//------------------------------// // Chapter 16 // Story: With Good Intentions // by Hustlin Tom //------------------------------// A gorgeous morning’s sunlight seemed so out of place rising above a now tragic homestead. The Square household, destroyed beyond any hope of repair, lay desolate in the otherwise verdant Canterlot Valley. The authorities speculated the fire had been started as a result of a lightning strike, but the bizarre equipment, what little that survived, offered mysteries that they couldn’t explain. The majority of the blaze seemed to have been contained to the north side of the house, but the south had minimal damage, mostly smoke related. A shadowy figure, his face hidden by his hat and upturned collar, entered through what remained of the front foyer. Burnt wood cracked under his hoof; most likely what remained of the roof’s structure, as the only ceiling this part of the home had now was blue skies. Turning to his left he headed down the hallway, the crisp, browned wallpaper crinkling as the air passed it by. He moved as unobtrusively as a shade, seemingly knowing where he was going, and what he was looking for. He gently swung the master bedroom door open and headed straight for the jewel box. Pushing the small brass latch up, he lifted the lid clear to display the contents within. The most prominent piece there, and all he cared about, was a simple but elegant necklace. It was made of a sterling silver chain that terminated in a beautiful ruby that shone with a brilliant light. She would want her to have this he was certain. He delicately reached into the box, and slid the piece into his inner coat pocket. The sound of rustling wallpaper diverted his attention back to the doorway. He did not turn or acknowledge his discoverer, but merely froze in place. “Robbin’ the livin’s big enough moral conundrum all on et’s own,” the unicorn officer said as he fully stepped into the room, lowering his horn should the intruder make a move, “But robbin’ the not even cold dead? That’s et’s own level o’ wrong.” Certain in making no sudden movements, the stallion replied, “I’m not a thief. I’m just enacting what the deceased would have wanted.” “Oh pardon mah intrusion then,” the officer replied sarcastically, “I didn’t recognize you, Mr. Executor. P’rhaps if you’d shown yer face I would have opened our dialogue in a more friendly tone.” “Whether you believe it or not, and despite what it may seem, I’m only acting with the best of intentions.” “Are you now,” the officer retorted, “Because as I recall the road to Tartarus es paved with good intentions by the thousands. Move away from the box, now.” The stallion reached inside his coat, his hoof hovering over his teleportation beacon, “As you wish. I will move.” He lightly pressed the beacon’s face, and its light flared to life. Surprised, the officer let loose a limb tangling hex where the stallion had been on reflex, but he was far too late. His quarry had vanished into thin air. Several miles away, deep within the Royal Science Division facility, Bunsen Burner appeared in front of his desk, his hat ruffled out of place by the transport. Checking his pocket for his precious cargo, he slowly walked back around to his desk; it was safe and sound. There wouldn’t be a chance to go back to the property now, but this was the only sentimental artifact he felt obligated to salvage. What he was most concerned about was the surviving tech on site. The police and fire forensics crew wouldn’t make heads or tails of it hopefully, but if they had somepony bright brought in, or if one of their own was smarter than they looked, there could be a chance, albeit a slim one, that they could comprehend what had taken place there. The only way it could be worse was if they managed to reverse-engineer the transmutation process. While Punnett had pursued the process in a spirit of sacrifice and altruism, the only ones interested in recreating themselves as alicorns would be those who were the least worthy to receive such a transformation. Imagining another alicorn appearing, with their power and potential to wreak havoc, Bunsen shuddered. “This can’t be allowed,” he murmured to himself. Gently he placed Bolera’s necklace into his desk drawer, the same one he had placed Punnett’s notes, and then closed it shut, locking it. He threw his coat and hat over his chair and strode out of his office, ready to offer his superior an unexpected visit. “Do you ever sleep?” Was all Principled Acumen asked as Bunsen entered her office. “Not much anymore,” he replied, “I generally doze for three hours every twelve at most. Mind’s too busy to sleep.” “I’m starting to fear you might be too fit for this job once I leave,” she replied dryly as she finished the document before her, then turned her full attention to her subordinate, “How can I help you?” “I believe Punnett Square is attempting to acquire RSD resources. He tried to solicit my help in acquiring Arcanium.” The Director’s brow furrowed, “Hm, odd. He made it quite clear he meant to sever all ties with us when he terminated. He contacted you?” “We’ve continued correspondence over the past few months, but lately I feel he’s been pressuring me for help in getting some from Materials for him. I refused, but I feel he could reach out to someone else.” “I’ll make certain to look into this matter,” she said with a nod, then leaned back in her chair, “Thank you for coming to me with this information, Bunsen. I know it must be hard for you to see this sort of behavior from your friend.” “He was my friend, Madam Director,” he replied as he turned to leave the office, adding more to himself than to her, “He’s not anymore.” Over the next few days the news came in that Punnett Square was dead: he and his wife and child had been caught in a blaze in their home. Given the unusual requests and circumstances surrounding the deaths and fire, Bunsen recommended and was granted the right to oversee the seizure of the Square estate for its technology and research. Given his connection with the now labeled ‘renegade scientist’, some thought that the investigation would not be impartial. Director Acumen disagreed; Bunsen’s desire to see his friend as innocent until proven guilty, and his own desire to understand why his friend had changed, would be how impartiality would win out. The ruse had worked it seemed; the components to produce the alicorn process were now under one roof, his roof, and they could be kept away from prying eyes until he could take care of them. During his time cataloging the apparati that he and Punnett had designed he began to read the book his friend had written in. While he had left Starswirl’s Journal with Celestia, the translation, as well as the transmutation theorem, was still present in the book Bunsen now held. As he flipped through the pages, absorbing their insight night after night, a temptation slowly began to creep into his mind. While the general public could not be trusted with this knowledge, and neither could many private individuals, this was proof of a biological revolution. While others may not know the truth, they would certainly observe that there was one more alicorn than there had been in recent memory, and it would pique their curiosity. It was no longer a matter of if another transmutation would occur, but when. Other scientists would strive to find the secret; it was only now that Bunsen realized in full he had only delayed this event, not prevented it. He grunted in frustration as he gently placed the grey notebook down and then leaned back in his chair. Perhaps he needed to fight fire with fire he began to think to himself: if he perfected the process he could ascend and ensure nopony else would be able to use it for unscrupulous ends. A contrarian voice spoke into his mind, whose influence he was unconscious of, Power is like a raging inferno: it either causes those who resist it to shine bright, or it consumes and destroys those who submit to its allure. Do you have the restraint necessary to use this power, instead of letting it use you? He wanted to argue with it, claim defiantly that he did, but eventually he sighed. He would become in reality what he feared theoretically if he used the process: a rogue element answering to nopony but himself. With great power, and that attitude, he would not be serving anyone at all but his own desires. For all his recent thoughts of his old teacher, he now realized that he respected her still in some fashion; having this same sort of temptation, she had had wisdom and restraint for hundreds of years. Almost too much restraint he thought to himself, but he now realized what she had meant in that letter to him and Punnett all those years ago: even if she reacted to the world at a glacial pace, glaciers still changed the world around them, sometimes with titanic consequences. As he stewed on the dilemma of what to do instead of his initial thought, an intense image burst into his mind without warning. A winged and horned abomination, covered in black chitin, its body wreathed in flame. “There are more of us,” it murmured softly, its voiced parched from the heat, “and we are coming.” The image slipped away, leaving just as quickly as it had struck through his mental defenses. A thin, icy trail of fear surged into his heart, and his breathing unconsciously quickened. He then thought a moment on what he was about to do, then slipped Punnett’s book into his labcoat, leaving his office. While the RSD was already full of secrets not yet meant for the eyes of the world at large, there were still some things not even the majority of the staff were allowed to know about. Entering the main elevator, the doors closing in front of him, Bunsen took out a special key from his right coat pocket and slid it into a special lock on the console. Once he had turned it the elevator lurched to life, going even further down into the mountain. In the deepest stratum of the old mines lay the last floor of the RSD. It was kept off any government documentation and classified as Above Top Secret. If it had an official name he didn’t know yet, but the Director called it the Black Vault. The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slowly opened. To the left was a small office; yellow light spilling out of the doorway. Everything beyond that, hundreds of feet to the back wall, was display case after display case, each illuminated by iridescent halogen bulbs. Some cases were small, some large. Some had boundary lines that were never meant to be crossed without protective gear. “It’s been a while since anyone’s come down from the surface,” the caretaker of the Vault declared from his office with the slight twinge of a Stalliongrad accent, “How are you Bunsen?” Bunsen’s ears drew back towards his head, “How did you know it was me, Chekov?” A Diamond Dog propelled himself through the doorway, using his larger forelimbs to move his wheelchair forward, and as he turned himself to face the stallion he tapped his snout, “It always knows.” He put his paws together softly, “What can I do for you today?” Bunsen looked past the curator to the many rows beyond, “I’m looking for the Bug.” Chekov rested his chin in his paw momentarily as he thought through his mental catalog, then snapped his nails together, “Section 2, Row 5, Lot 17. Come; I’ll show you too her.” As they walked through Section 1, “Non-Living Dormant”, Bunsen idly glanced from object to object. Chekov was a genius who dedicated his life to understanding the unexplainable. In much the same way his fellows craved gems and capital, he was forever seeking the boundaries of fringe science. They passed a small glass case, within which was a dark colored amulet held aloft on a stand. Its front was a metalwork piece in the shape of a unicorn’s head and flaired wings. Chekov had been searching for the means by which it amplified a unicorn’s powers, but answers remained elusive. As they were about to pass into Section 2, “Dead”, Bunsen glanced at a large metallic thing. Held up by support scaffolding, it was in the shape of an alicorn. Its right wing was completely severed from its joint, held near to it by cables. Its left foreleg was also separated from its body, but it rested right next to where its proper position was. The right side of its face was crushed inward. Now that he thought about it, it actually looked more like it had imploded somehow. The rest of it was covered in scratches, while a few pitted areas in its armor were spread throughout its structure. “You like,” Chekov asked as he wheeled past, “That metal hulk is the source of Arcanium. It took the Director years to get the right metallurgical process to derive that precious alloy from its circuits.” Bunsen’s gaze lingered on it slightly longer before he walked away. For some reason he couldn’t understand it seemed almost familiar to him, even though he’d never seen it before in his life. Whatever it was, it was probably best for everyone that it was dormant, that he was certain. Finally they came to what they had been looking for. Suspended in a tank of sealed formaldehyde was the corpse of the Changeling. Its physical structure was just as intact as it had been when it had first been submerged six years ago. It had no wings, no mane, or tail left; the flames had taken those. Its mouth was still opened in a silent scream. “If you have any testing you wish to do on her, it must all take place down here: nothing leaves my box,” Chekov declared firmly before he turned himself around and rolled away. “Of course,” Bunsen replied as he stared into the twin abysses that were the empty eye sockets of the monster he had killed. In that moment an idea came to him of why he had subconsciously been led down here. His mind turned down a darker path than one he had ever tread before, and he came to one simple, almost childishly simple, solution: one fights fire with water. The years passed, and Bunsen began to spend many hours in the chem labs of the RSD. After Principled Acumen stepped down, the position of Director was passed on to him. New duties had to be considered now that he sat in the top office. Budgets, recruitment, collaborative deals invaded his life, and he took them head on, never losing steam. He had been groomed for this position, and he excelled. He kept in contact with those surrounding Cadence, seeing to it that she was doing well, and found that as the years went by she grew to become a caring, strong, intelligent mare, just like her parents would have wanted. When she was first introduced to the world, Celestia was specific to say to all who asked that she was her niece, and that she would be taught the ways and practice of an Equestrian Princess. Though she already had a student in Fancy Pants, his education was more open ended than Cadence’s was. Though they only met once every month, she was being taught the way of politics, diplomacy, and ethics by the brightest teachers in Canterlot. This is what his contacts told him at least; he intentionally limited contact with her, which frankly wasn’t all that hard to do. His work never stopped. A strange turn of events took place on the eve of the Summer Sun Festival in 990. Celebrations were being held; dancing and music made the Canterlot Gardens teem with joy and hope. As a Prince, Bunsen’s attendance was mandatory for keeping up appearances, but he didn’t hold the same spirit that others at the party did. He leaned against one of the stone pillars that created the archways back into the castle from a small patio area which led into the gardens. He stood alone; he certainly could have mingled, but he chose his own company over that of others this time. His eyes scanned the crowd, analyzing the groups of ponies, griffons, and other races, breaking them down into the groups they unconsciously made with each other. He scrutinized their similarities, what might possibly be tying them together in that moment of time, then watched them divide and recombine into other groups. They were an organism, though they may not have realized that was the case from the inside. He would have thought further on this train of thought, but then his eyes fell on Cadence. She was talking with ponies nearly twice her age, but since she had a body aged similarly to their own they accepted her. Even so, their attitudes seemed to be a shared sense of marvel at what she was discussing with them. “She’s turned into a beautiful young mare,” he heard a familiar voice say right next to him. Though mildly surprised at the Princess’ sudden appearance, he didn’t allow it to show in his face. He glanced at her momentarily before replying, “Yes, she has.” “Won’t you ever go to her, reintroduce yourself,” she asked as she turned her head down to look at him. He shook his head without blinking, “It would bring more harm than good.” “There’s a young colt she’s grown quite fond of,” she said offhandedly, “A trainee in the Royal Guard. She babysits his little sister.” Bunsen processed the information in silence as he took a small sip of the drink in his right hoof. They shared a moment in silent reflection: former teacher and former student; estranged to each other, almost miles away in their separation. He wasn’t sure why she still bothered trying to reach out to him. Guilt? Shame perhaps? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t care less. “There’s something I must tell you,” she declared, before she turned back towards the castle interior, then looked to him, “It can’t be here. Please, Bunsen?” Ah, business. Now things made sense. He gave his drink to a nearby waiter, and followed after the Princess. She led him up into her Solarium. Its stained glass walls would normally allow for a joyous dance of colors throughout the day, and it was one of the few rooms within the castle for the Princess’ exclusive use. When she had the time she came here to think; what little time allowed least ways. Under the moon’s light the colors in the solarium were muted into deeper, thicker hues. Light colors became dark, and dark colors were nigh opaque. After she had closed and locked the doors behind them, she cast a spell of silence on the room. To go to such precautions the situation had to be serious, he reasoned. At last she turned to him, and shattered the silence with a single question, “What do you know of the Mare in the Moon?” It took Bunsen a few moments to collect his thoughts before he spoke, looking up at the astral body as he did, “It’s believed to be the last remains of a demon of Tartarus, Nightmare Moon. Cast there onto its face for the rest of eternity, it was supposedly the sign by which you proved your divinity to the ancient Solarians.” Bunsen scoffed a little at that thought, “I’m more inclined to believe it was caused by some colossal meteor shower.” The Princess looked up at the moon as well, a strange sort of sadness in her eyes he had never seen before, “The truth is very different from what you might expect.” She looked back to him again, “I have a sister.” The earth pony began to choke a little on his own sense of smugness, then looked back at her in a confused and shocked expression, “What?” “Almost one thousand years ago, my sister Luna, guardian of the moon, was overcome by grief and loneliness. No one admired her work or her nightly art, and on this day 990 years ago she gave into her hatred and pain.” The hurt expression she wore grew deeper before she looked to Bunsen, “She became Nightmare Moon.” The stallion was dumbfounded by this new knowledge, as once again he had been caught off guard by a legend coming to life. “I fought her,” the Princess continued, “I hurt her, and she hurt me. She wanted to drown the world in everlasting night, condemning all life to a cold, bitter death. Only through the intervention of the Elements of Harmony, the real Elements of Harmony, was she defeated.” Bunsen recalled his history; initially called the Elements of Creation, the six crystal stones imbued the world with life, and were used to banish Nightmare Moon. They had been transported to Canterlot upon its completion and had been kept there for over 250 years, until they had disappeared, spirited away by unknown parties. “When I bound her to the moon she made that shape, to remind me nightly how I had failed her,” she declared, “but she also promised that she would return, that in the next millennium an astral alignment would empower her once again, and that the stars would enable her escape.” “And the thousand years are almost up,” Bunsen replied quietly. She reached out to him, placing her hooves on his shoulders, and locked eyes with him. There was a slight shaking in her reach, and then Bunsen realized just how great the gravity of the situation was; her hooves were shaking in fear. “Bunsen,” she exclaimed gently, “I am so sorry for what I had to do to you, but I need your help for when the moment comes and Nightmare Moon returns. The Elements are the only thing that can stop her, but only the worthy can use their power.” “Why can’t you just use their power again?” “I bound them to be only used by six beings,” she gave a sad smile, “I’ve learned that power is best when it is equally shared, and each who uses it is equally accountable.” Bunsen scoffed again before asking in exasperation, “Can’t you just lift that enchantment and use them by yourself for a short time?” “Even I’m subject to the Law of Arcane Permanence,” she said with a sigh, “the Elements have been bound by that magic for nearly 700 years; it would take too much of me to try and undo the enchantment and fend off my sister.” “What do you need me for then,” he asked in frustration, “I’m no unicorn, and I no longer have a friend in the world!” The Princess winced, but she held his shoulders a little tighter, “You are my contingency.” She paused, trying to build up the strength to speak, before she began again, “My hope lies with Fancy Pants, or the student after him, that they can unlock the Elements’ power and defeat Nightmare Moon forever. If that does not happen, I cannot allow her to destroy this world. If there is no other option, I will take her somewhere where I can hold her forever.” “But there is no such place,” he replied, “If the moon can’t hold her, and neither can here, what place can? Space is an empty region with nothing but rocks and ice.” The Princess paused again. Then she replied, “The heart of the sun.” Bunsen’s eyes widened and his mouth began to unconsciously fall open. The Princess barreled on before he could say anything more, “I’d ensure that this planet would continue, but there needs to be a strong leader for Equestria. You have the background knowledge to run the country’s sciences and military, but you could never be the face that ponies see on a day to day basis.” Bunsen’s head was spinning, but the pieces were falling into place as to who that public face would be, “Cadence?” “Yes. She is already respected by the Royal Family, and as the ponies of Equestria come to know her they will love her. You would rule together: her the Princess, and you the Lord Protector. Together you would both help bring stability and comfort out of the renewed apocalypse that could occur.” She took her hooves off his shoulders, and she backed away a few paces, “I know this is a heavy burden, but I know it will not break you. You are strong, Bunsen. I know we can never repair our relationship, but I ask that you please understand; avoiding this doomsday scenario is everything. I’m sorry I brought you back, but I would do it ten times over if it would for certain save Equestria and the world.” Bunsen remained silent for many long seconds as he struggled with all this new information. At last things began to make sense surrounding his teacher, and in other facets she remained absolutely inscrutable. She had a sister bent on destroying the world? Cadence and he would rule if she failed to stop her? She gave him his sanity back for this; to wake up to a world even madder then he? At the same time, though, he knew he was the perfect candidate for Lord Protector if this dark fate came to pass; he had the knowledge, but he could make the terrible choices. He could be reviled, and still do his job, all to make Cadence the purer. Now he saw. Now it made sense. “I’ll do it,” he replied softly, before nodding softly, “If it comes to that, I will protect them.” She then gently hugged him, but he did not return it. “You cannot speak to anypony else of this,” she declared, “The panic it would create would be-“ “I understand,” he nodded. He had thought of that conversation endlessly since then. The world hung by a thread. Time was running out. All the old myths of yore were real, and they were monstrous. It was mere months later that he finally finished his work. The centrifuge stopped. A single sample was held inside, which he gently grasped with his hooves. He brought it up to eye level. A sickly orange fluid full of froth met his gaze. Now came the final test. He took the sample gently into his mouth and walked to the sample petri dish. Inside was the necrotized chitin of the Changeling Bruco. Once again he held the sample between his hooves, and he pulled the cork out with his teeth. Gently, he rotated the beaker over the sample until three drops came out. The orange fluid hit the chitin. He quickly placed the sample under the microscope nearby and waited. At first little happened, but as time wore on, the fluid absorbed into the bug flesh, sapping it of its leftover magic. The loss of magic caused the cellular walls to rupture and fall apart, causing them to disintegrate. After a few minutes there was nothing left of the sample; if he hadn’t known it before he would have said it was a brand new culture dish. “Testing is finished,” he muttered to himself, “The Marigold Option is a success: destroys magic based life-forms without harming other organic elements.” If only the Princess knew. She had assumed that there were only two options in the doomsday scenario: eternal night, or life without her. Now there was a third option: life without Nightmare Moon. If anyone else knew, this discovery would be catastrophic. Some would call this tool unholy, a god killing weapon. He preferred to think of it as evening the playing field. Now he could defend Equestria from any threat; no bugs, no mad alicorn, nothing would stand against him from defending others. With this new compound, Equestria would always win. He synthesized a few more CCs of the Marigold Option, and then locked them away in the Chem Vault. No one else could be trusted with this. He would bury it, until it needed to be used, if ever. He hoped he’d never have to, but life had taught him much, and it never hurt to have a backup plan.