//------------------------------//
// Unfaithful 
// Story: Born of Sin 
// by Unholyheaven 
//------------------------------//

	Stedson Cog always knew he was a brilliant geneticist, even if his superiors would never recognize it. He was tired of always being the Dominions lapdog, and tired of never being allowed to pursue his own works. All he did was work to create an endless supply of near worthless drones, to inflate an already near worthless population. What he wanted to do was to create true perfection. A race of ponies that were built to be perfect from the ground up. Unfortunately, the Pegasus knew that in order to pursue any goals, he would need bits and lots of them. He hated selling out his creations for monetary gain, but it would be a small sacrifice for achieving greatness.
The young stallion had arrived at the Serphentos system, a system of planets bordering Consortium and Confederate space. The system was only two planets and an asteroid belt. While technically this system was under the control of the Consortium, its close proximity to Confederate space attracted many wealthy Confederate business owners. Due to the Confederate ponies monopolization of most of that systems industry, it was no secret that the Serphentos government was always in the pockets of the wealthy Confederates.
That however is what Stedson was counting on. He could never earn his own governments blessing for the project he was attempting, his ambitions were too dangerous they claimed. For that reason, what he was doing was highly illegal. If anyone found out he was about to sell Dominion secrets, he could find himself in a prison. The Confederate noble house von Rich however was willing to take a chance on anything, so long as it benefited their bottom line. All he needed to do was deliver a good selling pitch, and at long last he could bring his work to fruition.
The Pegasus shuttle had finally arrived at a starport on the surface of Serphentos I. Of the two worlds, this one was the main population hub, as it was the only world that could naturally support life. Serphentos II was far too out of range of the suns warmth to ever support any natural life, and was mostly used as a mining world.
After landing and exiting from the cities starport, he flew across the city to a large skyscraper where he would meet his future business partner. Stedson was admittedly worried. He was a geneticist, not a business pony, and he had very little experience giving effective presentations. Perhaps that is why his ideas were never taken seriously?
As Stedson made his way up the skyscraper, he found himself in the waiting room outside of the office he was looking for. Checking his clock, he saw he was early and decided to use the bathroom. As he finished his business and began to wash his hooves, he got a good look at himself in the mirror and noticed he was a mess. His brown mane was sticking up, his purple eyes were completely bloodshot, and his yellow fur coat was drenched in sweat. Looking at his brown business suit, he could visibly see lines of sweat running down his sleeves.
“Calm down Stedson, you have got this!” he said to himself. Stedson poured some water onto his hoofs, but unfortunately the water splashed off and hit him in the groin, making it appear he had just wet himself. “Damn it! Not now!”
Stedson grabbed a paper towel and began trying to dry his suit, but then he heard a mare outside saying, “Stedson Cog, Mr. Hector von Rich is ready for you. Stedson Cog? Is there a Stedson Cog here?”
Stedson ran out of the bathroom, not noticing he had stepped on a wet paper towel which was now sticking to his rear left hoof. “I’m here!” he shouted.
The receptionist looked at the unimpressive stallion, sweat running down his suit, and paper stuck on his hoof. “Right… Mr. Hector von Rich will see you now,” she said. As he walked into the office, the mare noticed a wet spot near his groin area and began to laugh.
As he walked into the office, he saw a brown stallion, with a red mane and red eyes. The stallion was clearly far older than he was, at least in his late forties, if not mid-fifties. Stedson took a seat and began with a greeting. “Thank you so much for your time Mr. Hector. I know your time is very-”
“von Rich,” interrupted the older stallion.
“Right… Mr. von Rich. I want to talk-”
“Hector von Rich,” corrected the stallion again for the second time.
Stedson never spent much time around Confederates, and had just unintentionally insulted the stallion he was asking funding from. It was Confederate custom that when you first met a new pony, you must acknowledge their house title at least the first time you address them. Stedson realized only too late that he just insulted the stallion. All he could do now was try to continue his presentation.
“Umm… yes… of course Mr. Hector von Rich,” he said trying not to panic. “I have an exciting business proposition that I’m certain you would be very interested in.”
“I know. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,” said the older stallion. Clearly Stedson unintentional insult had put him in a bad mood. That or he was always like this. “Get to the point, what are you trying to sell?”
“Right… of course,” replied Stedson. “I’m an Imperial geneticist, and I have extensive knowledge of our cloning technology. I have also studied extensively on genetic engineering as well. I believe I can produce a higher quality stallion for use on the front lines. With my augmentations, I can increase aggression, stamina, dexterity, and strength by rewriting their genes to only use the best traits from both parents.”
“Aggression?” asked Mr. Hector.
“Yes… for better combat effectiveness. If I can increase aggression, I can remove things like hesitation, doubt and fear. Once I get the funding I need, I can create the army of the future,” assured Stedson.
“And who would pay to train, feed and house these clones?” asked Mr. Hector.
“Well… I suppose that part of the expense would be paid for by you. But don’t think of it as an expensive! Think of is an improvement of quality. By making sure the clones stay under our care through adolescence, we can start their training at a much earlier age. Everything from unarmed combat, to marksmen ship, to advanced infantry tactics,” said Stedson.
“Who will provide this genetic material?” asked Mr. Hector. "My understanding of Dominion cloning technology is that it can only be obtained from children."
“I’ve already thought of that! I’ve gone through an extensive list of soldiers who have shown exemplarity performance on the battlefield.” Stedson opens up his briefcase and reveals a picture of an orange Pegasus, along with his profile. “This is Vincent Iron Feather. He was a staff sergeant in the Dominion Marine Special Forces. His wife is currently pregnant. I’ve looked up her background, and just like her husband, she has no signs of any physical hereditary ailments. This couple’s child has the perfect genetic material for our perfect stallion. All it needs are some minor alterations.”
Mr. Hector looked through the profile momentarily and commented, "It says he was discharged for mental instability."
"He was found to be somewhat too violent. But that is exactly the trait we're looking for in our perfect stallion," replied Stedson.
“I’m not seeing how this will result in any profits,” countered Mr. Hector.
“If we can produce a strong first batch, we can present them to independent security firms. Once they demonstrate how well the clones have performed, we could start filling orders for large government armies. I’m certain they would pay well to get their hooves on soldiers this caliber,” assured Stedson.
Mr. Hector’s eyes narrowed on him, then he gave his response. “So you’re telling me you want me to fund a program, where we will take genetic material from a child whose father we know already had psychological problems. Then you want to take these already unstable foals, and genetically alter them to make them even more violent. On top of that you want these psychologically unstable colts to be trained in advanced military tactics. Finally you expect us to hold onto these killing machines, until you can find buyer. As if they’ll just sit around, waiting to be sold off to the highest bidder like a gaggle of slaves. You don’t see at all how that can blow up in your face?”
“Well anything can sound bad if you put it that way,” said Stedson.
“Get out,” demanded Mr. Hector.
“But Mr-” started Stedson.
“Get out!” repeated Mr. Hector.
Stedson got out of his seat and made his way out of the office. As he did so, a black earth pony stallion bumped into him, knocking him over. “Watch it!” shouted Stedson who was in rather bad mood at the moment. The black stallion completely ignored him and took the remaining elevator before Stedson could get up, forcing him to wait for the next one. Stedson got back up and noticed he had a small cut on his leg all of a sudden. “Clumsy idiot,” he muttered as he waited for the elevator. Eventually he made his way out of the building, back into the streets.
He couldn’t believe. Another near sighted fool who couldn’t see just how brilliant an idea he was sitting on. The old grouch is probably just upset I didn’t get his name right the first time, he thought to himself. There were other wealthy investors on this world. At least one of them had to have the vision necessary to see just how great an opportunity this was. It’s not every day an Imperial geneticist with extensive knowledge on Dominion cloning technology comes along.
As he made his way out of the building, he started feeling very weak for some reason. Apparently that disaster of an interview had taken quite the toll on him. Stedson was planning on flying back to the starpart, but he wasn't feeling up for it anymore. Fortunately a taxi was driving by and stopped in front of him. Feeling exhausted, he didn’t question it and stepped inside. “Get me… to the starport…” he said, sweating heavily.
“No problem,” said the driver. “So, where are you heading?”
“One of the other cities… wow… it sure gets hot on this world,” commented Stedson.
The taxi driver asked, “Not from this world huh? What brings you here?”
“Finding investors,” replied Stedson. “Got some ideas to sell.”
The taxi turned into a mostly empty underground parking lot. As they entered the lot, the gate started to close. “What are we doing here?" questioned Stedson. "I said… go to the starport.”
“By ideas to sell, I take you mean you want to sell technology that isn't yours right? I don’t suppose you were planning on handing over top secret Dominion cloning technology to the highest bidder were you?” asked the taxi driver.
Stedsons eyes widened when the taxi driver said that. He quickly opened up the door and tried to make a run for the gate, but it had already closed. He turned around to see the taxi driver was that same black stallion from earlier that had knocked him over and forced him to miss the elevator. He was standing on two hoofs, wearing a set of precision gloves over his forward hooves, which acted as a set of robotic hands.
“Who are you?!” asked Stedson.
The pony pulled a bat out of the taxi and started to approach him. Stedson tried to run, but for some reason his legs didn’t want to cooperate, and he tripped after only a few steps. “That’s the drugs kicking in,” said the black stallion. “That little cut you got when I bumped into wasn’t on accident you know?”
As Stedson tried to crawl away, the black stallion smashed the bat into his back, snapping his left wing. Stedson screamed in agony as he felt the bone snap. “I’m with Dominion Intelligence by the way,” he said as he swung a second time near the same spot. “I know I know, a lot of people think we’re just thugs,” he continued before swinging a third time, further breaking Stedson’s already crippled left wing. “But really there is more to it than that. After all, someone has to keep scum like you from selling out the Dominion.” Again he swung, and again the wing snapped in another position.
“Please… I’m sorry… just stop!” begged Stedson.
“I will I will. But first I need to make sure you remember what happens you commit treason,” replied the stallion before taking another swing. “There we go! I have a feeling that wing is never going to flap again,” proclaimed the stallion with a smile.
Stedson was breathing heavily as he rived in agony. Tears were forming on his eyes, mostly from the pain of his crippled wing, but somewhat also from knowing he will probably never fly again. “Please… I’m sorry,” was all he could say.
The black stallion grabbed him by his crippled wing and pulled him over to another car in the parking lot. He opened the trunk to reveal some rope and a gag.
“What are you doing?” asked the terrified Stedson.
“By the way. I’m Happy Day. Laugh at my name and I’ll smash your other wing too,” he threatened.
“Please… no. Just let me go, I won’t do it again I promise!” begged Stedson.
Happy showed no remorse. He delivered a blow to Stedson’s head, then began to bound and gag him. “We aren’t done just yet. Can’t let traitors off with something as simple as a maimed wing now can we?” asked Happy.
Stedson didn’t reply. The room was spinning at the moment, and everything was blurry. He felt Happy picking him up and stuffing him into the trunk of the new vehicle.
“I think you may have suffered a concussion. Try not to be stay unconscious for too long. It’s really bad for you,” said Happy as he closed the trunk.