"As you requested, My Queen." Equilibrium lowered his head in a respectful bow, or at least as respectful as either of her Builder servants ever showed. "I have the filly." She watched as he tossed the cloth sack casually to the ground in front of him. No lights shone in the room of pipes and rushing water, yet none of its occupants needed them. Changelings had long since adapted to lives in the deep places of the earth. "Though I'll admit, I was more than a little disappointed not to have the chance to speak more openly with her." He sighed, rising from his bow without her leave. "In our time, she was somewhat a legend. Were it not for her world stabilizing the Rift, we never would have made the crossing ourselves. I do hope you intend for her to survive this process. If reincarnation is for her anything as it was for us, the wait of centuries for her to master the process would be most tedious."
Chrysalis lifted a rough length of metal in her magic as she approached, closing the distance between the waiting cocoon and the entrance in a few quick strides. "If I did kill her, you might wait in vain for her to find birth in the swarm." She lifted the edge of the cloth, and only began cutting when she was certain she had it well clear of the filly inside. Her captive would be no use to the swarm if she bled to death in the dark. The filly within had been bound hoof and mouth, like some beast hogtied for sacrifice on dark alters. Chrysalis knew many who would have relished the chance to put one such as this little filly on such an alter. If they ever learned she had denied them the chance, she might end up suffering a similar fate. There were worse things than death.
But she wasn't here to inflict any of them upon the filly, at least not if her plan went off as successfully as her preparations suggested it would. The pride of a successful infiltration was that no blood had to fall. Killing was for the clumsy and the inexperienced, the fools with a noose waiting for them instead of old age.
"When she arrived, she was noticed. My- the Equestrian rulers crafted a body for her. Perhaps they will do so again. They must know her spirit will linger on to afflict them, as yours did me."
"Afflict you with success, Queen. We have done everything you asked. We impersonate her adviser as we speak. The other child has been locked away helpless. We will ensure that neither of them are missed for as long as you require. Though... it would be easier if you require less than a full day. They have daily attracted a crowd to their work. Dispelling that crowd tomorrow afternoon would be a challenge."
She shook her head. "No need, Equilibrium. By tomorrow the imprinting will be complete and our captive will make her miraculous return. Our train will be far away by afternoon. And for you..." She grinned, feeding him the tiniest trickle of love. He sipped greedily, as all her drones would. "When was the last time I gave you a male changeling form to wear?"
His eyes devoured this news more hungrily than he had the food. "Too long, My Queen."
"Don't think I don't reward successful labor." She lifted the squirming filly with contempt, levitating her writhing form into the waiting runes. She drove a stake forcefully into the ropes that bound the pony's hooves. Then, very carefully, she pressed the jagged metal into the pony's neck. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that the pony got the point. She stopped squirming, and the muffled sound of shouting at the gag vanished.
"Listen carefully, prisoner," Chrysalis whispered into one of the pony's ears, her voice dagger-sharp. "I am about to remove the gag. If you scream, I will cut your throat. If you try to use your feeble pony magic, I'll make you wish you were dead before I slit your throat. Nod once if you understand."
The greenish filly nodded in the darkness, moisture gathering on the blindfold on her eyes. Tears? Chrysalis didn't have to guess to sense the child's terror and fear. She cut the gag with a quick slice of metal on cloth, pulling it carefully from the filly's mouth. True to her nod, the little unicorn did not scream.
"Excellent. Give me your name, prisoner. Do not bother lying to me; I'll know, and I'll be forced to hurt you. I do not wish that to happen."
"S-Second Chance," the filly squeaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Strangely, Chrysalis sensed no dishonesty from her. Had she not known her true origins, she never would've suspected the pony wasn't everything she seemed to be. The deception was endearing; she would've been very pleased with any of her daughters who had enough discipline to mask their emotions as well as this little unicorn could. "Yes, but not only that." She leaned closer, pressing the length of metal a little deeper. "What else?"
A brief silence, then, "Kimberly Colven. Serial number 1684-4911-0399."
"We knew it!" the drone exclaimed from near the door, his eyes intent. "Dr. Colven, we've been waiting for you. An honor to finally-"
Be silent! Chrysalis shouted the command silently at the drone, a mental order that any of her brood was bound to obey. Of course he was not strictly a Changeling, and could have resisted if he really wanted to. He didn't, either for lack of will or effort, body abruptly dropping into a submissive posture. You distract the process; get out.
He obeyed without a word of objection, opening the door quietly and shutting it in similar silence. Only when he was well and truly gone did she turn her attention back to the prisoner. "A strange name, prisoner. Tell me, who cares for you in Equestria? You have no blood here."
"T-Twilight," she stammered. "P-Princess Twilight Sparkle."
"And how long have you been here in Equestria?"
"F-Four months."
Chrysalis paused. "Listen carefully, prisoner, and remember. Know that I have you in my power. Know that I could accomplish my purpose with you and leave you a corpse for your noble masters to find. I show you mercy instead. Let them prove themselves of the virtues they claim by showing that same mercy when our situations are reversed."
The frightened quivering stopped, and even in her turmoil Chrysalis was not blind to confusion from the filly. "What?"
She couldn't tighten the makeshift knife any further without cutting the filly, so she didn't. Instead, she pressed down on her with telekinetic force, crushing the air briefly from her lungs. She could've smothered the very life from the pony if she wanted, though of course she wanted no such thing. "Remember, prisoner. Swear you will remember, or I will hurt you further."
The filly coughed and spluttered under the pressure, but eventually managed to squeak. "I-I swear! I'll remember!"
"Good." Chrysalis released the pressure so the filly could breathe again, moving across the room in silent steps. There her daughter waited, only hours away from being born. She lifted the cocoon in delicate magic, lowering it down beside the runic circle with careful precision. "These next few hours will probably be quite strange to you. Count yourself lucky I have written a memory spell into what is about to happen to you."
She lowered her head, focusing intently on the cocoon. Are you ready, little one?
Yes! The response came without hesitation. Do it, mother! I'll make you proud!
* * *
For a timeless eternity Second Chance floated in the void, not even conscious of herself. She was conscious of nothing, nothing except the fact she was not alone. There was no form to judge where or even what her companion might be, and her memory refused to give context to specific events. Where had she been? How had she come to be here? She had no idea.
Mom won't leave me out here, she found herself thinking. She'll come for me. At the thought, two images came to mind. One was the face of Twilight Sparkle, her guardian for these many months in Equestria. The other? Not a true image, but structured sound. A voice in the darkness that spoke kindness to her and fed her affection. But no, Chance did know that voice. It was the voice of an evil pony, the one the evil guard had brought her to. She rebelled against the idea that such a one could ever show kindness, rejecting that image in favor of the first. The presence (she could think of no other word) within her mind seemed shocked by her interpretation of the voice it associated with "mom," but it did not argue.
Second Chance allowed her mind to drift and wander back into the silence for a time she did not quantify. Only as time passed did she find herself thinking again, and not even without really realizing it. Where did everything come from?
She found herself answering the question even though it felt mostly like it was coming from herself. Nor did she get the chance to consider the question carefully. In the beginning the Earth was without form and void. As she spoke, images filled her perceptions. A great sphere of molten rock appeared, though she herself had nobody to look upon it. Great cracks split the magma as it hardened and cooled, roiling in the dark.
Chance recounted modern theories on the formation of the early Earth and the evolution of life in exhaustive detail, and with each question the images below them became more precise. Perspective shifted randomly and without warning, one moment in high orbit and the next in the burrow of some primitive reptile.
Eventually she finished, though she was not left in silence this time. The world she had described into being remained beneath her. Only meters away a tribe of primitive Homo sapiens gathered around a campfire, speaking in harsh grunts as they shared some meager meal.
What are they? Why do they matter to you so much? They are not ponies, they are not changelings or griffons or dragons. Why do they matter?
Because they're me, she replied. Or they're my ancestors.
Primitive. Chance was quite sure it was a distinct voice now. In a way, this felt a little like her arrival in Equestria, what little she could remember of it. Not having a proper body, listening to the voice of someone she was certain couldn't speak her language. Exchanging concepts and concrete ideas until she had learned enough of the language behind it to be able to communicate in abstractions instead. They have no fire, no wings for flight, no claws for hunting and digging burrows. Weak prey is hunted and eaten, and only the strong survive.
You would think so. The world she showed had no magical beasts, no ponies. But it did have its share of predators. Gigantic cats with fierce teeth longer than human hands. Wolves bigger than any Equestrian pony hunting in massive packs. Bears that could tear a man in two with little effort. Yet instead of being hunted to extinction, the little human tribe grew and spread across the face of the earth. Flint knives gave way to slings and spears and copper. What the animals gained from their bodies, humans overcame with planning and forethought. They spoke and planned and learned the ways of their enemies, then hunted many of them to extinction. Soon it was not the great beasts feasting on weak primates, but primates feasting on them. Only the smaller, cleverer predators survived.
The presence did not speak at first, but it seemed awed. Mother didn't tell me anything about this. I didn't think it was possible.
You didn't think what was possible? Though the presence hadn't asked, Chance kept the images going. She didn't have to actively be explaining it, so long as she kept thinking about it. Since she had a feeling about the questions that might follow, she pushed her imaginary world onward at a breakneck pace. Agriculture transformed the countryside, turning scattered tribes into villages and towns and cities. Wooden buildings were replaced with stone ones, and written language appeared.
She didn't mention anything so terrifying. The cooperation and resourcefulness of ponies with all the strength and ruthlessness of changelings. Even as the voice spoke, a great empire rose up in the Mediterranean, sparing its enemies and breaking the proud in war. Armies of millions fought and died. Even then Chance could not say if she had watched the thousands of years pass in real time, or seen them flee as a dream.
Why have they not taken all of Equus? Why did mother never mention them? They should have conquered all the world by now.
This isn't Equus. The empire fell, breaking into a hundred scattered pieces. Another civilization far in the east continued where they had ceased, coming within inches of a technological revolution, but never crossing the threshold. Another thousand years passed before anything recognizable began to appear. Electricity was discovered, automobiles began to replace horses, and the first aircraft took to the sky. Industry filled the skies with soot even as it filled homes with machines and libraries with books.
This is my home, a planet we called Earth. If the voice was Equestrian, this was the point where the world would lose its close similarity. Now a thousand times more numerous, great empires rose again to war twice in the lifetime of one generation. Atomic fire burned the sky as young men died and millions starved or were cruelly murdered. At first, the presence had reveled at the scenes of war between human nations, finding them familiar and comforting in a way that disturbed Chance greatly. Yet as time passed, her own attitude seemed to find greater purchase within the stranger. By the end of the second great conflict, she had become every bit as disgusted by it as Chance herself was.
Does it ever end? You've killed enough of each other. You should stop.
Not for another hundred years. And so time passed. The reasons never really changed. They're all really wars for resources, when you get right down to it. The only way to end them all was to end starvation and poverty and bring abundance.
Starvation is being so hungry you die, said the voice after a little delay. I know starvation. It happens to changelings all the time, but mother said it would never happen to me. Another pause, longer this time. She says I'm going to make it so it never happens again, but I don't know how. How did the humans do it?
Technology. Computers transformed the world almost overnight, and with them the speed of change began to increase. Machines became increasingly inexpensive as they became more efficient, so quickly that many in backward parts of the world got cell phones before they got running water. Oil was replaced by fission and then fusion, even as farms imitated the structures of the cities and rose up instead of out. Massive machines sequestered carbon into the earth even as others desalinated enough water to provide for the needs of every citizen and industry. Education improved, and as the skill of workers rose in nations around the world, so did their productivity. National disparities began to fade. Wars finally ended, and national boundaries began to dissolve. Huge space stations appeared in orbit, and the surface of the moon was transformed by growing colonies. Huge ships bound for Mars and Venus began to leave on regular trips, and voices began to speak of more distant colonies too.
The vision did not comfort the strange voice. Changeling? Had that been what she called herself? Chance didn't know what that was, though the term was vaguely familiar. Something to do with a wedding maybe? Whatever she was, the vision of prosperity brought darkness to her companion's mood. You can't grow love in farms or print it with machines, it said darkly. What worked for them will not work for us. The swarm will still starve.
Love, Chance repeated. The vision had started to slow to the speed of a single life, a young child living on the streets of a coastal city in North America. She did not wish to take this vision further, and could only hope she wouldn't have to. You can't mean what I’m thinking. Love is an emotion. The image focused on the child, lying awake and frightened in bed as an older male sang softly and comforted her. That is love. Why would a lack of it starve you?
I never felt it, but my mother showed me what it was like. Suddenly the strange presence was the one guiding the memories. Nothing new appeared superimposed on Chance's view of Earth. Instead it was a feeling, a gut-wrenching emptiness that spiraled down within her and twisted her nonexistent body into painful spasms. It was hunger, more intense than any hunger she had ever experienced.
Chance couldn't have been more eager for the memory to end. I get it, you eat love somehow! Stop showing me! The presence complied immediately, and the strange memory ended. Okay. You eat love, and you'll starve without it. What about the ponies you take it from? Does it hurt them?
No, came the reply. I don't think so, anyway. Mother explained it like ponies just giving it off all the time. Ponies feed on each other's love already, just differently. They eat it to get emotionally stronger. We eat it to get physically stronger. It's basicly the same.
If that's true, why don't ponies give it to you? It seems like they don't have anything to lose.
There was a delay, accompanied with a feeling of shock. That is... not how mother says the ponies feel about it. There is a long history between us and ponies. They killed us more than they gave us love to eat.
Chance shivered inwardly. Maybe you just didn't ask the right way. I was a stranger when I first met the ponies too. She turned her attention briefly on the child, building a castle on the beach. Was it just her imagination, or did that castle look like the one in Canterlot? Couldn't be. They never tried to hurt me. Even when I put Equestria at risk they tried to help me.
The memories beneath them had slowed to a crawling pace compared to the rush of history that had flown by earlier. Chance knew why of course; she couldn't go any further without watching the Great War. Yet something was pulling her mind forward, forcing her to show the strange presence everything she had seen. She would relive everything, and somehow she knew that nothing she could do would make a difference.
I'm sorry you have to see this. Chance couldn't look away, couldn't cover her eyes with hands or hoof. She had neither of those here.
Sorry about what?
You've seen the rise of my people. Now you will see their fall.
The presence seemed confused. I thought you said there weren't any more wars. You made all of them go away by making sure everypony had enough of what they needed.
That's what we all thought. But we were wrong. The perspective shifted, backing further and further away from the planet until they were in orbit again. Blue appeared over the continents as they spun, superimposed on brown and green. We'd got rid of all the countries and stuff. The whole world was part of a single government, called the United Earth Federation. It worked for us for a hundred years – I know that doesn't sound like much to you, but that's a long time to us. It all started with a stupid intellectual argument. See, this country here made all our computers.
What's a computer?
Chance groaned inwardly. Whatever strange magic was upon her would not allow her to stop explaining, but it did let her deviate. She would have to show the strange presence everything she knew. So long as she was showing something, she wouldn't have to relive the war. So she spent what felt like hours going over the text from a few dozen books about computers.
Only when she was finished did she resume her explanation about the Great War. The company that did most of the computers was called 'International Steel and Silicon.' They figured that they finally had a computer big enough that it could simulate a human consciousness. They ignored all the laws that made direct-human-machine integration research illegal, and came up with a way you could copy somebody's brain onto a computer.
The implications were huge. Being a computer meant you'd never get tired, you'd never get old, and you could trick yourself into experiencing any sort of life you wanted. Only the surgery was illegal, since from the Federation's perspective all it did was kill you and make a copy.
International Steel persuaded the representatives in their state to withdraw from the Federation and form their own government. England turned red, and the color spread gradually throughout Europe. Lots of other states followed. Even though less than half of the people in most of them wanted to go digital, the law made lots of people think they weren't as free under the Federation as they wanted to be. Africa, Australia, Russia, and the Middle East glowed in Red.
This all happened before I was born. Right after it happened, things had been pretty peaceful with the Steel Tower – that's what they called themselves now, the CEO of International Steel and Silicon had made himself king – but they stopped. People figured out they could kidnap digital people and repurpose them for running drones and computer systems way cheaper than developing AIs smart enough to react with human intelligence.
The Tower responded by sabotaging the companies it suspected of doing the kidnapping, and got lots of innocent people hurt in the process. Viruses got sent both ways. Starships fell out of the air mysteriously. Terrorism on both sides, and a growing ideology that neither side really counted as human anymore. The Tower passed some laws forcing its biological citizens to go digital or be forced into it, and the Federation responded with huge rescue missions.
She paused, trying to think of more she could say to get out of talking about the war as she remembered it. Nothing further came to mind, and the strange magic that tugged at her would not permit her to stop. So she kept speaking. Instead of recreating history, she was reliving her own life. Every moment on Earth, every moment in Equestria; she experienced them all.
Only when it was over did she have a body again. In the strange time that defied understanding and the space that seemed beyond her easy classification, Chance opened her eyes and found herself staring at herself. A perfect double filled the space before her, perfectly mirroring her movements. The other had experienced everything now; every moment. Where there had been one, there were now two.
* * *
Brigid Aherne stood confident in a dress of frozen starlight, watching the transmission as it took shape. She knew the person that would appear even before the signal had resolved. Tesla appeared only slightly distorted by the transmission, the robes of his office tight upon his shoulders and black hair short and disorderly.
"Lady Brigid," he called, inclining his head in a slight bow.
"Lord Tesla." She echoed his bow in a deep curtsey. "I was composing my report mere moments ago. I assure you, I would have made the deadline."
"Of course." His projection folded its arms, occasionally flickering with the strange distortion of the universal gulf. "I never doubted it. King Richard did not doubt you either, however, he felt your mission vital enough to merit my personal attention."
She nodded again. Bree wouldn't offer him refreshment this time, since of course he was not really here. Tesla transmitted an image and she sent an image in response, no minds actually traveled. "Of course. You wish to hear my report, then?"
Tesla gestured dismissively at the air. "I can read that when you send it. For now I'd just like to confirm a few things on behalf of the king." At her nod, he continued. "You have obeyed the command to avoid contact with the equines?"
"Completely. They have no idea I'm here."
He nodded dismissively. "Of course not. My trust was always complete. And you have made progress?"
"Significant progress," she agreed. "My report will describe it in great detail. My fleet is four times the size it was upon arrival."
Even Tesla looked impressed. "So soon?"
She nodded. "My report describes the process in detail. I have no doubt King Richard will be impressed."
"Perhaps he will." Tesla sighed. "I hesitate to say so, but I was also sent to deliver an imperative. I suspect you have done little to investigate the fate of the late Sir Leonidas. The king wishes to determine beyond any doubt what became of the man."
"I..." Bree swayed for a moment, considering whether she ought to tell Tesla about what she suspected. In the end, she elected on the negative, and remained silent. "I understand. I have already searched for his location transmitter, without success. Perhaps there is more I could be doing."
"Perhaps." Tesla looked dubious. "Between the two of us, Brigid, it seems a waste of time to me. He knew the risks when he embarked, and the Tower has enough of his sort as it is. Still – Richard wishes for you to make it a priority. So long as it does not jeopardize your mission, you are to discover what happened to him. Recover him if possible."
She bowed, less deeply than she had when he had first arrived. "It will be done."
He shrugged. "Of course, Lady Brigid. I look forward to your report." He vanished.
Bree hadn't felt physically weak for so long that she barely remembered the sensation. Still, she couldn't help collapse into a chair as Tesla vanished, rubbing her temples. There was political subtext, something in the rivalry between the Technocratic Order and the Crown.
She wanted nothing to do with it. She was a builder, an engineer. She would support whatever he wanted and leave him to worry about deciding what that should be.
She would not have peace to consider the conversation, or even to finish composing the report. Her clone didn't bother with elegance. One minute the space beside her was empty, and the next her fork was standing there. "You have a visitor."
"Who? Is it the scouts with those books I requested?"
"No. Facial recognition indicates the individual is the alpha named Rover."
She groaned. "I suppose I should deal with that." She rose, straightening her dress, and changing it to fabric more opaque. Just because the fashion of the court was one of immodesty did not mean she liked the idea of the dogs looking on her body that way. "First, establish a connection with the monitor in the central chamber. I need to speak with Simon."
There was no delay. Bree was suddenly looking out on a small gathering of dogs, speaking in energetic voices. Chief among them was the bard Simon, and it was to him she addressed. "Simon."
He turned and lowered his head. "Great one."
"We spoke earlier about meat, do you remember?"
"I do." He lowered his head again.
She nodded. "I am sending a drone; please have it prepared to the highest standards of taste and quality as soon as possible." She didn't maintain the connection for any longer than necessary, switching her connection to the holographic projector in her quarters. Suddenly she was there, a figure of projected light amidst the dirt and rough furniture.
"My Lord Rover." She inclined her head slightly to him. "It's my greatest pleasure to see you this evening. How may I serve you?"
"You," he growled in response, hackles raised and teeth bared. "Like pony. Pretty words and promises. No action."
Bree did not react to his obvious anger, ignoring the threats in his gesture. He must know he could do nothing to her; even if he had figured out the drones were the key to her presence, destroying the drone with the projector wouldn't harm her. Bree never would've put her mind anywhere it might be in danger.
"Not so, Lord Rover." She gestured to a chair, but he ignored the gesture.
"You break all promises!" He advanced on her, glaring fire. "You promise gems, you promise meat, you promise strength! Yet you give nothing! You take my dogs, send them on dangerous missions to the Everfree! You waste our metal, so no dogs get new armor and weapons. No more!"
"I see." Bree took a deep breath. "I hope you will forgive me, Rover. I had intended to make a surprise of it when I was finished. Yet... you are Alpha. I won't keep you waiting any longer."
This brought him up short, his anger turning to confusion. "What does the puppy mean by this?"
She groaned. "The puppy is going to show you that the Tower honors its promises." She turned away from him, though since her eyes were in the drone, she could still see him clearly. "Follow me, Lord Rover. I'll show you what I have done with all I asked of you."
Perhaps if she had been mortal she never would've dared turn her back on such an angry creature, with teeth and claws gleaming. As it was, she swirled about and marched away, towards the flimsy wooden barricade that blocked off the entryway from what had been a simple disused mine. She stopped at the door, folding her arms. "If you would be so good as to get the door."
Rover hesitated, his paws clenching into fists. "You think you lead me into the dark, make me go away?" He shook his head vigorously. "I won't be tricked."
She turned, rolling her eyes. "I mean no harm to you, Rover." She raised her hand over her chest. "I swear it by the iron of the Tower and the throne of the King."
He met her eyes, sniffed, then grunted. "My mate knows I'm here. She would be here, but she is helping with a delivery. She will come soon."
"Good. When we're done with the tour, you can show her what I showed you, and seem wise and informed." She privately added: it wouldn't be hard to seem wiser than you are now.
"Fine." He grunted again, shoving the flimsy door ajar. "Show me."
Bree had left the mines closest to her small chamber untouched, as much because of the noise as because she didn't want to chance anyone who visited in her absence to spy out what she was really doing. They had to walk for a good ten minutes, in darkness broken by Bree's own projection and the flickers of Rover's torch. She had left the path exactly as she found it, not wanting to give any who might wander any clues about how to find the center of her activity.
She spoke as they walked, hoping to distract him from the distance. "The Steel Tower has seven doors and seven gates," she said, as though remarking on the weather. "I have traveled through them all for your pack."
Rover shook his head vigorously. "Old city had gates. Not new burrows. No more enemies from below, and only ponies above. Gates don't make sense."
"Not gates of metal or stone. Intellect, science, knowledge, fortitude, temperance, justice, and prudence. Your dogs will have to travel through them too, if you wish to be fellow citizens with men and women."
Rover's visage was angry again. "This why you came? Change us?"
"Of course." There was no sense in lying. "For the better. You dogs are living in the dirt. You wither away with time and disease both. You don't get to eat the things you love. Most importantly, you've been relegated to a footnote of history. You hide under the earth, and don't make anything of yourselves. I aim to change all of that. You will trade all your weaknesses for strengths and become the greatest pack the world ever saw."
Rover had nothing to say to that, and they spent the remainder of the walk in silence. At least until they neared their destination. "I smell something," remarked Rover, sniffing at the air. "Smells like water. Like a lake. You made a lake?"
She shrugged. "After a fashion. Cover your eyes. It is very bright ahead." Indeed, the ground already began to shine with reflected light, a sign of what waited beyond the next bend. Rover nodded curtly, and Bree led the way beyond into the center of her work.
The cavern itself was the largest her drones had located in this mine. Fully fifty feet high and four times that distance across, the chamber served for most of what Bree did in the depths, and all that she wished the dogs to know about. The first thing she saw was the algae fields, a pair of massive shallow basins in the rock. Brilliant full-spectrum lights ran in stripes above them, with mirrors angling all that light and energy down towards the even green. Skimmers churned slowly across each basin, sending away what they collected in pipes that churned and seethed with living cargo. Of course, only one of the tanks raised food. The other churned with an organic plastic factory. Not that Rover had to know that.
The path went from rough stone to a hard plastic catwalk, built in modular chunks a growing distance above the ground. A full dozen drones buzzed or crawled about the chamber, and the whole place rung with the sound of machinery. A pair of microfabricators churned constantly now, processing the metal ingots the dogs had given her into more machinery for her operation. Past the algae vats was the first of the organic fabrication cells, where all the algae flowed as it was harvested.
Rover was stunned speechless, and he stared about the huge chamber in utter shock.
"I made three promises to you, Lord Rover: meat, gems, and power. Let me demonstrate I plan to honor them all." She gestured at the vats. "These grow a simple plant, one that grows quickly and produces all the nutrients necessary for life. One of those 'dangerous missions' I requested your dogs take to the nearby pony village was to recover tissue samples from a number of the prey species there." She took several long strides forward, prompting Rover to follow in a deaf stupor.
She gestured at the towering machine below and beside them, perhaps twenty feet wide and forty long. It was built in modular rows, each of which contained a gelatinous, transparent tray. Within each grew chunks of bodiless muscle tissue of goats, cows, and ponies, sustained by the algae she grew. "This is the meat I promised you." A drone came at her command, pulling out one of the trays from the rack. A hunk of haunch that could've belonged to a pony if it were anything more than disembodied muscle. Its blood was yellow-green instead of red, and its only life was the occasional twitch brought on by electrical stimulation.
"Simon told me packs used to go to war over meat. Became enemies with the ponies over meat. Now you will have more than you can ever eat."
"That?" Rover pointed in disgust at the tray. "That isn't meat. Your false flesh is made of a lake plant from a cave. It will taste false! No dog will eat it!"
"We'll see." Bree folded her arms, and the drone returned the tray to its place. "My people were predators too. When there were more of us than animals to hunt, we had to grow our meat. At least, until we ascended beyond such physical needs." She nodded emphatically. "Before then, the science became quite advanced. I assure you that should a cut of what I give you be pitted against the 'real' thing, it will be superior in every way."
"Words again. You do all this, but you still just like them. All words."
"I'm surprised you can't smell the cooking. As we speak, one of your dogs is preparing the first of many meals to come. You may judge for yourself whether my claims about the taste are true."
He considered that for a moment. "You send my scouts to pony village, and make flesh from magic. Can you make flesh from your kind? What if dogs want that instead?"
Bree was no longer underground, no longer immortal and inhumanly intelligent. She was instead very small and very feeble, piled into the back of a truck with many other hunks of human meat. They were women all, all young enough to be attractive and all looted from the ruins of her city. Many whimpered in the sweltering heat of the truck, though none cried. Bad things happened to you if you made too much noise.
Her mother had been one of those. She had watched awful things happen to her, and she hadn't come back. Bree was too young to be interesting to most who came, so she was spared the worst of it. Unfortunately she was also clever, and knew what the "organ farm" that was their destination really was. "They're not really alive," the soldiers would say. "Not really people." Even she had started to believe it.
Brigid Aherne no longer sounded submissive, didn't even sound respectful. Her voice had frozen deeper than any arctic winter, ice with razor edges and many spines. "Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the flesh of man, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." There would be no precedents set by her hands that would end in humans being eaten, even if those humans belonged to the enemy. She would never allow anyone to share her fate, even the enemy.
Silence persisted for several seconds, though Bree was ultimately pleased to see it was the alpha who broke eye contact first, retreating with animal signs of submission. As it should be. Animals ought to submit to gods. She resumed the tour, showing Rover the artificial gems she had grown in their purity. He demanded to "try" one of those as well, and she nearly screamed as he took a fist-sized Sapphire in hand and began to chew and crunch it in his mouth like rock candy.
"Y-You eat... You eat gemstones?"
He nodded, licking his lips as though enjoying some flavor there. "If your meat is this good, I will take back everything I said about you."
So it was that she brought him down the ladder to the lowest level of her chambers, where the rumbling of machines shook the earth. Chiefest among them was the microfusion reactor that had been her first project, turning water into sunlight in the space of an old-Earth automobile. She did not bother explaining any of this to the alpha, and instead led him along the stone to the largest of the fabricators. She had saved the greatest shock of all for last, the one she hoped would both win his loyalty and his submission in one fell swoop. Prepare for transfer to subunit H1, she instructed her fork.
Command acknowledged. Transfer ready.
"When I arrived two weeks ago, you wanted to know why I could not be touched." She grinned at him. "I believe the time has come to be a spirit no longer. The last promise was power; let me show you now your new allies have power over matter and being itself." Activate transfer.
Brigid's senses briefly went dead, and her projection vanished from the air. No doubt poor Rover was startled by her sudden disappearance, though she didn't have the pleasure of getting to see the expression on his face. Her perceptions abruptly returned to human clarity, filtered no longer through the alien lens of a drone. She was abruptly within a human body again, albeit one hidden away in the foam that wrapped everything her fabricators made. She lay in darkness, the soft embrace of black foam and fabric all around her. She sat up, tearing free of her springy coffin with the ease of rigid servos.
After more than two decades, Brigid had a body again.
She had not forgotten how to move, and with practiced ease she tore the remaining foam from her body, rising to bare feet on bare stone. The cloth of a Technocratic robe billowed about her willowy form, though it was made from woven plastic instead of silk. "Lord Rover," she bowed again, more deeply this time, and was pleased to see his shock had lingered long enough for her to enjoy it.
Brigid offered the dog her hand. "My people have conquered nature, Rover. Let us show you how it's done."