Chapter 1: The Knights of the Silver Sunrise
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Chapter 1: The Knights of the Silver Sunrise
Splinterwood
Chapter 1: The Knights of the Silver Sunrise
TO HESSANEIGH SOUTHWESTERN BRIDGE, read an arrow-shaped sign pointing up the street. A black motorcar made its way past, its tires rolling over a layer of snow and ice that had been packed down tight by many other vehicles. Twilight Sparkle, sitting in the back of the car, looked up from the open folder in her lap and watched the wind kick up swirls of white against the windows.
Everything that wasn't illuminated by the car's headlights or the streetlamps on the sides of the road was obscured by the storm, though she could see little corners of a city hiding deep in the grey from time to time. When the wind calmed down, the lights of the magnificent Cathedral of Accord became visible in the distance. It was still lit up from top to bottom like a torch, unfazed by the damage that had been done to it by artillery and bombing raids earlier in the war.
It wasn't even an anomaly at all, either. Hessaneigh in general seemed determined to go on and rebuild. Its concert halls were even still arranging performances despite the grim times they—the entire continent of Equus, not just Czabreske—were living in. Though strictly speaking she was not in Hessaneigh to enjoy the local culture, Twilight had tickets to several upcoming shows tucked away in her saddlebag.
The car crossed from the end of the icy street onto the iron grate at the bottom of the southwestern bridge with a thump. Twilight found herself looking down at the dark, icy water below, not liking the way the archaic bridge seemed to groan under the car's weight. However, she reminded herself, it had already proven it could carry thirty-ton tanks, so it was statistically unlikely that it would give out now.
She turned away from the window, back to the folder in her lap. It was open to the third page of a report from the commander of the Equestrian gendarmerie in Hessaneigh, to her boss, Knights-General Arpeggio. Twilight made a careful tick on the paper suspended in the air beside her. Then she leafed through the rest of the report until she got to the next document, a list of census statistics, and checked off another item on her list.
The list itself was completely redundant as she'd already organized her folder before leaving Canterlot. But Twilight drew the straightforward process out into an almost fetishistic ritual of examination and confirmation, rapturously crossing out the little boxes at the beginning of each line as though touching them with her pen made them an interface to god.
By the time she reached the last item ('Legal document: Exceptions based on prior military service in Equestrian alliances, other services in overt opposition to changeling infiltration, intermarriage and offspring with equines, or mixed blood status'), the bridge was several miles behind, and they were traveling on a larger main street that was fairly busy even in the middle of the night. Satisfied that everything was properly in order, Twilight flipped to the first page of her notes, which said ACTION AB-HESSANEIGH in small block letters, and slid the checklist into the pocket on the left side.
She smoothed over some creases in her uniform with her hooves as the car took a right, the tires sliding a bit on the icy road. Then she took off her glasses—big and round and wire-rimmed—polished them a little, then put them back on again. A violet glow surrounded her hat, which was on the seat next to her, and it rose into the air and settled on her head—slightly askew, though she quickly nudged it until it was even. Her horn jutted out through an opening above the brim.
Taking another right, the car left the busier street and drove up a side road. Twilight first saw the bright headlights from a military vehicle and the shimmering glow of an energy shield through the grey haze; these were followed quickly by the outlines and then the details of a gatehouse, an armored truck, a pair of machine guns, and a little metal safety gate in front of the magical one. Her driver finally slowed to a stop in front of the safety gate, where it idled in place, puffing a stream of greyish exhaust out behind it into the frigid air.
Two earth pony guards and a unicorn, with carbines slung over their shoulders, stepped out of the gatehouse and approached the car. They wore heavy cloaks, and helmets with Equestria's national insignia—a flaming sun—painted on one side. While one of the soldiers checked on the driver and another opened the trunk, the third peered through the back passenger window. He knocked on it, and Twilight rolled the window down.
“Good evening, Corporal,” she said.
“Evening...” he echoed, glancing at her collar as he spoke. On the right, she bore the same silver starburst insignia that he did, and on the other, she had a tab identifying her rank. “...Major.”
“I'm here for a meeting with Captain Lulamoon and some other ponies,” said Twilight. “I'm Twilight Sparkle. Major Twilight Sparkle, that is. But you already know th—Oh, never mind. I suppose they'll have told you to keep an eye out for me.”
He nodded, saying, “Yes, we've been expecting you, Major. I'll just need to check your papers, make sure you're who you say you are, and then you can go through.”
“Of course.” She held up the the booklet with her credentials in it and slid it through the opening in the window. “There you are. The appropriate documents regarding my security clearance are between pages three and four.”
“Thanks,” said the guard, taking it from her.
Twilight waited while he looked through her documentation. After a while, she took off her glasses and polished them again, even though they were clean, and checked the watch hanging from a chain in her uniform's pocket.
Eventually, he took out a pen and paper and spent a moment scribbling some things down, unable to talk because he was holding the pen with his teeth. He turned and said something to the other guard that Twilight couldn't make out, and then he slipped the booklet back through the window, saying, “Alright, everything looks good. Here you go, Major.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling, as she put the booklet away. She heard the trunk slam shut. “Have a nice night.”
“You too, Major Sparkle.”
She rolled up the window as the car started forward again, no longer blocked by the dual metal and magical gates. A flash of energy from the same conductor that had been generating the shield suddenly bathed the entire vehicle in sickly green light, although the spell did nothing except send a tingling sensation down Twilight's spine. Her driver cringed slightly—probably unused to having the detection magic cast on his entire body at once—but kept moving forward at a steady pace.
Beyond the barricade, beyond the machine guns and the half-hidden armored truck, the road led up to a large, elegant-looking building—a sign near the entrance, partly kicked over and mostly buried in snow, identified it as the Ponygala Hotel, and another, this one more visible, said, KNIGHTS-SSP HQ HESSANEIGH. The car pulled up to the front entrance and stopped there.
Twilight's legs felt stiff and clumsy as she got out of the car. After apologizing several times for having stumbled into the guard who had opened the door for her, she took a moment to stretch. She was taller than the guards or the driver, despite being a unicorn, but her long, gangly legs made her look oddly misproportioned instead of impressive when she stood up straight.
The inside of the hotel smelled strongly of gun oil, cigarettes, and combat magic runoff, an odor that made her wrinkle her nose as soon as she stepped through the door. A huge portrait of Clover the Clever had been mounted over the front desk, which had been converted into a small radio area. There were banners with the sun and starburst insignias hanging from the walls above the fireplaces.
She heard heavy thumping sounds—boots on the floor—and two ponies came down the ornate marble staircase in the center of the foyer. Both wore the same grey uniform that Twilight did, with the same silver starburst insignia on their lapels. The first, a pegasus whose rank was that of a Lieutenant, saluted Twilight when he reached the bottom of the stairs, while the other, an earth pony NCO, saluted and then went around behind Twilight and put her hooves on the unicorn's shoulders to remove her cloak. She was barely even tall enough to reach.
“Welcome to Hessaneigh, Major Sparkle,” said the pegasus.
“Thank you very much, Lieutenant.” Twilight gave the earth mare her cap as well. “I've always wanted to visit Hessaneigh. It's a lovely city.”
“It really is.”
“The Imperial Library here is said to be quite extensive.”
“I wouldn't know, sorry. I've never been there.”
“Seven and a half million work of varying age, including originals by some of the most venerated writers, philosophers, and thinkers of all time! I couldn't read that many in my entire lifetime, but I'll certainly do my best while I'm here. I intend to spend a few hours there at the very least before I leave.”
“I, ah, hope you have a grand time.”
“I definitely will—That is, after I've finished my meeting and slept a bit. Nothing will ever get done if I'm not around to set it in motion, and I won't be able to manage it very well during the fact if I'm sleep-deprived. And then we'd be in real trouble, wouldn't we?”
She laughed; an awkward, self-conscious half-chuckle. The Lieutenant managed a thin smile that disappeared quickly. After watching the earth pony leave with her cloak, Twilight straightened her glasses and checked her pocket watch.
“I don't mean to be abrupt,” she said, putting her watch back in her pocket, “but I do need to get to my meeting, or else I'll be late and everyone will be very upset with me. If you could show me to the conference room, Lieutenant, I would be very grateful.”
“Yes, of course.” The pegasus turned toward the staircase, gesturing for her to follow him as he did. “This way, Major.”
The room that had been set aside for Twilight's conference was on the second floor. Upon entering, Twilight found herself looking at an enormous painting of the ancient alicorns fighting the demon Discord. A fixed table ran lengthwise through the room's center. Several ponies were already seated at it.
“Good evening, Captain Lulamoon,” Twilight said as she sat down beside a powder-blue unicorn mare who wore the uniform of a State Secret Police official.
“Major Sparkle. Good evening,” replied the blue unicorn. “I hope you had a good flight to Hessaneigh.”
“Oh, yes, it was very nice. I spent most of it reading Hoss Saddlesalt's new novel, Hearth's Warming.”
“That sounds enthralling, Major.”
Twilight took her binder out and put it on the table. “It was! I mean, it is. I'd recommend it to anypony, really—it's highly educational.”
“I'm sure it is.”
“It's about the first attempt to unify Equus during the tribal age, and an in-depth examination of how its failure paved the way for sociopolitical and economic infiltration by parasitical races, particularly the changelings. It was almost more a biography of the equine race than it was a simple novel.”
“Is that so.”
“I can give you my copy to read if you give it back by the time we meet again,” Twilight said. She lifted the book out of her saddlebag with magic and offered it to Captain Lulamoon.
“Trixie must respectfully decline your offer, Major,” said Captain Lulamoon, holding up her hoof. “Like anypony who's heard the Her Majesty's words, I know how, why, and by whom our ancestors were betrayed centuries ago. There's little reason for me to distract myself with the specifics as long as I know enough to deal with the problem here and now. Not that something valuable can't be extracted from such information by a pony whose skills lie in the more intellectual than the practical.”
“I guess that's fair enough. I just though I'd—Well, you know, sharing and all that is a way to build better friendships—Oh, never mind.” Twilight turned away, feeling put-out, but turned back almost immediately and asked, “How have you been?”
Trixie let out a heavy, theatrical sigh. “Better days have been seen, I'm afraid.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Overworked and vastly under-appreciated, Trixie struggles mightily against criminals and scum, gallantly risking life and limb for the hope of a better tomorrow. We manage. I'm sure you know how it is, Major.”
“Somewhat,” said Twilight, nodding. “Life has its ups and downs.”
“Exactly. Still, I can't say it's the absolute worst situation I've ever been in. Czabreske has some fantastic restaurants, and Trixie eats at them all for free.”
The doors opened again. Another pony came in, wearing the same grey uniform as Twilight. Unlike Twilight, the uniform clashed horribly with this mare's mane and tail, which looked like vivid spouts of fire. She nodded at Twilight as she sat down between Trixie Lulamoon and an older, balding, mustachioed stallion. After acknowledging the newcomer, Twilight looked around the table, counting the number of ponies in the room. There were nine, including herself.
“It looks like everypony is here... except Prince Blueblood. Trixie, have you seen him?”
“No, I haven't,” said Trixie. Turning to look at the door, she added, “But that's no surprise if you've dealt with His Royal Arrogance before,” under her breath.
“Hmmh, well, I do hope he gets here on time,” Twilight murmured as she set up a spell that would notate a transcript of the meeting. “I don't like having to repeat myself during conferences, and I wouldn't want the Governor to miss this information.”
For the next minute and a half—she discovered this when she checked her pocket watch—Twilight eavesdropped on the other conversations going on. Aside from learning that the front lines in Griffonia were reported to be as static as they had been the day before, she also found out that the Minister of Resources in Canterlot had resigned over accusations of mismanagement while she was on the airship.
Just when the silence was starting to get unbearable and Twilight was beginning to wonder when somepony would speak up and force her to start talking for fear of looking bad, the door creaked open and a stallion entered. He was a unicorn, blonde and aristocratic in appearance; his tastelessly flamboyant suit identified him as a homosexual with even more certainty than his effeminate looks.
He strode over and sat down opposite Twilight, brushing his mane out of his eyes as he did so.
“I apologize for my lateness,” he huffed. “The idiot driving my limousine wasn't familiar with the area and apparently doesn't know how to read maps. He got us lost in some part of the town I didn't even recognize for almost half an hour. Kept insisting he knew where he was when he didn't really—”
“Ah, it's quite alright,” interrupted Twilight. “We were just beginning, so you didn't miss anything of significance, Governor. Shall we begin, then, now that we're all here?”
Though he obviously wanted to continue with his tirade, the Governor said, “By all means, let us begin.”
“Thank you.”
Twilight opened her binder to the ACTION AB-HESSANEIGH cover page, which she turned. The page after it was a roster with each attendee's name listed. She checked off her own name, then looked up and tapped her hoof on the tabletop to make sure she had the room's full attention.
“Welcome, everypony,” she said. “I'm glad you were all able to make it safely and reasonably on time. I'm Major Twilight Sparkle, and I'm from the Intelligence and Secrets Department and State Secret Police Joint Administrative Bureau of the Knights of the Silver Sunrise. I've set up this meeting under the authority granted to the Knights-ISD by Royal Order 42. I think most of us already know each other to some extent, but let's go around clockwise from my side of the table and introduce ourselves one by one, just in case.”
Trixie, being the next pony over from Twilight, was the first of the others to introduce herself.
“I am Captain Trixie Lulamoon, head of the Knights-SSP in Hessaneigh. Not one year ago, I was the head of the SSP-EUAP Intertribal Intelligence Bureau in Northern Panpony, and by the time I was finished there, I had eradicated all the anti-Equestrian influences and made it safe for unification—As I am, of course, doing here as well.”
“My name is Colonel Auric Hackamore,” said the pegasus stallion beside Trixie; the balding one with the mustache. “I command the Knights of Equine Hessaneigh—the Knights of the Silver Sunrise 15th Eastern. I'm acquainted with many of you already, but it's a pleasure to meet those I'm not."
After Hackamore there was an empty seat. After that, at the end of the table, sat the fiery unicorn mare who'd come in before Blueblood. She rattled off, “Captain Shimmer, Knights-ISID, Special Task Force C For the Enforced Introduction of Harmony,” then went back to staring at the painting of the alicorns fighting Discord, muttering, “Thrilled to be here...”
“It's wonderful to have you, Captain Shimmer,” said Twilight. She checked off Sunset Shimmer's name and glanced at the other side of the table, where there sat a young mare in an expensive suit. “And your name?”
“Chelise Nejiste, Undersecretary to the Civil Minister of Hessaneigh.” This mare seemed to be part-crystal and part-pegasus. The mix of features produced an odd but aesthetically pleasing result. “If you don't mind, Major Sparkle, I have a minor question I'd like to ask when the introductions are through.”
“Yes, of course,” Twilight told Nejiste with a smile. “I had planned on allowing for general questions to start off anyway, so I guess you'll be first.”
“Thank you.”
“You're quite welcome.”
The next pony over was the solicitor-general of Hessaneigh; an old, thin stallion named Arduis. In stark contrast to Arduis's kindly and modest look was the grotesquely overweight Equinational Imperial Affairs Overseer beside him, Politruk, who postured for a bit and dropped a few names here and there. Two more members of the Hessaneigh government introduced themselves: the Commissioner of Order and Police (who was “a dedicated unificationist for the last fourteen years”) and the Director of the Hessaneigh Office for Changeling Affairs (who, unlike the Commissioner, actually had the little Equinational pin on his suit to back up his claim).
Last of all was the Governor, who reluctantly said, “Prince Blueblood, Royal Governor of Czabreske Region 3,” after attempting to make what seemed to be the beginning of a far more lengthy introductory speech about himself and promptly being shut down by Trixie Lulamoon.
“And that is all of us.”
Twilight looked down as she said this so no one would see the corners of her mouth twitching. She checked off Blueblood's name on the roster of attending officials that she'd prepared and brought with her.
“Now that we all know who's here, let's begin,” she said. “The first thing I would like you to know is this: the secrecy of this meeting and the topics discussed therein is such that if you break it, whether intentionally or otherwise, you will be guilty of high treason and will be punished accordingly. I don't like threatening anyone, but it's the way things are. Do I make myself clear?”
This threat had likely been issued to everypony present at least once or twice anyway, given the times they were living in: war on all sides, enemies within and without. Argument would only have led to more trouble than agreement. Some of her guests—the politicians—affirmed her words with a bit of understandable hesitation, but there was no overt resistance. Satisfied that she had their understanding and cooperation—at least for the moment—Twilight continued.
“The second thing of great importance I would like you to know is that I have been given royal authority by Her Highness herself to override any or all of you, regardless of rank or jurisdiction, in order to ensure that what I have been tasked with is carried out efficiently and effectively. This is not debatable unless you want to have a very bad month—I am, in addition to my normal duties, also capable of performing extremely competent, thorough, asset-paralyzing financial audits if the impulse takes hold.”
Several ponies snorted with laughter; the leftover tension from Twilight's previous statement was, for the most part, broken by this. Twilight smiled.
“Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way...” she said. “I believe I had promised to begin by answering your question, Ms. ah—” She paused for a second. “—Neighast?”
“Nejiste,” the pegasus corrected her politely.
“Nejiste. Pardon me.” Twilight made a note in the margin of her automatic transcript to 'ensure proper tagging of pronunciation at all future meetings'. “You were curious about something earlier?”
“Yes, I think I'm a bit behind on the—the flow of information, as they say. Some clarification might help.”
She nodded. “Alright. What kind of clarification are you looking for?”
“You said, in your letter, that this meeting would concern 'the immediate resolution of the infestation problem in Hessaneigh',” said Nejiste. She'd apparently brought the letter with her, as she had it in front of her now. “I don't quite understand what you mean by that, and I'd like a more concrete explanation.”
“Well, I'm happy to say I can answer your question.” Twilight cleared her throat. “Her Majesty wishes to make Czabreske a part of her envisioned Greater Equestria, as you know. Hessaneigh is particularly significant for a number of reasons—its age and history, its population, its sheer size, its cultural and economic value, and so on. However, Hessaneigh is still infested with changelings, which are both a drain on resources and an inherent enemy of the equine race. The broad purpose of this meeting, then, is to discuss the resolution to this infestation.”
“I'd like to make it known that I disagree with the use of the term 'infestation', to describe Hessaneigh's current state of affairs,” said Bardamu, the Director of the Office of Changeling Affairs. A tall, handsome earth pony with vivid green eyes and a perpetual coltish smile, he wore a small gold pin on his suit, and was the only pony besides Politruk to do so. “Infestation implies they're out of our control, and I like to think the measures we've taken have at the very least brought order where there was none before.”
“The measures you've implemented already are, in my personal opinion, excellent, well-thought-out, and highly effective at doing what they were intended to do,” Twilight agreed, leafing through her notes as she spoke. “Let me see... Hessaneigh has corralled its changelings into two major centers covered by anti-magic fields—Colony A and Colony B, if I'm not mistaken. Colony A is about two miles from here and Colony B is near the southern boundary of the city. I've been told that Colony A is a...”
She paused, rapidly searching the document before her for the exact phrase.
“'...a three-and-a-quarter-square mile, highly faithful recreation of the natural habitat of the untransformed changeling,' according to Colonel Hackamore's report to General Arpeggio two years ago.”
A few of the other ponies chuckled again.
“Trust me, it's a very authentic experience,” said Colonel Hackamore, nodding. “It even smells like one of their communal caves in the badlands. 'Stinks like home', I'm sure they say when they arrive there. All it needs is a roof in the street to keep the sun out—too much sun is bad for their health. I'm surprised they don't just stay in the apartments all day with the cockroaches.”
Nejiste pressed her hooves tightly together and rested her chin on them. “I suppose what I'm asking for is clarification on what, specifically, we're meeting to discuss that concerns these changelings. They seem to be well under control in Mr. Bardamu's hooves. In fact, I haven't even encountered one in person for weeks. Months, maybe.”
“That's exactly what they want you to think.” There was a distinct snicker in Trixie's voice.
“Actually, I agree with Chelise,” said the Chief of Police, Wiss. “We've done quite a bit to remove the changelings from the city proper already. We were the one of the first cities in Czabreske to deal with them when the unification began.”
“Exactly. I don't see what the issue is.”
“The issue,” began Twilight, slowly and in a rather grim tone, “is that they're practically overflowing by now. It's been three years since Colony A was set up, and Changelings reproduce very quickly. Some of our friends in other parts of Czabreske have been making things worse by exporting their own changelings into the Colonies when they think we aren't looking. The numbers have been growing exponentially as time passes.”
“I knew I could smell something funny on the wind,” Blueblood muttered.
“Make them dig straight down,” said Politruk, his jowls quivering. “The smell problem is solved as well as the space problem.”
Bardamu raised his hoof, and Twilight nodded at him, thankful that somepony in the room besides herself was capable of being polite.
“Pardon—” he said.
“Yes, go ahead, Mr. Bardamu.”
“I was assured that the unauthorized importation of changelings into the colonies would be stopped and those involved in it arrested. General Arpeggio told me personally, last year, that it would end.”
“Importation to the colonies is not the real problem, nor was it ever the core issue, nor is it even discouraged now as it ultimately serves us better to collect them into one easily accessible location. The issue is that the continued presence of changelings within the limits of Hessaneigh is economically and logistically unsustainable, not to mention dangerous to the population at large and thoroughly disharmonious.”
“I don't feel it's unsustainable,” said Nejiste. “The AB Colonies produce excellent investment returns for the state in the form of labor. I use them frequently for public works projects. It's a symbiotic system: They work for us and stay out of trouble, and we sustain them and give them a place to sleep. I just don't see what the issue is.”
“The—Well, let me, ah, let me summarize it for you.”
Twilight glanced down at her notes again, which she'd leafed through to a summary of the AB Colony population statistics, and took a deep breath.
“Three years ago, we—that is, the Knights and order-police collectively—relocated 39,412 changelings to Colony A. Two years ago, we had 52,820 changelings in Colony A. Colony B was created as a supplement and 17,857 changelings were interned there. Last year we had 79,303 changelings interned in Colony A and 28,559 changelings in Colony B. As of the most recent analysis and population tally, there are 95,644 changelings in Colony A and 38,923 changelings in Colony B. The total changeling population is now 134,567, officially. That's one-eighth the total equine population of Hessaneigh.”
“Great Faust,” said Blueblood, aghast.
“Those are based only on our records,” Twilight added, “and they're calculated with adjustments for the rate of expiration within the colonies. And, of course, they exclude the thousands of unauthorized importations and births we haven't even been able to keep track of. There are between 134,000 and 180,000 of them, total, in Hessaneigh at the moment. Almost the entire changeling population of this entire region has been imported into the AB Colonies in the last three years.”
Sunset Shimmer let out an odd, humorless little snort of laughter upon hearing this. Twilight turned to look at her, and she shook her head and murmured, “Sorry, Major.”
“I think I see what you're getting at now,” Bardamu said as Twilight turned back again. “We've already spent so much time, money, and effort fixing it; why let it get out of control again? It needs to be taken care of before it, as you said, overflows.”
“Precisely. The Joint Administrative Bureau would rather we deal with this problem now, while it's manageable, than later, when it's gotten out of control. Therefore, the reason for which I have called you all to this room is to discuss the immediate deportation and resettlement of eighty-five percent of Colony A and one hundred percent of Colony B in the next two months.”
“Pardon me?” asked Blueblood. A few of the others—some of the politicians, and generally the others who weren't entirely aware of how completely logistically possible this was—echoed him.
“Yes?” she inquired.
Nejiste looked positively bewildered. “That's—that's over a hundred thousand changelings!”
“Yes,” Twilight repeated.
“In two months?”
“Yes. We—”
“And have you even considered how it'll affect Hessaneigh's public works projects? We had planned far into the future believing that we'd have a large work force available to us. We're not facing a labor crisis yet, but with war taking up more and more resources, we may need them soon—and now you want to waste more resources moving them all somewhere else?”
“Please, calm down, Ms. Nejiste.” Twilight held up her hooves in a placating gesture. “The disruption to normal transportation patterns will be minimal, and once the resettlement is complete, the city won't have to worry about them anymore. Roughly fifteen percent of the population in Colony A will be left over for labor; about twelve thousand.”
Nejiste slumped back in her chair, rubbing her temple with her hoof. “This... has come as a bit of a surprise.”
“My apologies, but it's the way things are,” said Twilight. “You were invited to this meeting specifically to give you a chance to modify your plans in accordance with the coming changes—We didn't want to just pull the rug out from under you, after all.”
“It seems like it's either that or you can drown in changeling excrement,” Trixie Lulamoon added. “I'd rather have them go away sooner than later—forget everything else, just get them out. I'm sure half the partisan activity will drop off into nothing once they're gone.”
“You keep talking about resettlement, Major,” said Arduis.
Twilight nodded her head. “That is correct, sir.”
“Isn't it just prolonging the problem to constantly deport them from every new place they're sent? Wasting resources when we already have them confined? Not that I'd mind having them out of the city, but as long as we're thinking practically...”
“This action will result in resettlement to a permanent residence,” Twilight assured him. “They will not be returning, nor will we need to repeatedly resettle the same population.”
Silently, Bardamu leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“I'm more curious where it is you intend to send them to,” Politruk said, a somewhat melodramatic edge of suspicion to his voice. “Where in Faust's name would one send so many changelings—where, anyway, that they won't disrupt somepony else's living space on an even larger scale. We'll be blamed as much as the changelings, and nothing good can come of it, no matter who's on the receiving end.”
“Most of them will be shipped to a special facility where varying stages of the typical individualized resettlement procedure will be carried out by specialists on an industrial and optimally efficient scale. Others will be assigned to work projects throughout Czabreske,” said Twilight.
Wiss raised his hoof and said, “I didn't understand any of that. I'm not good with officialese.”
“Here. I'll give you the numbers.”
Twilight removed a sheet of paper from her notes and read it out loud:
“A projected breakdown of the destinations is as follows: 97,000 to the Splinterwood/Blackthorn terminus in Region 1, encompassing those unfit to work or not exempted from resettlement by special conditions, making up 80% of total deportations. 15,700 to various satellite labor camps of CRZ-93 Barata in Region 3, encompassing quarter-or-less-changelings, those with indispensable skills, and other special circumstances that bar—”
“You're going to send them all to Splinterwood?” said Blueblood, leaning back in his chair. “It'll overflow within a few days, won't it?”
“—resettlement, making up 13% of total deportations. 8,500 to various...” Twilight paused and glanced over the top of the paper. “As I said, only 80% will be resettled to Splinterwood. We estimate an average processing rate of about three to four thousand a day, which is perfectly reasonable with the facility's recently improved equipment and personnel. Continuing: 8,500 will be sent to various individual labor camps and railroad projects—”
“I'm sorry, but I seem to be missing out on something vital to this entire discussion here and I'd like to know what it is,” said Nejiste. “What is Splinterwood? I've never heard of it, and it's obviously quite important if it can hold that many deported changelings.”
“—throughout Czabreske Regions 1, 2, 3, and 4, making up 7% of total deportations. Of course, 10% to—Let me finish, please, Ms. Nejiste, and then you can talk—10% to 15% of of all shipments we don't expect to survive the deportation process due to ill health or other complications, especially taking into account the winter weather.”
“I don't mean to be rude, but this is ridiculously obscurative, and I would appreciate a clear explanation.” Nejiste seemed slightly frustrated now.
Twilight pressed her hooves together and leaned forward a little, looking up at the painting, and then across the table at Nejiste.
“I sincerely apologize for my constant vagueness on this topic,” she said, “but sometimes it's best if certain things are left unsaid, at least in words. The most I myself will say on the issue, and I really hope this gets the point across because I'm not sure what I'll do if it doesn't, is that none of those 97,000 changelings sent from Hessaneigh will ever bother you or anypony ever again once they're finished being processed at Splinterwood.”
She watched as the pegasus processed the words; saw first confusion in her eyes and then understanding, and then frightened excitement. Nejiste then blinked, looked at Twilight, and turned downward to look at the table. Twilight knew her message had found its way through.
“Have I answered your question satisfactorily?” she inquired anyway, for the sake of certainty.
“Yes, I understand...” replied Nejiste. “Thank you for clarifying that.”
“If you need to leave for a moment, don't hesitate to do so. There's nothing wrong with a little, ah, squeamishness. It's a perfectly normal reaction, and it's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I'm alright. Is there—Is there a glass of water somewhere?”
She looked dazed as she accepted a glass of water that Hackamore poured from the pitcher sitting in the middle of the table. There was a brief silence while she drank and Twilight shuffled her notes.
“Well, then...” said Twilight after clearing her throat a bit. “I hope none of you have any residual doubts about the language being used here. Unless, of course, there really are any further questions regarding that topic...?”
Nopony said anything. Wiss actually shook his head.
“Good. Colony A will be reduced in geographical size by 70%, although we don't intend to raze it all to the ground just yet. Its remaining population will see an extra 20% reduction in community leadership. Complete and total liquidation will be carried out on Colony B. It is intended to disappear and all traces of it will be swept off the face of the planet. Once the resettlement action is in full swing, we'll be able to ship an average of twelve hundred changelings twice a day to the designated processing facility. We can usually accomplish between 60% and 80% percent of the expected deportations before we encounter resistance from the community leaders.”
“If there's any at all,” Sunset Shimmer added in a low, distant voice.
“If there's any at all. Captain Shimmer's company has carried out the final stages—that is, liquidation—of several large-scale resettlement actions similar to this one, so I think we can rely on her for that. Though deportations in a place as large as this may become less peaceful after a certain point, one should hope and reasonably expect that they'll be no less orderly—As they always have been in the past.”
She leveled an accusatory glare at Sunset Shimmer for a moment, then returned to her notes. Sunset, who hadn't really expressed much emotion to speak of until then, flashed a leer at the rest of the table.
“It would seem you've done this enough times that you can at least carry it out without risking prolonged urban warfare spilling into the streets.” Arduis sounded partly fascinated, partly revolted, and partly relieved. “Is that true?”
Twilight nodded without looking up. “That's a fairly accurate assessment, yes. In the last year we've arranged the systematic resettlement of several major colonies and some smaller populations in this manner, without encountering any problems of major significance—so I think we've got a handle on it.”
Nejiste shuddered.
“I'll require mutual cooperation from the represented Knights and police agencies to effectively carry out the deportations,” continued Twilight. “The Office of Harmonization is a very staff-heavy organization, so I typically depend on the assistance of whatever forces are already operating in the area. I also expect the city, regional, and Party governments of Hessaneigh and Czabreske to both comply fully and keep in mind that proper secrecy is vital. We all understand the necessity of this action at this point, I hope, but there are some who would not take well to the knowledge of what we're doing. The mere fact that the removal of changelings from Hessaneigh is taking place is a secret you must guard very well. Remember, I'm capable of thorough financial audits if you displease me, so you should be very afraid.”
There was a snort from Politruk only this time, and then a brief silence while Twilight poured herself a glass of water and drank from it, and a bit of papery crinkling after that while she leafed through page after page of notes. She also took a moment to check her pocket watch before speaking again.
“Collection and redistribution of confiscated property will be handled jointly by the Knights-Standard, the Knights-SSP, the Knights-ISID, and the Knights-SDR Internal Policing Bureau in order to maintain an efficient and corruption-free system. Since Czabreske and Equestria are fighting the same enemy and are in the process of unifying, all collections will be funneled towards the war effort.”
“It's hard keeping track of their money because they're so secretive,” said Wiss. “I remember when we started evicting them three years ago, Bardamu's office sent us these estimates that they'd have something like five million bits of valuable stuff in this one area alone, and we only could find a few hundred bits worth of junk.”
“The total monetary value of what we collected when we evicted them after the unification began was nowhere near what we expected,” Bardamu agreed, sounding annoyed. “I suspect someone might have stolen some of that money, but I'll never know for sure because the order-police didn't take records of what they confiscated until three days after the eviction operation started.”
“Just shove a pistol in their mouth and order them to tell the truth.” Trixie Lulamoon been drawing idly on a notepad with magic while she listened to the lengthy specifics, but she seemed to have reengaged with the world now at the mention of money. “Nine times out of ten, it resolves the issue immediately.”
“Only when you pull the trigger afterward,” said Bardamu. “Otherwise, it creates more problems than it solves. They're as smart as we are, Captain; you know that. Treating them as if they're stupid creates a dangerous situation for everyone involved, because they won't hesitate to take advantage of you.”
Trixie scoffed. “They're insects. Changelings. They prey on our base desires so they can steal magic for their own use—It's only fitting that we exploit their instincts in return.”
Twilight knocked her hoof on the table, politely drawing attention back to herself again.
“We're not here to debate specific methodologies,” she said. “We're all on the same side."
Standing up for a better view, she slid some envelopes out of her saddlebag. Each one had a name written on the front of it. She began distributing them to the appropriate recipients using her magic.
“I've prepared for each of you a short list of other minor things that I need from you, as well as documents relevant to your particular offices. I would like to remind you all that these are to be considered top-secret and losing or selling them to unauthorized parties is equivalent to treasonous behavior.
“If there are any questions," she said as she gave Wiss his envelope, "I'll take them now.”
The Deputy Undersecretary held up her hoof.
“Yes, Ms. Nejiste.”
“I'm still—I'm still concerned about this whole concept.” Nejiste said. “It's a waste of labor potential that we could be utilizing to a positive end instead of—instead of wasting time and money and personnel taking them out and—Well, I won't be the one to say that, but—I strongly object to wasting valuable resources like this. The changelings have been stripped of their ability to steal magic, to directly harm Equestria's interests through the usual channels—”
“They've only gone back to working behind the scenes again.” Politruk's chair creaked as he leaned back in it. “We all know what they're capable of, don't we? What else can one do with creatures that worship the dead and ally themselves with Windigos?”
“I really think we should give this more thought than a few dubious stock phrases from yesterday's propaganda posters! ”Nejiste hissed. “If we're to assess this, it should be done by—”
“It doesn't need to be assessed. It's already been assessed—” said Twilight, but Nejiste ignored her.
“—by taking all the available information into account. Stabele, you would know: is there any evidence of a link between the partisans and the changeling colonies that doesn't have tabloid superstition at its base?”
“Not really. No. No, there isn't. It's mostly just anti-Equestrian forces.” Wiss shrugged. “I sort of agree with the Party guy, though. Changelings are the reason we're fighting each other in the first place. Everyone knows it. Besides, you heard her. They're just removing them from the city and putting them somewhere else.”
“She made it very clear what they're—”
“I'm looking forward to this reckoning with them, personally,” said Hackamore, raising his hoof after he started speaking instead of before. “To Tartarus with the partisans. It's time we dealt with the changelings themselves. We all know who and what bears the ultimate responsibility for everything that's happened in this war—and this is war. Not just with the Griffons, or the Republic of Chandra, or any nation, but with another race.”
“The culpability of the changelings—Excuse me!” Twilight exclaimed, as a few of the others were voicing agreement with Hackamore.
She banged her hoof on the table a few times to quiet it down, then started over.
“The culpability of the changelings for our current predicament is not in question here. It was proven long ago; it's not even worth debating at this point. Furthermore, authorities far higher than myself have stated that the eradication of the changelings from Equestria's territories is the number-one priority of the Knights in this war. It may be the number one priority of all of us in our lifetimes.”
“You're asking me to condone this... resettlement... of yours, rather than getting something useful out of them,” Nejiste said, rubbing her hooves together anxiously. “It's not easy to accept. The city—We had—We had planned far into the future believing that we'd have a large work force available to us. It's difficult to accept something like this—it'll disrupt our plans, it'll disrupt... things... It isn't easy to accept this...”
Twilight nodded, her expression sympathetic. “I understand how you feel, Ms. Nejiste. I really do.”
“I'm sure you do,” Nejiste muttered in a bitter tone.
“I really do. This isn't something any of us want to do, but it's been forced on us. We have been boxed into this terrible position by a race of creatures that are in such total opposition to the very idea of Harmony that we have to consider them disharmonious by nature. If we're to continue to exist as a race, and Harmony is to be achieved, then the changelings have to go elsewhere.”
“But you want me to be part of it, and I-I just—How can you ask me to—I'm not a soldier!”
“I'm not asking you to shoot anything.”
She glanced warningly at Sunset Shimmer, who had let just out another grotesque little burble of half-suppressed laughter, and then back at Nejiste.
“I understand how you feel, I really do. There's no shame in it. It's a sign of Kindness. But this is the most important thing any of us will ever do in our lifetimes—no generation will ever have this opportunity again, and if we waste it, we'd be as evil as the changelings themselves. Maybe more so, in a way.”
“Alright, alright!” Nejiste muttered. “I-I suppose it has my approval.”
“Thank—”
"Just keep me out of that from now on,” she added, almost warningly. “I won't sign anything. I don't want to know anything more about this resettlement business—wherever and whatever it is you're sending them to, sending them into, I will have no knowing part in it. I'm sorry. This isn't—I can't give you anything more. This is monstrous, even if it's necessary.”
To emphasize this, she pushed away the papers Twilight had given her just a little bit.
“I understand that, which is why I'm not going to ask more of you,” said Twilight, still in a softer voice than usual. “All that's needed is your peripheral compliance in certain matters where and when specified—Mostly, for you to remain uninvolved where and when necessary. I know your limits.”
Nejiste nodded, still looking ashen but slightly less so than before. “Alright. I-I'm alright with it. I am.”
Twilight checked her pocket watch, straightened her glasses, then addressed the entire table: “Now, I must ask you all: have I explained all of this in such a way that I leave absolutely no doubt in the minds of those present what it entails?”
She received a universally affirmative response, and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. Though she was not a vain pony, she felt rather pleased with herself at the moment.
“Then I think we're done for today. There will be a followup meeting for the entire group in five days. An additional meeting between the Knights leaders involved in the action will take place tomorrow, where the more specific details will be discussed. The exact times and locations of the followup meetings can be found in the informational packets I gave you. You'll receive a slightly edited copy of today's conference minutes at the five-day followup.”
She flipped back to the first page of her notes and smoothed everything over, then closed her binder.
“Deportations will probably begin somewhere between on the twenty-third and the twenty-eighth, depending on how long it takes to set everything up. From this point forward, everything related to the resettlement of the changelings of Hessaneigh will be referred to as Action AB-Hessaneigh in official and unofficial correspondence. Just keep that in mind, please.”
Standing, Twilight switched off the transcription spell, put the pen away, and slid both the transcript and binder into her saddlebag. There was a loud scraping of chairs at the same time, the other ponies standing, and a softer shuffling of papers as they collected their documents.
“I would just like to say,” she concluded, “that it has been a pleasure meeting each and every one of you, and I want to thank you all for your assistance in this immeasurably vital task. If there's nothing else, we'll see each other in a few days. Have a safe trip back to your offices, and stay warm.”
