The D.S.P.I.

by DungeonMiner

Operation First Smoke

“The measure of a man is what he does with power.”—Plato

===[ᐁ]===

Spike navigated the small air over the Celestial Sea, flying straight East from the San Palomino Desert.

The DASH-1, while arguably the more suitable craft for such a long voyage, was too big for the Commander's liking. It would gather too much attention, and did not have the maneuverability to take a dragon in a dog fight. So, instead, they flew a much smaller ship, the SCOOT.

He still needed to come up with a decent phrase to work for the acronym.

The SCOOT was not shaped like conventional airships, it bore no envelope, and had no deck. Instead, the body was shaped like a teardrop, with wings spreading from each side. Beneath the wings, there were ballast balloons and other mechanism to control altitude, and a smaller version of the DASH’s engine sat behind the bulbous cockpit.

Garble and Ember sat behind him in the small room-like cockpit, the former fast asleep while Ember sat nervously on her own chair. She glanced about, mindlessly picking at the giant bloodstone for which her scepter was named.

“Not much longer,” Spike assured her. “The Dragonlands are another forty minutes out.”

“Thank you, Spike,” Ember muttered quietly.

“Don't thank me yet,” he answered. “There's too much work to do and not enough time.”

She gave a small smile. “I understand that one.”

Spike smiled before he spun his pilot’s chair around, and walked to the back of the cockpit to the lockers that were built into the right wall. Opening it, he pulled out the longrifle and the pneumatic crossbow he packed and held them up to her. “Do you want the one that shoots super hot lasers from very far away, or the one that shoots crossbow bolts from a much shorter distance?”

She blinked, before a smile grew on her lips. “You sure know how to treat a girl,” she said before she looked between the two. “Um…ooh this is a tough choice…” she said.

Spike smirked.

“Lasers are cool…” she began, “but it's not really dragon-like to stay behind…”

Spike just smiled.

She growled at him. “Don't look at me like that! It's a tough choice!”

Spike nodded. “I know, I know.”

She reached out, first the rifle, then the crossbow, back and forth, back and forth, before finally taking the crossbow.

“No take backs,” Spike told her, before he shoved the rifle at Garble.

“Ah! What? I—”

“This is mine,” Spike growled. “You are borrowing it so that you don't hold us back, got it?”

Garble snorted. “Yeah, right, Runt.”

Spike ignored the jab and returned to the controls as the great volcano known simply as Dragon’s Lair began to peek over the horizon.

“We're closing in. Get ready, things are only going to get harder from here on out.”

===[ᐁ]===

The SCOOT hovered over the rough, volcanic rock and ash, before vertically landing in a small crater. It’s landing gear hissed as it hit the dirt, and the wings folded up to save on space as a the door to the small craft swung down.

The three dragons quickly made their way out, and they began to move, Ember leading the way down the mountainside to the den where the Covenant and the traitor dragons were last seen.

Ember had shared what she could about the situation. A handful of dragons, all from the previous generation turned against her and formed an alliance or pact of some kind with the Covenant ponies that were here.

She still didn’t know why the Covenant was here, although one attempt was made on her life. She kept it quiet, but the fact remained that someone wanted her dead.

Spike leapt over a resting boulder, and hit the ash on the other side, pistol raised, covering the cave opening behind him. “It’s clear,” he said.

“No duh,” Garble grunted.

Spike ignored him. “This is the cave?” Spike asked.

“Yep,” She confirmed.

“Arlight, marching order,” Spike said, “Ember you know where we’re going, you lead. I’ll watch your back. Garble, you have the Longrifle, so you’re in the back. Once we make contact with the enemy, you’ll stay back and hit them from a distance.”

“Who made you the boss?” Garble asked.

“I did,” Ember answered.

If Garble had an answer to that, he kept it to himself.

“Alright, let’s move,” Spike said, before they descended into one of the thousand volcanic vents that pockmarked the great volcano.

The vent was large, carved into a proper cave by giant, draconic claws, but still as smooth as obsidian. There was a great magic that had gone into that. Water was needed to turn lava into volcanic glass, but there was no sign of it here. Even then, it seemed the whole cave was carved from a single piece of obsidian, without a sign of pumice or basalt anywhere.

Ember slid down the volcanic glass, while Spike and Garble followed. It provided very little footholds and nearly no way to move down the vent without falling over.

It would take a large, old dragon to properly climb through the vent, their size allowing them to push against the sides and push their way out. It was a brilliant strategy to keep the younger, stupider dragons out, or at the least, keep them inside until the big ones got back.

Dropping deeper and deeper in, they finally came upon a large chamber this one carved from the basalt of the mountain, with veins of sharp obsidian poking through the walls, ceiling and floor. To the left of the chamber another large tunnel lead deeper into volcano, with a large archway as the door.

“This was the last place I saw them,” Ember told them as they began to spread out into the chamber.

Spike motioned for Garble to stay toward the wall. He rolled his eyes, but obeyed when Ember mirrored the signal. “Let me look around real quick,” Spike said, as he pulled a gem from a pouch on his belt.

The amethyst gave a soft glow, lighting the room slightly as Spike raised the gem to his eye. Through its enchantment, it began to search the chamber, and highlight any signs of life. Dried pony blood on a sharp chunk of obsidian, a small scale buried into the basalt, a lone hair forgotten by the door.

Spike smiled as he kept scanning the room. The Research and Development guys could try all they want, but Twilight’s spells still had them beat by centuries.

All the while, Ember watched. There was something fascinating about the way he worked. Dragons typically gained wisdom with age, an older dragon could likewise pick clues from the smallest hints left behind. Spike was special, though. He was given access to secrets of dragonkind by the Scepter. Secrets that only her father, the previous dragon lord could know. With those gifts, Spike was the equal of even the oldest dragons, but he was still young, and that is where he had the advantage.

Older dragons lose their sense of time, naps stretch on for centuries, counting the hoard take years, and they simply slow down for no other reason than the fact that they have the time. Young dragons still moved quickly, acting what the elders would call “rash,” and were closer to ponies and griffons and the like when it came to speed.

Spike, at this moment, was both. He had the wisdom and cautiousness of the elders, but at the speed of the rash youth. It was the best work a dragon could do, and the fastest speed they had.

He moved through the darkness of the vent with terrifying accuracy, finding things that no one else could find. The gem found what his own eyes could not, picking up tiny, almost impossible to see details that not even the draconic eyes of either Ember or Garble could see.

Spike paused, and pulled a short red thread from the stone, before he looked up. “We’re not alone.”

“Very astute, Commander,” a voice said, and the three dragons all turned to the source of the voice.

Spike had already drawn his pistol, aiming at the pony dressed in a ruby red robe who stood on the far side of the chamber.

Ember quickly raised her pneumatic crossbow and Garble did the same.

The stallion smiled, revealing a set of fangs that glinted in the darkness. A brilliant, garnet brooch was pinned to his cloak, revealing the pristine white coat of the stallion beneath, and the fine, satin vest that wrapped tightly around his barrel. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring your little toys, Commander.” His voice was as smooth as young red velvet, and his blood-red eyes almost shone like lamps.

“I figured it was time for the grown-ups to talk,” Spike answered, keeping his pistol leveled at the vampire.

“Oh?” he asked, amused. “So I suppose you’re here to work, rather than play?”

“Don’t draw out the metaphor. It’ll fall eventually and then you’ll just look like an idiot,” Spike said. “I’m here to stop you, and I don’t need kids getting in the way of dragons.”

“They’re not the only ones you need to worry about,” the vampire warned.

“Scum like you they can deal with,” the Commander answered. “It’s the giant, fire-breathing, pony-eating dragons they’re not ready for.”

The vampire hissed. “I am beyond you, dragon. I have taken these beings from their own lord. There is nothing she can do now, not even with the power of the Bloodstone Scepter. They are my minions to command.”

“It figures that it would be vampire magic,” Spike muttered to himself. “I’ll have to write that down somewhere so I can see this coming next time.”

“Next time?” The vampire asked.

“Yes, next time someone tries something this stupid, because there’s always someone who thinks they can take a failed idea, and do it better,” Spike said.

“Oh, no,” the vampire said, as several massive figures loomed in behind him from the tunnel. “I’m not the one failing tonight.”

Four dragons, each larger than houses, strode into the room, a blue, a red, a white, and a black. They all leveled their gaze at Spike and the others, fire sparking in their mouths.

In an instant, Spike’s mind began to work. The dragons, though dangerous, were still citizens, not of Equestria, but Ember’s and that was enough. They were out of the question, not to be targeted, and that left exactly one target for Spike to attack.

He shot forward, firing a salvo of magical needles at the vampire, but he was already moving.

Ember and Garble were firing at the dragons, the weapons doing next to nothing as they hit thick, nearly impenetrable scales.

But Spike was elsewhere.

His focus was almost solely on the vampire as they began to leap across the room at terrifying speeds. Hooves met claws as they traded blows, and Spike and the vampire practically flew around the room, propelled only by the muscles in their legs.

As Spike moved, his mind went to his opponent. Vampire, obsessive by nature, creature of lust, enhanced strength, enhanced reflexes, powers of transformation and control. Weak to yew wood, sunlight, and garlic. Attack the heart and head, be vicious, and focus, do not let it have space to attack.

He was an earth pony vampire at that. He could translate the magic that kept him alive into his own body rather than outward, making him faster and stronger. Of course, that left a problem.

Who was the vampire that enchanted the dragons?

Meanwhile, Ember and Garble were forced back, the elder dragons, while slightly slower than the two younger dragons, were attacking in dizzying patterns, attacking where they were, in very quick, short attacks that were nearly a single, fluid movement. Both Ember and Garble were practically pinned beneath the onslaught.

Spike dived, firing as he leapt beneath the vampire, sending up more needles at the earth pony’s unprotected belly. The vampire could not dodge, but even though the needles hit, they only did damage to that which was already dead.

It was obvious though, Spike had the Vampire on the run, his draconic anatomy being stronger, faster, and far better than anything this pathetic excuse for a vampire could bring to bear. The vampire simply couldn’t keep up, and, sooner or later, the needles would hit his heart.

Unfortunately, he was not the only dragon there.

A massive claw, bigger than his whole body, slammed into him and sent him flying across the chamber until he slammed into the far wall.

The red dragon, with massive orange spines loomed over Spike as he hit the floor. “You little fool,” the dragon hissed. “Do you think you can kill one of the masters so easily?”

Spike rolled to his feet.

“You are nothing, whelp. You have not even grown into your wings yet,” the red growled before slashing again.

Spike went flying again, gritting his teeth as the giant claw ripped into his back. He grunted as he landed.

“Just one of you?” Spike asked. “You seem confident.”

The dragon’s nostrils flared and smoke shot from them in an unamused snort.

Spike was back in his feet, bleeding from his back. “Just don’t forget, I may still be a pre-teen by dragon standards, I may be weak, and I may even be stupid compared to you, but don’t you ever forget, that I am a dragon.”

The dragon snorted. “Dragon? You are more egg than dragon.”

Spike smiled. His claw reached into the same pouch, and pulled flask. The dragon barely had time to move before Spike threw the flask with all his strength, and the entire room filled with light and noise.

Now dragons are, by nature, immune to such things as flashbangs, all dragons can “feel” the world around them through a sixth sense that they did not bother to describe. Even with their ears ringing and vision white, all the dragons gathered could still feel everyone in the chamber.

The only one at the disadvantage was the vampire, and that’s exactly what Spike wanted.

Spike shot forward, still bleeding from his back, running past the dragon for his target. He tore across the basalt and obsidian, raising his pistol, but not firing.

Not yet.

His vision was returning, the ringing was starting to dissipate. He didn’t have much time.

He was closing the distance. He was steps away now.

He raised his left hand, reaching out.

And then, just as the vampire could see, Spike grabbed him. His claws dug into the monster’s shoulder, biting into dead flesh. His pistol dug, barrel-first, into the vampire’s chest, and he fired.

Super-dense mana dug into the vampire’s heart, and the needle of magic shot out the other side.

The last thing he did was blink.

Spike tossed the body of aside, turning to face the dragon, before another massive claw slammed into him. He went flying, landing hard on the floor, and the next thing he knew, his world was darkness, and his name was echoing in his ears.

===[ᐁ]===

Ember had Spike draped across her back as she ran deeper into the tunnels. Garble was behind her, carrying both weapons as they moved. Back outside was not an option, they didn’t have a large enough ally to push them back up, nor the size to do it themselves, that left only down, deeper into Dragon’s Lair.

The dragons had overpowered them, it was obvious that was the case, they simply did not have the strength to combat the older dragons.

Her father had warned her about this. Whenever the Scepter was passed to the next generation, there was always at least one old dragon who refused to take orders. She had just never been ready for this.

They were moving deeper, and deeper, trying to hide from the fourteen dragons that had pledged their allegiance to whatever being held power in the Covenant. They were running down another, smaller vent, one that had intersected the giant tunnels that had been carved by whatever dragon owned this complex.

It was getting warmer, much warmer, as they ran down the vent, approaching the active core of the volcano.

“Come on, Spike, don’t die on me,” she whispered.

“Here’s a room,” Garble said.

Room was a generous term. It was little more than a widening in the tunnel, just large enough for the three of them to lie on the ground.

She lay Spike down and quickly put pressure on his back, trying to stop the wound that was far larger than her claws. “He said he had medical supplies in his belt pouch,” Ember said to Garble. “Check it for me.”

“Sure waste time on the—”

“If you finish that sentence, I will kill you myself!” She growled, still trying to stop the bleeding.

Garble said nothing, but went to his search, looking through the bag.

His eye did glance across the handgun that Spike still clutched.

But Ember did not notice. Her focus was on Spike and Spike alone. “Don’t die on me, Spike, not now…”

===[ᐁ]===

He was dreaming.

He knew he was dreaming, because she was alive.

She glided to him, smiling with that same smile that took his breath away ever since he first met her.

“And what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

She gave a small smile, and shook he head. “You can’t leave, you know.”

Ah, it was this dream. He never really liked this one. “I know.”

“You have to avenge me,” she told him, growing larger as blood seeped from her throat.

“I know…” he answered.

“You can’t leave me,” she hissed, growing yet larger as blood kept pouring from her throat.

Spike tried to move, tried to run, or something, he wasn’t sure, but his body had transformed into glass. Any move would shatter him into a thousand pieces.

“Let go!” She yelled.

The blood pooled into a sea, coming up to his chest as it flooded the world.

“Let go!” she yelled again.

It rolled over his head, and Spike was soon drowning in the crimson liquid.

“Let Go!”

===[ᐁ]===

“Let go!” Garble yelled as he tried to pry the handgun out of Spike’s hand.

The Commander’s grip had been like iron ever since he was knocked out, and Garble was severely wishing that wasn’t the case.

The dragons had found them. They were digging down the vent, getting closer and closer and leaving nowhere to go. Garble had emptied the longrifle, while Ember stood behind, holding the Scepter close to her, begging it to give her the power to send them back.

Spike groaned, as his eyes fluttered open. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“We’re going to die!” Garble yelled, “now give me your stupid gun!”

Spike did not, but instead turned to Ember. “Can we escape?”

“No,” she said, “We’d have to swim through the lava, but we’re too deep. We won’t have air.”

Spike sighed. “I guess we don’t have much choice then.”

He stood, bracing him against the wall as the spray bandage on his back crackled. “Spike?” Ember called.

“Give me the Scepter,” he said.

“Spike?”

“I really didn’t want to do this, but I guess we don’t have much choice.”

Ember slowly nodded, and passed the Bloodstone Scepter.

===[ᐁ]===

It was an old power.

A terrifying power.

In his voice was the power to command armies. The ability to demand obedience. There was nothing he could not do.

He could end it.

He could end it all.

He could end all evil with this power.

First Equestria, he could practically ask for the throne, just a week, that would all it would take. Celestia would probably give it to him, he was practically her heir anyway.

A week and he could fix it. He would burn the ancient tomes, the books that talk of demon pacts, ancient spells, and elder gods. They would be the first.

Then he would begin a search, and oh there would be an outcry about the search. Every home, every building, every floor, every room, until every vampire, lycan, or shapeshifter was found.

The outrage would be severe, but no one would argue with a dragon.

Those that wished to live a normal life would be moved, a small quarantine town, far from everyone else. The rest would be executed.

Yet more outrage, but they would be safe.

Burials would be banned, there would be forced cremations across Equestria. No more zombies. Everyone would be safe.

Anyone that resisted would be cowed. Even Discord would be at his beck and call if he could find the changeling’s throne.

Then he’d turn his eyes to the rest of the world. With an army of dragons and the might of any other country he controlled, the entire would come to heel beneath him. Nothing would be able to stop him.

He would be the greatest tyrant the world had ever known.

But the world would be safe.

The Department could dissolve, and ponies like Silver and Silk could go and live out their natural lives as a happy family.

Vampires would not sulk the shadow, preying on the unwary.

Lycans would not be forced into the far corners of the world for fear of ripping their own families to pieces.

Zombies would not raise from the darkness and consume whatever they could find.

They would all be safe.

And his friends, all of them, would be avenged.

Spike grit his teeth as he walked up the vent.

It was easier to let go of this power back when he was younger, when he had friends and a home to go back to. It was easier then, when he did not need the power the Scepter offered him.

Now it was already harder.

He kept climbing, going to reach the dragons that were coming at him halfway.

They forced him to take this power, and now they were going to face it.

Hopefully it worked.

He stopped, listening to the stone as the dragons clawed into the rock.

And then Spike spoke. “Enough!”

===[ᐁ]===

Ember waited, breath caught in her throat as silence echoed from the vent.

Garble sat against the far wall, checking the lava below and weighing his options.

The silence stretched.

And then a figured began to approach from the darkness.

Spike was back, carrying the scepter in his hand. “They’re free,” He said, before handing it back. “They’re off hunting the vampire, and I’m going to stick around until they find him, I’m not going to leave until the problem’s fixed.”

Ember smiled, tears in her eyes, and hugged him. “Thank you, Spike,” she whispered.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

“Just shut up and let me hug you,” she said.

Spike smiled. “I guess…”

But he still gripped the Scepter.

===[ᐁ]===

As the pipsqueak was climbing into his little ship thing, Garble was glaring at him. What, in the Fiery Name of Tiamat happened? What did the Runt do to get those dragons to stop, huh? What did he do that the Dragon Lord couldn’t?

He watched as Spike, still limping with the spray bandage on his back. Ember and the other dragons were looking on, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

This was ridiculous. Perfectly absurd. This was outright wrong. No, he wasn’t going to let this sit.

“Hey, Runt!” He yelled, just as Spike climbed into the cockpit of the little flying machine.

Spike turned to him.

“Why you, huh?” he asked, angrily. “Why did she come to you? Why not anyone else?”

“Garble!” Ember yelled.

Spike raised a claw, and just stared at the glaring dragon.

Garble continued to stare.

“Garble,” Spike ordered, “Shut up.”

Magic that could not be seen slammed down on Garble’s mouth, and he stared, with wide eyes as Spike smiled and walked away.

And then, as the little airship began to rise, only one word went through Garble’s mind.

“Oh.”

Comments

[Valiant Knight]

Possibly the best comeuppance he could have received, honestly. And then his response.

Oh.

That was good.

I’m assuming that you might further the thing with Spike and the Scepter a little longer. It would be kind of a waste to have him struggling with it, then we just find out that he casually handed it back between chapters.

[Doood]

Whoo! NEW CHAPTER HO!!

[djthomp]

Stay good, Spike!