If there was one thing humanity had become skilled at, it was swaying the court of public opinion.
Public opinion was a strong force, indeed, whose potency rivaled any military might. It drove its way into the hearts of every man, and changed their actions, for better or for worse.
An innocent man deemed guilty would be found dead in an alley. Leaders with actions spun would be thought of as admirable. And, an ignoble cause found worthy would be given money and participants.
The Federation was bound to the whim of the Senate, who were, in turn, bound to the will of the public.
Among its billions and billions of citizens across the galaxy, there would still be great difficulty in finding any significant majority that would approve of the notion to invade a peaceful planet and experiment on the natives.
Especially when they were so cute and cuddly.
Public backing would fall short, so very short, and thus the Senate would not approve the measures that the high-up military commanders so desperately wanted to put forth. Perhaps it was a peaceful planet, with blissfully ignorant citizens, yet they carried a powerful magic about them, one that could prove most useful in future conflicts, should they unlock its secrets.
And so, among these commanders the Council was devised, whose goal was to sway public opinion so that an invasion and complete takeover would be found acceptable. Their plan was intricate, detailed, and rotten to the core. Deception would carry humanity to a golden age, they decided.
A large exploration disappeared on the far reaches of the known galaxy. A terrible accident, caused by an unusually large piece of debris striking their engine—or so it was announced. In reality the ship was a disguised military vessel, whose crew were not mere explorers and scientists, but the best, most disciplined warriors humanity had to offer. It was necessary, for what they would endure.
Many of them, thousands, were covertly delivered to the planets surface, wearing feeble clothing and carrying no technology. Despite only having their own two hands to work with, their training had prepared them for what must be done, and they were armed with an iron will and unshakable loyalty.
In time, the ponies “discovered” them, dubbed “those strange looking creatures wandering the Badlands.” There was a flurry of activity as pony researchers, scientists, and guards set out to make contact with this newly discovered species, only to “learn” they were not intelligent. These oddities, they deduced, were merely capable of eating, drinking, and cobbling together the most basic of clothing—all from instinct, of course.
The other agents fulfilled their task discreetly. Disguised, they set off around Equestria, deviously whispering into the ears of the nobles, the politicians, and anypony of importance, except for the princesses themselves, who would not easily be manipulated.
The idea, a small seed at first, grew rapidly in the mind of the pony populace. The exotic bipeds were slow, unintelligent, and passive. Yet, they had a capability to work, for long hours and without complaint, and they were very compliant when properly directed. They would make an ideal workforce.
Some wanted one of these creatures as a pet, while others wanted them as a cheap and ethical labor force. They were brought in to civilization, slowly at first, before demand grew from a small trickle to a roaring sensation.
In the beginning, they were merely exotic and strange-looking pets, whose capabilities were unknown and whose figures garnered much attention. Months passed, and the pony populace began to have a concrete idea of the biped’s capabilities. Given direction they were hard workers, even more skillful than ponies for manual labor, but requiring inexpensive food instead of proper pay. Some began to realize no matter how they were treated, the bipeds would not respond with any aggression. Even a loyal dog will become distrustful when kicked, but these bipeds would only respond with the same, blank stare, and perhaps a tilt of the head in confusion.
They were dumb, excellent workers, and many ponies did not hesitate in employing them.
The princesses had some reservations, of course, but between great pressure from the nobility, as well as their own investigation into the creatures, they could only come to the conclusion that they did not mind being used for labor, and were incapable of thinking beyond food and work.
And thus, thousands of humans allowed themselves to become enslaved to the ponies. Whether they were kind or cruel masters, it did not matter.
For in orbit, there was a ship documenting it all.
As the bipeds integrated into being an everyday part of Equestrian life, the Council decided they had enough information.
Weeks upon weeks of footage, photographs, and fake testimonies were compiled. The story was concocted—the exploration crew had crashed on the pony planet, before being forcibly enslaved. A few survivors had managed to document their cruel treatment at the hooves of the natives, before being able to repair one of their transmitters and contact a Federation military outpost.
A public debriefing was to take place, before the Senate, where these survivors would present their tale to the public for the first time. Their disappearance was the biggest incident in recent times, and thus the populace of every system waited with bated breath to hear what had truly happened.
A handful of days before, the archived information was conveniently leaked.
The public was outraged. So swift and devastating was the fallout, there were protests and riots on every street corner across all the major planets. Senators had their offices overloaded with all the calls and mail sent to them, demanding an uncompromising response to the cruel treatment the lost explorers had suffered.
The Council introduced a bill to the Senate that would give the military full jurisdiction on how to deal with the ponies, to be voted on after the debriefing. Though at that point, the debriefing was a mere formality. There was no question as to how the vote would go.
And, not twenty-four hours later, the human slaves across Equestria received a coded message from within their implants. They easily made their escape, some of the more harshly treated ones taking a moment to return the favor to their captors, before meeting at predetermined locations for rescue. Some would go on to continue their service, while others would take the hefty bonus they earned to retire on some far-off planet.
That morning, as scores of Federation warships spilled into the atmosphere, the disarray that had been plaguing Equestria quickly turned to chaos.
****
A white alicorn struggled in vain against her bonds that held her firmly to the metal table, bright lights shining upon her and devious instruments lined up on the nearby table.
“So tell me, Princess,” a tall, aged man in a decorated uniform said mockingly, adjusting a light so that it was pointed directly at her face.
“Tell me your secrets to magic,” he said, moving closer to speak in the bound alicorn’s ear.
Her eyes turned to pinpricks as his hand reached around to the table, grasping at the air a few times before finding a scalpel.
“Tell me,” he whispered into her ear, “your secret to immortality.”
