//------------------------------// // XIII. Trials // Story: The War in Heaven // by voroshilov //------------------------------// “I am certain that, in time, the trials of the Retribution War, which scarred our Empire so badly, will be overcome. The new Imperial Administration must listen to the people it rules, who know better than anyone their conditions - and they must work tirelessly and without reservation to improve the lives of all in the Empire. This must be done, so that the Retribution War and Insurrection Wars are not repeated. We have defeated our enemies on the battlefield, now we must defeat our enemies on the social front.” - Tasks of the new Imperial Administration for the Reconstruction of the Empire by Haisan Uluvan - Penumbra hauled herself out of the pod, legs like liquid. She dropped a full metre onto the hard ground, barely feeling the cold on her numbed face. She spluttered, tasting the fresh air, biting off chunks of it and relishing being able to properly breathe again. Her eyes opened slowly, the lights of day time blinding her. She slowly lifted her leg in front of her eyes, shielding herself from the sun, which seemed to fill the whole sky. "Yes, sir, she's here," a voice, like the Fusiliers she'd dreamt of, said, "yes, sir. No, sir, she's just waking up. Yes, sir, I'll get her as ready as I can." The blindness slowly faded as something stood in front of her, reaching out to grab her face… A pair of fingers snapped repeatedly. "Hey," the voice said, "wake up, try and get your bearings." She slowly began to shake off her dream state, focusing onto the Fusilier above her, they were speaking into a communication pad on their left wrist, saying something Penumbra couldn't quite work out. Steadily, she rose to a sit, then, shakily, stood up. Shaking off her aching muscles, she began to tiptoe around a little, regaining feeling properly. "Yes, sir," the Fusilier said, "I've done a scan sir, she's clean. Yes, sir, I'll tell her right away." The Fusilier turned to her, beckoning her closer. "Emperor Nicholas wants you on the bridge," they said, "wouldn't say why, best get moving." Penumbra nodded glumly, trotting over to the elevator at the far end of the almost empty hangar. Everything seemed very large, open and quiet, as though everyone had suddenly vacated the vessel. Slowly, her memories faded back in, and she was confronted with the realisation that what she had experienced was not a dream. She remembered Pinkie Pie, how she had been burned with Equestria; how Equestria had been destroyed before her very eyes. Yet, despite what she should have been feeling, she felt quite normal, as though nothing had happened at all. The ride was far slower than she remembered, taking in excess of five minutes before the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing an almost pitch dark bridge. Penumbra slowly stepped out, looking all around to find a switch, or anyone within the bridge who could find one. "Hello," she said, voice echoing through the darkness, "anyone here?" "You have done well," came the voice of Emperor Nicholas, the darkness being pulled into his shadowy form, "your trials are complete," he held out a hand in congratulation. Penumbra moved her hoof to accept it, before pulling back slightly. "Trials?" She asked, "what do you mean trials?" Emperor Nicholas chuckled, "the trials. What you just went through, of course." Penumbra recoiled, recognising immediately something was off. "You're not Nicholas. Take off that skin, it is not yours!" 'Nicholas' smiled, nodding, before being engulfed in magic: Changeling magic. The imitation of Nicholas was replaced by Queen Chrysalis, with a dozen drones emerging from the shadows around the bridge, forming a broken circle around Penumbra. "You are very astute," Chrysalis said, eyeing her up and down, "Nicholas had told me of your ability but I will admit I did not believe him. How wrong was I." She slowly approached, checking Penumbra's every inch, even as the mare tried to scare her back. Chrysalis simply laughed and shrugged her off. "Calm yourself," she said, "if you are a true servant of the Empire then you are a friend of mine and of my Changelings." Penumbra, standing well over two metres taller than the Changeling Queen, shot her a look. "And how can I be certain?" She asked, "you have already masqueraded yourself as the Emperor, why should I trust your word? Given your natural propensity for falsehood." She shot Chrysalis another glare, one that carried with it a simple message of 'answer or die'. Chrysalis bowed. "You have no reason to trust me," she admitted, "other than the fact I doubt Nicholas would be pleased if you killed me." Penumbra closed the gap between them with one step, she stooped to look the Changeling dead in the eyes, so close she could feel her limited natural body heat through her chitin. "Well," she said, menacingly, "if you are lying to me, he would be most pleased if I brought him your head." Chrysalis was silent for a moment, as if gauging Penumbra's mood. Eventually, she broke out into a chuckle. "Very good," she said, "it is done, Archangel, I believe she is ready." The sound of armoured footsteps came from behind her, Penumbra looking up to regard a figure forged of perfect beauty, long blonde hair flowing, face pale and smooth, with a pair of white, feathery wings folded behind her. "The Emperor will decide that," she said, "come, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, Emperor Nicholas awaits you in the Shrine. He does not like to be kept waiting." The Archangel, Barachiel as she had identified herself as, led Penumbra down into an area below the bridge. What she had identified as the Shrine was a small room, about seven metres high, twenty both ways across, pitch black and with, at first glance, nothing within. The natural light that radiated off of Barachiel soon revealed a small, obsidian plinth in the centre of the room, a purple crystal resting atop it. The Archangel stopped at the door, gesturing for Penumbra to continue within. "You have done well," Emperor Nicholas' voice whispered from the ether, now clearly his, "the gateway is ours; as is Abaddon's Shield; and now, with the completion of your most recent mission, the traitors have been silenced." "Thank you, my Emperor." Penumbra bowed before the crystal. "What would you have me do now?" "I have one final task for you," Nicholas said, "Celestia dwells in the belly of this ship. Kill her." Penumbra was taken aback. "What?" She blurted out, "why? What has she done?" A sourceless breeze rushed past her. "Do you doubt me? Celestia must die to expedite the plan. My will be done." Penumbra's jaw trembled. "Yes," she stammered, knowing only that she must do as he ordered - though she had no idea why her mind refused to consider alternatives - "your will be done." "Good, the Angels shall guide you into the belly of the ship, quell the heresy within." Penumbra rose and left the shrine, Barachiel beckoning for her to follow. "We have secured deck 7," she said, "as well as much of deck 8, aside from sub-sector 2, where Celestia and her forces have concentrated." "Forces?" "What members of your race have continued to follow her and turned against the Emperor's truth." Barachiel unsheathed her sword, which caught aflame with an aura of magic. "The Emperor ordered me to not harm any of the ponies, and his will is absolute." Barachiel seemed almost bitter in her words, looking down to her silver vambraces, which were at least twice the thickness of her arm otherwise. "Who are they?" Penumbra asked, praying none were her friends. "None you would care about," Barachiel replied, knowing what she meant, "soldiers of your species, mostly, undisciplined and weak." Penumbra huffed, just what she needed right now, thinly veiled speciesism - or whatever such a thing would be called. The two entered an elevator, a pair of Changelings, massive and heavily armoured, standing guard over it. Barachiel muttered something, though Penumbra couldn't hear it, with the Changelings simply grunting as she passed, but saluting for Penumbra. Slowly, they descended, Barachiel flexing her grip on her sword as they went, apparently eager to kill something. She would turn her left arm around, observing the silver vambrace, covered in gold and jewelled ornamentation, muttering something in a language Penumbra had never heard before. When the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, they were greeted by dark corridors, what few lights there were coming from the various angels that were dotted about. Some held guards, silver swords in hand, whilst others held down pony prisoners: Royal Guards by their armour, though some were clearly not guard trained, given their small statures. As Penumbra walked, the defeated ponies looked to her. "Help us," one said, before being silenced by a Calvus angel, whose only clothing was a pair of steel manacle like bindings on their arms. Penumbra looked the pony's way for a moment, before turning back forwards, avoiding the gaze of the captured ponies as best she could. They arrived at a bulkhead door, a pair of Calvus angels guarding it. "Celestia and the rest of her ilk lie beyond," Barachiel said, "we will deal with the rest, you find Celestia." The door opened, the naked angels charging in first, battering the defenders with their sword hilts. Despite their lack of armour, the angels were remarkably immune to the guards' weapons, shrugging off even the sharpest spears with nothing but their skin. Several more of their fellows joined them, some with thin coverings on their chest and / or waist, with a rare few wearing pieces of steel armour. Penumbra waded through the line, angels dragging ponies to the ground and out of her path. Some of the guards shouted profanities at her, calling her a "traitor," Penumbra wished she could ignore them. She could not fully, however, and so walked with her eyes as far from the pummelled guards as she could, before coming upon the final door, which Barachiel said would lead directly to Celestia. A pair of Calvus angels opened the door, only to be blasted back by a blaze of golden light, slamming into some of their fellows behind them. A second later, Penumbra grabbed Celestia with her magic, holding her slightly off of the ground, her horn tilted upwards where it could no longer reach out to attack anything. "Celestia," Penumbra said, "what are you doing?" "Saving our race, Twilight," Celestia said, half choked by Penumbra's magical vice, "Nicholas killed our planet, I won't let him enslave us." "Enslave us?" Penumbra queried, "Princess, he wouldn't enslave anybody, he's a kind, just ruler." She hadn’t even thought of that sentence - it had just come out. Celestia scoffed, "look behind you," she said, "those 'angels', do they look free to you? Or do they look like slaves? Most of them are not even given clothes, just bindings. You do not need magical sight to see that." Penumbra did turn, looking at the angels who had been thrown aside. They were being tended by their fellows, whilst others looked on at Penumbra with a mixture of hatred and fear. None dared enter the room, instead hanging by the door, swords ready. "They're not slaves," she stammered, "I know they're not." Celestia scoffed again, "of course you do," she said, forcing her head down to look Penumbra dead in the eye, with her only eye that was left, "you remember what he did to me. Do you think he has the capacity for mercy? He would happily enslave an entire species if it suited him. Do not let him corrupt you, Twilight, you're our only hope." Penumbra thought. Perhaps Celestia was right? Maybe, in spite of what he claimed, Nicholas was the enemy here? He had destroyed her planet without a second thought, killing Pinkie and millions more without a care, then used her to access the Shield World. He'd also changed her, where once she would have probably vomited at the simple thought of killing, now she could do it with ease, had done it with ease. He'd sent her on multiple suicide missions, used her to collect artefacts, access machines and kill his enemies. Now, he was using her to kill her mentor, the one pony who had been with her from the start. She relaxed her magical grip on Celestia, not enough to put her down, but enough that she could move more freely. She didn't fully release her, in part due to her still thinking, but mostly due to the angels behind her, who she was afraid would just kill her and Celestia. "He's," she stammered, trying to think of something to defend Nicholas - and by extension, herself - with, "he's going to give us a planet," she said, "somewhere where we can build a new Equestria." "To replace the old one?" Celestia asked, mockingly, "the one he burned? He could give us a thousand planets, it wouldn't replace the one he destroyed, along with millions of our people." As much as Penumbra hated to admit it, she was right. Nicholas had, maybe with good cause, but certainly without remorse, committed a genocide of immense proportions. Even the Reformisten of old Equestria could only dream of the destruction he caused. So far, only a few thousand ponies and some Changelings had survived the destruction of Equestria, with not even some of her friends being spared. Something that had angered Penumbra was that, whilst Pinkie Pie had been left to die, Chrysalis had been saved - the same Changeling who tried to take over Canterlot, ostensibly to rule in Celestia's stead, though more likely to simply kill or enslave all ponies. Worse, Chrysalis seemed to like Nicholas, even bearing him, or part of him, on the ship - her ship. "He'll kill us both if I help you," Penumbra said, trying her hardest to not immediately agree, "but, he wants me to kill you now." Celestia laughed, "I'd expected as such, he'd already heavily cracked down with his army of slaves. I didn't think it would be long before he sent his favoured liquidator." "Those heretics deserved to die," Penumbra said, "it was the right thing to do." "Heretics? The right thing to do?" Celestia interrupted, "listen to yourself! You've been inducted into a cult. What happened to Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship? My faithful student? Friendship reports have been replaced by casualty reports, peace by war. Can you not see what he's done to you?" She could see it, she knew she could see it, it was plainly obvious. Yet, she couldn’t acknowledge it. Whenever she focused on it, tried to fight it or reason with it, it vanished, placing her into a semi-blissful ignorance - if only for a second.  "You're," Penumbra stuttered, "you're right," she said at last, sighing, "but, I can't let you live. I also can't kill you." Penumbra slowly lowered Celestia, who seemed relieved when her feet touched the floor again. Penumbra looked down at her feet, unwilling to look her mentor - or, at least, former mentor - in the good eye. "You're right," Celestia said, "you can't." A sudden golden flash heralded an uppercut that knocked all of Penumbra's breath out. She collapsed to the ground, spluttering as her brain tried frantically to come up with an explanation. Eventually, her eyes came to rest on Celestia, horn and mane flaming, who lorded over her body. She couldn’t rise, nor really move any of her muscles, whatever Celestia had done to her would not be simply fixed. "Back," she roared, voice carrying far more authority and gravitas than it had before, "back you beasts!" Penumbra, reaching out with her magic, saw a pair of angels at the door. They aimed their swords at Celestia, trying to menace her into stepping back, but refused to cross the threshold of the door - not that she blamed them for that. "I'm sorry," Celestia said, less a genuine apology and more a clear attempt to save face, "I can't let you jeopardise this, Twilight. Lie back and accept it, and this will be a lot easier for the both of us." Her horn glowed again, with what Penumbra could only assume was a killing blow in mind. She was muttering something under her breath, which Penumbra couldn't quite hear. Penumbra closed her eyes, hoping that her body could withstand Celestia's attack, or at least make it painless. The attack, however, never came. There was a thud, followed by a shrieking, ethereal pop. Penumbra opened her eyes to behold Emperor Nicholas, standing over a rapidly receding portal, with Princess Celestia nowhere to be seen. He looked down at her, seeming to be contemplating whether to bring a sword down on her. Eventually, he growled, and vanished into a portal, leaving her alone in the darkened room. Penumbra's jaw quivered, with a thin film of water forming in her eye. She tried to say something, hoping Nicholas would hear, but nothing came out but a quiet, choked sob. She continued to lie on the ground, painfully aware of her failure, but worried of its consequences. "My Lord." The dryad bent its knee in supplication. "Two hundred Moons have arrived from Vehemence, they will serve you." Nicholas chuckled harshly, "what good are they? What are a billion Moons, if the one star I need is gone? Answer me that, keeper of the forest, what good are all of my keys, when the one I need for the door is missing?" The dryad was silent for a moment. "She could be turned. We could bring her to our Grove..." "No," Nicholas interrupted with a roar, "you will not lay a branch on her, nor shall anyone. My plan must be reassessed. Take us to Cuspoir, Penumbra shall have one final test of her loyalty, order for Doctor Estilius to be ready to receive us." "At once, my Lord."