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// There is a Micro Nation in Nevada called Molossia, Consisting of a House, and its Front and Back Yards 
// Story: I Blame You, Too 
// by Whitestrake 
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$%$%$% Taylor's POV $%$%$%

The Medic. If there was ever a name that could send shivers down my spine, it was hers. She was, as you probably expect, a mare uniquely gifted with medical talent. She could heal pretty much any injury short of amputation or total brain death; I even saw her stitch a heart back into working order. If we had a hundred of her, death by natural causes would all but disappear in Equestria. On that coin's reverse, she was also the greatest torturer I have ever met, and took a most sadistic pleasure from her work. Put simply: be at the business end of her magic, not her scalpel.

“Your princess is insufferable.” I really didn't like Dahl, and for a moment, I regretted Celestia's decision to allow him to live. But, that was probably because I was uniformed; I'm a generally relaxed kind of guy. Maybe, just maybe, we could get along off duty.

“She has good reason, I assure you.” You know, with the Imperials who landed and have a ship in orbit, fully capable of calling for reinforcements from the Imperial Navy, she barely had the time for pleasantries. We walked through the winding halls, away from the throne room, towards the Inquisitorial Temple. The sprawling complex had previously been Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, refitted for its new purpose after the academy was relocated. To be clear, the princess just had some buildings that weren't being used; we did not force children out, at all. “You've been awfully quiet, Martellus.”

“I've been pondering this language barrier. I only have the one servo-skull, and it makes no logistical sense for us to stick so closely together.” Again, Robocop knew what was up. My mental reserves grew every day, but even then, I could only transmit my thoughts, not translate the words of multiple individuals back and forth. “I doubt you will allow me or any of our associates offworld until we have Ophidia, so I must find another solution.”

“I'm sure we have the parts, except, maybe, the grav engines.” Speakers, cables, human skulls, and most other materials were readily available, but anti-gravity technology didn't exist in Equestria, and I doubt we could get unicorns to carry them around all day. “But, why not just build headsets or the like? Seems a bit easier than building the entire machine.”

“Skully, or Taylor if you prefer, I take pride in my work.” Martellus's point was fair; I couldn't honestly say I'd never done something for the same reason. However, he also failed to give me a definite answer regarding the headsets. Hold up, couldn't their vox units be re-purposed for just that, or, you know, upgraded with little computers or something similar? Right, stagnated technology, forgot about that for a minute.

“I feel you.” The expression seemed to be lost on the cyborg; it probably fell out of use alongside English. Dahl looked at me, face leagues more expressive than the magos's, and every hint told me he thought I meant psychically. I shrugged and kept leading them around, knowing we'd find the Medic's office soon enough.

$%$%$% Amos's POV $%$%$%

The white male returned, still chipper as he motioned for us to follow him. Stache was a pretty cool xenos, given that we were unable to understand one another. Delphine didn't like him, nor did Alexander, but we were all able to tolerate the alien, for now. Quickly, two more ponies joined us, both wearing the same clothing as their fellow inquisitors, though these had a white band wrapped around the jacket's foreleg. A crux medicae was emblazoned on the simple cloth, a symbol that was obviously associated with medical personnel.

“These are either medics of some sort, or torturers,” Oleg grunted, not too pleased by the prospect of following something with such a strange dual meaning. Crucifixion was a bad death, from what I'd heard, and we had no knowledge of their intentions. Stache seemed to trust them, but he was also doing his job.

“Why would we need medics?” Dephine asked in an almost offended tone. Her power armor bore the same crux as theirs, so it stood to reason the ponies knew she was a healer.

“Perhaps to keep us alive long enough to extract whatever information they need.” Alexander was a savant, a genius, but he often couldn't see the forest for the trees. He knew about Skully, and his powers as a psyker; if he wanted to rip knowledge from our heads, he had every opportunity in the galaxy. “Or maybe Dahl and Martellus have brokered a more permanent alliance.”

“So they're checking us for diseases we may spread to the natives?” I asked, a little surprised at the notion, but understanding their precaution. They already had humans, but seemed to be just fine with anything they had, but space travel allows for massive diversity in microorganisms, including those naturally found on human skin. For all we knew, we could have been something out of a Nurglite's wet dreams for these aliens.

We were motioned into what appeared to be another lounge, chilly and reeking of industrial disinfectants. Yes, at that moment, I was certain this was a clinic of some kind, which meant we were either being examined or they were very thorough in their tortures. Dahl and Martellus were nowhere to be found, so they were either behind the pair of steel doors, or on their way.

$%$%$% Taylor's POV $%$%$%

We kept a light pace as we strolled through the halls, idly chatting about this and that. A few changelings flickered in and out of my synapse range, likely Chorion's brood in town for trade, but they were on little consequence at the moment. Really, you'd be amazed how little I've actually had to do with queens other than Chrysalis and Scipia.

“Heavy stubber?” Dahl asked out of the blue, motioning to an Inquisitorial heavy weapon's team. Granted, the psyker's gun did resemble the particular machine gun the three ponies collectively wielded.

“Maschinengewehr forty-two general purpose machine gun, or rather, a replica based on some we had collecting dust.” I smiled behind my mask, proud of my ability to teach hoofed mammals how to fire a weapon that required fingers. None of the ponies on that team were unicorns, a rarity for the magic-dominated Inquisition. “Not quite your stubber; can't go to semi-auto.”

“For covering fire only? Would it not serve an anti-infantry purpose?” Martellus was a techy, not a gun nut, so it was acceptable that he not realize the weapon's main function was to punch holes through anyone too stupid to get in its sights. And suppression, or course, but that mostly came from the enemy's dead piling up. The MG was Equestria's first full-on machine gun, and outclassed most native equivalents by miles.

“Boss, we've been waiting for you!” Oleg yelled from up the hall. The giant of a man was smoking, again, but thankfully outside the clinic. The others joined him outside at once, and I noticed Delphine felt nothing but contempt for me, probably because of the bolt pistol stunt. Her eye seemed glued to my visor, thoughts practically forcing themselves into my head.

“We need a physical before we'll be given access to their equipment and vehicles,” Dahl explained before anyone had the chance to ask. What he didn't know was that most vehicles were made of wood and pulled behind a pony or two. “I don't like it any more than you all, but I'll go first.”

“Not so fast, Reglan.” My voice was chipper, though I actually dreaded what I had to do. Don't get me wrong; I've killed, tortured, maimed, assassinated, and downright murdered, but I had more than my fair share of fears. “I still have to let the Medic know you're ready.”

“You say that like it's difficult. Is this Medic hard to reach?” Delphine was trying to act superior, that much was evident on her face. The Sister Hospitaller must have deemed herself above ponies, probably a byproduct of the xenophobic Imperium. I scowled beneath my mask, angry that she technically had a point. The Medic was as close to a personal physician the princesses and I needed, and was always on call, giving us access to her services whenever they may be needed. “I'm more than willing to do this in your stead, Skully.”

“As tempting your offer is, I'd rather resolve this matter personally.” Oh, how I hated saying that. I very calmly walked to the double doors, which opened as I approached. They opened into a hallway, with rooms along both walls, and the Medic’s personal office at the very back. There was a surgical wing as well, but it was rarely used. I tapped my armored fist against the heavy oaken door that led to the Medic's office.

“Come in, Taylor; I've been expecting you.”