PaP: Bedtime Stories

by Starscribe

Trimester Two

“I don’t understand this, cousin! Every year the Union grows more oppressive, its ponies more enslaved. Yet our spies return with this.” The Sargon was a griffon, just like the rest of the imperial house. He was nearly a foot taller than her, one of the largest ponies she knew.

Jackie stared down at the table, and the sheaf of black-and-white photographs the Sargon had brought into her office. They’d been taken on the eight-millimeter that was the very best of their day, capturing surprising detail. They depicted something alien in the east. Stories of these were considered hostile western propaganda, and spreading them was a sign of weak character. It was lies, obviously! All lies.

They were photographs of grocery stores. Produce aisles, dry goods, dairy. Every shelf overflowing with goods in more than just one or two state-sponsored varieties.

“You spent a few years in the west, I recall. Your father spoke to me of your service there. Explain this to me.”

“Explain… the grocery store?” Jackie shifted uncomfortably on her hooves, feeling her bloated belly gently with the side of her leg as she did so. She wasn’t so big that she couldn’t do all the things she wanted—not yet. The torment came mostly by morning, and by a nausea that accompanied almost all food. Even looking at these photographs was difficult, but not for the reasons that the Sargon probably thought.

Sargon Antonio Engels had brought his small ocean of attendants, bureaucrats, and hangers-on. There was even a stenographer unicorn, complete with a typewriter she levitated in her magic and used to type every single word.

“No, the spies!” the Sargon bellowed. “Explain to me how the damned imperial always knows where our spies are going. We have the support of the workers, the labor of a nation, and our Department of Patriotism couldn’t fill so many stores and find so many actors to pretend to shop there in half this much time.”

“Oh.” Jackie bought a little time by spreading out each of the images, searching for something they had in common. Buying a few precious seconds. She glanced up at the ocean of advisors—senior members of the party, officers of conformity. “Because every one of them is already like this, Sargon.” Gasps filled the room, but she didn’t stop. “The deceptions aren’t meant for us, they’re meant for the citizens of the American Union. Those boxes are all empty, the produce plastic. Only a small fraction of what’s for sale is real.”

She could sense the others in the room with her relaxing. This was exactly the sort of story the party was expecting. Of all of them, only the Sargon himself could tell that she was lying. His eyes narrowed a little, and his grip on the table tightened. The more she spun the lie, the more she could see his anger rise. But not at her. “Those customers you see work there full time. They cycle from store to store, buying fake products and then bringing them back to other stores. This convinces the wage slaves all around them that they really live in plenty.”

“No one is more content than a slave who thinks he lives in plenty,” recited an elderly party spokesman named Nesto. “Devious as always. How well they work their slaves. While they grow more prepared for war, the workers continue to starve.”

“I wish to speak to my cousin alone,” the Sargon growled. “Yes, even you Roxanne. Out.” There was a flurry of motion—hooves and claws scratched on the polished marble floor. A few seconds later, the door clicked closed.

The Sargon lifted one of his claws onto the desk across from her, exposing a complex device he wore. It was primitive by Jackie’s understanding, with transistors nearly two centimeters across. But by the standards of the day, it was incredibly advanced. He twisted a dial until the huge LEDs went dark.

“This is not it,” he said. “Images from their shipyards keep coming back. I do not understand how they can make less steel, less concrete, fewer skilled navy men… yet their navy grows twice as fast as ours. One account whispers to me that they cannot recruit fast enough.”

Jackie didn’t bullshit this time. She was a spy, as deeply entrenched in this household as ever a spy had been. Memory spells and age magic and decades of effort had put her here. The Sargonate might have a propaganda department of fifty thousand birds, who played the “truths” of the party into every home. But those speakers didn’t play in the palace. Neither were there listening devices.

Still, that didn’t mean she could say it just any way she wanted. Jackie’s purpose here was not to get the Sargon so angry with her that he no longer heard any of her advice. “When I worked undercover in the west, I heard many stories about the Sargonate. I heard of absolute poverty—I heard that everyone was a slave, that everyone starved, that nothing worked. I heard of corruption at every level. The stories of how evil we are were so exaggerated that I don’t know how many westerners believed them. Yet they were shared at every street corner.”

The Sargon remained silent for a long time, studying her face. Then he nodded. “We could change this if only we could convince the goddess that our way is correct. She is a worker too, in her way. Beholden to the capital that the Tyrant of slaves carries.”

The Sargon referred to an implant within Archive’s body—completely fictional—that allowed her total control of Athena and everything she built. Archive herself had created the fiction, in order to instill a sense of terrible fear in the Sargonate.

The reality was that Athena did not help either side, because she was devoted entirely to constructing interstellar vessels for Humanity. But ponies alive today had never even seen a human before, and refugees were vastly outnumbered by the naturally born. The idea that a being as powerful as Athena might be serving an ancient race thought to be long extinct was not one that the Sargonate could accept. Even Antonio, who was otherwise highly practical in his approach.

Unfortunately, Archive’s ruse (perpetrated by a previous generation of spies) had backfired. Instead of frightening the creatures of the east, it had only motivated them into greater action. They built more factories, their workers slept less and ate less, their armies trained harder.

If the capitalists had enslaved the very god of the workers, a being who could conceive of nothing else, then that was only more reason to free her.

“We will free them all, Alyona. Once capitalism is destroyed, our state can follow. No more palaces, no more bureaucracies, no more hierarchies. Paradise will follow, if we survive.”

Official statements of the party didn’t include the “if.” But Antonio was a very practical ruler. A great one, even. He’d killed far fewer ponies than his predecessor, and kept the Sargonate from any more costly wars with the west. His scientists had built the first uranium enrichment hardware in the east

“It would be better if we could resolve this without war,” she muttered, hoping she sounded like feminine weakness and wishful thinking. There was little division of the sexes in the Sargonate, as comrades of both sexes carried the same weight of the state on their shoulders. Yet still, they were dangerous words. She couldn’t stray too close to questioning his will. “If only they would give up their… property. Their ownership. I know our soldiers will sweep across the west like a righteous tide… but still many will die.”

“We will see.” Antonio scooped up the stack of photographs in his claw. “I think I will call another meeting with the tyrant.” He leaned a little closer to her. “I may have a mission for you then, Alyona. For you and that child of yours. The most daring deception you have ever attempted.”

He did not remain to elaborate. Antonio slipped out the way he’d come. Thankfully, he took his moat of officials with him, leaving Jackie to slump to one side in the office. It was amazing how weak she could feel standing around and doing nothing. How soon she tired, how easily startled and afraid.

Jackie was probably the single most dangerous pony in this building. With the slightest effort of her will, she could summon a blade that could cut through anything, she could sever the bonds between souls and inflict nightmares that never ended. She was one of the few ponies who could stand toe-to-toe with any Sargon when it came time to tally corpses.

Yet despite all that, having this foal made her feel fragile. I should’ve listened to my body. This wouldn’t be happening if I’d stayed a lesbian.

In some ways, she still had. The parasite growing inside her hadn’t come from any other pony, it had come from another kind of parasite. One she loved.

Another door opened, one from the other side of the room—the one leading to her quarters.

Ezri would not have been allowed in the palace itself before now. But as of several months ago, they were married. It was their third, or maybe their forth. Jackie had long since lost track.

As usual, he wore the male form—one he’d been stuck in for several months straight without a break. The royal palace was not some fancy hotel they could control. Even if Ezri had magic more powerful than any unicorn in the Sargonate, even if she could change faster and sense emotions from further, there was no telling what security might be here.

The palace was old, and some of the spells set into its foundation were far more ancient than the revolution. Magic paid for in blood was not so easily found or removed as other kinds.

“I see you’re surviving,” he said, settling up against her without asking permission. But then, he was her husband now, and doing so would’ve probably been stranger than the alternative.

Ezri sat with a straight back, his eyes seeming to look right into her. He saw through all her distress, all the pain and heartache of a mission that was barely done. “Come back to bed with me, wife,” he said. A codeword. “I see you have done great work for the revolution today. We can celebrate it together.”

More importantly, there would be far fewer questions asked of protection spells wrapped only around a marriage bed than those that stretched into one of the Offices of Strategic Intelligence.

They went slowly, going through the same flirtatious dance that would be expected of two people who were madly in love. Not a terribly difficult task for Jackie, since she had felt a change in her emotions.

It was a strange feeling, one she wasn’t entirely sure she liked. Jackie wanted to be close to Ezri, in ways she never would’ve dreamed before. She’d always been the stronger of the two of them, the braver. Yet now, she found that wasn’t the case.

She glared down at her belly as she walked, if only for a few seconds. Her little bulge was visible even through the black uniform. You’ll be the death of me, whoever you are. If the whole world doesn’t burn first.

Her primary role installed here was to prevent a war, exerting any power within their range of experience to contain the expansion of the Sargonate and prevent an inevitable invasion.

Jackie cared very little about which of the two systems came out on top. She didn’t care that in some ways the whole thing felt like they were larping a conflict that had already happened thousands of years ago.

But in the days before the end of the world, cooler heads had prevailed. The longer Jackie remained installed here, the less she thought that would be the case.

Charybdis makes them all look like children. They hate each other so much it’s almost impossible to understand.

Eventually they’d been through the whole ritual, and were sealed away in a palace bedroom. Ezri’s horn glowed, and after a few tense seconds absolute silence descended around them. They could talk here, though not for very long. Even Ezri’s illusion would prompt suspicion eventually.

“Any luck on your end?” Jackie asked, sounding helpful. More than she actually felt. She slumped onto her side atop the bed, without any intention of anything romantic tonight. She was just too worn, too beaten down to think about anything like that.

Ezri shook his head. “Every general I speak to is preparing for invasion. They can land troops faster than ever before—some tell me they will be able to take cities in minutes.”

Jackie smacked the pillow with one of her wings. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! What about the dead drop from Archive? How’s… how’s she doing with the president?”

Ezri’s expression got darker. “More of the same. Insists they’ll follow the no-first-strike policy, but once that happens, that’s it. Their only chance at survival is destroying as many launch sites as possible.”

Jackie flopped around uselessly, before settling into the weight of Ezri’s body. “I don’t understand why they can’t just surrender. Alex says they’re the reasonable ones, so why can’t they just bite the bullet and be reasonable communists?”

“I don’t think they’re that reasonable,” Ezri muttered. “You remember how she talks about it. And the president has people over there believing they’ve got a better chance of surviving the war than whatever purges come if they surrender.”

“They do,” Jackie agreed. “Because after the war, Charybdis will purge everyone. No more navy, and we’re all fucking dead.” She glanced down at her chest again, without anger this time. “I think we might need to think about evacuating. It’s getting…”

“And go where? It won’t be better in the NAU. Not once the bombs drop.”

“No,” Jackie agreed. “I was thinking… somewhere else. There’s an island… nobody knows about it. Nothing there but birdshit and palm trees. And it’s smack dab in the middle of seapony territory, so we won’t get any saltwater friends without warning either.”

“That sounds great!” Ezri said. “Sounds like… an anticlimactic way to go out, though. Just disappear? After spending three decades setting this up?”

The level of cunning involved had been inhuman. It had taken half a dozen changelings, several murders, and a youth potion that had seen Jackie replace a child of the emperor’s own extended family. She knew everything about her life here because she’d actually lived it here. Ever since the child had been stolen at five.

“Well… maybe not too soon. The Sargon says he has something important for me to do first. I think it might be about Mayday. I should wait until then. He… he knows I won’t be useful much longer, thanks to you. Shouldn’t be more than a few weeks.”

“I can manage that,” Ezri muttered. But Ezri could’ve managed many more lifetimes. Ezri was a changeling, and even now taking on a role was in her blood. For Jackie, the ruse required effort. So many lies, so much pretending. She missed the NAU of two centuries ago, before the revolution, after all the slaving nations of the world had been destroyed. It had been nothing but peace and parties.

Only a few more months and you’ll be born, she thought down at the lump in her belly. I wonder what kind of world will be left to greet you.

Comments

[Booster Spice]

A nice remote tropical island well away from everything?

Welcome.

To Iwo Jima.

[Neece]

Wait... is the NAU the communist ones now? That's a wonderful twist, I've got to admit!

[AyanamiRei]

SO GOOD! <3

[Shader]

8775706

“I don’t understand why they can’t just surrender. Alex says they’re the reasonable ones, so why can’t they just bite the bullet and be reasonable communists?”

I think she's saying "They're (American Union) the sensible ones. Why can't they (American Union) just surrender and be communist."

Which wouldn't be the sensible thing to do if the Sargonate isn't capable of feeding their own people, and relies on USSR style propaganda. She's only thinking about the biggest picture, Charybdis, without thinking about the conditions that it would subject the rest of the world too.

[ChaosDX1]

Replacing a five year old child? While I'm sure they moved her somewhere safe instead of killing her, that still sounds pretty dark.