• Published 29th Jun 2017
  • 1,500 Views, 87 Comments

Tales Of The Canterlot Deportation Agency: Jack - Estee



The human agent working to stop incursions from the world known to ponies as the shadowfell tends to be of two minds about his duties. In fact, Jack's been of two minds concerning just about everything lately. And one of those minds isn't his.

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Discard And Draw

The humans who worked for the Canterlot Deportation Agency were all capable of round trips between their own worlds and Equestria: it was one of the primary requirements for the job. Not all of them managed to keep that requirement intact: Jack seldom got a chance to speak with other agents (and wasn't always the one doing the speaking), but there had been enough time to learn a few things. There were agents whose methods -- one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable -- had been destroyed. Others wound up having the things stolen, which inevitably created more incursions when the thieves tested things out. Some just had to sit it out for a while as magic recharged or technology was repaired. (More frequently, while their broken bones knitted.) And practically no two methods of travel were alike.

In Jack's case... it was as if the city was invisibly superimposed on a heavily wrinkled map of Equestria, which created nothing even remotely resembling a 1:1 correspondence. If he left from a given place in his world, he would appear at a guaranteed location in the other, and every subsequent trip taken from those locations would always lead back to each other. But there was no way to tell where a given intersection, alley, or shadowed corner would put him until he left. It had resulted in trips which ended in lakes, train tunnels, pony bathrooms, and just once, the center stage at a school play.

Jack was sure Crossing Guard had a rather thick file with his name on it, as he'd been rather grumpily told that for someone whose job was supposedly stopping incursions, he tended to personally create more than his share. (Some of those 'personallys' were at one-remove.) The CDA's head didn't exactly like any of the human agents, and Jack's -- or rather, its -- frequent inability to reach a safe transfer point before heading back produced a lot of extra paperwork.

But there had been many trips, especially since he refused to shut down that part of his operation. There had been enough attempts in times of lesser crisis to pin down a few places in the city which had privacy, ready access, and led to an isolated location on the other side of the Barrier. (The places which the chemicals used to evacuate often worked out to 'anywhere!' and Jack, during one transition, had been gleefully told that a spot had been located which had taken it into the palace -- but not where that was.) In this case, there was a drainage pipe large enough for him to stand comfortably within, one with no cameras anywhere near it and a total lack of fences or iron bars to block access. He got a little damp when he went inside, and there had been times when he'd had to temporarily give up on it because a member of the city's scant homeless population had been using the pipe for some level of shelter -- but he typically didn't have to worry about being spotted.

(Jack seldom had to worry about the homeless person for long, either, because he would try (or have it try) to get them out of the city. But sometimes that failed. And when it did... well, anyone who was already homeless was just so easy for him to employ in the dark places, at a pay rate of work-and-maybe-you-live. The chemicals had found two of those places, and both had made it much less than happy.)

Today, so soon after sunset, the pipe was unoccupied. Jack still took a moment to carefully check the area before doing anything.

The Foundation's central building was visible from where he was, of course: it was visible from just about anywhere in the city. It was one of the tallest buildings in the world, and rumor had it that whenever someone else threatened to surpass it by a significant margin, he started throwing bribes around in the name of getting a bigger one. Or threats. Sometimes a bribe was a threat: I'll give you this, or you can have that instead.

Of course, it could be argued that those foolish enough to say no had nothing to worry about. After all, they would live.

He employed most of the city. Pulled the strings which controlled the rest. Strands ran from his fingers into the courthouses, police stations, legislature, and around people's necks. And from just about anywhere in the city, those who so seldom seemed to escape could look up and see his hand at work. Controlling.. A bridge here, a building permit denied there. A company chased out of town. An inventor who found he didn't have the right to the thoughts in his own head, but look at just how much money those thoughts were making him! (Vic, seen as an asset, wasn't being treated that harshly -- yet.) And of course, new hospitals, new stadiums, new theaters...

...the upcoming asylum...

The chemicals had stolen a copy of the plans for the place, when it had been announced after they'd all finally gotten one of his to trial and the man had -- confessed. Thoroughly. With complete sincerity in his voice, he'd told the jury about ponies and other worlds, and it had resulted in two things: a Not Guilty because anyone that crazy just couldn't be held responsible for their actions, and the announcement of the asylum as a gift to the city. A building effectively made from cardboard, to allow him reach which went through the walls, so he could extract anyone he liked at any time.

Well -- mostly cardboard. There was a cell to be built at the absolute center. Vic had said it was the strongest concept for a prison he'd ever seen.

That space was reserved.

Jack took a breath. One more look around.

The vial smashed against the concrete. He started counting...

...and when he hit seventy-nine, he was in the garden, with the stars shining down upon him. A different set twinkled within the mane of the alicorn who was trotting closer, and they twisted as she moved.

"Jack," the Princess quietly said. "On time, I see, and -- without the mask. As I requested."

He was never sure what to say when he saw her. She was royalty. She was power. She was, in many ways, the night. And on a more personal level, while the CDA reported to Crossing Guard, that unicorn ultimately answered to Luna -- which meant Jack did as well. She had been the one to hire them --

-- him. She had hired him. But she had insisted on speaking to each separately.

"Princess," he awkwardly tried. "Um... it told me that you -- a few days ago, when it came through, you -- asked to see me?"

"Yes," she slowly nodded. "You. Specifically you. And as this is a requested voyage, no part of the time used for our talk will count against your rather backlogged account." There was a small sigh. "Your world is an -- active one. Two hours in Equestria per incursion stopped, bonuses for superior activity, and with the foals and adults whom you have returned... I reviewed your total tonight. You are quickly reaching the point where for time not used, you are just about as bad as Ms. Daniels was."

"...who?" Was?

"Our agent in --" She stopped. The left foreleg came partially up, and the large eyes briefly closed. "-- it no longer matters."

"She -- did she..." Agents died. A lot of agents died.

"No. She survived. Her current situation..." And this sigh was much longer. "...is a problem. One I am attempting to deal with. You could see her if you wished, but -- she may not wake up for some time. For now, let us simply say that one group of incursions has ended. But it was nothing she did. I suspect there was nothing she could have done, no matter what she may try to make herself believe, and..."

The twisting mane slowed. Stars dimmed.

"...back to where you all came," Luna softly stated. "Exactly home, and nowhere else. That is the rule. What do we do when there is no longer any place to which one can be returned? Or a quartet, for we have Jake, and Bree, and -- two others. She somehow found a way to bring two with her, at the very last. Children, also recovering."

A deep breath. Every bit of strength mustered, and it wasn't enough.

"And that is all who remain, for on the other side for her Barrier, there are seven billion dead, Jack. What happens when a world is lost?"

He tried to get his head around the number. He couldn't. It was too big. Too much. It was halfway between statistic and horror. He wanted to mourn a world he'd never known, an entire world, and there was nothing in him which could mourn on that kind of scale...

"But tonight," Luna quietly finished, "is for you. Ms. Daniels will... I do not know. I hope to find an answer. But for now, you. I cannot take back what happened to her world. I will not wake her into nightmare. I scheduled this time for you, and so... walk with me, Jack. My Guards are elsewhere, and there are no other ponies in the gardens this night. Walk with me, because there are things I need to say to you. Things you may not wish to hear, and thus I must be the one to say them."

He hardly ever knew what to say, when it was Luna. He still had seven billion phantom screams echoing in his head. And so his legs went into motion while his thoughts churned, and he waited for what could only be a personal worst.

Seven billion...

What was it going to be like when she woke up? Did she even know?

"You have not been taking your jewels from the coffer," Luna eventually began as they went past a patch of carefully-cultivated wildflowers. "Nor has it. For some time. Something else which has been building up."

It was the way the CDA helped their agents cover expenses: for most worlds, it was a drastic overpay. "I can't sell them. He has most of the jewelers, at least some of the pawnshops, and they're -- sort of big, Princess. Perfect. They stand out. I gave some to Vic, and he's using the diamonds in some of his equipment. He said he can even use a few of the rubies. But I started running out of places to hide them, and... I just stopped taking them."

"As it did," Luna nodded. "Had the two of you discussed that?"

"No."

"And it still has no real access to your memories."

"I'm not sure. It knows things. If I learn something, then it seems to know that too. But just for stuff in my life, or what happens when I let it come out... I've tried to remember what it does, Princess. I've had some dreams, here and there, and maybe some of those were memories of things it did. But for the most part, we're blocked to each other. It's just -- transition. And nothing else."

She nodded. Passing roses now.

"It spoke to me recently," Luna told him. "When it -- shall we say, dropped off that criminal, for our cells. I believe it was rather miffed after your court case failed. We had a few words then, but it left and I wound up with another incursion to deal with, personally. But it said something to me, while it was here. I wish to know if it has said the same to you in transition, or whether anyone else has mentioned the matter."

She paused, then pointedly glanced at a rather large bench, just before trotting over to it and climbing on, arranging her body on the wood. Jack awkwardly positioned himself on what remained, faced her.

"It wants to know," Luna said, "what its name is. For it will no longer answer to yours. It has some level of objection to that. It wishes a name, Jack, a name of its very own. Has it told you this?"

The silence closed in.

"...no."

"Do you know if it has spoken of the matter to others?"

"It reads, when it can," Jack said as he wondered why the air seemed to be turning so cold. "It likes to check for its own press coverage. Newspapers and -- the real word wouldn't mean anything to you: it's basically people who report anything they see to anyone who might believe it. Not that it gets much mention: just a few sightings here and there. Most papers are his, and -- the majority of people don't believe it's real. Our pictures are -- easy to fake, Princess. But I don't know if it's looking for a name, or if it's asked anyone else about one. I can't remember what it does. Just -- dreams."

The temperature continued to dip.

"I could, perhaps, solve that," Luna said. "Having you sleep here, within the purview of my magic. But -- there are risks. And when it comes to the risks I will allow agents to take, Jack -- I have humans in so many worlds, doing what they can to help us. Every one of them, including you, are risking their lives. And some have died under the banner of a land which was not their own." A long pause. "Your efforts are one of the Agency's greatest secrets and even if they became public, some portions of my country would carefully fail to appreciate them. You do so much, Jack, and I am willing to let you risk your life. It is yours to risk. But..."

She looked up, towards the true stars, and her gaze seemed to be searching for something. Whatever it was, Jack couldn't see it. But she faced the stars, and would not look at him.

"What I say next," Luna went on, "remains between the two of us. Forever. Not that any would believe it, coming from a human -- but it is to be a secret. Nopony else shall know. Do you agree?"

He managed a bare nod, even as the shivering began.

"My father," the Princess told the unheeding stars, "is dead. He passed into the shadowlands... some time ago, a time which only three remember. And he died from madness, Jack. It was -- one of the more common forms of death, in the Discordian Era. We lived in chaos, and -- it was a struggle, day to day, simply to remain a sane being. Or to retain the delusion of that sanity. My father lasted longer than most, but -- it was madness which took him in the end."

And now he truly had no idea of what he could say.

"Princess --"

A hoof came up: wait. "You -- many of you, scattered across the worlds -- have something which those who possess them typically describe as a power. Yours comes from chemicals, with a touch of accident, drowned in tragedy. But your power also comes from madness. The entity which occupies your body when the chemicals are active -- it can think, Jack. But it thinks differently. The differences are enough to make it an entity separate from you. And it has been content to return your body, every time, and wait for you to unleash it yet again -- so far. But now it wants to know what its name is. And..."

It was possible to watch as she gathered up the words, forced them into some kind of order.

"...when it comes to names," she finally went on, "some ponies have beliefs. There is a rather strong undercurrent which suggests that to name something is to give it some amount of destiny, and more than a few ponies grant their children names which they hope will lead them to something great -- or, in a few cases, towards other things entirely. We have seen many whose names match their jobs a little too closely, and perhaps some of that is destiny. Parental steering accounts for something of the rest. But to name something, Jack -- to name something is to define it. What it is. Perhaps what it might become, what it could ever be. Grant a name, and you might create a destiny. Some ponies, upon finding their marks, take a new name. Others do so well after. For those who do it long after their manifests, it is considered to be an act of defiance bordering on foolish, idiotic, almost blasphemous bravery -- which is perhaps why so many dream of it, if only in their nightscapes. I have walked through many of those dreams, Jack. Where a pony takes a new name and seizes control of destiny itself."

"I don't understand --"

Or perhaps he did, and did not wish to.

For her part, she was still looking at the stars.

"-- it wants a name, Jack. It is searching for one. And to take that name might give it strength. It would certainly continue to define it. It is already something which is somewhat separate from you, and it is madness. An insanity which happens to be on our side.... yes, I acknowledge the truth of that. It has done whatever it could for ponies and Equestria. It has risked the life you both shared in order to bring my citizens home, something you both agreed to. I am grateful, Jack, for all you and it have done. But it wants a name, and... I have asked my human agents to die for a country which is not their own. Fight for a flag they can never claim. One is buried here, and only because she crossed seconds before she expired. A human is buried in Equestrian soil, and -- there will be more. I send soldiers into war, and soldiers die. It is the price of war, and the incursions are a war against my world, being fought on more fronts than I ever wished to imagine. In war, there are deaths, and those who sign on know they may die. I send humans into a war where they may die, and they have agreed to risk their lives --"

And finally, she looked at him.

"-- but not their minds."

The dark eyes were not wet. They were steady. Focused. And the portion of Jack which had not recoiled on the bench as he realized what she was about to say wondered just how much that had taken.

"I would lose you to the fight," Luna said. "But not to madness. Shut down this latest lab if you can. But when that is finished, you will search among those on your world and select one to take the burden, Jack. Bring that person to me, and I will decide if they are suitable. You have played your part in this fight. We will find a way to let you spend your earned hours in Equestria, and see about locating you a resource which can be spent in your own world, to establish a new life, one without chemicals, far away from that city at the heart of the shadowfell. But when it comes to your service to the Canterlot Deportation Agency -- you are done."