//------------------------------// // Chapter Nineteen // Story: Where No Pony Has Gone Before // by RK_Striker_JK_5 //------------------------------// Discord floated about his house, teacup clasped in his lion's paw of a right hand. He sipped the cup, leaving behind the tea to float about. He grabbed a newspaper as it passed by, unfurling it. The headline changed, updating itself. He adjusted a pair of glasses that popped into existence on the end of his nose. “Hmm, looks like those girls from across the mirror are stirring up a bit of chaos. I always knew that Sunset Shimmer had it in her!” A sudden knocking at the front door interrupted his reading. He looked over, scowling. “What the? The door's supposed to quack when someone strikes it, not 'thud'! Thud is so boring!” he teleported himself over. Confetti blasted about and horns sounded as he swung it open. “Yes?” Ditzy Doo floated in front of him, wearing the blue uniform of the Equestrian Postal Service. One eye was fixed on him, the other drifting about. “Letter for Mister Discord!” she chirped out, grinning. “Are you Mister Discord?” Discord glanced to the side. “You've gotta be kidding me.” He looked back to Ditzy. “I am... Mister Discord.” Both of Ditzy's eyes locked onto Discord, startling him. “Yay! I have a letter for you, sir.” She pulled a clipboard out of her left saddlebag with her wing and held it out in front of her. “Sign here, please.” Discord reached behind his back, pulled out a small sticker with a draconequus emblazoned on it, and stuck it to the piece of paper on the clipboard. Ditzy took the clipboard back, then pulled out an envelope. “Here you go!” she said, grinning. She then turned and flew off into the void surrounding Discord's house. Discord stared at her as she flew off. He blinked-and she disappeared. He slowly looked down at the envelope in his hands. It was white, with his name and a series of numbers and letters written out on the front. “Hmm, they got the dimensional coordinates right. Even proper postage!” He held the envelope up and floated it a few feet from him. It spun about as Discord's right eye popped out of its socket, grew wings, and flew up to it. A wide beam of light shot from the iris, engulfing the envelope. The eye flew back and lodged itself back into Discord's head. “Nothing?” he growled out. “What do I pay you for?” he shouted, banging his eagle's claw against the side of his head. “What do you mean you don't get a check? It's in the mail!” The envelope floated back to him. Discord looked it over one final time before grabbing it. He held it out as far as he could before slicing the top open with a single swipe from a claw. He winced for a moment, but relaxed as nothing happened. “Oh, of course.” He let out a breath. “Discord, old boy, you're getting positively paranoid in your old age.” He pulled a letter out of the envelope and held it close. A monocle appeared over his left eye as he cleared his throat and began reading. “'Dear Discord, your presence is requested and required at–” The words on the letters brightened. Their glow rapidly increased, turning bright-white. Discord barely had time to register anything before the light engulfed him... Discord tossed the letter down. It fluttered, landing not on the floor of his house, but on brown deck plating. His head shot up as he looked around. “What the Tirek?” he exclaimed. He was now in a large room with a high-vaulted ceiling. The walls were sharp, angular, and brown. He clenched his paws into fists. “When I find out who's done this, they're in for a galaxy of hurt!” He snapped his fingers... and nothing happened. Discord floated there for a few moments. He looked to his lion's paw and shook it a few times. “Come on, come on!” He snapped his fingers a few more times, but still nothing happened. “Oh, this is just great.” For the first time, Discord really looked around the room he was in. The entire area was bathed in a bright light, washing out details and making things fuzzy. A long table with ten empty chairs dominated the room, all but the one at the head of the table turned to face it. He floated over to a wall, stroking his beard and thankful he could still at least float. “Hmm, seems to be... Cardassian architecture if I'm not mistaken.” “The Discord has arrived.” Discord whirled around. The eight chairs along the long ends of the table were now occupied. Four of them were humanoid, of various species. The other four took the forms of Celestia, Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. One of the humanoids spoke again, the same one as before. “The game has changed,” she said. Discord looked her over. At first glance she might be mistaken for human, but the ridges along her nose, earring on her right ear, and distinctively-shaped pin over her right breast quickly marked her as Bajoran. Discord's bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Game? What game? Who are you? What are you?” A deep voice caught his attention. “Sorry about this. It's always little confusing at first to be in the Celestial Temple, even for a being of chaos such as yourself.” Discord slowly looked up as the chair at the end of the table rotated, showing the occupant. He had dark skin, a neatly-trimmed goatee and mustache, a bald head, and piercing eyes. He wore a Starfleet uniform, albeit one that wouldn't be designed for a little over a hundred years from now. He held a baseball in his right hand, clenching it tightly. After a few seconds, Discord finally gasped. “Celestial Temple, of course!” He motioned to the ones sitting along the table. “That makes you all Prophets...” He jabbed a finger at the man. “And you must be Captain Benjamin Lafayette Sisko, formerly of Starfleet, and currently the Emissary of the Prophets.” Sisko grinned, flashing a toothy smile. “I see my reputation precedes me.” Discord shrugged. “Q told me a bit about what's coming up over the past few days. We've spent a bit of time catching up.” He clenched his eagle's claw into a fist and punched the air. “I especially like the time he showed up on Deep Space Nine and you socked him one.” His grin fell away. “Wait... you're not here to sock me one, are you?” He held up both hands in front of him, palms out. “I know I've been pretty bad before, but I'm trying to get better!” Sisko chuckled and waved Discord off. “No need to worry, Discord. We brought you here to ask a favor from you.” The Celestia-Prophet spoke up. “The Sisko must still be born. The Book of the Kosst Amojan must be destroyed and the Pah-Wraiths sealed within the Fire Caves. The lineup has been altered. The path may be changed.” Discord slowly nodded. “And you don't want the Pah-Wraiths getting out any more than I do. Or anyone who's not completely insane, for that matter.” He looked at everyone seated. “So what would you like me to do, precisely?” “The Discord can see the path better than we can,” another humanoid-Prophet said, this one a Klingon male in a Starfleet uniform. “He can chart the pitches, the outs.” Discord's bushy brow furrowed. “And you can't? You're the Prophets of Bajor! You exist outside of linear time, right? Can't you look forward or something?” He looked down the table at Sisko. “Well?” Sisko bounced his baseball on the table. “Time can still get pretty... jumbled for them, Discord. They needed me to explain the concept of linear time to them to begin with. You're a lot more experienced with this kind of thing.” He tossed the baseball at Discord. Discord held out his lion's paw,... and caught a small globe. He looked it over, quickly recognizing it as Equus. He shrugged, then tossed it back to Sisko, who caught his baseball. “Fine, but you owe me one, Benny.” He looked to the Prophets. “I'll also need access to some of my power, if you don't mind.” The Prophets all looked at each other. The Celestia-Prophet looked to Discord and nodded. “It is done.” Discord grinned. He cracked his knuckles. “All right, folks. Stand back!” A flash of light enveloped him. When it faded, he now wore a white button-up shirt, a brown vest, black slacks, and a cap with a translucent-green visor on it. An old-style stock-ticker machine was next to him, a paper strip stocking out of it. He grabbed the strip and held it up. “All right, let's see here. Might wanna buy stock in rock farms, first off. Second off...” He looked up. “Actually, now that I think about it, what happens if the timeline's changed a bit too much for your liking?” The Pinkie Pie-Prophet spoke. “We shall deal with the changes to the playbook, and set the game back on its course.” Discord looked to her. “Wow. You really hammered in the whole 'baseball' thing, didn't you.” He sighed and waved his eagle's claw around. “Let's not beat around the bush, here. What will you do to Sunset or Trixie?” Sisko shrugged. “We'll take action when and if necessary, Discord. The Pah-Wraiths must remain sealed within the Fire Caves.” Discord let the paper strip slide out of his grasp as he stared across the table at Sisko. “Gee, doesn't that sound ominous. I'd ask a certain Romulan senator what sort of action you'd take, but then I'd have to go forward one hundred-five years and sweep half a sector for Vreenak's subatomic particles.” Sisko slowly rose from his chair and walked slowly towards Discord. “I'm not going to make any apologies for what happened, there. I'd do it again if I had to. In this case, however?” He stopped right next to Discord, his gaze penetrating. “I won't murder two teenagers for trying to help in any way they can. You have my word as a Starfleet officer and the Emissary of the Prophets on that.” Discord returned the gaze. “All right, then.” He picked the paper back up and held it out. “Well, you needn't concern yourself. Turns out you'll still be born, the Book of the Kosst Amojan will still be destroyed, and those nasty brutes will remain locked up, sans air-conditioning, for a long time.” He held the paper strip out to Sisko. “All there in black-and-white.” Sisko took the paper strip and looked it over. “Thank you, Discord.” He turned and walked back to his seat. “We owe you for this.” Discord rolled his eyes. “Don't rush to Equestria to pay me back.” He groaned. “So, are you done with me? I've got an appointment to get to back at Equestria!” The Celestia-Prophet raised a foreleg. “There is one more question.” She waited a moment. “Will the Sisko still punch Q out?” Those seated at the table turned to her. Discord stared at her, eyes wide. The stock-ticker clicked, and another strip of paper emerged from it. He reached down, picked it up, and held it out. “Yes,” he finally said. A smile grew on her face. “Excellent,” she finally said. Discord's jaw dropped. He jabbed a claw at her. “Wait a minute! You're not a Prophet! You're–” He suddenly vanished. Seven of the Prophets rose from the table and walked out of the room. Sisko stared at the one still sitting there. “You know he's going to give you merry hell when you get back,” he said, grinning. Celestia looked to him. “Yes, but it was still worth it, Ben.” She leaned towards him. “Any chance we can catch a ball game before I have to go back to Canterlot? Maybe a Red Sox game from the 2004 World Series?” Sisko grinned. “Game four, October 27th, 2004 in Busch Memorial Stadium. Why not?” He started to stand up, but stopped. “No drinking contests after, though. The sun still has to rise over Equestria.” Celestia groaned and rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right!” She hopped out of the chair. “Spoilsport,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. Sisko shook his head. “Just for that, I might have you pay for your own beer and pretzels.” He rubbed his chin. “Want to invite Luna or Cadance?” Celestia reached out with a wing and gently patted Sisko on the shoulder. “Only if Kasidy and Jake can come, too.” Sisko barked a laugh. He grabbed his baseball from the table and tossed it into the air. “We'd better hurry to make the opening pitch, then.” Celestia's horn flashed, enveloping them both in a ball of light. When it faded, both were gone. Kang strode onto the bridge of the Pride, looking around and nodding in satisfaction at his crew working efficiently. He spotted Kinna, standing near the captain's chair, and made his way over to his first officer. “Report, Kinna.” Kinna straightened and saluted Kang. “All ship's functions are nominal.” He held up a datapad and handed it over to Kang. “There is a message that just came in from General Gor'chuk of the High Command.” Kang looked up from the datapad. “How long ago?” Kinna glanced to his right, at the communications officer at an aft station. “About five seconds before you entered the bridge, Captain. It's a recording, not real-time.” A small growl rumbled from Kang's throat. He leaned over his chair, flipped a switch, and spoke into a small grille mounted on the armrest. “Mara, I need you in Conference Room Two in ten minutes.” He looked up at Kinna. “Commander, I will need you there as well.” He glanced to the navigation stations. “Lieutenant Tarqus, you have the conn.” Tarqus shot to her feet. “Yes, sir!” she said, saluting. She walked over to the captain's chair and snapped to attention. Kang and Kinna exchanged a look before turning and walking to the aft turbolift, leaving Tarqus in charge while they went to listen to the message. Kang and Kinna walked into Conference Room Two, finding Mara already there and sitting at the table that dominated the room. She rose as the two entered. “Orders from the Empire?” she asked. Kang looked to her. “We shall find out momentarily, my wife.” He walked around the table and over to a large, wall-mounted monitor. He flipped a switch on a control panel next to the monitor. “Communications, send message to this conference room. Voice authorization: Kang Alpha-42.” The computer triple-beeped. “Authorized. Replaying...” The image of a grizzled, older Klingon male appeared on the screen. Unlike Kang, Kinna, or Mara, he had been unaffected by the Augment Virus, and had a large, impressive-looking forehead crest. He leaned forward, eyes squinting. “Captain Kang, we have received your initial report and gone over it. We do recognize the difficulty in standard operations in the Neutral Zone, and acknowledge that you and your crew are working towards the goal of swaying the Equestrians to the side of the Empire. However, you are not making enough progress toward your objective. Also, Your science officer's assessment that the rulers of the most-powerful nation, these... alicorn princesses, are immune to current coercion techniques is rejected.” He jabbed a finger at the screen. “Make no mistake, Kang. If you cannot complete this assignment to the High Council's satisfaction, we will find someone who will. Gor'chuk out.” The screen changed from Gor'chuk's upper torso to an image of the trefoil-symbol of the Klingon Empire. Kang stared at the screen for a few moments. “The short-sighted fool,” he finally growled out. Mara's eyes widened. “Did that targ actually read our reports?” Kinna crossed his arms. “He read them, Mara. He and the others in the High Command simply chose not to believe them. Or if they believed them, they felt that we would still somehow be able to overwhelm a literal sun and moon being used against our fleets.” He leaned forward. “Have you sent them any report about–” Kang held up a hand, silencing Kinna. He stepped back until he was against the far bulkhead, then slid his way along to a camera and intercom panel mounted in the bulkhead. He slowly opened a panel below the lenses and pulled out several wires. Sparks shot out, but Kang remained steadfast as he closed the panel. He flipped a switch on the intercom and leaned in close to a speaker grille. “Bridge, this is Captain Kang. The security monitor in Conference Room Two has... malfunctioned. Send a repair crew down.” Kang kept his expression neutral, even as inwardly he grimaced. That the High Command cannot trust a warrior’s oath, and must monitor us like this! Tarqus' voice came over. “Understood, Captain. A team should be down there in about... twenty minutes?” Kang looked to Mara, then to Kinna. Both nodded at him. “An acceptable timeframe. Kang out.” He turned the intercom off, then turned and walked back to the table. “Now we may speak freely.” Kinna looked to Mara once more. “Have you sent them any report about the trilithium weaponry that will be developed in the next century?” Mara shook her head. “No. Not that it matters. Any such weaponry is more in the realm of fantasy at our current stage.” Kinna snorted. “Do you really think such things would matter to them?” Kang walked back to the table, eyes narrow and lips curled back in a snarl. “Gor'chuk is a fool if he believes we possess any means of conquering Equestria. Yes, in a hundred years we may destroy their sun. And with it, we destroy the system they wish to conquer.” He leaned heavily on the table, all the energy seeming to drain from his body. Mara and Kinna exchanged a look. Mara rose from her seat and walked around to Kang's side. “Then what shall you do?” Kang stood there for almost a minute before straightening up. “In this case, perhaps it is best for me to do nothing! Perhaps the Empire does not deserve such information, or a treaty with Equestria!” Kinna slowly stood up, eyes wide. “Captain, are you sure?” He held his hands up. “I mean no disrespect, Captain!” Kang locked eyes with his first officer. “But you do question such notions?” He slowly smiled. “Good. I do not like sycophants. You are right to question them, but in the end it is my decision.” Kinna relaxed slightly. “Of course, Captain.” Kang breathed in deep before continuing. “Perhaps the Empire does need Praxis, to wake itself up and shake the warmongers's power base.” He crossed his arms. “I have a meeting with Celestia, Luna, and Twilight Sparkle in two days. There, I shall announce our withdrawal from negotiations. If it takes our near-annihilation to wake them from their idiocy, then so be it!”