That's supposed to convince me? He can kill as many dogs as he likes. Just makes the job easier, Gravity sent, mental voice coloured by a vicious snarl.
The body at the Strategist's feet continued to leak blood. He stepped around it, arm pointed at Auditor Rthys. She stared at Kosigan, mouth agape, then saw Orgon and shrank away. "Madness..." she whispered, bringing her bound arms up as a shield against his paw and its concealed weapon. "The Court will--" She froze when he moved, a lazy gesture of that lethal paw.
"The Court will do what it will do. Lacunae was going to pay the price, no matter this one's actions right now, unless these ones do something different." His back was to the camera, and he was addressing the people in the rest of the room, who were in similar attitudes of frozen shock to Rthys. "These ones have all seen the intelligence estimates; they make for depressing reading. The servitor rebellion could have been stopped, if these ones caught it early enough, and if the situation hadn't been exacerbated by the actions of one individual. Policies will need to be amended in the future." He shook his head. “If there is a future.”
He does know we can still hear him, right? Gravity sent, amusement colouring her mental tone. What's he doing?
Lies and deception have failed, so this dog is trying blunt honesty. He wasn’t sure they’d follow him; now he's making sure... based on what I've heard from Ellisif, murdering a World Court official is practically a war crime. It's possible that the rest of them could be obliged to arrest Orgon. In the real world, Fusion allowed herself to land on a high, bare hilltop, settling against the stony ground and focussing on her magic. Stay ready. We are much less vulnerable now, so I think we can let this go on for a little while. Who knows, we might get something out of this.
You said it yourself; every time this dog has been involved it has been nothing but lies and tricks. They eat deception and excrete falsehoods. He's Salrath's ultimate master, you do remember her, right? I bet he sent her to the Corral that night. Our dam's wing is still unusable.
I haven't forgotten. Fusion shifted a little of her attention, finding Triple Point, now standing in the gryphon launch bay with the carrier's five ponies. Are you okay?
Fine. This lot are too busy keeping this heap in the air. We really should land it. They're having problems repairing the active systems. One of the gryphons says he can fly it. There was a wave of sadness from the mare, an odd hollow feeling. All the dog pilots are dead.
Fusion sighed. Round up any survivors and do what you think is best. Could you get somepony to bring Scalar to the carrier, please? That pony with Orgon is the one who questioned him; we may be able to put some pressure on her. I'll meet you there.
Gravity's presence swelled and pushed Triple aside. You are actually going there!? What if--?
Who's the one being overcautious now? Fusion smiled, pushing her amusement into the sharing to take the sting from her words. I don't see how they can kill me before we can all escape... they might catch a few gryphons, but everypony there is teleport-capable. Metal's already checked the carrier and I'll get Redshift to sweep it again.
Don't get yourself killed, Fusion. Gravity's tone was deadly serious. If you do, I'll pull the moon from the sky.
Fusion shivered, clamping down on the sharing for a few moments. Could she do it? We are getting stronger everyday... She was suddenly keenly aware of the sun and the hints of complexity surrounding it, fern-like excrescences that moved and rotated through directions that didn't seem to have any analogue in her normal experience. It just wants me to use it... does Gravity feel the same way?
I won't, Fusion sent finally, but remember the ponies in the other Hives. She pulled at Metal's memories of the early part of the battle, then pushed--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--materialising in clouds, high above a landscape scattered with the lights of crystal thaumic systems and the golden glows of gryphons. Many of the coloured points were dispersed and flickering; the signs of damaged systems. She ignored them, diving to circle around the carrier as the big aircraft descended, the ducted fans in its delta wings sounding laboured and erratic. Magic pulsed and moved around and through it, darting here and there. The spells were ragged, frantic things, barely a few moments’ effort to patch up a critical defect before moving on to the next site.
Fusion ignored it all, wheeling around the hull to find the servitor bay before cutting a hole in the external hatch and pulling herself inside. "Good job, Metal. Go and help Triple; I want this thing on the ground and safe. Make sure there are no traps." He nodded, squeezing back through the hatch to the rest of the carrier, leaving her alone with the comms screen. A probing touch found the distant Gravity, and Fusion let her sister see through her eyes.
On the screen, Orgon was still talking to the dogs in the command centre, or whatever it was. Many of them looked nervous, and there was another body on the floor next to the first. One of his... Fusion struggled to remember the rank structure of the Hive, part of a quick lecture given by Ellisif. ...Tacticians? I half expected to see a firefight. The dog delivered by the grey mare, thicker-set than the military staff, was seated at one blanked console, under obvious guard.
The pony appeared again, this time carrying a pair of dogs, dropping her cargo to the floor. She froze on seeing the body, then turned to stare at Orgon. "Master, do you need assistance?" she said, wings mantled and horn glowing softly. Her gaze shifted, ears and eyes sweeping the room with sharp bird-like motions that looked more gryphon than pony. The dogs in the room, those that noticed her regard, became careful with their movements.
"No, Merlon. Please complete your orders." Orgon smiled when he spoke, waving two of his staff to take charge of the arrivals. There was a brief struggle, which Merlon ignored, disappearing in a flash of pearly light.
So that's what a fully trained security pony can do. What must she have gone through to reach that level of detachment? Fusion stared at the screen, her ears folded back. "If you have quite finished, Strategist...? My sister doesn't see the point of that little demonstration."
"What sort of demonstration would the pony accept, then?" Orgon tilted his head, like he'd just asked for directions. "This one remembers what the pony wanted last time these ones talked, but they are hardly things this one can demonstrate over a comms link."
"Let's start with proof that you still have control of your military. You have a pair of Arclight battle groups to my southeast; they are currently retreating. Have them join up with their escorts, then land as soon as practical." Lend me your eyes, Gravity.
An oval of darkness blinked open, a window only visible in her own mind, filling with a rumpled landscape. In it was a group of aircraft; a quartet of delta-winged carriers and clusters of airtanks in formation around a pair of lumpy Arclight projectors. They were flowing together, changing from a dispersed tactical formation to one that was far more compact. Something's definitely happening, Gravity sent. You know, I could get them all with one salvo...
Fusion snorted. Maybe later. Let's see how far we can go. "There are ponies on your aircraft, Orgon. Instruct them to gather on a hilltop nearby. I will send someone to talk to them; tell them to cooperate."
"What does Fusion Pulse intend? Those Arclight units have duties beyond chasing the pony; this one can ill afford--"
"You asked what I wanted, Orgon."
The Strategist sighed, typing something into a console. "It is done."
===
The smell of blood was pervasive, even with the bunker's filters. Merlon dropped her struggling cargo at the centre of the room, suddenly alert. There was a Master on the floor, blood leaking from his mouth, obviously dead. So he really did it... Merlon analysed her feelings and came back with only satisfaction. This Master had been insulting and demanding of Orgon; if anyone deserved to die, it was that Auditor. "Master, do you need any assistance?" she said, sweeping her gaze about the room.
"No, Merlon. Please complete your orders."
He smiled when he said it, and Merlon felt a glow of satisfaction, with a pang of regret at the paleness of it compared to what she should have felt. I want to go back! She masked her emotions, keeping her head up and her ears alert, and pushed at her teleport spell once more. A moment's hesitation, because the spell demanded more effort than expected, then she pushed a little harder--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--felt a sudden slam that knocked the wind from her chest and sent the world tumbling. A wall of rushing metal, filling the sky with jagged shapes and a roar of sound. Her defences, already primed for the next jump, flared into being and pushed the unknown threat away. There was an explosion, the fast-moving wall turning into fragments and blowing away in a soundless concussion of pearly light. Her magic, an immaterial hoof of thaumokinetic force, blinked out and she stared open-mouthed at the rain of jagged metal and windmilling bipedal shapes.
The airtrain, a multi-carriage thing packed with People travelling through the canyon-like airspace at the heart of Arcology Seven, had broken apart under the hammer of her magic like it had been struck by a missile. The thing was a chain of composite compartments, each with their own crystal levitation drives, and she'd appeared close to the middle of the train. Her destruction of that carriage should have done little more than cut the aircraft in half, the redundant drives holding up the rest of it, but her panicked reaction had split it open, the light hull splintering and splitting. It shed screaming people, dropping them down towards the pedestrian precincts far below.
Merlon froze, wings locking open, and stared. Got to save-- She swallowed, still not moving. The cold equations of acceleration and distance filled her mind, the sheer amount of time it would take her to rescue a pitiful few of the passengers. The screams had become distant, Doppler-shifted by speed, but they were still clear. There must be other ponies who will help. Merlon twisted her wings and turned away, forcing aside the terror she'd glimpsed on the closest of the fallers, remembering a wide, heavy-walled meeting room at the centre of Redoubt Phi, and pushed--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--the room, a plushly furnished chamber designed to house the distributed members of the Synod, was full of soldiers. To either side were a pair of ponies, lizard-skinned and anonymous under their Security barding, their horns lighting up. Guns, already held in tense paws, jerked about, centring on Merlon.
She tumbled sideways, her conserved velocity now in a different direction to that her wings were set for. In the relatively confined space her path took her across a stone statue of some long-dead Hive hero, striking it side on. The impact was a distant thing; her body was already limed with the light of telekinesis, muscles hardened to the strength of iron, and the statue killed her velocity by smashing into fragments. Merlon sprawled to the floor as mass driver rounds zipped and cracked overhead.
Her speciality was medicine, not combat, but long gigaseconds in the service of Security had placed her in situations that required use of her power in ways that would horrify any normal pony medic. Every Master in the room started to scream, falling writhing to the floor, as Merlon activated their peripheral nervous systems, simulating the effect of being set on fire. The ponies fought back, and the temperature in the room dropped precipitously.
Merlon let go of the pain-inducing magic, pumping a little extra power into the spell to keep it running unattended for a few breaths, and threw a stream of conference chairs and anything else within reach at the nearest pony, a sky-blue mare. The pony gave a sharp cry, muzzle twisting with pain and eyes staring at the fallen Masters, putting all her strength into defence, but it was too much; moments later her telekinetic parries failed to deflect half of a heavy conference table, and it struck her on the shoulder. She went down with an awful sound of breaking bones, the glare of her hornlight winking out.
If I'd still had the Blessing, I'd never have been able to do that. Merlon smothered the other pony's power with her own as he struggled to unpick her pain spell. "You should have focussed on me," she growled. How are we supposed to do our best for the Masters when the Blessing stops us from making the right choices? It was the work of a moment to send him to sleep, then apply the same spell to the Masters. The screaming stopped, replaced by groans that changed to snores on the next breath, and she stalked from the room.
They must have heard from the other Redoubts; Indutu will be heading for the deep tunnels-- She switched to shadow sight, sweeping the complex. There was movement everywhere -- assault teams of gryphons were being assembled in one of the adjacent office spaces, while the coloured lights of the crystal thaumic hardware carried by most Masters just flowed away as their owners ran for their lives. A pattern, he won't be alone... There, a half dozen floors below, was a tight cluster of lights moving with rapid purpose towards the deep tunnels leading to the nearest arcology.
"They knew I was coming," Merlon muttered. Of course they knew! Flashes of memory made her gasp -- the windmill fall of bodies, the screaming fading as they receded towards the distant ground. She whimpered, picking her way out of the room, eyes closed. No one saved them. "I let all those Masters die." Soft objects bumped against her hooves and she pushed them away. I have my orders. I must follow my orders. She shook her head, taking a deep breath. Nothing else matters.
The little cluster was still moving, getting close to the parking structure. Merlon's lips twitched with a brief, cold smile, holding in her mind the memory of following her Master from the aircar to a meeting room in the redoubt. She pushed--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--appearing in an echoing, concrete-lined space. Directly in front of her were a quartet of Masters in tactical gear rushing a gasping Councillor Indutu towards one of the aircars. She lashed out, scattering the guards and lifting the blonde-furred Indutu off his paws. "Councillor!" she said brightly. "Strategist Orgon would like your company."
"N-no, this one orders the pony to--"
"I do not have to obey your orders," she snapped, ears folding back. Her magic held Indutu tightly, squeezing until he gasped, eyes rolling back. The guards were regaining their paws, reaching for backup firearms, so Merlon pushed--
~~~discontinuity~~~
===
Well?
Gravity watched through the eyes of several ponies. There was Stratus, flying within shadow sight range of the closest set of Arclights, and Nimbus, following the others somewhere over the horizon. These were flying to join the nearby fleet, which was formed up into a neat formation, one almost begging to be attacked. Then there was Spread Spectrum, the volunteer she'd sent to talk to the ponies flying raggedly away from their aircraft.
Her cloud of cubic boulders, the best part of a whole mountain of granite, orbited her in wide loops, and she could just picture the teleport patterns that would send... She sighed, pushing the power to the back of her mind. They seem to be obeying the orders. It could still be a trap.
The bait is expensive, and they won't catch either of us. I'm starting to think Orgon is serious. Ellisif is with me now and she doesn't trust him either, but she's confirmed part of it. The Court is the real power, or rather, the permission it will give the other Hives coupled with fire from the Hammer. Fusion's view of the world was a little less interesting, just a small chamber and a screen. Behind her was a ragged opening in the hull, leading out to a patch of scrubby trees, the broken branches of which were poking through the rent like claws. Redshift was working somewhere nearby; Gravity could hear a second-horned echo of him from somewhere in Fusion's mind.
The screen showed the same view -- a room full of dogs, none of them really doing much. Orgon, the closest to the camera, stared impassively out at Fusion, like he was prepared to wait a megasecond if necessary. Fusion turned her back on him, stepping into the dwarf forest, horn glowing as she cleared a patch of ground big enough for a dozen ponies. Ellisif landed at its centre, peering past Fusion and no doubt looking at the screen. There was a flurry of magic, the bright green of Redshift's power, and the hull, all tough alloy and hard ceramic, melted away like it was ice under a flame.
"That's better," Fusion said, "now we can all talk."
"Does the pony accept this one's words?" Behind Orgon, the grey mare reappeared, carrying another struggling dog.
I want to talk to that pony, Gravity sent. The hints in Scalar's memories are intriguing. It must be her.
Agreed, Fusion thought, she's another one for us to free. "Well, that's where we have a problem, Strategist. Every interaction we have had has demonstrated that you cannot be trusted." She waved a wing, and Scalar walked into the camera view. His mane was brushed back from his forehead, highlighting the raw stump of his horn. He stayed silent, glaring at the grey pony, who'd moved to stand behind Orgon. She flinched when she saw him, ears flicking back.
That is interesting... she's worried. Now I really want to talk to her. Gravity turned a quick loop in the air, all her attention focused on her internal landscape. In another part of her mind, Spread Spectrum was approaching a group of nervous ponies collected in a forest clearing. They had huddled together, all watching Spread with frightened eyes. Some were twitching, skin rippling and shaking, and had the whites of their eyes showing. The ponies are not happy; some are certainly hurting.
They don't understand their orders. I wonder if... "You remember Scalar, don't you, Orgon? This is the pony you said had died in a missile strike. Yet we found him and his mate in the depths of Bakot... care to explain?"
"Because this one thought he could get away with it, obviously." Orgon snorted, not looking uncomfortable at all. "The pony should be grateful; these ones now have a better understanding of the pony's... condition. Lack of understanding is a recipe for communication problems."
He does not get to be so calm! Fusion thought, and Gravity could feel Fusion's jaws clench, her teeth grinding together. "Why should I trust you, Orgon? Why should I not just demolish your Arclights and carry on freeing ponies at my own pace? You must know we can repeat what we did to Bakot at any of your other bases."
"Yes, the pony could. It would be very hard for these ones to actually catch the pony. But..." Orgon did something to the console behind him, bringing up a complex-looking interface. "...this is the master interface for the labournet. From here, this one can issue orders to any servitor in the whole of Lacunae Hive." He ran a paw along the command field, changing the unreadable menus to a map showing a cluster of codes gathered in an empty patch of landscape.
Fusion hissed. "What are you doing, Orgon? If you--" Grav, those are the ponies from the fleet, get Spread out of there!
"It is to the pony's advantage." He tapped another control.
Gravity snarled and spun in the air, accelerating towards the little herd. Spread, be careful, it might be a trap. She pulled the memory of the other pony's location through the sharing, then pushed--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--appearing a few body lengths over the group, wings flared and an artificial darkness expanding like a shockwave around her. Beneath, the ponies scattered, taking a few canter-strides before turning reluctantly to face her. There was no glimmer of hornlight in the black pall, no magic at all, just a few quiet whimpers and whinnies.
"W-we have been ordered to submit to y-you," said one, a dappled blue-green stallion. He plucked off his communicator and tossed it away, an action followed by the others. "What are your orders?" He bowed his head, tears glittering with points of violet in the harsh glare of Gravity's own hornlight.
===
He told them that we would remove the Blessing, that the Maker didn't need to hurt them anymore! Why would he do that? Gravity was prowling around the herd, making them bunch together and constantly shuffle to keep her in view.
I... This dog is the most dangerous one we've met. Fusion felt her legs tremble, and she lifted each in turn to still them. He knows what we want. Leave them to Spread Spectrum and resume your position. I don't want this to be more bait.
"Did it work?" Orgon cocked his head to one side, studying Fusion. "This one sees that it did. That is what this one can really offer, a way to ease the transition. But--" He raised a paw, making another series of command inputs. "--this one can also make things far more difficult."
Part of the display changed, showing the inside of a corral's infirmary. Within it was an orange stallion, restlessly pacing the small examination space while a drug injector, black-and-yellow striped like a giant wasp, hovered in a field of orange. As Fusion watched, he put the injector down, took a few more steps then picked it up and put it down again next to a second one of the same sort. He shook his head, muttering something indistinct, then flinched as if struck, ears flicking back.
A wave of revulsion made Fusion shudder; it didn't come from her own body, but from Gravity's. Those are euthanisation injectors! The medic at the Institute gave me some while you were hurt; he wanted me to--
"What are you doing, Orgon?" Fusion said, her own ears folding back. "I swear, there won't a hole deep enough on this whole planet to hide you from me--"
"The pony needs a demonstration; there must be no misunderstanding this one's resolve." Orgon smiled gently and, at his shoulder, Merlon glanced down at the console and closed her eyes, slumping slightly.
On the remote feed, the door to the infirmary opened and a mare and foal entered. The adult, wing clamped tight over the youngster, had her head bent to one side and was whispering to the little colt. The words were too quiet to hear, but her tone was tense. She walked slowly, on trembling legs, coming to a halt just inside the door. Her head came up, staring at the stallion, and Fusion could see her cheeks were wet with tears. "Why? What did I do wrong?" She shivered all over, mouth opening with a silent cry.
"I'm sorry, Photochromic," the stallion said, voice gentle, "the ways of the Masters are not always understandable."
"T-the Masters are the Paws of the Maker," she said tightly. "Who will take care of... of..." She gestured helplessly down at her colt, who stared back, confusion on his stubby muzzle.
"My orders cover both of you," the stallion said, picking up the injector gun again. "It's probably best if..." He pointed it at the colt.
The mare fell to her knees at the foal's side and nodded jerkily. "L-listen, baby, Cannula just needs to give you an injection, then it will all be fine. I'll be right here with you."
He looked back at her, eyes widening and flicking between the medic and the floating injector. "I don't want to!" His horn lit, pale magic warring with the medic's own for a few seconds before being extinguished.
Fusion leaned forwards, speaking rapidly. "Orgon, stop this. I understand your point; you can kill all of us that you can reach. You don't need to involve these innocents."
Orgon looked back at her while, on the screen, the colt made a dash for the door, only to be caught in an orange telekinetic field and dragged back in. His dam had collapsed onto her side, shivering all over and making choked whinnying noises. Merlon dipped her head and whispered in Orgon's ear. He glanced up at her and frowned, paws hovering over his console.
"Maker's sake, you've already tried to nuke me twice, what more evidence do I need?!" Fusion shouted, forehooves pawing at the ground.
Orgon's paw came down and, on the screen, the medic dropped the injector and let the colt go. An emergency kit was ripped from the wall, another injector pulled from a prominent place at the top of the supplies. A few quick adjustments and it was plunged into the mare's neck. Seconds later she relaxed, and the medic lifted her upright. "I don't understand why, but the Masters changed their orders," he said, leaning his head against hers.
"I don't care why." Photochromic had a distant look on her face, the expression of a pony listening to an internal voice. "I don’t care.”
"I know exactly what you are capable of, Orgon," Fusion spat, glaring into the camera. "Any more tricks like that and the next target we pick will not be a military base."
Orgon inclined his head. "So long as these ones understand each other. There are over half a million ponies in Lacunae's service. That's two hundred and thirty thousand, one hundred and nine stallions, two hundred and ninety thousand, four hundred and seventeen mares, with fifteen thousand, seven hundred foals in training, and another three thousand or so still in utero." He paused, running a claw along the input field. "This one can order all their deaths from this console. Fusion Pulse is powerful, but she could not hope to save more than a pawful."
"You would destroy the Hive in the process. I know we run your industry. How many dogs would you condemn to death with those same commands?"
Orgon smiled. "When the Court realises that you have outmatched our military forces, it will order mass euthanisations as a firebreak. If we do not comply it will be war; the other Hives will be required to try and stop you." His smile widened, becoming shark-like. "Their first targets will be the corrals and breeding centres."
===
"No, absolutely not." Orgon shook his head, pointing a claw at Ellisif, who stood next to Fusion. "The gryphon forces are a vital part of Lacunae's military; this one will not turn them over to a single sersjant. The gryphon has had some success with its force, but has no experience in the prosecution of a total war."
Ellisif hissed, beak open. "I will never again place myself under the command of a dog! Weapons, then, and armour. You will fully supply us with what we need, and pony armourers for support."
Orgon cocked his head, looking at Fusion. "The pony would be better served if this one gave her control of several fast strike units from the Red Deaths; at least they are fully trained."
Fusion snorted. "That won't happen; I trust Ellisif."
"As the pony wishes." Orgon shrugged. "What would happen to any security ponies this one sends? Why would you trust them?"
"I would remove their Blessings, for a start. They would be shadowed by some of our own while they work... after that, we will give them the choice to stay with us or return to you." Fusion shifted her weight, glancing sideways at Ellisif. "Their families will come with them."
"The cost of this; those ponies will have other roles in the Hive--"
"Trust, Orgon. How can I know that you will not use their dams and sires against them?"
"Orgon is aware of the sharing magic; Merlon tells this one that it would be easy to find such a traumatic memory."
"Security has a certain reputation, Orgon, even among your own kind. They will suspect, even if not explicitly told. You will also give them appropriate instructions on what they will expect, along the same lines as you have shown me."
He sighed, running his paws through his whiskers. "What about the families of the families? The pony will gut the Hive's industrial capacity when it is needed the most. First generation only."
"The orders will be given in person by someone who understands the consequences of any mistakes." I know what effect direct contact with one of you has. "I want the ponies to be happy to join us; I will send somepony as a witness."
"If that is what the pony requires..." Orgon shrugged, then looked at Ellisif. "How many mech-flight rated gryphons does the sersjant have? This one knows that there were three hundred gryphons in the Pit's defence forces, of which... three squads were rated. How many of them made it out?"
"I want five squadrons of D-35 Maul gunships, with ten mission load-outs. Don't you worry about the number of pilots I have."
The dog's smile returned, and he inclined his head. "And a mobile reactor station, this one assumes? Would the gryphon like to collect, or shall this one have them delivered?"
"You know what we want, Orgon. Eventually none of your client species will be slaves any more. You will no longer be able to pour our lives away like water. Deliver the vehicles to this location. Do not delay," Fusion said, "it is a small enough request compared to the total size of your military."
Orgon's smile vanished. "This one wants something in return: release the Arclight aircraft. They have more uses than just the simple nullification of magic. The Hive needs their protection against attacks from strategic thaumic arrays."
Fusion blinked. Another weapon we have to worry about? "Lacunae must have these things as well. Why didn't you use them on us?"
"For all that the use of nuclear weapons raises inter-Hive tensions, use of the strategic arrays would have been worse." Orgon gave a twisted smile. "...and the pony is well aware of how crude the magics created by crystal systems are; she has defeated them often enough. Physics is normally more reliable." Orgon made a throwaway gesture. "This hardly matters, other than the strategic defence losses incurred -- defences that will also protect pony corrals and gryphon aeries."
Fusion nodded. "You may take the escorts and their dog crews immediately as a sign of good faith. The gryphons will be given the choice to stay or go. I will release the first Arclight when you have delivered Ellisif’s vehicles."
"...and the rest?"
"When everypony has been released from the breeding centres. If they are to be targets, then they must be emptied. We will take them with us to our new settlements. The corrals too."
We're going to need more space! Gravity sent. How will we be able to take them all in?
More ponies means more workers, and I'll bet they will be very happy to do something useful for themselves and their foals. I'm not sure about everypony else. Let's start with getting them out from under the Eugenics Board's yoke.
"This one will generate a suitable set of orders. Transports can be made available, will the pony--?"
"No, I will not let you discover exactly where we live. We will collect them. Supply somepony who has visited each of the centres, and we'll be able to find them." Fusion recalled the teleport pattern, letting it spin in her mind. Grav, I think there's a way to force the wormhole to remain open for more than an instant; we should be able to trot everypony through.
You'll have to be there; that will tempt them to do something stupid.
We'll just have to make sure they understand that we can also hurt them. More thoughts followed, outlining Fusion's plan.
Merlon whispered something in Orgon's ear, and he nodded. "As the pony wishes. This one takes it that the pony will be maintaining the enchanted cloud cover?" At Fusion's flick of an ear, he nodded again, looking unhappy. "Orgon will let the pony know something for free: it has been effective. Several of the ponies in the Arclight battlegroups have visited other breeding centres. Will that be sufficient?"
"For now." Fusion's horn glowed, and she lifted a smooth, round-ended cylinder from where it had been hidden from the camera's field of view. "Do you recognise this, Orgon? It is one of the bombs we took from Bakot." She placed it on the ground in front of her hooves. "You made your demonstration, now it is time for me to make one in return. Redshift tells me that the nominal yield of this device is about one megaton. Nominal, because it is capable of up to ten, with modifications that we can perform in the field. We have many more of these, each in the care of a pony in a safe place."
"This one understands," Orgon said, his ears going back, "the pony has used a similar weapon before."
"No, I don't think you do. Open a camera view of the central plaza of Arcology One. The Synod building."
Someone behind Orgon did something and a new window appeared on the screen. The artificial cavern of the arcology hub glittered, the great cliff-walls of business and high-rent apartments surrounding the central core of the Synod assembly chamber like a pair of cupped paws around the closed bulb of a flower. The pedestrian precincts at its base thronged with dogs, while aircars, made tiny by the titanic size of the chamber they flew around, zipped like insects.
"You just threatened to murder half a million ponies. There are two million of the People living and working within five kilometres of the Synod building." Her horn flashed, and the bomb disappeared.
===
There was a blip of white-gold light on the screen, barely more than the pulse of a distant camera flash, and something appeared in the air near the Synod building. A vague blur, nothing more, flicked sideways to punch a hole through the decorative wall. Orgon's ears folded back and he tensed, but the camera feed remained active. Nothing... a failed detonation, or-- He held his breath, then exhaled. If the pony has decided to make a point, this one will have to swallow it. Plans spun in his mind, things he could do or say to maintain control in the face of the loss of a whole arcology.
"Just something to remind you that time is passing," Fusion said, face expressionless. "If you want our cooperation, you will tell your breeding centres to expect us imminently."
The pony doesn't believe in waiting. Orgon suppressed a pained smile. Too efficient; World Court paranoia was always justified when it came to the servitors. "This one will issue the orders now. Science staff will be reduced to caretaker levels and all experimental work will be stopped. Which site will the pony visit first?" Fusion didn't reply, and the blank white orb of her left eye glared out of the screen. Orgon stared back, then swallowed, throat suddenly dry, nodding to cover the motion. "As the pony wishes." Now all this one needs to do is maintain his position. He made a gesture to one of his tacticians, and she bent over her comms panel, giving rapid-fire orders to the response teams on permanent standby near the Synod building. His own display, out of view of the feed going to the pony, lit up with helmet cam videos.
"What about the gryphons? Does the pony want them released as well?" At Fusion's side, the rebel sersjant lifted her head from her own comms system and blinked at him. "They will not be as biddable as the ponies, and can hardly live off the land."
"We have enough people to manage them," she said, glaring at the camera. "But we will need food. You will give us exclusive access to the Saimol River farming complex."
"That will be privately owned, this one cannot--"
"Then pay them for it! The staff can remain to manage the farm -- just ensure they supply us."
"This one will ensure that the gryphons and ponies have all the food they need, no matter the final numbers, but he needs something else in return. Another Arclight unit. The pony must know they are useless to us as singletons." The helmet cam videos continued to advance behind a cloud of wasp-like drones flown by the gryphon pilot-farm. The corridors in the outer rind of the Synod building unfolded on one subscreen, ending in wreckage. This is it... Orgon kept his gaze on the pony, following the remote action out of the corner of his eyes.
"That seems reasonable," Fusion said, her voice flat and expressionless.
In the rubble was a mirror-faced cube, not the pale ceramic hull of a nuclear weapon, but the dark shades of granite. Orgon's shoulders sagged and he took a shaky breath. "The pony didn't. This one thanks--"
"No, I did not." Fusion leaned forwards, the pastel glow of her mane shading towards hard, laser-like colours. "But I can, just like that." A hind hoof kicked downwards, striking the rocky ground and spraying gravel behind her. "We have enough of your own weapons to gut each of the Hive's arcologies. I can do it with a thought. If you get to me or my sister, other ponies will send those bombs." The colours brightened, surrounding her with a rainbow halo that made the rest of the view dim as the camera struggled to maintain exposure. "Do not doubt me, Strategist. If you break your word, that will be the least of the consequences."