MLP 40K: Trial by Fire

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Warning: Death and dismemberment awaits all who attempt unauthorized access of these documents.

Load symbol of the Holy Equila

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than 10 millennia The Royal Pony Sisters, Celestia and Luna, have sat upon the Royal Throne of Equestria. They are the masters of Ponykind by the will of the Elements and masters of countless worlds by the might of Their inexhaustible armies. They are The Alicorn Princesses, writhing invisibly with power from the Age of Harmony. They are the Canterlot Lords for whom a thousand foals are sacrificed every day, so that They may never truly die.

Yet even in Their deathless state, Celestia and Luna continue Their eternal vigilance. Mighty battle-fleets cross the hatred infested miasma of the Everfree, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Harmonican, the magical manifestation of The Princesses' will. Vast armies give battle in Their name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst Their soldiers are the Equestris Saddelus, the Space Mareines, bio-engineered super equines. Their comrades-in-hoof are legion: the Equestrian Guard and countless system defense forces, the ever vigilant Alicorn Inquisition, and the tech-ponies of the Equestris Marecanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to Ponykind from Bipeds, Hateraticks, Non-Pony Equines, and far, far worse.

To be a Pony in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in a regime that is at least 20% cooler than any other imaginable. These are the tales of these times. Forget the power of science and technology, for the tech-ponies have forgotten so much, that it can never be re-learned. Forget the promises of peace and understanding, for in the Grim Darkness of the far future, or next Tuesday morning, there is only Epic Pony War. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of (s)laughter, clopping, and the gnashing of feasting Trolls.

Error, code corrupt, purging data feed.

End Transmission

*     *     *

Incoming transmission from Inquisitor Sophic Fortune on secure dragon-fire frequency.

Transmission is security coded magenta level, Princesses' eyes only.

Dear Princess Celestia,

As I enter my two hundred and fifth year, I cannot help but feel that I am losing my touch. I find that my mind is wondering often in my old age. In the last thirty years, or is it the last twenty years? No, Prickles, don't write that part. Or that part. What was I saying? Right, I have been noticing a steady decline in the quality and quantity of the work that I am able to accomplish. I hereby request that I be allowed to promote one of my agents to the rank of Interrogator so that I might have a successor for when I eventually fall and come into your eternal embrace. I hope that this request will meet with Your approval, for I find that my mind is wondering often in my old age.

Your Faithful Servant,

Sophic Fortune

End transmission.

*     *     *

Incoming transmission from Canterlot on secure dragon-fire frequency.

Transmission is security coded indigo level, Inquisitor's eyes only.

To my Faithful Servant,

Sophic, I am enthusiastic to hear that you wish to train another Interrogator for the Holy Alicorn Inquisition. I am sure that you are extremely proud of your previous five Interrogators, of which all have become productive Inquisitors and agents of Harmony in their own rights. On that note, I was indeed saddened to hear that your last student, Inquisitor Scisco, met his end at the hooves of hate and disharmony almost thirty years ago. You have my condolences.

After careful consideration, your request to elevate one of your agents has been approved by both Luna and myself. May your efforts with them be as successful as all of your previous efforts thus far.

I, Princess Celestia, hereby decree that the Inquisitor Sophic Fortune shall take on a new Interrogator student.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

End transmission. The Princesses Protect

*     *     *

Sophic sat in one of the many opulent looking chairs within her private quarters. The Inquisitor's suite looked like something somepony would find upon entering the residence of a wealthy, upper class pony. Imported curtains, made of the finest silks adorned armorcrys windows that beheld the glorious Luna-blessed night sky. The real expense had been designing the view so that the anti-aircraft cannons were not visible from the apartments. Starlight filtered in through the foot thick panes, illuminating the room in beautiful shades of twilight. Hints of lavender and lilacs wafted through the comfortably cool air as a result of the air treatment systems.

Sophic shifted uncomfortably in the stiff yet elegant piece of furniture. There was a time in the aging unicorn mare's career, which she couldn't really remember now, when everything she owned had been purchased solely for utilitarian purposes. A century ago she wouldn't have purchased anything for looks alone, but now she had appearances to keep up. Especially since her mind was beginning the long spiral towards senility. Pity looks don't do anything for my back, she silently griped.

As she shifted again in another futile attempt to make herself comfortable, Sophic's long mauve mane fell into her eyes. A manicured hoof brushed the offending strands out of her aquamarine eyes and she reread the Princess' reply. It was displayed on a holo-projector that was very old and thus of top quality. It produced an image that amazingly remained in focus for well over fifty percent of the time. It sat, with its plethora of snaking cables, upon a recaf table that had been carved out of a single block of Tartarian quartz. The table must have cost whomever had gifted it to her a fortune. She wished she could recall whom had given it to her, though she might have even gotten it for herself for all she could remember.

Looking over the transmission caused her to feel a wide variety of emotions. Firstly, there was pride at the Princess' compliments. Being allowed to train an Interrogator was an honor reserved for those Inquisitors who were very successful at the job. She knew some Inquisitors whom had never had the honor. Many had served and died without the chance. And now here she was pushing half a dozen. She would have felt more pride if she could actually remember everypony she had trained.

There was only mild anxiety over choosing who she would elevate. She already knew which pony would be receiving the honor. Her other agents probably already knew as well. That didn't mean that everypony would take it well. Especially the choice themselves. That pony was the most unwilling servant of The Princesses she'd ever met. But they were also extremely dedicated and capable. Such a paradoxical pony, that one.

Anxiety shifted to regret as she continued to read. She was reminded of what had happened thirty years ago. The name Scisco echoed in her mind. That wasn't the only thing she felt as her mind tried to reach into the past. The memories that her brain processed were fuzzy at best, like looking out of a dirty window, but the emotion that was associated with it felt red and raw. She hoofed the rune to deactivate the holo-projector.

Sophic's horn began to glow as she absentmindedly lifted a data-slate from the reflective table surface. As she looked at the slate a frown creased her features. Why did I never submit this? She thought to herself. She could feel the emotion making ripples near the surface of her consciousness as she hesitantly hoofed the replay rune on the device. The time/date stamp which prominently displayed itself was from thirty years ago. Regret became guilt as she watched the playback. The grainy image and the tinny sound caused the synapses of her ailing mind to fire and she began to relive those harrowing moments.

She felt as if the room was growing darker as the past unfurled itself on the tiny display. The shadows grew longer, the ambient sounds hollow, like in those tunnels so long ago. The smells of mold and rot, overlaid with the acrid smell of freshly burnt cordite. The constant patter of dripping water. The sound of weapons fire. She closed her eyes and held a hoof to her head as the sensations and emotions came, unbidden, to her.

"Your orders, Inquisitor?" The booming voice from the recording made her involuntarily jerk in the chair.

Both in the past and the present, she answered.

"Purge. Everything."

*     *     *

"Your orders, Inquisitor?" The booming question had issued forth from the mountainous mare in the suit of Space Mareine power barding. She towered easily head and withers above the rest of the team, her ancient and ornate ceramite armor colored a light grayish mulberry with moderate sapphire blue borders and moderate violet and brilliant rose highlights, the renowned colors of Saint Twilight Sparkle. She carried a massive bolter strapped to her forward right pauldron. The massive slab of dull grey metal had a belt feed that led back to the pony's ammunition saddle, the front was dominated by a massive barrel. With but a tap of her hoof she could cause a stream of the holy explosive projectiles to issue forth to purify the enemy. Her name was Radiant.

Sophic Fortune looked like Tartarus. Her normally well styled mane was disheveled, and sported a variety of dirt clods and bits of root, there was dirt, grime, and blood in her normally pristine coat. She was running on a mixture of adrenaline and combat drugs. She had taken a las bolt to her left thigh, just to the side of her cutie mark, causing her to trot with a pronounced limp. At least the thing had self cauterized, a bleeding wound would have most likely incapacitated her by now. She knew though that the instant that she stopped moving she would drop from fatigue, shock, or both. They had fought their way into the bowels of the city, down from the undercity and now into these caves. They were so close to their goal now, Sophic could taste it. It tasted like impending vengeance. They had tracked the cultists to this final warren. Nopony would escape their wrath. She had made a promise.

"Purge. Everything." Sophic managed between wheezing breaths and gritted teeth. Radiant nodded in acknowledgement and advanced into one of the side tunnels to cleanse the inhabitants of their wicked existences.

When the Space Mareine had vanished from sight, a red robed figure approached her and spoke in the mechanical timbre of a vox speaker. "Sophic. Your vital signs -"

"Are fine." She said, cutting him off. "Now give me another shot of stim so I don't pass out." A grasping mechadendrite with a wicked looking needle atop it snaked from his robes towards her. "If you inject me with a sedative, Hypodermic, I swear on The Sisters I will shoot you." She felt compelled to add a small wave of her glowing plasma pistol.

"The thought never entered my cranial cogitators." Hypodermic lied as Sophic saw him rotate out a blue sedative vial for a red stim vial. The mechanical limb grasped her roughly by the neck and painfully injected the stimulants directly into her carotid artery. Her vision swam in redness for a moment as her system struggled to adapt to the cocktail of fresh drugs entering her system. "You realize that I am recording these events so that when your heart explodes I will not be blamed." She would have found the comment funny if she had thought he was joking.

"Where's Devoid?" She asked as her mind entered a state of hyperawareness brought on by the combat drugs. She hadn't seen the sneaky stallion since they had entered this latest set of tunnels. She waved off Hypodermic before he could answer. "Never mind, shifty colt prolly got ahead of us somehow." She mused. She had given up trying to keep track of Devoid ever since he had somehow outfoxed that entire company of pony-hunters on Sineigh Prime.

Sophic was suddenly struck by a blinding headache. She stumbled forwards, one hoof to her head. All she could smell was intense light. Her sight was assaulted by a cacophony of sound. She could feel how wrong this place smelled, taste the fiery sensation of magical energy rippling across her eardrums. As her senses merged and split, Sophic realized her talent had activated. She would be shown the proper way to go, finally.

When Sophic's sight returned to her eyes, she felt her body moving forward of its own accord. The tunnels continued to move past in a blur. The dark stone, the steel strut supports all looked the same, but somehow she knew where to go, knew where everything was leading her. She was only vaguely aware that it was her glowing horn that was dragging her down the tunnel. She heard the distinctive bark of Radiant's bolter and the screams of those unfortunate enough to be on the wrong end of it echoing from off in the distance. Hypodermic was galloping after her as fast as his mechanically enhanced limbs could take him. Somehow he was starting to fall behind.

And then the tunnels ended. Her horn then dropped her unceremoniously on the damp floor.

As she stood, she surveyed the massive cavern before her. The ceiling was lost to both distance and darkness. Near the center of the open space were braziers set in a rough border around an intricate circular design that had been carved into the stone floor. As she moved further into the chamber she began to pick out several shadowy forms. A quick glow of Sophic's horn and her plasma pistol hummed to life and the hiss of the accelerator coils boiling the moisture from the air informed her that it was ready to fire. The shadows resolved themselves into the forms of several dozens of cultists, all in various states of dismemberment.

And in the center it them all, was him.

"Scisco?" She breathed.

*     *     *

"NO!" Sophic screamed as she magically hurled the data-slate through the air.

Her holdout laspistol was drawn in an instant and the only indication that she had unloaded the weapon at the offending device was a rapid staccato of noise not dissimilar to rapidly popped packing wrap in the hands of a bored foal. The smoldering tablet ricocheted off of the wall with a sharp clatter that caused her to flinch. Her teeth were clenched and grinding slightly as she stared, eyes wide and pupils fully dilated, at the smoking remains of the slate. As she hyperventilated the smell of burnt metal and glass assaulted her nose and made her eyes water. Or would have had tears of rage not already been streaming down her face.

And then the estate's alarms began to go off. She turned her tear streaked face towards the doorway through which security would be entering her suite. As her heart rate returned to something approaching normal, she let out a shuddering sigh. She didn't look forward to explaining this to the Twins. Oh, they were going to love her explanation for this.

Her features drooped as she sighed again. A perfect end to a perfect evening.