Dr. Punch straightened in her seat, and turned again to face Gentle, schooling her face to the impassive, emotionless calm she had exhibited thus far.
“All for say ‘Aye’.” Five voices called out aye.
“Those opposed.” Nopony said anything.
“It’s unanimous Miss Marth. We approve of your plan. We will forward the file on to another department for additional testing…” Gentle didn’t hear the rest of Punch’s words. She was just too exhilarated. She’d done it.
Gentle snapped back to attention. Punch’s face had changed. She was smiling now, a proper smile that lit up her face but, Gentle noted, did not reach her eyes. “Congratulations, Miss Bolt.” Gentle sat back on her haunches.
“Thank you, Ma’am.” She could see that Punch was silently pleased with the show of respect. Mr. Sparrow leaned forward again and the smile disappeared. Then the six council members rose and filed out of the small room, past Gentle who still sat on the floor. She suddenly became acutely aware that only herself and Mr. Sparrow remained in the room.
“Miss Marth, please meet me in my office at–” He consulted a black square that Gentle failed to recognize as ahoofheld computer. “Five o’clock.”
Gentle nodded and continued to stare at Mr. Sparrow who was still obscured by the darkness and the table.
“You may go now.” Gentle jumped and nodded to herself, then slipped out of the room.
That was easy. We didn’t even get to the technical details! Gentle thought.
“Are you really going to let her put putty into our water supply?”
Mr. Sparrow turned from looking out of the window of his office to face Dr. Punch. The beige mare’s smooth voice was grating on Sparrow’s nerves.
“You and I both know that there is nothing wrong with the pipes, doctor.”
“Of course, I know.” He voice rose an octave with indignance. “It just seems a bit...far-fetched. She didn’t do any of the steps that policy demands engineers do. She barely followed anything even resembling a scientific method.”
“Don’t forget, Doctor, that you came up with the challenge. What was it I asked? Ah, yes it was ‘Something so hard she couldn’t possibly solve it’. We gave Gentle Marth an impossible problem and she solved it in a heartbeat. I wanted innovation. I think she might be destined for higher positions.”
Whatever else she was, Brown Punch was smart. She’d been working alongside Mr. Sparrow for twenty-five years. She was one of the company’s most senior employees. She knew when he was playing games. “Is that a threat? Don’t forget why you hired me.”
“Was it ‘to be the voice of doubt at every turn’?”
“Don’t you dare. We both know you need a voice of reason.”
“I’m perfectly reasonable.” Dr. Punch stared at him for a long while, but he seemed unfazed.
Mr. Sparrow had founded Progress sixty years prior to this conversation. Dr. Punch had been with them for nearly half that time. She knew Mr. Sparrow, knew him better than any other pony in the world could claim. Most of the time he was rational. Most of the time he was cautious. However there was one topic, and only one, that would make him abandon all good sense.
“I’ve seen how you become when you talk about her.” Mr. Sparrow looked up sharply into the mare’s cyan eyes. His face flashed briefly, old anger marring his calm visage. He quickly schooled his face to calm, narrowing his eyes and setting his mouth into a straight line.
“Surely you have duties to attend to, doctor.” Dr. Punch turned and left the office, pretending to lower her head in defeat. There was a time when she would’ve worried about pushing her boss too far but he valued her too much to ever let her go.
Gentle noticed that the elevator did not have a button for floor sixty three, the floor where Sparrow’s office was. The elevator stopped at sixty. Recalling that she had seen stairs when she had been on floor sixty, Gentle pressed the button for that floor.
A brief time and a short walk later and Gentle found herself standing on the landing for floor sixty three. It looked similar to the rest of the landings, but instead of the number sixty three on the wall there was an oil painting of a grandfatherly stallion. On all three external walls there were massive windows, allowing an impressive view of the facility and the lands beyond.
From the windows of this massive tower she could see a forest, which stretched from horizon to horizon, but there in the distance, on the very edge of the horizon, was the city of Baltimare. She could barely make out even the tallest building at this distance. When she was younger a city like Baltimore fascinated her. Those great cities like Baltimare, Manehatten, Vanhoover, and Canterlot stood as a tribute to ponykind’s ingenuity and tenacity. Compared to this place they, the greatest feats of ponykind, seemed antiquated and trivial.
The door that led into the CEO’s office was different from any door Gentle had ever seen. It was a blank metal door. In fact it appeared to be made of the same material as the bluish-grey walls that the entire building consisted off. A black rectangle was set into the door at eye level. Although Gentle did not know it, the black rectangle was a camera set into the heavy door. A plaque sported the name Mr. Sparrow, on a black plate that slid in and out of a wall clip. Whereas Dr. Punch, and Gentle for that matter, had their name’s painted on the door, Gentle was fairly certain the the black plate could be easily removed. It was oddly temporary for a pony of such power.
Gentle became aware of a sudden noise in the previously quiet hallway. There was a burst of static, like a swarm of bees defending their hive, then the sound of voices. Somepony must have, and presumably by accident, turned on the intercom.
“I don’t care that they’re gone, I care that they were discovered.” The voice was obviously the more masculine tones of Mr. Sparrow.
“They died!” It was the voice of a mare Gentle did not know.
“They knew the risks. I gave them all a choice between a field job and a desk job. All of those ponies chose the field job. But what matters is that they let vital information fall into the hooves of our enemies.”
“You expected them to risk their lives for a piece of paper!?”
“That is the whole point of their jobs. They put themselves in harms way for information.”
“Sir, you can’t really–”
“You are a staff manager. It’s your job to make sure the right ponies are on the right missions. Ponies with track records like these should never have been sent on such a vital mission in the first place. Now, the fact that you decide which agents do what puts you in a position of power. Operatives envy you, or at least see you as a stepping stone for greater power. Staff managers are respected. A word from you to the board can make careers, or destroy them.
“As such, ponies come to you, seeking to do favors in the hopes that they’ll get a favor in return. When you play favorites, this is what happens.”
He was silent for a moment, then said: “That’s why these ponies were there at all. Look at the track records. One was once caught trying to spy on our rivals, one attacked a member of the board some years ago, and one blew up an office building in Las Pegasus. He’s lucky that it was already slated for demolition or his hide would be hanging on my wall.” Mr. Sparrow’s voice had remained neutral throughout the conversation.
“I’ve been at this for sixty years, and I’ve never seen such incompetence. Good agents come up with contingency plans. Good agents would’ve destroyed that information whatever the cost.
“If any of that information falls into the wrong hooves I will be living in the streets after a lengthy stay in prison. However, if it comes to that I will see your head on a pike. Go back to your office.
“Sir, do you want me to send a crew to–”
“No, I’ll handle it myself. Return to your office.” Gentle heard a sudden clattering of hooves against the carpeted metal of the office floor. A pegasus mare with a golden coat and a light green mane barreled through the door and skittered down the stairs, nearly falling. In her haste she hadn’t even noticed Gentle.
Gentle returned to one of the windows. She couldn’t stop thinking about one of the comments Mr. Sparrow had made to the pegasus. He had said that he had ‘been at this for sixty years.’ Progress had been founded some sixty years ago. Has he been the CEO the whole time? That would make him at least eighty. How has he stayed in power for so long? Maybe he simply started as a executive and ended up the CEO.
Suddenly the intercom crackled again. “Ah, miss Marth. Please enter.” The door swung open of it’s own accord.
The office within was beautiful. Bookshelves lined the wall that divided the hallway from the office. All the tomes looked ancient. Windows lined the wall behind Mr. Sparrow, allowing for a breath-taking view of the mountains in the distance.
There were several freestanding sculptures of ponies in the center of the room that Gentle did not stop to ponder. She was enraptured with the desk. It was a beautiful, dark affair. Carefully constructed of dark mahogany, the side facing the door was carved with an intricate mural that consisted of three panels. Farthest to the left three ponies, an earth pony, unicorn, and pegasus, appeared to be fighting. In the middle panel all three were bowing before the sun. In the far right panel they were signing a document.
Looking up at the bookshelves nearest the desk, Gentle saw that there were busts of ponies lining the shelves as well as books, but she was not close enough to make them out. She also noticed a cot in one corner of the room. The sheets were neatly folded, but the fact that the cot was there meant the owner needed it often.
“Please, sit down.” Gentle did as she was asked, taking the only available chair, directly across from Mr. Sparrow. He was an older stallion, perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties, with a dark brown mane and a lighter brown coat. The odd thing was that he was wearing a full-body suit. Whereas most males wore clothes that only covered their torso, Mr. Sparrow’s suit left only his hooves and neck exposed, completely obscuring his cutie mark.
“I trust that you saw a worried pegasus on the way here.”
“Yes, she passed me in the hall.”
“Yes, Yes. That was Miss Lily Blossom, our chief staff manager. She...well, she performed less than admirable. She’s served us admirably for the last two years but…” The older stallion let his voice trail off. “I’m sorry, it’s not your problem and you didn’t come here to discuss my staff.”
“Why am I here, sir?”
“Miss Marth, I was thoroughly impressed by your display in the council chambers. Dr. Punch was somewhat reluctant, as it was a bit forward, but I think it shows a degree of cunning. This evening there will be a gathering in the banquet hall. I will be there, the board of directors will be there, some government officials will be there, and some members of rival companies will be there. All in all it will be a prestigious event, for the rich and powerful to rub shoulders with the rich and powerful. Normally I wouldn’t invite somepony who was just hired but I think your display warrants some award. So, Miss Marth, if you wish to attend, I formally invite you to the Gathering of Important Ponies.” He said the name of the meeting so grandiosely that it had to be sarcasm.
“How could I refuse?”
“By saying no.” Mr. Sparrow had a light smile on his face. “Don’t misunderstand, I was just being flippant. Now, it is a black tie event.”
“Oh, um, I don’t have anything to wear.” Mr. Sparrow smiled slightly.
“There is a seamstress in the employee district. If you give her this card and tell her what you want, she’ll have a dress for you this evening.”
“Thank you sir.”
“No, I should be the one thanking you. You’ve saved this company a pretty penny. Not to mention the dangers of drinking potentially contaminated water.”
Gentle was standing on the steps to the banquet hall. She had received her dress, and it was a beautiful affair. Black lattice work ran from her forehooves to her torso, with a high, choker-like collar. A beautiful sapphire was set in the center of her chest.
The banquet hall itself was a large building, and one designed to look old. Less utilitarian than the rest of the compound, Gentle noticed that the hall was actually made of the same bluish-grey metal as the office building but had been carefully painted. The main hall took up most of the building, with large antique windows and a high cathedral roof. Small towers rose from each of the four corners of the building. A decorative lattice work of stone was present on all the exterior walls
An usher was standing by the door. “Right this way, ma’am.” He said when he caught sight of Gentle. She followed him into the banquet hall.
Inside was the largest collection of egos she had ever seen. There were many ponies, Unicorn, Pegasus, and Earth Pony alike, all wearing regal dress. There was some quiet, classical music playing gently in the background. The whole room was filled with the quiet conversation of the rich and powerful. Two long tables stretched from nearly one end of the room to the other. There was a small amount of the room on the far end for the small orchestra, and a dance floor.
Gentle walked somewhat hesitantly throughout the room. Why did Mr. Sparrow want her here? Then she caught sight of the CEO himself, having replaced his full-suit for a full-tuxedo. He was surrounded by a gaggle of ponies, all clambering for his attention. Gentle suddenly realized that he’d caught sight of her and was making his way to her.
“I’m sorry, you must excuse me, but I need to speak with my employee.” Finally disentangling himself from the ponies he reached Gentle. As he did an older pegasus mare, wearing a blue dress that matched the color of her blue mane, joined him.
“Miss Marth, how are you?”
“Well.”
“Yes, ah, this is his is Miss Applegate, chief executive officer of Blue Lagoon. Miss Applegate, this is Miss Marth, our newest engineering department head.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Marth.” Her voice had a measured, regal quality. Sapphire thought it sounded artificial.
“Likewise.”
“If you recall I spoke earlier of her outstanding innovation.”
“Ah, yes, the putty.” The word putty was spoke with a clear tone of condescension.
“It really was quite clever. The council of engineers themselves could not come up with a solution to this problem.” Gentle thought she noticed the pegasus’s cheeks coloring.
Mr. Sparrow suddenly produced a piece of paper. “It would appear we are to dine in a moment. Miss Applegate, could I ask you to sit with Miss Marth?”
Applegate looked shocked but to her credit, recovered quickly. “Of course.”
“Good, good. Your seats are just over here.” Mr. Sparrow walked to the long dining table and indicated two chairs, roughly eight places from the head of the table.
Gentle and Applegate took their seats as a bell rang out, indicating the meal was to be served. Mr. Sparrow sat at the head of the table, with a series of ponies up and down the table. Gentle recognized Dr. Punch, sitting two down from the right from Mr. Sparrow. Directly adjacent to Mr. Sparrow were two unicorns that Gentle didn’t recognize.
The first and second courses were served without event. Applegate was pointedly ignoring her, going so far as to turn to the pony to her right just to avoid looking at Gentle. Finally she couldn’t stand it.
“Miss Applegate.” She didn’t seem to hear. “Miss Applegate.”
Applegate rounded on her. “Yes dear.” Applegate kept her tone pleasant but the annoyance was clear in her eyes.
“Who are those two ponies?” Gentle asked, indicating the two unicorns sitting to the right and left of Mr. Sparrow.
“Those two...ha. The stallion on the right is Max Power, a rich unicorn, and he has an ear in the court of the Crystal Empire. The mare on the left is Berry Blast, she’s the mayor of Manehatten.” There was a definite note of derision in her voice.
Gentle needed an in with Applegate, and she thought she had found it. “Look at how they vie for his attention. It’s almost...undignified.”
Gentle thought she saw the ghost of a real smile on Applegate’s face. “They aren’t Princesses, but they are two truly powerful ponies. One controls all of Manehatten, one could likely sway the opinions of Princess Cadence. Yet they fawn over him like he’s Celestia. Pah!” Gentle couldn’t help but notice that Applegate had had more than one glass of cider.
Applegate warmed considerably after that, talking about herself and urging Gentle to do the same. Applegate gave an account of her schooling and the founding of her company while Gentle spoke of her life on the street, her discovery of her talent, and her successful career in Tall Tale. Most importantly Applegate kept drinking.
Three more courses were served throughout the evening. After the tables had been cleared away space was left in the middle for dancing. Those who did not dance stood on the sidelines and mingled. Gentle was standing in a corner, alone with Applegate. She saw her chance and knew she had to strike.
“It must’ve been nice to grow up surrounded by ponies like this.”
“Hmm...yes I suppose it was, but it certainly had it’s drawbacks.” She had definitely had too much to drink.
“So I’m curious. Mr. Sparrow holds an event and invites all the richest and most powerful ponies in Equestria. Then the richest and most powerful of them fawn over him. Why? I know Progress is a powerful company, but he’s hardly on Celestia’s council of advisers.”
Applegate suddenly grimaced. “They all have their reasons. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” She turned to walk away.
“Please, Miss Applegate, I just want to learn more about who I’m working for.”
Applegate turned back to face her, trepidation and something, some emotion Gentle couldn’t quite pin down, were written clear in her face. Fear perhaps?
“There’s nothing substantial.” It was definitively fear. “Whispers behind closed doors. Dark schemes.” Applegate pulled Gentle into the doorway, whispering urgently.
“Mr. Sparrow built his company up from nothing. He was a nobody, and then his competitors start to go out of business. He builds the railroad, and overnight he became one of the most powerful ponies in Equestria. Nopony opposes him, and those that do find themselves in a poor way. He influences everything silently, from the shadows. Gentle, look out for yourself.” The blue pegasus hurried away, disappearing into the crowd.
Gentle watched the dancers for a while. Applegate hadn’t really told her anything she didn’t already know, but her fear added some weight to the rumors. A short time later Gentle left the party.
Gentle laid down on the white sheets of the white bed in her white room. So somepony believed that something insidious was going on. And, based on the conversation Gentle had overheard between the staff manager and Mr. Sparrow he was actively spying on other companies.
Gentle rolled over to stare at the window over her desk and noticed something. There was a card folded up on top of the computer.
Gentle went to the card and opened it. She nearly dropped it in shock. It was nearly identical to the note she had received early about vault forty-three. Same blocky letters, same odd parchment. This note read: ‘You didn’t look hard enough.’
Bolt snapped to attention. Somepony had brought this note, placed it here. Somepony definitely knew who she was and why she was here. She had her options. She could wait, pretend that she didn’t find the note, or even present it to somepony and pretend she didn’t understand. Or she could go back to vault forty-three.
A half-hour later Bolt was standing in front of the entrance to vault forty three for the second time in five days. It looked much the same as she remembered it. Shrugging, Bolt opened the door.
The tables had been cleared away. The vault was just an empty metal room. All the panels in the ceiling were lit, but other than that the room was featureless.
Bolt didn’t notice the lighted panels or the metal walls however, because a pony in a black cloak that obscured all features sat in the center of the room. With a slow movement the figure looked up at her.
Bolt took a step back, but the metal door slammed shut behind her. Turned around she fumbled desperately for the handle, only to discover that there wasn’t one. The cloaked pony came closer.
Bolt looked all around, frantically searching for a control panel, for any way to escape. There was nothing.
With a sinking dread Bolt turned to face the cloaked pony, who now stood directly before her.
“Hi Bolt!” The figure cried out happily.
“Wha-bu-Re– Red?!”
“Yep.”
“Why are you here. Why are you wearing that cloak?”
“Well I got a note that said to come here, and I thought it might rain so I wore the cloak. After I got in I couldn’t find my way out, so I decided to wait for help. Then you came.”
“Right.” Derision flooded from Bolt. “Well, we shouldn’t wait until we starve. There must be someway out of here.” Bolt spent several minutes examining every surface in excruciating detail. There was nothing.
She sat down heavily and stared at the lights. There they were, glowing with their harsh, unnatural light. Why can’t it be just a bit dimmer?
“The lights!” Bolt exclaimed.
“What?” Red looked at her stupidly.
“The lights. They get power somehow. Cables must feed to them, and if cables come in maybe we can go out.” Gentle walked to one wall and stared up at the lights.
“The air’s fresh. There must be some sort of ventilation. We could crawl out ventilation pipes. It’s just…” Bolt’s hopes were suddenly dashed. “They’re too high.”
“Well, what about that?” Red asked, pointing a hoof towards a lighted strip running across the floor. How had she not noticed that before?
Bolt walked to the light. Shrugging, she jammed a hoof with as much force as she could muster into the panel. Her hoof shattered the light. Then they were plunged into darkness.
“Great. We’re trapped and now it’s dark.” Bolt sat back on her haunches, daunted by just how dark it really was. A few minutes passed and then Bolt saw a faint red light in the darkness.
“Red, do you see that light?” She heard Red shuffling around to look.
“Yeah.”
“Come on then.” Bolt started to make her way to the light. Stumbling through the darkness, Bolt realized that the light was emanating from a small hallway. Red bumped into her hindquarters.
“Why did you stop?”
“It’s just...there’s no turning back now.” Sighing, Bolt continued forward. At the end of the hallway there was a door, a small version of the vault door. Suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to Bolt. She gripped the wheel and pretended to strain.
“It’s stuck. Red, can you try it?” Red did, and the wheel turned easily. Beyond the door was a strange room. The only light from within was a glowing blue panel in the floor. What little light there was managed to illuminate a series of wires and cables, the purpose of which Bolt had no idea.
Red stepped into the room, Bolt following a few seconds behind. Suddenly the lighted panels in the ceiling snapped to life, blinding Bolt. She heard the door slam shut.
Her eyes adjusting to the light, Bolt became aware of a figure standing a few feet away. It was Mr. Sparrow. In one hoof he held a long, slender, metal cylinder.
“You are Operative Sapphire Bolt, correct?” Bolt nodded and Mr. Sparrow smiled.
“And you,”–he said, pointing to Red.– “are operative Red Remington?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, good. It really was quite hard to learn who you were.” Then Mr. Sparrow lifted the metal cylinder and pointed it at Red. The end facing the young stallion began to glow with a gentle red light.
It happened too fast. There was a flash, then the sound of a pony falling to the ground.
Bolt turned to look at Red, only to discover him crumpled to the ground. Smoke curled up from a hole in his chest. Fear suddenly gripping her mind, Bolt tried to skitter away from the corpse, only to trip and fall.
Then a strong hoof was gripping her shoulder, hauling her to her feet.
“Please, don’t kill me.” Bolt whimpered, all her courage and guile gone.
“I don’t intend to, and do you know why?” Bolt shook her head as tears threatened to spill.
“I can offer you what you want most.” Bolt looked at the older stallion through bleary eyes, thoroughly confused.
Mr. Sparrow walked to a small table and opened a folder.
“Operative Sapphire Bolt.” He read aloud. “The daughter of Leopardo Da Pongolo and a maid. Attended the Fillydelphia academy of science. Graduated in the eightieth percentile. Signed on to the Covert Guards after graduation. You’ve been working there for...ten years?”
“Where did you get that?”
“It really wasn’t hard. Everypony has their price. The point is, I knew exactly who you were the moment you walked into the recruiting center in Baltimore. Face recognition software really is advantageous.”
“Then why hire me?”
“I was curious. But I’m not going to kill you, and in turn you’ll work for me. Agreed?” Bolt nodded.
“I want to hear you say it. Swear on something that matters to you.”
“I swear on my father’s li–”
“Miss Bolt, do not lie to me.”
“I swear on my father’s–”
“You hate your father.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve read your file.”
“The file doesn’t say that.”
Mr. Sparrow sighed. “It says everything I need to know. Your mother was a maid, so I doubt you were planned. Your father was a master artist, from a long line of artists, and no doubt he wanted you to be an artist to. Shortly after he married your stepmother you got your mark, and were immediately sent off to boarding school. Your captain implies that, as far as he knows, you haven’t seen your father since.” He stopped talking and took a deep breath.
“Now, swear to me on something that matters.”
“I swear on my loyalty to Celest–”
“Come now, Miss Bolt, I know how disillusioned you are. Why else would you spend all your time in the Shadow? I know your captain doesn’t approve.”
“I swear on…” Bolt honestly couldn’t think of anything. Years of dead end jobs, a father who hated her, and a deep cynicism had left her with nothing. Her life as Gentle Marth had been the most enjoyable thing Bolt could think of.
“And that’s why you’ll work for me. I know why you joined the Covert Guard instead of submitting your resume to Progress, and any number of companies, after you graduated. You discovered you have a taste for intrigue, and you certainly seemed to know how to ingratiate yourself with Applegate. Then again her disdain couldn’t have been more evident.”
“We’re done here Miss Bolt. Meet me in my office in one hour.” Mr. Sparrow turned and stepped on the glowing blue panel.
“Oh, Miss Bolt, one more thing. Celestia sent you here. She suspected that I was dangerous. So why did she send him?” He said, gesturing towards Red’s corpse. “He couldn’t even remember his own cover name.”
With those final words, Mr. Sparrow pressed a button on a small machine he kept on his person. Before Bolt’s eyes he seemed to shimmer and grow transparent. Then he faded away entirely.
If Celestia believed Progress was a threat, why send Red with me? Unless...but no, it couldn’t be true. Then again, Sparrow had seemed to hint at it. If Celestia believed Progress was a threat, she had sent Red in the hopes he would intentionally blow his cover, in the hopes that Bolt and Red would be captured or killed, giving Celestia a chance to wipe Progress off the map!
Bolt lowered her head, and left the small room. The lights were back on and the doors were open. Bolt left the vault, and Red, to face whatever future Mr. Sparrow had in mind.
As Bolt approached the door to Mr. Sparrow’s office the door swung open. Tentatively she stepped inside.
Beyond the door there were three ponies. Mr. Sparrow sat at his desk, but on the on the right and left face for the desk sat a unicorn mare and an earth pony stallion. The mare was Dr. Punch but Bolt did not recognise the stallion. He was large, with muscles rippling under his coat, which was a light greenish grey, and a orange mane.
“Ah, Miss Bolt. Please have a seat.” Mr. Sparrow indicated the chair opposite him.
“No doubt you’re wondering why you’re here and why I didn’t kill you.”
“No.” Mr. Sparrow was clearly taken aback. “It’s obvious. Your remarkably powerful, with a degree of influence over every major company in Equestria and an ear in the Crystal Empire. But what’s the one thing you don’t have, the thing gained by keeping me? An ear in Canterlot.”
Mr. Sparrow turned and gave a meaningful glance to Dr. Punch. “And you doubted her.” Looking back to Bolt, with the hints of a smile, he said: “Correct, Miss Bolt. That said, I want you to be more familiar with this place and what we do. Despite the hour, Brawny here” –he said, indicating the unknown stallion– “has offered to give you a proper tour of the facility and explain to you the finer points of our operation. Brawny.”
The stallion nodded his massive head, got up and began to walk out of the office. Bolt realized this was her cue to leave as well, and left to follow him.
“The oldest building here is the crucible. As soon as he acquired the land, Mr. Sparrow had the place built. Started out just processing metals for other companies, but Sparrow was smart. He spent his first ten years collecting talented minds, then won the contract for the railroads. Wasn’t long after that this place became the place to be for...well, anypony.”
Brawny Boulder hadn’t said a word as they left the office building, hadn’t said a word until they were nearly to the crucible building. Brawny walked through the crucible building and back to a small, grimy office.
Sitting down Brawny asked Bolt a incredibly complex question. “What do you want to know?”
Bolt was quiet for a moment. Then a question occurred to her. “What does Progress do?”
“Hm, that is a big question. I suppose our main goal is furthering the field of science.”
Bolt wasn’t entirely satisfied with that answer, but she moved on. “What does Mr. Sparrow do here? Why were the CEO’s from other companies either clambering for his attention or cowering in fear?”
“Sparrow is the CEO, and deals with the business end of the company. As for why other’s want his attention so much, I ‘spose it’s ‘cause Progress is so powerful, and they want us on their side. As for the fear, I figure it’s the fault of all those rumors that ponies spread ‘bout how ponies just disappear here. Course he doesn't deny the rumors.”
Bolt thought for a moment. “That’s not good enough. Why did Sparrow kill Red? Why did he have my file?”
“Kill? Oh, that pony down in the vaults, right.–” He scratched behind his ear. “Well, unofficially, Progress is something of a gathering place for the, uh, the dispossessed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, many ponies here have got stories about being wronged by other ponies, or the government. As you can imagine, this makes it disconcerting to Celestia, all of us gathered in one place. So Sparrow takes measures against her.”
“So Progress is trying to fight Celestia?”
“No. No! Progress is just trying to protect it’s own, ponies like you and me.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Well, why don’t I tell you my story.” Brawny turned to look out the window in his office, which provided a view of the main floor of the crucible. Even at this late hour ponies were busying themselves. Molten metal was all throughout the place.
“When I was thirty I ran a mine between the ghastly gorge and the applewood mountains. Things are going well, and me and my family are off comfortably. Then one day some government types showed up at my door and said I hadn’t paid the taxes the crown was due. I told ‘em I was, showed them my papers and such, but it didn’t help. A few weeks later the government had seized all my savings. They left me the mine, but I couldn’t pay workers. A couple stayed on for nothing but it wasn’t enough. Eventually my wife left me, took the kids and moved to Appleoosa.
“Later some more government types showed up and said I wasn’t providing proper safety equipment for my employees. They closed the mine, and I had nothing. Then one day I was sitting in a bar and a pony approached me. Told me about this company, Progress. Had only been around thirty-two years then, but I didn’t have anything else so I boarded a train and came here. Been working here ever since.”
“You just showed up and they gave you a job?”
“Well, they checked my credentials, but pretty much.”
“What sort of position?”
“Oh, I just worked on the floor here. But years of running the mine gave me experience, and it was only ten years before I was in charge of the whole processing division.”
“So that’s it? Mr. Sparrow’s just out to do charity?”
“Well, yes and no. Everypony here has got a story like mine. As such we’re many of us are...well, disinclined towards Celestia.”
“So Progress is an anarchist organization?”
“No. Many of us are… anarchists but Mr. Sparrow, the board, and any number of ponies here have no interest in overthrowing Celestia.”
“But some of you do?”
“Well, some I suppose, but nopony with too much influence.”
“So Mr. Sparrow built the most powerful company in the world...for charity?”
“I don’t think so. I think he’s in it for the science. For the innovation and invention.”
“Alright.”
Brawny looked at her for a long moment. “Alright?”
“Alright.”
“Good. Now, if you like, I’ll tell you more about what we do at the crucible, then I’m to take you back to Mr. Sparrow.”
“You can’t send her there!” Dr. Punch was nearly shouting at Sparrow.
“Why not?”
“We can’t trust her!”
“Of course we can. For ten years she was miserable working for Celestia. I can give her what she wants.”
“She’s a spy, Sparrow. Of course she wants you to think that she doesn’t like Celestia. That way you won’t just kill her. And now you’re giving her a chance to escape!”
“No, I don’t think so. The file was real, and as such I know exactly what she is: An angry, dispossessed spy.”
On Mr. Sparrow’s desk were two small statues of Celestia and Luna. The only difference was the while the Luna had the princesses cutie mark, the statue of the lunar princess was tall and slender, like Celestia. Both figures were carefully painted, and appeared very nearly life like. And both figures were clad in armor, with a sword and shield.
Mr. Sparrow picked up the Celestia figure and began examining it in detail. “Beside, if we can’t trust her, she doesn’t know anything.”
“She knows you killed the other operative.”
“And if she tells Celestia, and if Celestia believes her, some government investigators come here. They scour the facility and find nothing untoward. Meanwhile, officially anyway, Bernard Hoofington will be on a ship across the sea along with a small forward team in an effort to expand our operations to the ponies there.”
“And what if she believes Bolt anyway and has you arrested?”
“Then we’ll be a little ahead of schedule.”
A knock sounded on the office door. Glancing at his computer, Mr. Sparrow announced that Bolt had returned and pressed the button that opened the door.
“Miss Bolt, come in.” Bolt walked across the office, taking the seat across from Sparrow once more.
“Did Brawny explain everything sufficiently? Anything you want to know more about?”
“If you’re running some sort of charity, and are dedicated to the pursuit of science, why did you kill Red?”
Dr. Punch and Bolt both looked at the stallion, who turned where he sat to stare into Bolt’s eyes. “I killed him because he was a threat. The good Princess might object to certain practices of mine or my employees. If your partner told her, everything I’ve accomplished here would be undone.”
“Now, Miss Bolt, time is short. You won’t be staying here, and you won’t be working in engineering any longer.”
“But–”
“I had a group of agents in Canterlot town. They seemed to have burned down an apartment building and gotten themselves killed in the process. It is likely that they left behind evidence that would implicate Progress in their actions. I need you to go to Canterlot to find and destroy any evidence that they may have left behind.”
“Go to Canterlot? But Celestia knows me, she’ll ask why I’m here and what I discovered.”
“You’ll be going as our official liaison with Canterlot, with an office in the palace.”
“Wait, you have a liaison with the Canterlot crown?”
“Of course. We built the railroads after all. As the most advanced company in Equestria there is a mutual benefit in us working closely with the crown.”
“Then why do you need an ear in the court?”
“It’s a new position, after the sudden collapse of the Equestrian organization of engineers.” Sparrow opened a drawer and took out a hoofheld computer. “Here, take this.”
“What is it?”
“A mobile computer. It’s got all the information you need, and a direct line to my office. Now go, your train leaves Baltimore at eight this morning.”
Bolt, despite being without sleep for so long, left the office, enroute for Baltimore.
Dr. Punch looked at Sparrow. “You’re certain we can trust her?”
“We can’t trust her, not forever. If she was willing to betray Celestia, then eventually she could be convinced to betray us. It just so happens that right now we have what she wants.”
Sparrow turned to look at his second in command. “I’ll deal with her before it comes to that, but right now she is in the perfect position to get us what we need. Celestia trusts her, and as far as Celestia knows I trust her too. Now, Doctor, I need to get some rest.” The two ponies exited the office, each planning for what would come next.
Orkney was sitting in his small house in Hoofington. Light streamed in from the window in his sitting room, which afforded him a view of the picturesque street outside. A few ponies had walked by, on their way to shops, or the cafe, or their homes, or their jobs. Birds chirped happily and Orkney felt that everything was right with the world.
Hoofington was nestled in the fields to the north of the Unicorn mountain range. The mountains were so far away that they were just dark monoliths on the horizon. To the north of Hoofington the train tracks ran from Vanhoover to Canterlot. All around Hoofington were fields of corn, potatoes, beets, wheat, barley, beans, and every other crop imaginable.
Hoofington was a truly idyllic place, nearly completely untouched by the world and it’s troubles. Nightmare Moon’s coming had happened far to the south in Ponyville. Discord’s chaos magics had reached Hoofington, but he had been so focused on Ponyville that he had caused little trouble. The Changelings primary focus had been Canterlot and as such the events of their invasion had not disturbed the farming community.
The town had a fund set aside to hire a few unicorn mages to quickly and easily clear away winter. The pegasi weather teams dealt with the rest of the years weather, and they were paid by the royal treasury. The treasury’s money came from taxes, but taxes weren’t particularly high, only half of one season’s harvest. Whatever was left over after food had been stored for the winter or eaten by the farm families could be sold to merchants for profit.
Orkney stood from his chair and left his little, wooden living room, and then left his little wooden house. He walked down the lane that ran through the small town until he reached the cafe.
The cafe was a pleasant building, all done up in bright colors. The exterior walls were painted a stark shade of white, while the roof was of stone. The window frames were a shade of bright pink. Under every window was a pink flower box, and the flowers in those boxes were a deep shade of blue.
Orkney sauntered in through the saloon style doors and sidled up to the counter. The waitress looked up at him, then said: “The usual?”
Orkney nodded and went to take a seat in a window booth. The interior of the cafe was just as bright and colorful as the outside. The walls were white wallpaper plastered with colorful patterns of coffee cups filled with steaming coffee, pumpkins, salads, sandwiches, and other food related items. The floor was a blue and white tile. The booths were wooden affairs with red cushions.
Orkney had been a Captain in Celestia’s Covert Guard, a group of spy’s dedicated to keeping Celestia and Equestria safe. For so many years his only dream had been to retire to a place like this, and now he had. For the old Captain life was perfect.
Orkney turned to gaze outside, but he couldn’t see anything. What appeared to be a roiling, black fog had pressed itself against the glass. The stallion turned to look at the other windows, only to become aware that most of the light was now gone from the cafe, as if twilight had suddenly descended. Orkney endeavored to go outside, to get to the bottom of this.
“Belle, I’m going outside. Whatever happens, stay here.” He called back to the waitress. Orkney walked through the cafe, his hooves making a strong knocking sound against the tiled floor. Orkney could see the same darkness pressing against the doorway, suspended in the air, held back by some invisible force.
Stepping out into the darkness, it seemed that the world had disappeared. He looked back at the cafe, but he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t even see his own flank. He instinctively stepped back, but his rear collided with something solid. He had been half-way through the doorway, but now there was–
A scream rent the air. A lifetime of military training seemed to come back to him in an instant as he ran for the source of the scream.
All there was was the darkness and the sound of his hoofbeats as he ran. The scream was gone, and no other sound of life could be heard.
Orkney had to stop dead, having entered some sort of clearing in the darkness. There in front of him stood Princess Celestia, but not as he remembered her. The tall mare in front of him was clad from neck to hoof in what had been gleaming white armor, but was now dented and marked. A long scorch ran down one side, as if the princess had been running through fire. Her normally pristine fur was filled with soot and...and blood. The sticky substance tricked through some shallow, fresh cuts on her face and neck, and her fur was matted in places with it.
Then, as quickly as she had appeared, the darkness swallowed her.
“Princess?” Orkney called to the dark. She had been right there, right in front of him. “Princess!”
Orkney spun around and came face to face with nightmare personified. A mare, of the same height and build as Celestia, but with black fur and stars in her mane, stood there before him. Based on what he knew this was none other than Nightmare Moon. She was clad in armor from neck to hoof as well, but it was armor as black as the darkness around them, as opposed to Celestia’s white armor. An ornate shield emblazoned with symbols of the moon floated in front of her, a sword on her other side. She mouthed a word that Orkney was pretty sure was ‘sorry’, and then the darkness swallowed her.
Then he heard a voice, a voice after working with her for ten years. A mare’s voice seemed to echo around him, “Why send this fool with me?”
“Bolt!” Orkney called out for the spy. “Bolt, where are you?”
The scene changed again. The darkness still surrounded him on all sides but he stood in a large clear with a number of other ponies. In front of them was a building, with a balcony. A madpony stood on that balcony, shouting words that Orkney couldn’t quite make out. The crowd seemed to be shouting back approval. Then red beams of light began to rain from the sky, hitting some members of the crowd. Anypony hit fell to the ground and ceased movement. Orkney was certain they were dead.
The scene changed again and the darkness was gone. In it’s place was fire and ash. Bits of soot that blew through the air stug at his eyes. Orkney took a step forward, only to step on some odd rock. Looking down he saw it was no rock, but an equine skull. Reeling back in surprised horror Orkney fell backwards, sliding down a small hill of bleached pony bones. The world had become naught but fire and death.
The old captain became aware of the fire creeping across the scorched earth towards him. He tried to use magic but the fire would not stop it’s march. It reached his hooves.
The Captain snapped awake, surprised at being greeted with a cool, dark room. The details of his dream were already fading, leaving behind only a lingering sense of horror.
He was in his office in the palace, sitting at a fairly simple wooden desk. A small window was set in the wall opposite the doorway. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the room were all made of stone brick, like the rest of the palace.
Outside of the small window the Captain could see the inky blackness of night. The only lights in the room were the specially enchanted candles that burned for weeks, afforded to each civil servant. He must have been sleeping for at least five hours.
Turning his attention back to the desk, the Captain looked at the file he had been combing over before he had fallen asleep.
It was a file that had defined his career. Only five years after being recruited, the Captain had come to believe that Progress, which had long been one of Equestria’s most powerful and most innovative companies, was somehow wrapped up in nefarious goings on in Equestria.
He had brought what little evidence he had to his lieutenant, who had laughed in his face, and then his captain, with much the same effect. He’d gathered more evidence and brought it to the major over that captain, who hadn’t believed him. He had continued badgering his way up the chain of command, until it finally landed on the desk of the general, who still hadn’t believed him. Then he was ordered to cease all investigation. Instead he brought it to Celestia.
Celestia hadn’t believed it either, but she was more humored by his insistence then his direct superiors had been. After ten years of being in the guard, he had been promoted to lieutenant, and after twenty years, to Captain. He had been a captain for ten years.
She’d been a little less humorous when she discovered he was spending a significant amount of time and resources still investigating them. There’d been a terrible argument that the Princess had quite obviously won, and since that day he hadn’t mentioned the company until the assignment for Bolt crossed his desk.
The Captain let out a long, low sigh. When he had joined the guard it had been a crisp military organization. There had been many operatives, lieutenants, and captains, along with a hoofful of majors and colonels, and one General. Now, somehow, he was the head of the entire organization despite his rank as captain, with another captain operating out of Manehattan, with ten operatives apiece. The fate of Equestria was in the Covert Guards hooves, and there were only twenty-two members.
He had requested that he be allowed to recruit more members and reinstate the military order but the princess had refused. Why can’t she see reason? I need more ponies to better safeguard Equestria. The Captain tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere. This road only led to frustration. He had often considered secretly recruiting more operatives, but there was no way he could pay them, at least not without the princess discovering what he was doing. Of course, there was also the threat of what Celestia would do if he formed an independant spy organization.
But he couldn’t complain. The job had been good to him. The main concern of the last fifty years or so had been the sharp rise in anarchist cults. They always managed to stop them, at least when the threat turned out to be real. More and more they were following false trails.
It would be so much easier if there was a clear enemy to fight. If Progress, for instance, was really some sort of anti-Equestria society, then it would only be a matter of finding enough evidence and then cutting the head off of the snake. Instead they were fighting a group of disparate warriors, who all individually came to believe that Equestria would be better off without the crown.
But it was even worse than that now. In the last year alone there had been the reappearance of Nightmare Moon, the freeing of Discord, and the attack of the changelings. The Covert Guard could only fight against predictable organizations. They could infiltrate a military, they could weasel out terrorist cells, but they just could not fight against lone rogues that could not be predicted.
The Captain looked down at his cutie mark. It was a silhouette of himself. The Captain could send a sort of shadow of himself, which he used to deliver messages to his operatives. If he focused his magic he could even hear conversation.
The Captain walked to his little window and sighed again. He had always dreamed of retiring to a small country town, the kind of place where everypony knew everypony else, the kind of place where the biggest concern was the yearly yield.
Staring out into the darkness the Captain became aware of just how tired he was. Striding to the door, he opened it and stepped out into the hall.
He glanced back at the door, which was emblazoned with:
Orkney
Director of Road Finance
Upon being promoted to captain, and being made the unofficial head of the Covert Guard, it had become necessary to live in Canterlot and meet regularly with the Princess. As such he had been given a fake department in an out-of-the-way office.
The Captain turned back to the hall, and came face to face with Princess Celestia. The Captain leaped back to avoid colliding with her.
The Princess chuckled to herself. “I didn’t mean to startle you Captain.”
To his credit, the Captain had recovered from the surprise, though his cheeks were dark with embarrassment. “It was my fault ma’am.”
A flicker of emotion the Captain couldn’t place passed across the Princess’s face. The Captain opened the door to his office once more and ushered Celestia inside.
The Captain sat down at his desk, Celestia sat opposite from him. He looked at her expectantly.
“Any word from Operative Bolt?” Bolt? She knows her name. But why?
“No ma’am, it’s too dangerous. If Progress were to even suspect she worked for us we would lose this chance forever. By this point she should have gone to the recruitment center. No doubt she is already inside of their facilities.”
“You honestly believe they’re against the crown? They’ve shown nothing but loyalty.”
They had been here before. “Even if they are, I doubt they would be happy if they discovered we had a spy in their midst. Besides, even if the majority are loyal a few could be corrupt.”
“Ma’am, I have a question.” The Captain said.
“Ask it.”
“Why did you send the other pony?” The Captain looked about nervously. It wasn’t his place to question Celestia’s decisions, but he had to know.
“You mean Red Remmington?” The Captain nodded at that.
Celestia sighed. “Do you know why you are Captain?”
“Because I’m good at what I do.”
“Yes, that is one reason. Another is that you do not enjoy it.”
It was true, he’d never wanted to be a spy, never particularly enjoyed it. “I don’t follow, ma’am.”
“The first mission we sent Bolt on, she performed spectacularly. You remember, Captain, how she climbed through the ranks of that organization and discovered two criminals?”
“Of course.”
“But she also loved it. In her grab for power she endangered the positions of several innocent ponies. She’s dangerous and greedy. It’s why I’ve given her so many poor jobs.”
“So why did you send Red with her?”
“I’d hoped that he might rub off on her.”
The Captain felt his stomach think. Celestia didn’t seriously believe that Progress was a threat.
Celestia must have sensed his change of mood.
“What are you thinking, Captain?”
“Ma’am, it won’t work. Bolt is too angry and too serious. We’ll be lucky that she doesn’t throw Red off the roof in frustration.”
Celestia looked embarrassed.
“I see. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you.”
Celestia’s eyes rose to meet the Captain’s. “There is a chaos cult active in Canterlot.” If the Captain were a dramatic individual, he may have fainted on the spot. As it was, the only sign of shock was a sharp intake of breath and a sudden dilation of the pupils.
“Where?” His voice had lost all of it’s conversational tones, instead becoming crisp and short.
Celestia produced a file from nowhere and levitated it to land on the desk before the Captain. “This should have everything you need. Captain, I want you to deal with this personally.”
“Of course, ma’am.” The Captain saluted, and the Princess rose and left the office.
A customer waited impatiently, tapping a hoof as loudly as possible. Fluffy Coffee wrapped a knife in her magic and cut the latest order of daisies while rushing to take the customers order. This resulted in her plunging the knife through the order sheet instead of a quill.
With a nervous smile, Fluffy removed the knife from the sheet and delicately picked up a quill in her mouth. Better to write the order without magic than risk stabbing a customer. She couldn’t handle another lawsuit.
She took the order into the kitchen and gave it to the chef, then hurried out to wrap the order of flowers. With that done she spun around to grab the now completed garden salad and gave it to the customer.
The customer left, and Coffee was surprised that no new customer approached the counter. This was typically a sign that the morning rush was over.
After five minutes with no new orders the chef exited the kitchen.
“We really need a window from the counter to the kitchen.”
“I know, I know. I’ve petitioned the building council but you know how it is. ‘Canterlot is a historical site. We cannot allow you to cut a hole in the wall of history.’”
The chef, an older, greasy stallion, smiled at her impression.
The building council really was a problem. As a result of being a thousand year old settlement, nearly all the buildings in Canterlot were historical sites. As such if one wanted to make any alterations they had to consult the council, wait three months, and be told no. She’d heard that the nobility could do whatever they wanted with their homes.
A new customer opened the door and approached the counter. The chef sighed and went back to the kitchen.
The new comer was an older stallion with a grey coat and mane, both flecked with white.
“Hello and welcome to Coffee and Flowers cafe, what can I get you?”
“Coffee, black.” He laid a couple bits on the counter. The stallion took his drink and sat in a seat facing the street.
Coffee went about her day. She finished her backlog of flower orders and tipped the delivery colt. She swept the floors and cleaned the counters, then did the same thing after the lunch rush. She wrote and rewrote several drafts to the building council and pondered starting that romance novel. Despite all this, the stallion who had ordered the coffee had stayed there until lunch, then abruptly left.
Eventually closing time came and Coffee crossed the street to her apartment building. She noticed three strange ponies carrying in boxes. Must be new arrivals Coffee thought.
Coffee’s apartment was small, it was the cheapest place in Canterlot after all. But even then the rent was extraordinary. It was all worth it though. Since she first got her cutie mark, a coffee cup with a flower in it, she had dreamed of opening a cafe and bouquet shop. And to do it in Canterlot.
So she had. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d found the smallest, cheapest building possible that she could serve food from. She actually did quite well for herself. Her shop was a place where business ponies going to and from work could go to and buy a quick meal.
Even then, it was barely enough to pay her leases, but it was worth it to own a business in Canterlot.
A letter from her mother rested on a nightstand. It was all the usual. ‘When are you going to bring home a very special somepony’ and ‘I want some grandfoals’, or even ‘why don’t you open a cafe closer to home’.
It wasn’t that Coffee didn’t want to find somepony eventually, but her life was just too busy. All of her time went to running her shop. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been on a date since school. Well, she hadn’t been but that didn’t mean she couldn’t, she was just too busy!
Coffee lay down on her bed, one of the few articles of furniture she owned and fell asleep with her mother's imaginary nagging voice floating in her head.
Three days passed without incident. The only thing out of the ordinary was a different delivery colt came to pick up that days orders of flowers, and that the stallion from the previous day came back.
The stallion ordered the same coffee, black, and took a seat by the window. On all three days he left just after lunch.
Coffee was closing up when the stallion came back.
“Hello.” Coffee said, with a slight nervous twinge.
“Hello. Ma’am, can we step inside a moment?”
Coffee unlocked the door and stepped inside.
“I’m sorry to intrude on you like this. I’m agent Barkly from the Royal Guard branch of investigations.”
“Oh my, has something happened?”
“That’s just it, nothing’s happened. I was sent here to investigate some suspicious characters but everypony here seems so normal. If you see anypony suspicious could you let me know?”
“Of course.” Coffee said, shock in her voice. It all seemed a little strange.
“Great. I’m staying in the hotel at the end of the lane. Just ask for Barkly.”
The inspector turned to go. “Wait. Is there anything I should look out for?”
“I’ve been told they may be dangerous, so if you see anypony suspicious, do not approach them just come straight to me, you got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Thank you miss-”
“Coffee. Fluffy Coffee.”
“Thank you, miss Coffee.” The stallion flashed her a smile and left the shop to walk down the street.
Coffee locked up the shop and went to her apartment. She was a little on edge from the inspectors warning. Nothing bad ever happened in Canterlot. Well, nothing except the changeling attack a few months ago, but the speed with which the Princesses and the Royal Guard had dealt with the problem were a testament to how safe the city was.
Still, when she lay down on her bed she almost immediately fell asleep.
Coffee was jolted awake by a violent quake that shook the entire apartment. The acrid smell of smoke assaulted her senses. Fire.
Coffee leaped from her bed and sprinted from the apartment. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a feminine scream from the apartment she was passing. Without even stopping to consider how foolish her actions were she gripped the door in her magic and forced it open. This was odd given that Coffee was not particularly adept at using her magic for anything other than food or flowers but she didn’t stop to ponder it.
“Where are you?” Coffee shouted. The entire apartment within seemed to be burning. Why am I still here?
Coffee rushed into the apartment and saw a mare standing there, shoveling papers into a briefcase. She must’ve heard Coffee because she spun around in shock, briefcase in hoof, and stared at her.
Coffee was just about to rush forward and grab the mare but an ominous cracking of wood sounded throughout the small room. Then the ceiling caved in, on top of the mare. The briefcase slid across the floor to stop at Coffee’s hooves.
The mare was dead, or about to die, and there was no way Coffee could help her.
Suddenly a voice sounded out above the roar of the flames. “They’ll kill you!”
“After all this is done,” the mare was racked by bloody, hacking coughs, “they will kill you!” Coffee fled in abject terror. When she stopped running she was outside of the chef’s door.
After a few moments of frantic banging the chef opened the door. “What’s got you in such a–” He stopped mid sentence when he saw Coffee. Tears streamed down her face, and her white coat was black with soot.
“What happened?”
“Th-th-The apart-apart,” she was sobbing uncontrollably now, “fire.”
“Come inside, come on it’s all going to be alright.”
Coffee came in and the chef filled a tub with hot water.
“Come on, sit in the water and get yourself cleaned up. You’ll feel better then.” Coffee did as he asked, mutely nodding at the few questions the chef asked her.
“What’s this?” Coffee looked over at the chef, who was holding a soot-stained briefcase.
“I don’t know, I must have picked it up in the fire.” The chef shrugged and put the briefcase by the door.
Coffee bathed and the chef tried to coax what information he could out of her. When she proved unforthcoming he laid out a blanket and pillow on his small couch and went back to his equally small bed.
The next morning Coffee felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. She sat in the chef’s house until the evening, then decided she should go sleep at the shop.
She reached her shop, but couldn’t help but stare at the smoldering remains of her apartment building. None of the adjacent buildings had caught fire, but hers had burned to the ground.
Rather than go through the front door, Coffee went around the to the alley that was behind her shop, sunk down next to the door, and cried. After she had no more tears to shed, she just sat in silence. It was then she became aware that she had taken the briefcase.
There were clasps to keep it shut, but no lock. Her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the briefcase.
She didn’t know what she was expecting to find. Family portraits maybe, or else letters sent between family members, or something. All she found was paper. The top sheet said, in hastily scrawled hoofwriting:
1.) general reconnaissance
2.) talk to citizens
3.) infiltrate local guard station
4.) set off amulet
5.) report back to progress
The rest of the papers seemed to be manuals of a sort, with titles like What to do in case of discovery, and What to do in case of fire. There were several copies of each manual as well, all in the same hoofwriting. Coffee noticed a theme though, they all mentioned something called Progress.
“Excuse me, are you Fluffy Coffee.”
“Yes.” Coffee’s voice came out in a shocked whimper, her eyes fixed firmly on the papers in front of her.
A hoof collided with the side of her skull. The blow sent her sprawling out into the alley, dazed and senseless. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, maybe minutes, maybe hours. When she regained her senses, the papers were gone.
Tired and in shock, Coffee wandered the streets, crying. She founded herself standing in front of the hotel at the the end of the lane.
