Episode 2.4: Appeal
Isaac had never imagined he would ever see the surface as the Ancestors of old had seen it in their glory. There was no armor about him as he strode into the changeling city, no drugs in his blood to block out the magic. The strange energy passed through him freely, a constant invisible assault from every direction. There was no pain, not like the agony he had felt in Paradise's reactor. If Isaac never felt that again, it would be too soon.
There was a part of him that feared his protection would eventually fail, and he would die in agony. He felt no hint of that now; the strange new sensations he guessed were magic did not hurt. It was, rather, a sense of pressure building in his body, with nowhere to go. He ignored the sensation, as he had since waking on the first day of his new life.
The weight of Ezri's body strained against his shoulders, the straps of the papoose digging into his skin. The jumpsuit Sunset had given him to wear had an old, stiff feeling to it, and it offered little of the protection even an HPI cooling suit would've. At least, the fluid would've helped distribute the pressure a bit better.
"Remember, you're just my diamond dog assistant. I'll do the talking."
"I remember." He kept his voice down, and low. Well, he couldn't help but have a low voice compared to a pony, particularly a mare. The human vocal range was similar, but dropped about an octave lower than ponies. He could only hope that it was similar for diamond dogs. Otherwise, he was going to seem more a freak than he already did.
Isaac rested one hand on the sword. It was a crude weapon compared to anything he had trained with, but it would have to do. It wasn't as though there was an abundance of better substitutes around.
"Halt!" a strange voice shouted from the wall in front of them, echoing the same way he was used to hearing from Ezri. The voice belonged to a drone, though she was both larger than Ezri and far more worn-looking. Her armor was dull in places, with huge weapon-scars. She had only one wing, the other torn to ragged shreds.
They stopped. The fence itself was made of poured concrete, ten feet tall and about half that thick. It was rough work, but strong. A few rusting streaks from inside suggested it had been steel-reinforced. Poorly, perhaps, but...
"The capital hive is open only to those invited. What is your business here, strangers?"
Though only one drone was a spokesman, Isaac followed the line of the wall with his eyes. There were dozens of drones stationed at various points along it. Each one had a rifle held in glowing green magic. Crude weapons—no match for his Centurion armor. Armor he wasn't wearing.
"Family!" Jackie gestured, and Isaac turned slowly around so that the resting Ezri would face the wall. "This drone belongs to Queen Riley. She needs her queen's help!"
"Your information is out of date, stranger." Isaac turned back around in time to see the spokesman changeling lean over the edge of the wall towards them. "That queen has taken a new name and a new title. She is Sargon Titania. Forget the old names, they mean nothing now."
Jackie groaned quietly. "Whatever. We have a drone who needs the Sargon's help. If she doesn't help, she'll die."
"And you claim she belongs to the Sargon?" The drone didn't have functional wings, she couldn't fly. Instead she jumped, falling the full height of the wall and landing on the ground in front of them. "You claim the Sargon herself created a drone, but couldn't be bothered to listen to her call for help? Do not mistake our similarities to mean we see the same world. We are superior, pony. We see and think together. You cannot deceive us."
"Turn around, Isaac." He did, much as he hated to show his back to this creature. The drone wasn't large—she seemed slightly smaller than Jackie—but she also had a body covered with scars. Still he obeyed, knowing what Jackie meant. He dropped to one knee, even though it made him feel remarkably helpless. He wrapped the fingers of one hand around the hilt of his sword, just in case.
"Look at this scar." Jackie fumbled at the harness, pulling one of the flaps away. "Ezri said she was one of Riley's first experiments. She couldn't use the hive mind if she wanted to—and isn't there a range, too?" Isaac couldn't see Jackie's face, so he could only guess.
The guard gasped, evidently recognizing what Isaac already knew was there. "Someone severed her. This better not have been you."
"No." Jackie sounded defensive. "That's a decades-old scar. Her mother gave it to her, not me."
"Whom you insist was the Sargon herself."
"You can stand up, Isaac." He did, turning back around. Isaac continued to watch, knowing that speaking even once might give the illusion away. Anything that drew attention might shatter the illusion. "Yes, Ezri is her daughter. She's her daughter, and she needs help."
The guard glared up at them. "Alright. But... if you're deceiving us, you will be punished. You might be able to trick me, but you will not trick a queen. The punishment for wasting the Sargon's time is... quite severe. Even getting access will not be easy. You will have to demonstrate the truth of your claim before a queen."
"We'll do it." Jackie didn't hesitate, not even a second. "The ponies have given up on her. They want to keep her alive as long as possible and just pray she wakes up." She advanced towards the drone, and her wall. "The 'Sargon' will want to help. Let us worry about convincing her."
"Not her." The drone turned away, making her way to the edge of the gate. "Open it!" Motors started to grind nearby, and the fence began wheeling slowly sideways on massive tracks. "Her daughter."
* * *
They were given an escort, half a dozen changelings that kept closely to the two of them and led them through the city. Almost everyone Isaac saw had glittering black armor instead of fur, though there were a few regular ponies here and there. It was hard to say for sure, but it seemed to Isaac that the normal ponies were all serving in technical roles, directing changelings or instructing them. They passed a construction crew around the base of a building, and he could hear a gruff earth pony explaining the principles of cement-mixing to a watching crowd of fifty changelings.
Of course, there was no way to be sure which were intelligent and which were being controlled. Isaac had been taught just as all Centurions were taught, and he knew the basic abilities of each Equestrian race. It was important to know the enemy he might be facing. If only he had known that the real danger to the HPI would come from within.
In the center of the city, or at least what he took for the center given the direction they had started, was a massive building shaped roughly like a hexagon. It seemed at a glance to be hundreds of feet across, built with thick concrete walls and formed with glittering waves of transparent green... something. Isaac still didn't know what that substance was, but it was clearly not very strong as it was never placed to hold weight.
The guard from the wall had come along, and though she had offered no explanation for what they saw while moving through the city, she spoke as they stopped outside a massive ramp. The building seemed to have several entrances, many of which were located on higher levels. Like some pony buildings he had seen, this had doors opening into empty air. A steady stream of changelings, probably the same one he had seen from far outside the city, flowed in and out of these openings. Many carried bags or other cargo with them, though it was hard to guess at what they might actually contain.
"This is the palace," said their escort. "While you are here, you stand in the Sargon's sovereign territory. You will be expected to show proper respect to your betters. Should you fail to do so, your case will be dismissed and you will be punished. Coming here constitutes agreement to obey and honor our laws. If you do not wish to do this, I can still take you from the city. Once we enter, however, a queen will hear your petition. You will not be permitted to leave until a judgment has been made, either for or against. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Jackie didn't sound worried, upset, or angry. Isaac had rarely heard the thestral so calm, actually. "We're sure. I want my petition heard."
"Very well." Their escort lowered her head. "By the grace of the Queens, it will be." She gestured, and most of their guards turned to file away. Only two others remained with them, taking up the rear while the changeling herself led the way up the ramp.
It was very steep, and Isaac had to quicken his pace in order not to fall behind his quadrupedal companions. He heard his implants clicking and groaning under the effort, protesting the abuse he was putting them through. They might make him stronger and faster, but not without a price. The energy would drain faster because he asked more of them. Eventually, their batteries would deplete and he would die.
In all the history of the HPI nobody had ever been killed by implant starvation. There was electricity abundant in every outpost and settlement, and what little energy implants took was hardly a drain compared to the CPNFG. Yet they had all been told what consequences would be waiting for them if their implants did fail.
"Increasing your speed requires supplementing the signals from your spinal cord. Living with them for any sustained period will mean that your body will come to rely on the relay they provide. If that relay is suddenly missing, you will find your limbs nearly impossible to control. Even autonomous functions such as heartbeat and breathing will suffer. If power should fail entirely, either your heart will stop, or you will suffocate, or some combination of the two. Those lucky enough not to experience either of these have the pleasure of slowly starving in their own bodies as their digestion is no longer properly regulated."
He had been taught that several times, he knew what it meant. Run out of power, and he would die. But that didn't matter, really. The Honored Memory had given him a great gift, and with it the blessing of a few more days of life. If he could accomplish anything in that time, then he was sure she would be proud.
Besides: if the Ancestors willed to give him immunity to magic, a foe even they in their time had not been able to stop, then surely finding him a way to power his implants would be a simple thing. If not, it meant they didn't will him to survive. Right?
At the top of the ramp was an enormous door, with massive torches burning outside it streaking the walls with soot. Several guards were standing at attention, and not all of them changelings. All wore black armor made from painted steel of remarkable quality. It was impressive to see such attention to detail, and such strength. Of course, no number of "armored" guards would've made a difference against a Legion of Centurions... but if the outside world never knew how weak it was by comparison, so much the better.
The current feeling in his organization had been even more extreme: if the world didn't know humanity even survived, then that was ideal. There was no reason to have embassies anymore, not when Bountiful and its ponies could produce anything that needed to be made on the outside, or find somewhere to get it.
"We have petitioners," said their escort, flicking her tail in their direction. "For the Sargon herself. They have insisted."
The guards lowered their spears, clearing the doorway for them. Their escort slowed a little as they entered, nodding respectfully to the guards. The interior had a low ceiling, especially for Isaac. He had to stoop as he entered, careful not to scrape his head or Ezri's on the roof. Larger torches burned here, not crystals or electric lights. The hallway was almost choked with the vapor, at least at his own head level. Had he been at pony height, it probably wouldn't have been so bad.
"The Sargon herself doesn't hear many petitions," their escort explained, her voice hushed. There were many doorways along this hall, and through them Isaac got glimpses of a functioning government. Lecture halls were packed with students and visitors. Debate raged in a round amphitheater, as changelings and non-changelings alike shouted at one another. Clerks scribbled in rooms packed with scrolls. Scribes hunched over ancient-looking books as they read.
They did not go to any of these rooms. Instead, their escort took them down, through several more guarded doorways. The interior of the structure was mostly wood, though there were large sections that seemed to be carved concrete, as though the entire massive slab had been poured and something had excavated into it afterward. Given what he knew of changelings, Isaac suspected that was a distinct possibility.
"We're going down to the audience chamber. It’s difficult to say who will be there to judge you. One of the queens always is, though. Someone must be there to hear petitions, either for herself or for the Sargon. Are you familiar with the method?"
Jackie shook her head. It wasn't very dark, but even so Isaac suspected a regular pony would've had trouble seeing in the gloom. Once past the well-lit hallway and down into the larger structure beyond, there was very little light. Only the occasional naked electric bulb, brightening and dimming to some invisible cycle. "I lived... very far from here. I didn't know there even was a Sargon. Last I heard, there was just one hive here, living together with the nearby pony city. Alexandria, isn't it?"
"You mean you came from there and didn't even learn its name?" The escort didn't wait for her to answer as they descended the sloping path. The roof got even lower, and for a time Isaac had to get down on his hands and knees and crawl. There was enough clearance for Ezri on his back, but only barely. "Yes, we have always worked very closely with Alexandria. The Sargon spoke of days when our kind was seen less favorably. I understand in some parts of the world that is still the case. Regardless, Alexandria was one of the most welcoming cities on the planet. It is only with their help that we have become as we have. By taking the firsts into their lives, the ponies there helped give us life. As they continue to accept our children, they give them life also."
Isaac wanted to speak. The longer they went the more questions boiled in his mind. Yet he resisted. He was, after all, playing the part of an ignorant servant. He would not go against that impression now by asking intelligent questions.
The changeling ahead continued. The quarters were very cramped, but Isaac made do. Hopefully, the audience chamber wouldn't be this small. "We reach much further than Alexandria now. Changelings will one day spread across the world. Ponies have their advantages: you live so long, and love as we cannot. However, you can't do what we do. You can't build as we can, or communicate as we can, or cooperate as we can. Our queens see the world far clearer than even your wisest pony can imagine. In time, we will change the world."
"You don't sound like a guard." Jackie's voice was nervous now, more nervous than she had seemed on their entire trip.
"That's because I'm not." Their escort didn't slow as they walked. Isaac could see a vast black space opening before him. He was relieved, and sure enough they passed through the single doorway into a large room. Even with his enhanced eyes, he couldn't see the ceiling or any of the walls except the one they had come from. A single brazier burned in the center of the room, casting a flickering orange glow that wasn't quite strong enough to fully light it. The effect seemed intentional. On the far side of the room was another glowing doorway, protected by a thick metal gate. It had a lock, a relatively sturdy one for as primitive as these ponies had seemed.
"I'm the one you'll be speaking with." The voice echoed even stranger than it had before. "I'm not a guard. I'm a queen." It wasn't just the strange properties of all changeling voices he had been hearing. Rather, the words came from two places at once. There was a figure beside the brazier, a figure taller than any pony Isaac had ever seen save Sunset Shimmer herself. A figure wrapped in glittering gold and black armor, shaped for her elegant body.
"Come closer." Both voices still spoke. "Introduce yourselves to me, before the petition. It is my right to look at you with my own eyes before I pass judgment."
Isaac lifted himself silently onto two legs, glanced once down to Jackie, and walked forward beside her. The drone who had been speaking all this time fell into step behind them, at the center of her group of guards. They didn't follow too closely or seem too menacing, yet Isaac could not help but feel trapped. He had no gauntlet, and even if he had he suspected the stone above would've blocked communicate with Athena's satellites. He had no armor, no way to fight his way free. How many guards might lurk in a building this size? Did they have even a shred of a chance of escape, if it came to that?
Isaac could only cross his fingers and pray that Jackie's negotiation skills would win out. She had been skilled in her dream business, maybe some of that crossed over somehow. Ezri liked her, so she couldn't be entirely useless.
"That's close enough, stop." The queen raised one hoof as they neared her, standing on the other side of the flickering flames. Even as she stared at them, Isaac was able to get a close look at his first changeling queen. Her body was proportioned almost exactly like Sunset's with overlarge wings and horn. However, some parts were even more exaggerated. Legs that weren't just graceful, but almost unhealthily so. Limbs that seemed just a little too thin to support her weight.
Her eyes weren't the usual inscrutable insect variety that had forced Isaac to get so good at reading changeling body language. Rather, they were a little like Jackie's, slitted but otherwise familiar. She had a real mane and tail too, not the fins that served for drones. It was an interesting middle ground.
Of course, that was not what stood out most to him. What Isaac noticed most about the queen was her power, the sense of magic and supreme control that radiated from her. It wasn't the same as the feeling he got around Sunset. That Alicorn had power far beyond this, but it didn't come with nearly this much control. Sunset simply loved, and those around her felt that love. This being... she was something else. Colder, more calculating.
Evil? That he couldn't say. "My name is Evoli, firstborn of the Sargon. I will judge your petition."
Jackie breathed, her whole body shaking. Isaac wanted to reach out and reassure her, but he resisted. He kept one hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, but said nothing. The act had gotten them this far, after all. If he could keep his stupid mouth shut, it might be just what saved them. "I... Okay, Queen Evoli. What more do you need to hear?"
The queen laughed. No, not just her. The drones that watched for their retreat laughed too, along with hundreds of other voices in the building. It was as though the structure itself was laughing at them. "I've heard all the words I need to hear, pony. That isn't what a petition is." She gestured, though Isaac suspected she didn't need to. The largest of the guards, the one with the broken wing and body covered in scars, moved up through the darkness to stand beside her.
"I nominate this drone to serve in the defense of the Sargon. Which of you will fight for your petition?"
"Is it... Is it wrong to ask the rules?" Jackie's voice had lost quite a bit of its confidence. "I mean... I know you said we need to follow your laws..."
"If it were wrong, you'd be in a rather unfortunate position at this point, wouldn't you? You've already asked." She cleared her throat. "You or your representative will defend your petition against my drone. You're the one making the petition, so you choose the weapon. If you kill her, then you may see the Sargon. If you die, then..." She shrugged one shoulder. "Judgment will have been passed."
From beside him, Jackie looked around nervously. He wondered idly if she could see more in the dark room than he could, but he didn't ask. "I have a feeling these petitions make more sense for changeling queens than regular ponies."
Evoli grinned, rows of sharp teeth glittering in the firelight. "You've passed inside the palace, you may not leave. Name the weapon, petitioner."
Jackie winced, deflating. Isaac couldn't tell what she might be thinking, and he found himself not caring.
Isaac cleared his throat. Once he spoke, there would be no going back. Yet what could he do, stay silent and expect Jackie to fight for them? The bat pony might be an expert with dreams, but she hadn't trained her whole life to be a warrior. Isaac had. "Sword. We choose the sword." He stepped forward, past Jackie and into the full light of the brazier.
Queen Evoli stared openly at him, her mouth opening and closing once. Then she laughed. She did not actually look at him but met Jackie's eyes instead. "Your servant has great enthusiasm. I warn you, though. A clumsy brute of a dog would be gutted in such a challenge. You should keep better discipline over your servants."
Isaac turned, glancing down at Jackie. She tilted her head to one side, and he nodded in response. No words between them were necessary. "I second what he said. Isaac will fight the challenge, and we choose the sword."
Queen Evoli shrugged one shoulder. "Very well. Know, though, that you make this choice of your own free will, dog. Your relatives will have no legal recourse against the Sargon when they hear you willingly entered into the combat."
Isaac grunted, dropping down to one knee. "Help me with Ezri." He didn't bother with any acting, not anymore. There was no chance he could fight well when wrapped up in all this heavy clothing. He would have to remove it, and in so doing reveal his real self to the queen and all changelings besides. Fortunately, he was not a pony, and could remove the harness without much help. He lifted up with his arms, pulling the straps up over his head, then walked backward, away from the light, and lowered his cargo gently down.
Ezri's head poked out from the harness, her eyes closed in sleep. It was strange to see her look so peaceful when he knew she was dying. "You better appreciate this, bug," he muttered, before lifting the robe up off his head and setting it down beside her. Beneath the thick cloth stuffed with padding, he wore only the jumpsuit Sunset had found for him. He unwound the cloth from around his hands, then from his face. All went into a pile atop the robe.
"What... What kind of dog is that?" he heard Evoli ask, apparently having not moved from the center of the room.
He didn't leave it for Jackie to defend him this time. "I am no dog," Isaac said, striding back to the center of the room. His implants gave him strength, corrected his posture, reminded him of his training. Even equipped with an inferior weapon, Isaac was still a Centurion. A defender of the faith blessed by the Ancestors themselves. Against such, what could the changelings possibly offer to resist?
He stopped beside Jackie, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It felt right not to be trapped in all that cloth, even if he knew he was about to be subjected to mortal danger. It didn't matter. Ezri's life was in his hands.
"You look like..." Queen Evoli continued to stare, taking in the details of his face. "I have seen depictions of beings like you. Images... descriptions. My mother spoke of it when I was very young, but I did not believe she meant the stories literally."
"She did." Isaac rested one hand on his sword, drawing it with a rigid metallic ring. The scabbard hadn't been built for a sword this size, which was unfortunate since it wasn't nearly large enough to actually be comfortable. "Jackie and I would be happy to accept your surrender." His voice did not falter, not when it was filled with the unmistakable confidence of faith. "If you've realized you can't win."
Evoli's face was unreadable, and even her less-insect eyes did not reveal what she was thinking. That didn't exactly surprise him, though. Changelings had always been master manipulators. Surely that must mean being able to conceal their feelings, be it from strangers or each other. "I'm afraid it isn't that simple, creature. The petition must be made. There is no way to ignore the law. Without the law, we are mere insects. With it, we become gods."
She gestured, and several drones emerged from the darkness behind her. One carried a little wooden case in its magic, walking in even steps. The drone that had escorted them into the hive levitated the latch open and lifted something from the velvet inside. It was, of course, a sword, made of the same dark metal that fashioned their armor. Unlike the blade in his own scabbard, this sword looked well-worn and cared for. This was no ceremonial weapon as Sunset's own guards carried. This sword had shed blood.
With a flick of her horn, the queen sent a wave of brilliant light through the room. Crystals mounted to distant sconces began to glow a bright green, the exact same shade as her magic. Lit in this way, Isaac could see the whole vast space around him. He could also see a large circle painted on the ground. Little Ezri rested just outside it in her harness. There were over a hundred drones along the outside. Not all of them moved in unison either or stood frozen like some of the guards did. Hell, most of them weren't even armed. They just sat, watching with intense interest.
"Few outsiders have ever made a petition before." Evoli retreated slowly from the circle, and all her other drones did as well. Jackie mimicked the gesture on her side, walking backward until she stood beside Ezri. "Few have the right. Claiming a connection to the Sargon's own daughter, well... that earned you this right. It also made you many spectators, as you can see." She stopped just outside the edge of the circle. Her drone flicked its sword through the air, retreating until it stood just in front of the queen, within the circle.
Isaac did the same, walking back until he stood in front of Jackie. He didn't move his sword through the air as the drone did, didn't practice or show off.
"As the Sargon's loyal servant, I answer the petition on her behalf. Let it end when only one within the circle lives, or I forfeit on the Sargon's behalf. To leave the circle or to strike with magic is to forfeit the challenge and your lives. Let the trial begin."
Isaac raised his sword in a high guard, letting his body tense. There was no switch or indicator to activate: his implants would sense his tension and switch into the high-power mode, rows of little vents along his back closing flat with high-strength alloy. He felt the motion along his spine and up his arms and legs, and watched as the world slowed down. The drone guard advanced towards him as though she were running underwater. The world came into sharper focus, and he could make out even little details, such as the reflection of the brazier in the drone's armor as she charged past it.
There was no controlling the effect, except to control his stress-response. Otherwise, it would continue to draw on his own strength and the electrical energy inside until both were depleted and he died. Isaac had no desire to die today.
He walked forward to meet the charge, careful to keep his steps slow. There was a technique to it, not revealing the actual speed that surged in his body, ready for release. No, the combat implants of a Centurion weren't magic. But until his own creation, they had been the closest the HPI had come to finding a way to compete with ponies. A unicorn couldn't strangle you with magic if you shot him first.
"Ancestors protect me." Isaac tensed, perhaps halfway between the edge of the circle and the brilliant flames. The changeling struck, lunging up towards his chest from below. Isaac easily caught the blow, sparks flying around him as he cast it aside. Even against the flat of his blade the sturdy changeling sword bit into his own ceremonial weapon. He retreated exactly one step, breathing evenly and forcing his arm to move slowly.
The drone shouted and pressed, striking forward a little quicker than before. Isaac gave again, sending more sparks around them as he caught a thrust from the side. The changeling always kept its blade close to its body, never too far to grab in its teeth.
Isaac tried a few strikes of his own, aiming not for the armor but the straps connecting the metal plates protecting the drone's left shoulder. He surged forward, thrusting through the drone's guard and severing the straps with a single precise cut. His sword bit a little into the chitin beneath, but not much. He pulled back before it could get stuck, or get even more chipped.
The crowd gasped, and changelings that had been watching from the walls drew closer to the circle, closing around every opening. The drone withdrew, retreating to stand beside the flames of the brazier. Isaac followed, but not closely, standing just out of reach on the other side.
"Are you a warrior, strange creature?" The drone spoke as it had done before, and the queen did not echo its words. Hearing speech under the influence of battle speed made them sound stretched and shifted down, coming almost unbearably slow. As it spoke, the drone used its own sword to cut the remaining straps free, freeing itself of that encumbering armor plate and revealing cloth padding and chitin underneath.
"I am... I was a Centurion of the Salt Legion." His own words came just as slow and sounded just as strange, requiring great concentration. He probably still sounded a little stupid.
"You were trained well." The drone closed again, lifting the sword above its head for a high strike. Energy burned there, almost like glowing fingers. It was a faster attack than any human arm could've delivered. Isaac caught the blow with the flat of his sword, tossing it sideways against the brass brazier. Even so, the blow came with an impact that shook his arm.
A crack ran right down the center of the blade, dividing his sword into two flimsy halves. He didn't strike back, and the drone pulled away again, grinning wickedly at him. "You haven't killed before."
"How—" He retreated from the center again, placing his back to Ezri and Jackie. "How would you know that?"
"Because you hesitated." The drone lifted her sword again. "You should've stabbed me in the neck. Instead, you chose an attack that wouldn't kill. Nopony wants to kill, even if you know I'm just using the body of a drone with no mind of her own. Your mistake might be fatal."
Isaac roared, barreling down on the little drone. He struck without regard for his weapon this time, aiming for the weak point he had created. The drone withdrew as carefully as he had, retreating slightly with each blow towards its master as sparks rained down. Not holding the sword in an actual arm meant a strength unrestricted by position, a power he matched with blurring speed. Even so, he couldn't break the changeling's guard again and reach unprotected flesh.
He didn't try. As their swords locked together in another shower of sparks, Isaac lashed out with a swift kick, driving with all the strength his implants could give him. Centurions had been trained to fight ponies: he knew where his kick would do the most damage. Plate armor couldn't protect the drone from the crushing force of his kick as the foreleg bent backward so far chitin shattered and green fluid seeped from the joints.
The drone screamed in agony, and from just a few feet away he heard the queen gasp. Could she feel the pain her drone felt?
"Surrender!" he shouted, holding his battered sword above the drone. "Don't make me kill her!" A few feet below him, the drone held its damaged limb close to its chest, holding itself up with the other three.
The drone charged. There was no showing off in the way she moved this time, and as she moved she trailed sickly green goo with her. The drone swung with lightning speed, forcing him to retreat step after step. Each strike hit his sword with an increasingly pained whine, biting into the steel even as he tried to turn the blows. Eventually he was back up against the edge, with Ezri's limp form just behind him. The changeling rained down blow after blow, and he was forced to draw on every ounce of speed to keep up. Only his speed and the precision it provided kept him alive, his sword blurring to turn one strike after another.
The drone slammed her sword down towards him with more strength than Isaac had ever seen in a single magical attack. He barely raised the sword in time, and even then it wasn't really enough. The battered blade could take no more, shattering under the force. He slid to the side out of the way of the drone's weapon, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid a chunk of his own, which took him right in the chest. Blood sprayed, and the drone retreated again, leaving Isaac holding only a handle and a few inches of the sword.
The world slowed again. As his body struggled, as blood seeped from the wound, his implants kicked into their maximum mode, giving him as much speed and strength as the human body could endure. His veins flooded with adrenaline, blurring away the pain. But just because it felt like he wasn't hurt didn't mean that was actually true.
The drone turned its back on him, walking back around towards the queen. It didn't even watch him, but she did. "As I said; you shouldn't have challenged here. There is good reason only queens have petitions heard. Lesser beings like you shouldn't interfere in what they don't understand."
Isaac only half-listened, the words coming frustratingly slow. He reached up, unzipping the edge of the jumpsuit and pulling it down to his belly. He peeled it off his arms one at a time, so he could get a good look at the wound. The changelings behind him gasped, and he could feel their stares on his back. He ignored them. A chunk of jumpsuit had gone with the blade into his abdomen. The wound dripped blood in a steady stream, seeping into his jumpsuit and pooling on the ground in front of him.
"You don't have to keep going," Jackie whispered, only a few feet away outside the circle. "I'll think of something—"
"No," Isaac grunted, then pulled the chunk of steel from his chest, dropping it to the ground in front of him. The queen's drone probably could've killed him by now, if she had followed through the first strike. She hadn't though, and his frown deepened the more he thought about it. Why hadn't she pressed her advantage? "I... I'm going to finish." The bleeding got worse, but not by much. Isaac had been trained in anatomy and knew how to diagnose a wound.
The drone kept ignoring him. He reached down, using the broken end of his sword to slice off the top of the suit. A few quick slices freed him a patch to use as a bandage and a strip to tie it with, and he worked swiftly to stop the bleeding. The wound wasn't severe and hadn't even gone deep enough to cause any real damage.
That didn't matter. It could still kill him if he kept fighting. One wrong move might tear him open. The bandage could help with that, at least enough to keep him going. Besides: he would bleed out much slower this way.
The longer she watched, the less patient Evoli appeared. From her expression, it seemed she had been expecting him to be overwhelmed by the pain and to try to give up. Maybe she was waiting for him to weaken, for him to come to her. He didn't do either, working calmly and rationally as his implants burned through their energy supply. Worse, he couldn't even guess how long he had left: it took a gauntlet to view that information. He might die five minutes from now and not even know it was coming.
The drone limped forward. Isaac lifted his broken sword, a single chunk of steel protruding from the hilt. His aim would have to be perfect, his strike deadly enough to stop the drone despite her weapon. Isaac drew on all his speed, and aimed the sword like a throwing dagger, directly for the drone's exposed shoulder. The projectile flew true, straight on towards the opening. He had trained his whole life to be a Centurion.
A flickering aura gripped the blade inches from the drone's flesh, arrested in place. This seemed to strain the drone a moment, her breath coming heavier and the sword drooping in her magic. Isaac didn't advance—he didn't have a weapon anymore.
The drone dropped the broken hilt, kicking it aside. Isaac jumped, lunging for it as it rolled... but he wasn't fast enough. The weapon spun outside the circle, coming to a stop at the hooves of a watching drone. Isaac rolled onto his back, stumbling to his boots as quickly as he could. He had no weapon now, no chance of victory. It didn't matter. A Centurion died on his feet. Isaac turned to face the drone and prepared himself for death.
"No outsider has ever beaten a queen," Evoli said, through her drone. She raised the sword above her head, advancing slowly toward him. "Now you see why. Lesser beings cannot even comprehend the power we wield. Even as you fought, I saw and predicted every action, planned for it, reacted to it. You only landed the blows you did because I chose to let you."
The drone roared and seemed heedless of its injury as it bore down on him. Glittering steel swung down towards his chest, to land a blow that would end the battle for good.
"You don't have to die, you know." The world slowed again, more than anything he had ever seen. A drop of blood falling from one of his fingers froze in midair. The changelings, almost entirely silent during the fight so far, became utterly so. Not even breathing broke the silence. Not even his own.
Well, except for the voice. Isaac couldn't move his head, but he didn't have to. The speaker was right in front of him. As he watched, the little pool of blood in front of him began to boil and froth. Shadows danced in the firelight, and darkness congealed in the red vapor that rose. It was like watching a person made of fog claw their way out of the ground.
The shape gradually became more distinct, solidifying into a semitransparent human figure. It was a young man, perhaps five years his senior, with sharp features and a well-cut suit made of mist. He had no color to him but that Isaac's own blood had given. "You don't have to die," the figure said again. "It wouldn't be difficult to give you a victory here. Not difficult at all."
Isaac couldn't move, yet somehow he found he could still speak. At speeds like this, no movement of his body would've been possible. Even enhanced by a lifetime of surgeries and implants, his muscles could move only so fast. To try at these speeds probably would've killed him. Even so, the words came from somewhere. "What is your name, spirit?"
Even in this strange state, Isaac remembered a few of the lessons he had learned. The HPI had studied these supernatural beings, creatures of magic that didn't necessarily have a physical form. Perhaps his ancient ancestors would've worshiped beings like these as gods, but Isaac knew better. They were in their way no different from wild animals, and no more divine.
Spirits could not lie about their names, that much he knew. When you didn't have a body, your name was too important to intentionally misrepresent. This one seemed to glower at him for a moment, as though considering whether or not to speak. Of course there was no compulsion here: Isaac hadn't summoned it and didn't even know if he could. "You know who I am."
Isaac knew of only one creature like this, despite his knowledge of the caste. It was, of course, Charybdis. "I thought you couldn't appear outside of bodies of water."
The strange being was not compelled by space and speed as Isaac was. It moved freely past him, looking around and apparently appreciating the scene of battle. The drone preparing for another attack, the queen furious at what he had done, the crowd intent. "Blood is just ocean with the life more densely packed. Billions of years ago, your ancestors could not survive on land, so they took the ocean with them in their blood. The connection is still strong, even today. This isn't why I've come, though."
Isaac couldn't move. He could've replied if he wanted to, but he didn't. Instead he listened and watched, delaying until the creature spoke on its own. Eventually, he did. "Your slave master is dead. Three centuries I waited to free your kind. Now, at last, I can."
Isaac couldn't grit his teeth, yet somehow the anger found its way into his tone anyway. "I don't know what difference the Memory's death makes to you. She couldn't even win an election without being assassinated, I'm not sure how she could've enslaved anyone."
The man chuckled. He reached down casually to the puddle, which remained where it had been despite his misty form apparently being made from the blood. Even as he watched, Isaac saw a scroll take shape, lifted out from the dripping mass somehow dry and unstained. The scroll itself was made of thin vellum, and he unrolled it a little, as though playing with it in his hands. "Your kind never learned the method of immortality the Equestrian tyrants chose for their beloved servant. Maybe even the Equestrians themselves never fully understood."
"Explain it then." The world hadn't moved, not even an inch. Isaac now knew beyond doubt this was the work of magic, not just his implants. No brain could work this fast. Maybe that had something to do with why he couldn't move and could only speak silently.
"Your 'Memory' was an idea. That idea was everything the filly admired about your species when it fell. When she returned and some of you still lived, you were bound to her. Her presence reminded you of the way things used to be. As a result, you couldn't change, not without being twisted so far the 'humanity' was gone. She trapped you. But now that she's dead—" He gestured at Isaac's chest. "On that very day, a human comes into being who can survive in magic. Do you imagine that to be a coincidence? My other allies among your kind will serve their purpose, but you... You're something unique."
He unrolled the scroll, showing it to Isaac. He could not read the letters there, yet seeing them made him feel sick. The shapes looked as though they didn't fit on the page, as though the paper itself was a surface with more dimensions than he could see. He let his eyes lose focus, so he didn't have to look too closely. "What's this?"
"A bargain." The misty figure grinned from the edge of the scroll. "You're something very rare, Isaac. You're the first of something new. A new species. All the others are bound, as they were when they were made. Bound to the natural forces of this universe which governed their evolution. You, however, were artificially created beyond its reach. As a result, you make your own choice. You may serve whatever you choose."
Isaac wanted to spit in the monster's face. He couldn't do that, but he could look away from the contract. He hoped somehow his glare would be conveyed. "With respect, fuck you. You can take that scroll and feed it to the fish."
If the words stung, the figure showed no sign. He didn't seem angry either, or even a little bit upset. "You judge too quickly, child. Consider your present predicament. Your allegiance is owed to nothing, yet nothing helps you in return. Your body burns with the magic of high spaces, yet it cannot be used for you have given it no outlet. A contract with me could change that." His smile widened. "I could win this fight for you. More than that, I could give you the power to spread your adaptation to others. Consider for a moment how many of your kind are trapped in their bunkers and holes. With a wave of your hand, you could give them freedom."
Isaac did not know if the spirit was telling the truth or not. Fortunately for him, he had the teachings of the Ancestors. Honored Clark, the first father of the Initiative, had written only one thing of the spirits Charybdis and Odium. They were to be destroyed and resisted at all times, never trusted, and never believed. "Go to hell, monster. I'd sooner let them kill me than make any deals with you. If you've come to do it for them, then get on with it. If not, then get out. I have a fight to finish."
The bloody figure flickered in dim light, his hands tensing at his sides. As he watched, Isaac could see their shape distort, twisting into tentacles. He collected himself quickly, tucking the scroll away into a transparent jacket. How it could make solid matter disappear like that he couldn't know. "Last chance, child." He gestured at the changeling's glittering sword, frozen in its arc down towards him. "When this blow lands, it will kill you. At least consider the bargain I have for you: I think you'll find it kinder than you predict."
"No." Isaac put all the anger into his voice he could. "You want to enslave humanity, just like your brother. I will take no bargain from you no matter how generous you made it sound. After all, the Memory herself signed the treaty, and you found a way to kill her anyway. I'd have to be fucking insane to trust your word."
"I didn't break my word." The air around the ghostly spirit seemed to grow darker, and alien shapes flickered from inside him. Many mouths opened and closed in fury. Each word the monster spoke appeared to come from clenched teeth, storms boiling in dark waters behind him. "Do not presume to judge what you do not understand. Director Salazar acted independently when she plotted Archive's death. That she thought it would please me does not matter: she was one member of your foolish Initiative choosing to run it as she saw fit. There is no word in the treaty prohibiting one member of your fools’ band from slaying another. Impetuous child." He strode closer until he stood right in the puddle. "I revoke my offer. When you die in agony, think of me."
There was a painful jerk and a sound of hissing steam as the figure dissolved. Isaac braced himself as time resumed, the sword slamming down towards him with wild speed. He could hear the air parting from around it as it fell, watch the glittering of firelight on its dark blade. On the handle was green magic, shimmering with the will of a queen channeled from one of her drones. The queen whose will would kill him. Isaac spread his legs, bracing himself firmly on the ground even as his hands slammed together with a grip like steel.
He caught the blade between his hands.
Queen Evoli gasped, and the aura of green magic vanished from the sword. Isaac sprung without thinking, flicking the sword back towards himself and catching it with one hand. He slammed one leg down on the drone's neck, driving her crashing to the ground. Metal screamed against the stone, but he ignored all that, turning the sword for the drone's neck. He wouldn't hesitate this time.
"I YIELD!" It wasn't the drone's voice, not this time. Queen Evoli shouted so loudly that Isaac froze in his swing. Dozens of insect eyes watched him, with greater respect than ever he had seen from his fellow humans. No, respect wasn't the right word. Awe.
Isaac rose from the drone's back, still holding the stolen sword. The queen's steps came far slower than before as she made her way into the circle. He lowered the sword only reluctantly, offering the hilt to her.
She didn't take it. "No. You've won the weapon. And her armor, too." Several other drones rushed into the circle, beside the injured and broken drone. They began working to undo her armor, levitating it piece by piece into a pile at his feet. "What is your name, warrior?"
"Isaac Rommel." He clutched at the wound in his chest with both hands. He still couldn't feel the pain, not like he should've. The sensation was strange and distant, like the strain in his arms.
"Congratulations, Isaac. You've won. The Sargon will hear your petition."
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I keep expecting him or any normal human to shout some religious things while fighting for some reason...
Isaac is such a gear badass. He reminds me a great deal of...
orig09.deviantart.net/7775/f/2012/231/f/a/ultramarine_by_angryrabbitgmod-d5bpsf9.jpg
FOR THE HONORED MEMORY!
Evoli's attitude did a right U-turn there at the end. I wonder did she sense Charybdis' presence, or did Isaac's grab at the sword somehow quench her magic, or what happened...
The bits of Isaac's ancestor worship we see are interesting too. I wonder if Canticle for Leibowitz is on their list of banned books. Can't imagine stories of post-apocalyptic societies keeping knowledge alive with religion would be something they'd want spread around...
Everything worked out better than expected! I guess that's why so many of the drones seem to be intelligent now.
Thing are going well so far, at least. Some of Evoli's plans for the future sound pretty ominous though...
Interesting that Riley's new name makes her "Queen of the fairies".
Yeah! Stick it to him Isaac. But dang did this chapter get dark. I like.
Get rekt Charybdis
Am I the only one that sees his magic reacting to what he is, powering his implants and giving him power to fight for what he believes? Actually, I can see that happening after he denied the deal. On that moment he became the might of the archive, her faithful sword and shield. Or something like that XD
All hail saint Isaac?
7044675 his implants are more on the mechanicus side of things. Wait, is Alex the ominisiah?!?
Issac has possibly earned a place for this story within my Warrior Files shelf. As an old warrior myself, (USMC, 91-95) I relate to his indominable fighting spirit and determination to not fail.
Does the "no magic" rule for the fight only apply to challengers? Or does telekineses not count?
Finally, a human making the right choice. Darkness must not win.
7044601 Well, we are reading something unlike an manga or anime...
7045063 I think it's only no direct attacks - no magic missiles, fireballs, etc. Using magic to manipulate one's weapon is perfectly fine.
7044935 I second this. Different dates, though. I'm not quite as old.
Because f*** Cherry-diz!
I'm sorry, but I'm just not feeling this anymore. From the very beginning, this story has been a life-goes-on kind of thing, with a little bit of melodramatic adventure dropped in for some leavening. That genre of story is pretty rare here on fimfiction, and this had been one of the best of them. But now, the melodramatic adventure has taken over, leaving the more unique and interesting slice-of-life part completely overshadowed.
SO AWESOME!! <3 <3
A battle to the death?! Well, shit just got real.
...So it basically boils down to:
Please have Riley give Queen Evoli a nice smack upside the head.
I can accept that, in this harsh world, a setup where, under certain circumstances, a "battle to the death" to "prove you're totally serious" makes, perhaps, some form of sense. (They did give them plenty of opportunities to yield, after all. Although there was a threat of not being allowed to leave if they didn't go through with it.)
Someone asking for medical help is not an appropriate circumstance for that.
Heck, someone asking for an audience is not an appropriate circumstance for that!
A "Please make an appointment, come back in two weeks" maybe, but not a battle to the death!
Just imagine if everypony who attended Celestia's day court had to fight a battle to the death to be let through, first!
...Actually, she'd get a lot more time off that way. Hmm....
Not to mention Ezri is THE original sapient drone. They owe her their lives --- well, okay, not Queen Evoli, or any of the other queen-Changelings, I suppose, but still. She better pay her the respect she deserves! [insert Rainbow Dash angry-face here]
Oh, and, uh, I only just now realize this probably wasn't intentional, but "Evoli" is the German name for the Pokémon "Eevee". I just thought I should point that out.
a vary interesting chapter and with a bit of a cliffhanger at the end.
I am really hoping they can save Ezri.
I can't remember what he looks like, so in my mind Isaac is totally the Paladin from Diablo 2.
Caught up with this story just today. You know, I admit I don't have a concrete hold on Riley's character, but I nevertheless have a strong feeling that the queen that Alex left not too many decades ago would be very displeased by this business of subordinates making people fight a (rigged) duel to the death to get an audience with her, instead of, you know, filtering the obvious yes/no cases and kicking the unknowns' requests up the chain of command. I suppose that she could have undergone radical changes in that time; that, or some bugs are about to be in the shit that's about to hit the fan. (That's even if she doesn't attach particular significance to Ezri's former value as a pioneer.)
I am so sick and tired of stupid Chibi. It can take it's offers, wad them up in a tight little ball, and SHOVE THEM UP IT'S ASS!!!
As a bit of a sword nerd (casually,bit still) the part abut the sword making the traditional "sching" noise because the scabbard was too small made me chuckle.
For F**k's sake, has every single last being on the planet lost their brains?
First, the HPI is filled with religious idiots who either worship a demon slavemaster, or humans WHO ARE STILL COMING BACK EVERY DAY. That has got to be one of the most annoying things I know of; blind faith in something which can be easily proven wrong. And where does this come from...? Mistrust in an extremely advanced AI, made by humans, with a clear and known directive. I mean, if you're going to worship something for some attributes, and hate something else for some attributes, at least make sure it's not the SAME GODDAMN ATTRIBUTES.
Next we have the changelings, who apparently resolve petitions via the means of combat. What. So for example, if someone wished to go assassinate the queen, they could petition that and be deemed to have "a valid petition" if they're strong enough? Really? Violence is useful against people who refuse to listen or have entirely different goals. In any other case, it's f**king stupid. Capability to win combat and legitimacy of a petition literally has zero positive correlation. You could even argue that they have negative correlation, as someone spending time training to be better at combat has less time total thinking or studying.
I'm starting to worry what the ponies have done in the meantime...
For some reason, all those months ago, the random duel to the death turned me off before I bothered to read through it. But that's a pretty petty reason to let something sit on your queue indefinitely, especially when I've also dropped the author's next story (for the nonce, at least). So... The actual fight was constructed very well. Figures Evoli would use magic after forbidding it. It was kind of a relief that Isaac didn't have to accept help from Charybdis (actually I thought it was Discord at first
) to get through it. And Charybdis itself was appropriately nightmarish, like a Crimson Peak ghost only with actual malevolence. And this weekend should provide ample time to catch up on the rest....
Yes!
YES!
This guy has my unbridled respect! Way to be a man!
7471577
reminds me of a Star Trek novel where Klingons equated skill at combat with HONESTY, believing that someone fighting for a lie would not fight as well as someone fighting for a true cause.
Having cybernetic implants that will kill you if not kept properly charged is... kinda really stupid.