//------------------------------// // Playing With Armageddon // Story: When Night Falls // by sentinel28a //------------------------------// It was a nice dinner, Tina Mattson reflected as she looked up at the ceiling in Bill Collins’ bed. There was really no reason to accept Collins’ invitation to a “nightcap,” as he so quaintly put it, when it was obvious what was on the other agent’s mind. She glanced over at him, sleeping soundly, and quietly giggled. It was fun to do this every now and then, and Collins was not bad, not bad at all. Unfortunately she was still on the clock, as it were. Mattson leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Bill, listen to me very carefully. As far as you’re concerned, it was a car bomb planted by a deranged student, Sunset Shimmer. She botched it, which was why no one was hurt. This is an open-and-shut case, and Shimmer will be remanded to an insane asylum, because she is clearly not fit to take the stand.” He murmured something in his sleep, and Mattson smiled. “And you were great.” She waited for a moment, then got up, dressed, and wrote a quick note. He would understand that this was a one-night stand; he might look for Tina Mattson, but he would never find her. Tina Mattson did not exist. Mattson walked back to her hotel, which wasn’t far. She checked her watch. By now, other Agency Zero agents would have planted evidence around the crater, evidence which the FBI and ATFE would miraculously “find” the next morning. Poor Sunset Shimmer, Mattson thought, you really had no idea who you were messing with, did you? Mattson briefly considered that the poor girl would commit suicide, then shrugged it off. That was not her problem, and it would solve a number of things. She supposed she should feel bad about that, but her job didn’t allow much for a conscience. Besides, most think that my species doesn’t have a conscience. Mattson rolled her eyes at that, but even she admitted to herself there was some truth in it. Once her hotel room door was closed and locked behind her, Mattson stripped off her clothes for the second time tonight. This time, however, she allowed the cloaking spell to drop. “Ahh,” she groaned happily, as the wings extended from her back. She stretched them each to their five foot length, wincing as they cracked. “I’m getting old.” Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Skin had turned to scales that shimmered purple and green in the soft light, eyes had turned red, horns grew from her forehead, and her nails had grown to claws. She was still mostly human, aside from that: a hybrid form that would not destroy the hotel, and was much easier to maintain than the wholly human disguise. She gathered her spiked tail around herself and batted her eyes at her reflection. “I wonder if Bill would still find me attractive? Oh well.” Mattson walked to her suitcase and withdrew a small mirror, about the size of a dinner plate. She set it on the room’s desk, sat carefully in a swievel chair so as to not hurt her tail, and waved a hand over the mirror. It clouded over, swirled, then resolved itself to a well-lit throne room. Sitting on a couch was a pony with wide white-feathered wings, a long narrow horn, and a mane and tail that wavered like aurora borealis. “Greetings, Princess Celestia.” Celestia dipped her head in respect. “Greetings, Princess Tiamat. You have news?” “First of all, can we drop the titles, ‘Tia? We’ve known each other far too long for that.” “Of course, Mattie.” Celestia smiled. “My word…how long has it been now?” “Over a thousand years, certainly.” Mattson—Tiamat—remembered when she first met the white-haired alicorn before her. It was at the conclusion of a war, one that the ponies won. The dragons accepted their loss with good grace—not hard considering that Celestia and her sister could somehow control the heavens themselves—and, as was the custom, exchanged hostages to ensure the other realm’s good behavior. Tiamat had gone to Equestria and spent many happy years there. Time, distance, and a great deal of strife between their peoples separated Celestia and Tiamat now, but they remained friends. “You know, you’re the only one who ever called me ‘Mattie.’” “I couldn’t very well call you ‘Tia,’ now could I?” Both laughed. Both knew the reason for the call; neither wanted to be the one who would bring it up. Finally, though, Tiamat knew she must. Celestia was rather good at talking around a problem when the mood was on her. “’Tia, it’s about Sunset Shimmer.” Celestia’s smile evaporated like ice before the sun. “Yes, I rather thought it might be. I’ve read Twilight’s report about what happened. I wish I could have taken care of this myself.” “That would’ve compounded the problem, ‘Tia. There’s the treaty, not to mention the threat of paradox.” For some reason, this city alone had transdimensional counterparts in Equestria. Celestia’s was the principal at Canterlot High School—let the scientists chew on that one, Tiamat thought—and should the two ever meet, it could cause both to die in a rather terrible fashion. She’d heard the stories. Tiamat had already considered the fact that, since no paradox had happened when Sunset Shimmer arrived in this plane, the other Shimmer was already dead—or worse, the pony Shimmer had murdered her human counterpart. It was possible. As far as Twilight Sparkle’s human counterpart, either she no longer existed on this plane, or the Elements of Harmony somehow protected both pony and human from the cruel mistress of Time. Either way, Tiamat decided, it was not her problem now. The treaty, however, was. Celestia looked sad. “I suppose so. A shame. Twilight has described a very interesting place.” The other princess sighed. “Not that I could go in any case, for who would raise the sun?” “You need a vacation, ‘Tia.” “Perhaps when Twilight’s skilled enough…” She waved that away with a golden-shoed hoof. “I’m sorry, Mattie, I digress. What shall happen to Sunset Shimmer?” “For now…nothing. She confessed pretty much everything to me, ‘Tia—“ “Did she show remorse?” There was a note of hope in Celestia’s voice. “Some.” Tiamat left the but not enough unsaid. “She’s being sent to an insane asylum, ‘Tia. No one’s going to believe her story about magical talking horses.” At Celestia’s shocked expression, Tiamat said, “It’s the best thing for her, ‘Tia. If she confessed to the crime of attempted mass murder, the sentence would be death, even by the humans’ rather lenient justice system.” Celestia looked at the floor. “To think that one of my students would fall so far…I wanted Sunset Shimmer to succeed, Mattie. She had the potential. She had the skill. If she had only shown patience, she would be where Twilight is now.” “Or she would have attempted to overthrow you, or given the Nightmare Force another way into Equestria,” Tiamat said, harsher than she meant it to. Celestia, for all her incredible power and unmatched skill at magic, was still rather naïve. She wanted to believe the best about anyone or anything; in Tiamat’s experience, it was more sensible to believe the worst. Then again, Celestia wasn’t a dragon. “I’m sorry, ‘Tia.” “No reason to apologize when you only speak the truth.” Celestia faced her again. “How long will she be in the asylum?” “I don’t know.” Tiamat did not want to say that it would likely for life, or at least a very long time. Sunset Shimmer would age and die a long way from the realm of her birth. “I will keep an eye on her, of course.” “Thank you, Mattie.” Celestia visibly made the effort to move onto other matters, and succeeded. “And the humans?” “When Agency Zero is done, they will think that Shimmer was deranged and attempted to destroy Canterlot High with a bomb. No record of Twilight Sparkle exists, and the friends that she made here…” Tiamat smiled, keeping her lips over her teeth, which were no longer very human at all. “They seem to be a very good group of people. They’ll keep their silence.” “Yes, Twilight seems to have a knack for finding the very best of friends, no matter what world she is in.” “Though I suspect one called Pinkamena may know more than she’s letting on.” Celestia laughed despite herself. “Pinkamena’s counterpart here is much the same. The universe may not survive should they ever meet. Then again, perhaps they have.” “She’s the least of our worries if someone else finds that portal, ‘Tia.” Tiamat was serious again. So was Celestia. “The portal only opens once every thirty moons—“ “And now at least five humans know of it.” Tiamat took the edge of her voice. “Listen, 'Tia. Twilight’s friends are only human—and really, it would be much the same if they were pony or even dragon. They might want to visit. True, they might give up if it doesn’t work—I don’t know if they know about the ‘thirty moons’ limitation on it.” Gods of my mother, Tiamat thought, at least it’s not a well. “I wouldn’t bet my realm on it.” Celestia did not speak for a few moments, then shook her head. “No, Tiamat. The portal’s small enough.” “The paradox if they come through—“ “I have thirty moons, Mattie. I will find a way.” Tiamat said no more on the subject; Celestia could also be as mule-headed as, well, a mule when she wanted to be. “The treaty must be upheld, ‘Tia. You know that’s my job.” “I do. And you will be the first one notified once I have come to a decision.” Celestia gave her a nod. “Again, I will not break the treaty. This was an emergency. I only wish there had been a way to intervene sooner, before all this came to such an end.” “As do I.” The damned treaty, both wanted to say. The Treaty of Interdimensionality—better known as simply “the Treaty,” had been signed long years ago, and added to as the various realms and planes learned of each other’s existence. All of the realms came to the abrupt realization that the humans outnumbered them all; the population of Equestria, for instance, was less than two million. The humans’ population at last count was over four billion. Should Equestria’s existence, or any other of the realms of magic be known, humanity would overwhelm them by sheer numbers. Moreover, the humans had a technological edge. Celestia was not the only being in the universe to harness the power of the sun. There were select humans that knew of the Treaty and even signed it, and Agency Zero was their idea, to police the various portals and gates, and ensure that a war would not happen. Celestia was hopeful that first contact would be beneficial to both, but even she was not willing to risk Equestria on the good intentions of both ponies and humans. The treaty also limited who could visit what realm and when, and Celestia, even if Equestria could spare her, was simply too powerful an entity to risk in the realm of humanity. “We should’ve kept a better eye on that portal,” Tiamat said. “It’s my fault as much as anyone’s.” For which she would get a tongue-lashing from her superiors, she knew. “Yes,” Celestia replied simply. There was an uncomfortable silence. “I consider this matter closed, ‘Tia. So does the Agency. We’ll keep a close eye on Shimmer, and Twilight’s human friends, but I think it will be all right.” “For everyone but Sunset Shimmer.” Celestia held up a hoof. “I know, I know, Mattie. You don’t share my optimism there. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I should be…colder.” Tiamat smiled again. “’Tia, if you were colder, you wouldn’t be Princess of the Sun.” She leaned her head on her hand. “We owe Twilight Sparkle a great debt. Don’t think we’ll forget it. She’ll be a worthy alicorn princess, I think.” “As do I.” Celestia got to her hooves. “Mattie, I must be going…affairs of state. Are we still on for cards on the full moon?” “I wouldn’t miss it. Please bring Twilight—I’d like to thank her personally, and that will give Luna someone else to clean out of bits.” “Certainly.” Celestia inclined her head. “Good night, Princess Tiamat.” “Good night, Princess Celestia.” The mirror clouded again, and then Tiamat was staring at her own reflection. She stared at it for quite awhile, judging the dragon hybrid that looked back. She wished she could share Celestia’s optimism. In the history of dragons, first contact had never ended well. It was much the same for humans. Initially, perhaps, ponies and humans might get along, but there would be someone who wanted more, or something one or the other wanted; it might be pony as much as human, as Sombra had taught them. Either way, it would result in a war between magic and technology, with no clear winner but millions of losers. Sunset Shimmer had been playing with armageddon and not even known it. Or worse, she had known it and in fact planned on it. That made her even more of a threat, Tiamat reflected as she replaced the mirror in her suitcase, but for the sake of her friendship with Celestia and the trust of Twilight Sparkle, she would not kill Sunset Shimmer. Yet.