Final Solution

by Luna-tic Scientist


02 - Tested to Destruction

Days of Wasp and Spider, Part II: Final Solution
by Luna-tic Scientist

=== Chapter 02: Tested to Destruction ===


Plasma Cascade stirred, opening her eyes and staring out at the bright monochrome of the predawn corral. Stark shadows cut the individual shelter canopies with the grasping claws of tree shadows, the air still and silent at this early hour. She inhaled deeply and let the air out in a silent sigh, watching as her breath puffed out in a silver cloud. Beside her the dark bulk of her mate, Helium Flash, twitched and shifted, one leg waving gently under the influence of a dream.

Where are you? she thought. Will you be coming home to me? The unexpected return of Fusion and Gravity, when all of the other ponies were still being detained, had been a mixed blessing. A joy to see them at all -- and with her labour tattoo, assured a productive place in the Master's service -- but tempered by the injuries to both of them. I hope they can fix Fusion's eye, the mare thought, although after all this time it seemed unlikely. She'd had a quiet word with Spiral, but the veterinarian had been vague, something that Plasma assumed wasn't good news.

Then they had disappeared again.

"The Masters are the paws of the Maker," Plasma mouthed, the familiar and comforting litany rolling silently off her tongue. We are here to serve the Masters; if they will it, I will see them again. Tears pricked at her eyes, making the trees swim and ripple.

As with the first time her daughters had failed to return home, there had been stories of some disaster filtering through the informal network of ponies whose jobs took them into contact with others of their kind. Stratus, one of the weather team ponies who had been working near that branch of the Institute, had caught a glimpse of it. An explosion, followed by a plume of dust, then a strange fluctuation in his flying power. Something had affected the operation of magic around the wrecked facility, badly enough that their storm system had broken free and dumped a hoof-depth of water down one of the transit hub access shafts.

Stratus had spoken in hushed tones about what he'd seen with his shadow sight; two beams of strange magic, each coming from an odd-looking aircraft, had converged on the site. Where they met had been nothing but darkness, a void so profound that it had been painful to look at. After that, the team had been ordered out of the area, but he'd seen large arrowhead shaped aircraft settle around the entrance shaft.

It doesn't sound like an accident, she thought. Normally the first response to a disaster came from the local ponies streaming in to make sure no Masters had been injured, but to actually be ordered away was very strange. And those vehicles sound like ones the military use.

There was a sudden deadness to the air, like all the taste had gone out of the world. Plasma lifted her head in confusion, just in time to see something flit past the opening to the family shelter. Low slung, it moved on all fours with mismatched front and rear legs; a pony-sized, but not pony-shaped, silhouette. She reached for her magic, formed the right patterns, but nothing happened.

Her gasp awoke Helium, and her mate looked blearily at her for a second, rearing back at the look of panic on her face. "My magic is gone," she whispered, "there's nothing there." She shook her head, then brought her wings forward to rub at the sides of her horn. I must find Spiral, I can't be useless! Panic sang through her veins, and Plasma levered herself upright, woodchips spraying from her hooves as she kicked straight into a canter.

Behind her, Helium did the same, flaring his wings and leaping off the ground to catch up with his panicking mate -- an act that failed utterly when his wings didn't bite the air like they should. The stallion stumbled, forelegs giving way to send him rolling on the grass. His shocked whinny cut the air, startlingly loud in the predawn quiet, and halted Plasma's panicked flight. The mare glanced back, just in time to see a pair of dark shapes leap out of a gap between two shelters and pin Helium to the grass. There was another whinny, this one cutting off with a choked gasp.

Plasma wheeled and lowered her head, charging the struggling group. She'd barely gone two paces before something dark and bulky exploded out of the grass, wrapping hard claws around her throat. The impact threw Plasma off balance and she tumbled, hitting the ground shoulder first and ending up on her side. The figure expertly rode her to the ground, ending up lying across her, its full weight on her flank.

The mare kicked out, struggling to inhale with her attacker's bulk compressing her chest, but the figure easily avoided her efforts. A set of talons curled around her muzzle, pulling her head between her forelegs and preventing anything more than a frightened whimper.

"Remain still," a scratchy voice hissed.

The rank smell of carnivore breath filled Plasma's nostrils. Her eye was drawn to the glint of moonlight off the razor edges of a hooked beak, and the mare's gaze travelled up the hard edges to the creature's face. It had no eyes, just an asymmetric arrangement of dark lenses spread across an otherwise smooth expanse of matte-grey scales. Muscle bunched under the armour as it shifted its hindquarters, taking some of the weight off Plasma's chest and allowing her to breathe.

A second creature joined the first, its talons roughly lifting her head to loop a metal collar about her neck and slide a ring over her horn. This done, it tapped a control, causing a panel to glow on its chest. An abstract representation of a Master's eye in silver, surrounded by the curls and loops of the symbol of command. Plasma froze, mind catching up with panicking body. From all around she could hear thumps and squeals, the whinnies of frightened ponies and a curious intermittent crackle, like a high voltage short circuit.

"You are under arrest by Hive Security."

===

"We need to plan," Fusion said. Lilac had spent four kiloseconds doing something to her bones and chest; Gravity had been right, the stallion was very good at this subset of thaumic medicine. There were no little twinges when she breathed, no pain when she stretched her wings or legs. It's like I was never hurt. Even the fur on the side of her head had been regrown. Shame he wasn't able to fix my eye.

The three ponies lay in a triangle, heads towards the centre. While Lilac had been busy with her, Gravity had worked on their little camp. Timber taken from scattered places around the valley walls had been rammed into the ground to form an open sided room half buried in the hillside. It was large enough to hold all three in comfort, along with all the bits of gear Gravity had scavenged from the Security troops, and gave them several body lengths of earth to protect against prying infra-red eyes. The tree canopy overhead completed the camouflage; from the air the place looked like any one of a thousand patches of forest.

"Gravity, do you know what happened when you teleported us? I couldn't see any problems with the pattern, but there's no way we can risk a return jump."

"I do. Schoolfilly error, really. Momentum must be conserved during the jump, I mean, how could it be any other way? You come out the other end at the same speed you went in."

Fusion's brow furrowed, then she realised what Gravity was saying and shivered. "If our destination had been at ground level..."

"Exactly. Smashed through the trees at a third the speed of sound." Gravity saw the mounting confusion on Lilac's face and nodded. "Think about the world, it's a spinning sphere, yes? We've moved several thousand kilolengths north, so our velocity has changed because of the difference in rotational path length." The stallion nodded slowly in return and Gravity turned her attention back to Fusion. "Anything up to a kilolength a second, and the vector will depend on the start and end points."

"I can't see any way to get around that," Fusion said, working through the pattern in her mind. "Short jumps, then. How far?"

"If you are jumping into a confined space..." Gravity gazed up at the rough bark of the logs forming the ceiling, eyes distant. "It could be as little as ten kilolengths. More if you are in the air... the higher the better."

"That little?" Fusion grimaced. "It's barely worth the effort; we'd be better off flying."

"For long distances, yes. We're going to have to fly back to the corral anyway. This is your spell, you should do some tests, see what else we can make it do."

Fusion nodded. Despite the drawbacks of the teleportation spell, it would be of tremendous value in the coming days. Gravity had shared her short-lived fight against the Security forces back at the Institute, an experience Fusion had found both horrifying and immensely useful. Fusion could feel Gravity's emotions as the battle had progressed, but they were far more distant things than she’d expected, like the blue mare was trying to be as objective as possible.

Of some concern was that the replayed fight was also not complete; Gravity had only shown her the actual combat... and there were some worrying gaps in that. She had asked Gravity about that, but the blue mare became silent, changing the subject when she pressed further. Later, we must talk about this. There were things she needed to talk about that only Gravity would understand; the terror of being helpless while another fought the battles she had intended to fight, the joy at their success.

"Fusion?" Gravity said, knocking one hoof against the floor to attract her sister's attention.

Fusion blinked, then cleared her throat. "Sorry. Yes, I have a few ideas already. I'd also like to watch you teleport, see what an external observer can get from the event."

"I can help there," Lilac said, "most of what the Masters have me do involves picking apart spell patterns while they measure my responses."

"Perfect. Since you don't know the spell, that will be a good test."

"This is all very well, but what do we do next? We can't fight a whole world with just the three of us. The Blessing is very hard to overcome; about all we can guarantee is that everypony we free will react very badly indeed." Lilac's ears folded back and he lowered his head to stare at his hooves; Gravity stroked his back with one wing, giving the stallion a reassuring smile when he looked in her direction. "Fusion, you said you had a plan. Let's hear it."

The white mare smiled wanly. I wouldn't go as far as call it anything as grand as a 'plan', she thought. "We need more ponies, and a place to put them that's out of the Master's reach. There's strength in numbers, but I'm sure they won't hesitate to use everything they have against us. It's hard to think this way, and I'm trying not to imagine that all of Security is like Salrath, but... I think we need to rescue friends and family, anypony who could be used against us."

"You saw the same things I did on that military base, and I know how much stuff they have in orbit... I don't think there is anywhere like that. We will have to hide in places like this," Gravity said. "Hiding three of us should be manageable, but more... and what would we eat? At the moment, all this gets us is a safe place to starve." The blue mare twitched, looking guilty. "Sorry, Lilac."

"How do you feel?" Fusion said. "The medic said he'd fixed as much as he could in the time. Now we've got some peace... can you heal yourself?"

"Hungry. I can fix muscle and skin that's been cut, but there are bits of me that are just gone." Tears started to glitter at the corners of Lilac's eyes as he spoke. "I don't know how."

"Then that gives us a very definite thing we need to do first." Fusion nodded firmly. Too many choices are worse than none, she thought. To have a sharply defined problem is a relief.

"We'll never get him in to see a veterinarian, and if we snatch one there will be a search, especially after they think we're dead. Not to mention we'd be leaving a corral without a medic."

The conversation went around and around while Celestia slowly sank towards the hills. Gradually the plan for the next few days took shape, the few definite immediate actions branching out into a tree-like maze of options and fall-back plans. For the last few kiloseconds Lilac had started to drift off, lulled by the gentle cadence of the two mare's voices.

"That's enough!" Gravity hissed, flaring her wings to interrupt Fusion's obsessive planning. "Time to get some rest; you've got an early start tomorrow. Anyway, it's not like any of these ideas will matter -- there's bound to be something the Masters will do that we can't predict."

But what about-- Fusion sighed, looking up at the roof beams. "Fine." Conjuring a dim ball of light and setting it floating next to the ceiling, she started to pull together their bedding material, her mind wandering and going back to her earlier thoughts. "I don't want to call them 'Master' any more. It gives them too much power over us."

Gravity paused, looking up with interest. "Oh, what did you have in mind?"

"They look like doggies, funny doggies balanced on their hind legs," Lilac said drowsily. "I had one in my lab for a while."

Both mares looked down at the youngster, who'd already drifted back to sleep, then at each other. Gravity shrugged. "Works for me."

Fusion yawned, settling down onto her bed of pine boughs. "Dogs it is then."

===

"Prepare for transition to plasma drive."

Agent Salrath gritted her teeth as the airtruck lurched and seemed to bounce in the air. Twin lances of pain stabbed up from her hips, the partly healed joints complaining mightily. Her comms bracer gave a mournful tweet, announcing the failure of its thaumic components and switching to its far more restricted electronics only mode. She tasted the air, expecting to be able to feel something, but apart from the instruments there was nothing to suggest they'd just flown into an Arclight thaumic interdiction zone.

There was another bounce, this one caught Salrath by surprise and she gasped involuntarily. Her pilot, a Captain Rthar, glanced sideways, no expression on his face. "This one is sorry," he said, "unexpected turbulence." His tone was flat and disinterested, and wasn't apologetic at all.

The Agent squirmed against her harness, trying to get comfortable in the bucket seat. The couch was a good one, but her muscles didn't seem to be attached to her bones in quite the same way as before. Every movement added to the pain, so Salrath gave up, thoughts turning to the Captain. What little she'd been able to learn was fascinating. Rthar had been the leader of her abortive rescue, failing so catastrophically that Security had detailed him to this mission, rather than reassigning him to another reaction team.

Others were more at fault, she thought, but that's what you get for being the only survivor. There was another thump and Salrath winced again, this time hiding a grin. Very petty, Rthar, she thought. "Captain, this one has just come out of surgery. If she realised that you were so out of practice, she'd have walked. It would be a pity to undo all of the Sector Chief's private servitor's work."

Rthar grunted something indistinct and probably insulting, but the ride smoothed out. "The gryphon teams are in position, ready to begin... arresting... the servitors." He hesitated over the word, as if it really didn't fit in the sentence. "Does the Agent have any specific requirements? Her plan was a little short on detail."

"This one will test their loyalty while the Blessing has been suppressed by Arclight. This will initially be by close questioning, after which the interdiction will be lifted and technicians will examine every servitor with thaumic scanners."

"Close questioning," Rthar said slowly, twisting his seat to face Salrath. "Rthar has read about the Agent's field expedient loyalty tests. That didn't work so well last time."

Salrath scowled back at the Captain. "That pony had almost a whole megasecond to come to terms with the loss of its Blessing, while being kept under conditions that allowed it to question its place in the world. At most these have had only a hundred kiloseconds. It is not the same at all."

"As the Agent says; she is in command," Rthar said with a shrug, distaste wrinkling his muzzle. His attention snapped back to the main display, currently showing a thermal infrared plot of the corral; a quadrupedal blob had just ran out from under one of the shelters. Rthar's paw came down on the tactical orders pad, releasing the gryphon troops. More shapes, these only really visible as distortions against the background heat of the ground, exploded into motion and converged on every servitor.

"There appears to be some fighting," Salrath said. "How interesting." She could feel her pulse quicken at the anticipation of what was to come. "This one will have to make very sure there are no latent rebellious tendencies among the servitors." She grinned at Rthar, her smile growing wider at the flash of anger that crossed his muzzle.

"The Agent better hope the pony really is dead and buried at the bottom of the Institute... Rthar saw what happened after his servitor herd was euthanized as a precaution. It killed most of the expeditionary force in retaliation, and it didn't even know those ponies. What does Salrath think will happen if she harms its kin?"

Salrath raised an eyebrow. "This one is not afraid of ghosts, Captain Rthar."

"Rthar is afraid enough for both," he muttered, turning back to the flight controls.

The airtruck dipped as he shut off the autopilot, spiralling down to land at the edge of the corral. Arranged in front of the landing pad was a technicolour herd of servitors, each wearing one of the standard suppression collars and looking very nervous. Around them was a semi-circle of gryphon troops, hard to see in their adaptive camouflage. Salrath ran a claw over the remote control in her pocket. One touch and this one will have their full attention, she thought, her smile returning.

The blue-white plasma glare faded and Salrath carefully levered herself out of the airtruck's co-pilot couch, wincing at the spikes of pain that stabbed through ankles, knees and pelvis. When this is over, Salrath is going straight back to hospital, she thought, taking a deep breath to steady herself, then hissing as her lower back complained. One paw resting against the airtruck's warm hull, she glowered at the herd of servitors. The wind changed and the air was filled with the odour of so many ponies in a single space, a curious mix of flowers and growing things, coupled with the underlying rankness of fear.

All eyes were on her, and more than one pony took an unconscious step backwards. Salrath's eyes narrowed. "All servitors will lie down in an orderly fashion." She drummed her claws impatiently on the airtruck, shifting her weight from leg to leg in an effort to relieve the pain in her hips. In a remarkably short time the whole herd, over two hundred individuals, including some very young foals still clinging to their parents, had arranged itself into a neat rectangle.

She'd intended to stride through the herd, looking for any servitor that didn't show complete acquiescence to her will, but the first step brought her back to reality. The long airtruck ride had stiffened her muscles to the point of clumsiness and she nearly fell. For a moment she hated them, hated the fact that she was being made to look weak in front of the gryphon troopers.

Breathing heavily, Salrath reached into her equipment harness and withdrew her baton, flicking the weighted rod so it expanded to four times its normal length. The ponies flinched at the sound of sliding metal, glancing uncertainly at their nearest neighbours. Salrath ignored them, leaning on the expanded baton like it was a cane and limping forward to stand in front of the herd.

"This corral sheltered a traitor to the Hive." Salrath said, her voice soft enough that every ear was twisted in her direction. "None of these ponies reported anything amiss, so this one is investigating why." A gasp rippled through the herd, shock and confusion on every face. She stepped forward, then raised the baton and swept it over the ponies like it was a rifle. As it passed, individuals flinched away, naked fear in their eyes. Salrath doesn't think this has been tried before, she thought, curling her lips in a sudden, toothy, smile. The suppressor has neutralised their Blessing and rendered them powerless... this one needs to find an example.

Salrath lowered the baton again and clumsily worked the manual controls on her comms bracer. With the thaumic systems off line it had lost all of its predictive smarts and displays, restricting her to the little touch screen on its inner surface. The silence lengthened, but the only noise came from Rthar, pacing impatiently behind the gryphons. Salrath found what she'd been looking for, then glanced up to meet the Captain's frustrated gaze. Her smile returned, then she turned back to the herd.

"The ponies Plasma Cascade TQ0903 and Helium Flash TK2168 will identify themselves."

Two wings, one cream, the other turquoise, were hesitantly raised. Every other pony turned to look at the pair, who seemed to shrink under the attention. A murmur of sound, a tiny whisper of disbelief that was little more than a startled intake of breath, flowed through the herd. Salrath suppressed a savage grin and schooled her expression into one of sternness, then started to limp towards the ponies. It seemed to take an age, and with every dragged step the ponies looked increasingly fearful.

Plasma and Helium were transfixed by the Agent's approach; eyes wide and ears folded fully back, they kept perfectly still, not daring to move. Helium managed to break eye contact for long enough to lower his head in a jerky bow, but Plasma stared at the Master like a rabbit paralysed by an approaching snake. Salrath stared back, frown deepening, until Helium jabbed Plasma in the side with one wing elbow, breaking the spell.

"Y-yes, Master, how may I be of service?" Plasma stammered, cream coat starting to darken with sweat.

"You may address this one as Agent Salrath." Salrath's muzzle split in a nasty grin at the sudden flash of recognition in the two ponies' eyes. So, this one's reputation precedes her, she thought, Salrath wonders what the servitors have heard. "The Agent understands that the ponies spent at least two evenings in the company with their offspring within the last megasecond. Is that correct?"

Plasma's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Helium rolled sideways to lean against his mate, then answered for her. "Yes, Agent. Fusion and Gravity have spent most nights at our shelter during this megasecond. The only times they have been absent were after the training centre..." The stallion hunted for the right word, desperately scanning Salrath's face for some clue as to what she wanted to hear. "...accident, and these last two nights. Do--" A look of panic crossed his face and his mouth closed with an audible click.

"Did the ponies not notice any change in their behaviour?" Salrath's tone turned dangerous, and the phrase was closer to an accusation than a question.

Plasma's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Agent, my daughter, F-Fusion, has been withdrawn ever since her accident. It got worse after she lost her eye, I was so glad she came back at all that I--"

"We," Helium said firmly.

Plasma nodded gratefully at her mate. "--we put it down to a fear of not being useful any longer. Spiral Fracture told us that Fusion had been considering reporting for euthanization because of this, but I thought that would--"

"Spiral Fracture?"

"The corral veterinarian, Agent Salrath. I don't know her client number." Plasma shrank under Salrath's disapproving gaze. "Sorry, Master."

"Agent Salrath, I am Spiral Fracture," a green mare said in a neutral tone that didn't quite cover the tremor in her voice. Salrath looked towards the servitor, then started to walk in its direction, only to stop when Plasma spoke again.

"Master? What... what has happened to my daughters? Please?"

The words came out in a rush, and Salrath slowly turned to face the cream pony. The desperation on Plasma's face did something inside her chest, and the Agent's muzzle split into a toothy grin. Her paw tightened around the baton and she adjusted her balance. This pair are the most likely to have been tampered with, Salrath thought, perhaps this one is justified in carrying this test a little further... for the good of the Hive, obviously. Her heart beat a little faster and her breath quickened, senses sharpening almost unbearably as she savoured the mix of hope and dread that radiated from the servitor. Who knew the client species could provide so much satisfaction?

"This pony's offspring killed or maimed sixteen of the People and over fifty gryphons. Their bodies are buried under ten thousand tonnes of rubble."

A sudden in drawing of breath rippled away from the Agent, every pony in earshot shying away from Plasma and Helium. The cream mare looked confused, as if Salrath's words had been spoken in an alien language, then understanding hit her and she surged to her hooves, wings flaring. "No! I don't believe yo--"

Salrath whipped her baton up in a fast arc that struck the side of Plasma's head with the sickening thud of metal on flesh, then brought it down as hard as she could on the pony's nearside wing. The dry twig crackle of breaking bone was loud in the sudden silence. Plasma staggered, but remained standing, pain and confusion in her eyes. "The pony was ordered to remain on the ground!" the Agent shouted, punctuating each word with another blow to the mare's wing. Despite the anger in her words, Salrath didn't lash out blindly, but aimed her strikes with care, working from joint to bone to joint, from wingtip to root. Plasma fell shrieking to the ground, but the attack continued, reducing the delicate sweep of feathers to a mangled mess of blood and shattered bones.

A hard paw gripped Salrath's wrist as she raised the baton again, the sudden cessation of motion sending jagged bolts of pain down her arm. She snarled, but the paw just squeezed hard enough to make her bones creak. "That is enough, Agent Salrath!" Rthar snapped.

Salrath dropped the weapon, breathing heavily. "This one was given a free paw to conduct this operation how she saw fit. Do not interfere!"

Rthar's muzzle wrinkled, exposing large canine teeth. "Rthar has heard about the Agent's methods, remember? Exactly what good will it do if this servitor dies of shock before it can be tested?" he said, gesturing to the mare.

Salrath relaxed and Rthar let her go. "True loyalty can only be judged when a servitor isn't under the influence of the Blessing," she said, suddenly completely calm. "The pony disobeyed a direct order, indicating it was a potential threat to the Hive, if it has been tampered with." The Agent bent down and picked up her baton, once again using it as a cane, leaning on it heavily while looking down at the mare with a hungry look on her face. Plasma's piercing screams had died away, replaced by a keening whimper. The quiet sounds did something visceral to the Agent, bringing forth an urge to strike the pony again and again, just to see what would happen. The hunger was almost unbearable and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly full of saliva.

"Medic, get over here!" Rathar shouted, stepping between the Agent and her victim.

Beside his booted paws, Helium, frozen in shock at the sudden assault, started to move, crawling forwards to cradle his mate's head between his hooves. One wing came up, feathers stroking down the side of Plasma's head, trying to brush her mane out of her eyes. The mare calmed slightly and tried to talk, but the words came out mangled and near unintelligible, distorted by pain and her broken jaw. "P-please forgive, I meant no har--" Her voice cut off with a gasp as some slight involuntary movement jostled her wing.

Salrath said nothing, just looked disappointed, then swallowed again and switched her gaze to the stallion. Helium looked back with hopeless eyes, mouth working. "I'm sorry, Master, the stress has been terrible. It won't happen again."

"The Eugenics Board will see to that!" Salrath snarled, turning away and heading back towards the airtruck. This one was certain that these servitors would have been affected, what was the pony doing all that time? she thought, her limp growing more pronounced with each step. With the adrenalin and euphoria fading from her system, the pain from her joints and bones was growing steadily worse, rapidly outstripping the capacity of the painkillers she'd been given.

One of the gryphon troopers bounded over, knocking over several ponies in his haste to obey, skidding to a halt in the now clear area surrounding Plasma. With the sure touch of one trained in the brutal injuries produced by modern weapons, he deftly anesthetised the wing, encasing it in a gel sleeve designed to prevent any deterioration while a patient was rushed from the battlefront. Plasma's whimpers died away, leaving her huddled against her mate; the stallion continued to stroke her head and neck, but his movements had become almost mechanical, like he'd already seen his mare go the infirmary that final time.

A bleep from Salrath's comms bracer announced the end of this phase of the operation, and the Agent absently tapped the acknowledge command. An instant later her bracer abruptly lit up, its thaumic systems able to function once more. Off in the distance was the howling of engines, then another airtruck touched down next to her own. The rear doors opened, disgorging half a dozen of the People, all in the uniform of the Eugenics Board.

Large packing crates, battered black things bearing all the hallmarks of extended and hard use, were pulled out, opened, and their contents laid on the grass. With the speed of long practice, the technicians quickly assembled the parts, a mixture of spindly armatures and heavy looking blocks of complex equipment, into an insectile framework large enough to hold a servitor. The final components, a pair of flat, crystal encrusted plates, were clipped to the ends of articulated arms, then a tech placed a tripod mounted metal ball between them and stepped back.

The completed machine was wired to a portable control deck with a slim bundle of fibre optics; other cables snaked across the grass and vanished into the belly of the airtruck. A few hundred seconds later the plates glowed and the control deck's displays lit up. "The scanner is ready, Agent," one of the techs said nervously to a bored-looking Salrath, while retrieving the tripod and placing it back in a crate.

First under the machine was a dazed and staggering Plasma, supported by Helium on one side and the gryphon medic on the other. The mare was almost unconscious from the drugs she'd been given and obviously had no idea of where she was. It took three tries to get a clean reading; in the end one of the techs was forced to hold her head still. He didn't appear to notice Plasma's attempts to nibble at the fur on his forearm; all his attention was captured by the translucent sleeve over her wing and the half-seen shapes within.

Finally, the Person running the scanner, a tired looking female with rich, chocolate fur, raised a paw and waved Plasma forward. "The pony is clean," she said, then jumped when Salrath leaned heavily against the back of her chair.

"Show this one," she said, her eyes fixed on the multicoloured display.

The tech swallowed heavily, glancing at the injured servitor. "Yes, Agent. This is a model of the magical activity inside the servitor's skull." She waved a trembling paw through the display volume, claws passing through the ghost-like image. "Grey represents physical objects, the pony's flesh and bone. Colours are magical activity; the system is able to recognise certain--"

Salrath made a cutting gesture with the baton and the tech's mouth closed with a snap. "Show this one what's important."

"S-sorry, Agent," she said, her attention captured by the black metal rod. Her voice dropped to a whisper while she manipulated the display to highlight a fine web of strands that spread through the mare's brain like fungal hyphae. "This is the Blessing. It only takes a few hundred seconds to reform after the suppression effect is removed, so the spell is almost complete already."

Salrath nodded. "Interesting." The Agent paused, looking at the female speculatively. This one is on loan from the Eugenics Board, she might know about these things, she thought, a slight smile gracing her lips as the tech became increasingly nervous under her scrutiny. "What is the technician's name?"

The female's ears folded back and she swallowed. "This one is Analyst Nalka, Agent," she said, her voice now so faint as to be scarcely audible.

"How would Nalka remove the Blessing, if she wanted to?" Salrath said softly, holding the Analyst's gaze.

"Such a thing would be highly illegal, this one would never--"

"Hypothetically."

Nalka slumped. "Disruption to the horn matrix surrounding the binding site would prevent the pattern from reforming. The spell pattern would decay without triggering the fail-safe. It was never designed..." The Analyst tailed off as it became apparent that Salrath wasn't listening. "May this one continue with the testing?" she said hesitantly.

Salrath waved her paw absently. "Proceed. How easy would this be to do? Would a servitor be able to do this reliably?" These were all very obvious question, things she'd considered within the first few seconds of the Sector Chief starting his briefing. She'd asked, but Orgon had been evasive and vague; the information was also missing from the formal mission packet. Someone must have asked these questions already, and they didn't like the answers. If this is obvious to Salrath, then anybody with a passing knowledge of the conditioning magic will be able to figure it out. The other Eugenics Board staff started to process the herd of servitors; as everypony was eager to help and escape the presence of Salrath, the measurements only took moments. The instrument had already been setup and, as each pony was scanned, a green border flashed around the display cube to show it was within specification.

"It is very hard to be sure; the experiment has never been carried out as far as this one knows. If the World Court even got a hint that such research was being conducted..." Nalka said weakly.

"The Analyst obviously has a high security clearance, otherwise she would not be here," Salrath said smoothly, "perhaps she could use her expertise to estimate what the results might be of such a dangerous line of experimentation?"

Nalka glanced up at the night sky and the slim crescent of Luna, averting her gaze like someone noticing a surveillance camera for the first time. "Any decent lab equipped with a thaumic imager could do it. It... it is also well within the capability of every servitor of labour age, and would take only moments."

Salrath blinked, momentarily surprised, then smiled slightly. The panic in the Eugenics Board must be something to behold, she thought, then her smile faded. Not a difficult operation at all, then. Salrath had assumed that it would at least take a reasonable amount of time... All that would slow the spread of freed servitors was the longer term psychological effects of the Blessing. Given enough time to think, especially under stressful situations, and any servitor would become a problem. If Salrath hadn't been suspicious, we might never have known until too late.

Her comms bracer pinged quietly and she hit the accept key, listening intently to a report from one of the gryphon troopers. Interesting, she thought, then limped over to where Rthar was in conference with another gryphon. "Salrath wants to know about this other servitor," she demanded, interrupting the NCO, a hulking gryphoness who stepped back in deference, even as her talons clenched in annoyance.

Rthar stared at her for a moment, claws drumming against his thigh. "One of the perimeter teams was approached by a pony that was apparently living in an improvised shelter inside an orchard. It has no communicator and is not registered on the labournet."

"This one wants it tested, immediately," Salrath said, excitement making her ears flick forwards.

"It is being done," Rthar said, pointing tiredly at a golden yellow stallion being escorted by a pair of gryphons.

Salrath strode back to the testing station as fast as she could, narrowing her eyes when she saw the creature. Its mane and tail were a little messier than the other servitors, but its head was held erect and it walked with a high, almost proud gait. It looks... happy, she thought, something so unexpected that she was momentarily at a loss for words. "The pony will identify itself," she said, after it had bowed deeply to her.

"I am Slipstream HQ5012, Master. What--" Here it paused, almost seeming to savour the words. "--are your orders?" The pony's large eyes glistened slightly, filling with unshed tears.

"This one has no record of the pony's presence at this corral. What was it doing in the orchard, and why isn't it at its duty station?" Salrath said slowly, trying to get to grips with the novelty of a servitor being pleased to see her. She tapped Nalka on the shoulder and pointed at her console.

Slipstream lowered his head and shuffled his hooves. "I am not on active duty, Master. I help the best I can, by taking some of the duties from the others."

"Like?" The Agent leaned forward, interested despite herself. This is what a servitor does when not given any orders.

"Basic maintenance, refilling individual food stores." Slip's head came up and he gazed fixedly at a point over Salrath's shoulder. "It's not much, but I hope to give the able-bodied ponies more time and energy to divert to their duties."

It sounds loyal, Salrath thought, then looked down when Nalka hesitantly tapped on her arm. The Analyst pointed at a screen containing the file information for the servitor. An exemplary record, then removed from labournet half a gigasecond ago after an accident left it almost magicless.

"It is not unknown, or even very rare; there are normally a few attached to each corral. The Board does not require the termination of irreparable servitors. Eventually they report for euthanization; the Blessing drives them to it if they don't see a use for themselves." Nalka’s tone was hushed, like she was in the presence of a Person on her death-bed. "This one has never examined one before."

Loss of magic, eh? Salrath already knew what she'd find, and she smiled slightly. "Now the Analyst will get her chance." The Agent raised her voice, looking over the growing herd of cleared ponies. "Pony Spiral Fracture, come here."

A green mare with a tightly plaited white mane and tail pushed her way out of the crowd and trotted over. Her suppression collar had already been removed, and she was being trailed by Plasma. The injured mare was being supported by Spiral's telekinesis, her legs moving like they were attached to invisible cables, even while her head bobbed and weaved as if her mind were controlling it from very far away. The gel sleeve still covered her wing, but Spiral had already started to shift and move the jigsaw of bone fragments. "Yes, Master, what are your orders?" she said with a voice drained of all emotion.

Salrath smiled tightly at the mare; despite her tone, Spiral's face spoke of great emotion held in check. Little tremors ran over her skin, like she was afflicted by a swarm of irritating flies. "The pony will collect its general medical kit." Spiral's gaze flicked to Slipstream, still standing proudly next to the analysis machine and obviously delighted to be near a Master once more, and her ears folded back.

"Yes, Master. The kit is in the infirmary; may I take Plasma with me?"

"The pony may. Be quick."

Spiral nodded a quick bow, then wheeled and jumped into the air, pulling Plasma up after her in a cocoon of magic. Salrath turned to Slipstream and smiled. The pony had completely missed any of the by-play between herself and the veterinarian, and still had that stupid happy expression on its face. "The pony will stand in the instrument and remain still while it is tested." The Agent gestured to the patch of ground next to the scanner, the gravel already churned up by many sets of hooves.

"Yes, Master." Slipstream trotted smartly to the indicated spot, holding his head against the scanner plate. Little pulses of light illuminated his golden fur, turning it odd shades of crimson and green. There was a long pause, much longer than with any of the other ponies.

"Well?" Salrath demanded, limping over to the console.

Nalka absently chewed at one set of claws, her other paw tracing patterns through the translucent volume of the scanner's holographic display. "Fascinating," she breathed, "this one has never seen anything…" She suddenly became conscious of the looming presence of Salrath, pulling her paw away from her mouth and calling up one of the previously recorded scans as a comparison. "Agent, there is no sign of the Blessing in this servitor; looking at the map of its horn that comes as no surprise. Damage to the horn bed was too extensive for thaumic medicine to be worth-while." The slender spiral shaft was shot through with darkness, the vast majority of the semi-crystalline material magically inactive.

Salrath nodded, a slight smile drawing her lips away from her teeth. She straightened, turning to watch as Spiral flew in, a pair of large panniers strapped across her withers.

===

Spiral's mind was in a whirl, wondering what she could do to save Slip's life. The thoughts went around and around, dangerously close to territory the Maker disapproved of. Little flashes of pain accompanied each cycle, acknowledgement that what she wanted almost certainly would be contrary to the Master's wishes. The only thing that saved her from the paralysing agony of fugue was that, as a veterinarian, it was her duty to make sure that the Master had all the facts before reaching her decision.

Is there anything that will convince her? Doubt welled up inside Spiral; she'd seen many Masters faced with this kind of decision and the signs were clear. The worst thing was the obvious pleasure in the Agent's body language. There were stories about Masters like this; those who went out of their way to make life difficult for any pony they encountered. Fortunately they were rare; in their wisdom the People policed their own, normally only allowing those with a gentler attitude direct interaction with her kind.

The memory of the rise and fall of the Agent's arm and the crack of bone breaking made Spiral whimper, and she gently placed Plasma in one of the spare stalls in the small infirmary. The mare was confused after her unexpected flight -- she'd kept trying to flap her own wings, after which Spiral had held her completely still to prevent further injury -- but she didn't have the strength to do any more than look uncomprehendingly up at the veterinarian. Spiral quickly pulled her medical kit, a set of panniers that extended from hip to wither and nearly doubled her girth, from its storage closet and strapped it on.

There was always a risk that an injured pony, especially one already confused by events and medication, would try and use her magic. Without mental discipline this was a recipe for disaster, so there was one more thing she needed to do. A flicker of magic and Spiral reached in and tickled Plasma's somatic nervous system, sending her already drugged brain into a deep sleep. None of which did anything to distract her from the only thought in her head. It loomed large, an unclimbable mountain in her path.

I'm going to have to kill Slipstream.

Spiral whimpered again, then galloped out of the infirmary as the prickle of pain down her back told her that she'd delayed too long already. The distance to the improvised landing field was short and it only took a few beats of her broad wings to drop her next to the Agent. Swallowing heavily, Spiral kept her face as blank as possible and turned her gaze on Salrath. "What are your orders, Master?" she said softly.

Salrath stared back, cocking her head to one side as she studied Spiral. A slow smile lifted her lips, pulling them back to expose sharp, white teeth. "There has been a change in policy. Deregistered servitors are no longer permitted; the veterinarian will euthanize that pony." She lifted her paw, levelling it at Slipstream like it was a gun. The unfortunate stallion was confused for a moment, then all the joy drained out of his face, replaced by shock and a slow dawning horror.

"Master, I must point out that Slipstream is well liked around the corral and provides a useful service. Morale is already low after the- the incident at the training centre--" Oh my little Random, where are you now? "--and another shock… is there any flexibility in this policy?"

Salrath made a show of thinking it over, then shook her head in a mockery of sadness. "This one is sorry, but these are the orders."

You're not sorry at all, you're just doing this to watch us squirm-- Fire blazed up in Spiral's chest and her breathing spasmed, muscles locking solid. The pain wiped the evil thoughts from her mind and made her vision go hazy; dimly Spiral felt herself stagger, wings drooping and dragging on the grass.

"If the pony is not fit to discharge its duty, then the Agent will carry out the task."

The words jolted Spiral out of her brush with fugue and her head snapped up to stare at Salrath. The Agent had drawn her small pistol and was pointing it at Slipstream's flank, just at the place where his ribs stopped. Spiral's breath halted again, but this time out of dread, rather than pain. She didn't know firearms, but she did know anatomy; there was no way that shot would be immediately fatal. "No, Master, I can perform my duty," she said dully, horn flaring as she reached back and pulled an injection gun from her pack.

"Excellent," Salrath said with a grin, lowering her pistol and holding it negligently at her side, "proceed."

Spiral walked quickly over to Slip's side, shedding her packs and brushing against him flank to flank. A tremor ran through his body and he sagged against her, as if suddenly realising that wasn't some terrible waking dream. His legs abruptly gave way and she caught him in a gentle haze of magic, lowering him slowly to the ground.

"I only wanted to serve... for a moment there I thought that there would be real work for me," he said in a dazed tone, then another bout of trembling ran through him, making his teeth chatter. Slip took a deep breath, clenching his jaw until he calmed a little. Finally he turned to look at Spiral with a wan smile. "They left me alone for so long, but I always knew this day would come -- after all, what use am I to them now?" There was pain behind his eyes; it wasn't physical, but a kind of despair and worthlessness. His head drooped until his muzzle rested on the grass. "I was stupid to have stayed alive, should have gone to the infirmary as soon as I knew the truth. Instead I hung on… stupid."

Over the top of his head, Spiral could see the smirking face of the Agent, and she felt an abrupt spike of hatred before the pain made her chest tight and her vision blur. Fighting away her traitorous emotions, she focused her mind on Slip, leaning forward to nuzzle his neck while bringing one wing up to make sure he couldn't see Salrath's expression. "Don't ever think that, Slipstream. You were a great help to us over the past few hundreds of megaseconds and we'll all miss you. I'm sorry it had to end like this." Silently she loaded the injection gun with a cocktail of powerful drugs and brought it around behind Slip's back.

"Thank you, Spiral, you've all been so kind to me. Will… will it hurt?"

"No, Slip, not at all." She hugged him fiercely, pressing the injector against his neck and pulling the trigger.

Slipstream stiffened slightly at the sudden sting of the needle, then relaxed, lifting his head to stare at her. "I feel warm," he said in a wondering tone, then his eyes closed and he breathed out in one long, tremulous sigh. He slumped forwards and Spiral maintained her embrace, feeling with her body and her magic as his heart stilled and the electrical activity in his brain ceased.

Finally she let go and slowly stood up to look down at Slip's body, suddenly realising she was at the centre of a ring of staring faces from three species. She turned and swept her gaze over the onlookers -- there must have been something odd about her expression, because more than one gryphon crouched slightly, their muscles tensing -- halting at Salrath. "It is done, Master. May I dispose of Slipstream's remains?"

"This one has no further need of the pony; the veterinarian will do as it sees fit. These ones will join the pony shortly to test the servitors unable to leave the infirmary." Salrath turned away, no longer interested in the little scene, starting to talk with the nervous-looking female technician running the scanner. The rest of the ponies drifted away, ushered back to their shelters by the gryphons; each found a moment to nod or flick an ear in sympathy as Spiral gathered Slipstream in her magic and slowly walked back to the infirmary.