//------------------------------// // 85 - The Master Plan // Story: Lateral Movement // by Alzrius //------------------------------// “Right over there. You see it, sir?” “I see it,” answered Block Party, looking through the binoculars at where Spit Polish was pointing. The sight of a building on fire near the wharf was clearly visible, but only barely. There were too many buildings in the way and not enough other light sources to see anything going on around it. “I think that if we have the local pegasi grab some buckets and fly down there, they should be able to put it out before it gets too bad. They’ll be right next to the water, so they shouldn’t have too much trouble, and-” “No.” Spit Polish stopped talking immediately, just to be safe. Everypony knew that Block Party hated to be interrupted or talked over, and that the penalty for doing so was severe. Peachy Keen was still limping from the last time she’d made that mistake. It was only after he’d been silent for a few moments that Spit Polish felt certain that Block Party wasn’t going to elaborate, meaning that it was safe to speak again. “Sir, we need to put that fire out! If it starts to spread, there won’t be any way to stop it! The whole city could be at risk!” “I said no,” came Block Party’s soft reply. He put down the binoculars a moment later, turning to look Spit Polish directly in the eye, and the other stallion had to fight down the urge to back away in fear. Block Party’s expression hadn’t changed, still looking calm to the point of almost seeming bored, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d had that same look on his face while he’d been punishing Peachy, after all. Seeing that Spit Polish wasn’t about to try and argue with him again, Block Party started to explain his thinking. “That building is on the other side of Vanhoover. Sending a team of pegasi there, having them fight the fire, and then flying back, is too much. They’d never be able to do all of that without stopping to rest, which means they’d be at risk.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “Even if they aren’t torn apart by ghouls, do you want to be the one to tell them that we can’t let them leave the city because they might be infected?” “N-no, but-” “More than that,” continued Block Party, causing Spit Polish to immediately cease talking, “we have to consider that it might not be so bad if the fire does spread. Doing so would doubtlessly kill a lot of the ghouls infesting the city, which means we wouldn’t be stuck waiting for them to starve or turn on each other.” Spit Polish’s eyes widened in horror. “But sir! There are still survivors in the city too! We know that! If a fire spreads, they’d be at risk too! We can’t ju-” “Stop.” Quieting instantly, Spit Polish felt his nervousness increase as Block Party gave a soft sigh, a look of disappointment crossing his face before it returned to its usual look. “We’ve been through this before. We’ve all had to make difficult decisions, difficult choices about what’s best, not just for ourselves or even for Vanhoover, but for all of Equestria.” Sweeping a hoof back in the direction of Vanhoover, Block Party continued. “We know that whatever this sickness is that’s turning ponies into ghouls is contagious. That’s why we can’t let anything in Vanhoover leave, whether it’s the ghouls or other survivors.” Spit Polish bit his lip, ears folding back and eyes lowering as he remembered the numerous times that they’d had to force surviving ponies to turn away and head back into the city. They’d begged and pleaded to be let out, many of them asking for them to at least take their foals, or their parents, or their friends. In return they’d received harsh warnings, and when those hadn’t been enough, thrown rocks or blasts of magic or anything else that would drive them off. There’d been one a few days ago, a crystal stallion that hadn’t even asked to be let out, just for them to please spare some medicine for a sick friend of his. The look that he’d given Spit Polish after his rock had hit him was one that still haunted him. Block Party seemed to sense his unicorn lieutenant’s wavering resolve, because he strode forward and put a hoof under Spit Polish’s chin, making him raise his gaze until they were making eye contact. “We absolutely have to keep this quarantine intact. Say it.” Swallowing nervously, Spit Polish nevertheless responded immediately. “Nothing gets out.” “That’s right. Not one pony. Not one ghoul. And especially not one word about what’s happening here. If the princesses find out, they’ll want to show up in person, and if that happens and they get infected, it could be the end of everything.” Spit Polish wanted to protest, to insist that the princesses would be able to fix this the way that they had always fixed everything. But he knew it would only earn him a beating if he tried, and besides, Block Party’s logic wasn’t entirely wrong. There was a chance that the princesses could get infected, even if Spit Polish didn’t think it was a very large chance. And, as much as he hated to admit it, a small part of him didn’t want the princesses to just show up and fix everything. He and everypony else here had done terrible things – had needed to do terrible things – in order to try and stop the situation in Vanhoover from spreading beyond the city. To have the alicorns make it all better in a blast of rainbow-colored magic felt like it would belittle how hard they’d worked and how many of their principles they’d been forced to compromise in order to protect Equestria. Once again, Block Party seemed to pick up on his lieutenant’s feelings, and lowered his hoof from under his chin, even as the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Good. Now, I want you to continue keeping an eye on that fire. If it starts to spread, I want to know in what direction.” Spit Polish nodded, and Block Party turned to leave. But before he had gotten more than a few steps, Spit Polish called out to him. “Sir?” Stopping, Block Party gave the barest of glances back over his shoulder. The sight made Spit Polish gulp, but he continued. “I, er, didn’t have a chance to tell you before. That ship, the one that we saw entering the harbor yesterday evening…it’s docked at the harbor now. It has been all day, ever since the sun rose.” He paused for a long moment, and the silence was so oppressive that it was almost tangible. “What should we do?” Block Party turned his head back, leaving Spit Polish unable to see his expression. “Nothing for now.” He started to walk away again, speaking as he moved. “We’re stretched thin enough that we can’t afford to do anything about one ship that’s just sitting there. If it tries to leave, then we’ll take action, but until then just keep an eye on it.” “…yes sir,” replied Spit Polish, his voice thick with confusion. Block Party’s casual attitude towards that ship seemed completely at odds with how strident he was about maintaining the quarantine around the town. It made perfect sense that they didn’t have any sort of naval presence – all of Vanhoover’s docks were part of the quarantine zone, after all, which made it rather difficult to have any sort of patrol boats – but if whoever had sailed in on that ship decided to get back on board and sail away, they’d be very hard-pressed to stop them. So why was Block Party so unconcerned about that? Mentally shrugging, Spit Polish turned back to regard the distant fire, hearing the other stallion walk away. Asking for an explanation would only get him a fresh set of bruises, he knew. Block Party doubtlessly had some sort of plan in mind. After all, he was the one who had gotten them together and organized everything after it had become obvious that no help was coming. All that we need to do is follow his orders, Spit Polish silently assured himself. If we just do what he says, eventually everything will go back to normal. He had repeated that to himself over and over in the last several weeks, almost like a mantra. He was sure that if he kept trying, he’d even start to believe it soon… Block Party barely acknowledged the ponies that he passed, though they all made sure to step out of his way and nod respectfully as he did. A few approached him, wanting his opinion about some minor matter or another, but he instructed them to take it up with one of the ponies that he’d designated as his primary servants and kept moving. Right now he had more important things to focus on. Keeping an entire city under quarantine meant that the ponies guarding it had to live outside of the city proper. The result was a virtual shantytown that now ringed the northern half of the city, composed of little more than tents, lean-tos, and poorly-constructed shacks. The only real building was the train station, which was located just outside of the city proper, and which now served as his personal living quarters and base of operations. Of course, the “operations” were a sham, and the knowledge of that always made him have to struggle to keep the smile off of his face. As it was, he was still amazed that no one had figured it out, though he shouldn’t have been. When things seemed hopeless, anyone would believe a sweet-sounding lie, he knew. Vanhoover, like apparently all cities in Equestria, was a city without walls. Even considering that there was an ocean to its west and a river to its south – beyond which lay miles of impassible marshlands – you could still enter or exit the city anywhere along its northern or eastern edges. True, he had ponies patrolling along those edges, but there was no way that a ragtag group of desperate, half-starved individuals could keep watch over miles and miles of a city’s edge. What they could do, however, was serve as a deterrent. Ghouls were naturally cowardly creatures, and even the appearance of serious resistance would be enough to keep them inside the city where feeding was less dangerous for them. At least until the food supply, in the form of the surviving ponies, grew too thin to satisfy their appetites; then they’d likely attack en masse, which would probably result in the ponies outside the city being slaughtered, but he didn’t really care about that. What he did care about was the other function the patrols served, which was to keep the ponies of Vanhoover pitted against each other. The sight of watching friends and neighbors turning on each other, driving their kin back into the filthy, dangerous city, even as they cried and begged for help, gave him a warm glow inside. It was a situation he wanted to preserve as long as possible, before the ghoul plague finally burst forth from this city like maggots erupting out of a corpse. It probably wouldn’t be much longer now, in all likelihood. But in order to do that, he had to keep up the farce about a quarantine, and a ship blithely sailing into the harbor ran counter to that. As it was, it was enough to make him frown; the sahuagin and their ilk should have taken care of the ship’s crew before they ever reached the docks. That they hadn’t – or worse, couldn’t – was enough to warrant an inquiry as to what was going on. Entering the station and locking himself in, Block Party quickly checked to make sure he was alone. Confirming that he had the building all to himself as usual, he concentrated for a few moments before he began to speak. “Oh Great Lord of the Deep,” he intoned, unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the grandiose title that beast insisted on, “the ship I alerted you to yesterday made it to the docks. I want it destroyed, if you please.” The magic only allowed for twenty-five words to be sent, but it also laced the words with the power of suggestion, and he knew it would be difficult for that thing to resist. Sure enough, a moment later a guttural voice responded. “I am most displeased. My slaves have failed me, to have let such a thing continue to exist. I will take care of it personally.” Block Party smiled. The spell was over, meaning that nothing else he said would be transmitted, but he couldn’t resist speaking aloud anyway. “I look forward to your results.”