Team Quantum

by Impossible Numbers

A Sold-Out Personality

After sundown, darkness lurked in ambush. Then it watched as the small figure waddled up to the door, glanced both ways, and rapped his fist against the woodwork. It was a back entrance.

The earth stallion who answered didn’t think to look down until a few seconds had passed. Despite the rectangle of light spilling out, the night was so cloudy and dark that he could barely see beyond.

Not that he couldn’t stop himself hearing the voices: childish whispers, they seemed to him. A few things glinted. Lots of things. Scales, by the look of it, and all from no higher than a foal could reach. Maybe a few worried eyes too.

Small dragons?

The only unambiguous thing, in fact, was the small figure in the light. Small claws twirled as it fidgeted uneasily like a child. The small spikes on its head vaguely resembled a cock’s comb, and there was something of the chicken about the small, chubby creature and its twitchy demeanour.

“Oh, it’s just you. Make it quick,” snapped the earth stallion. “I’m busy.”

Swallowing, the small figure started fiddling with the diamond tip of its stubby tail. “Er… good evening, uh, good sir. Uh… I couldn’t help wondering if you… if maybe you’d like a brand new dragon?”

The earth stallion gave the small figure his best withering look. Baby dragons. They never got to the point. Hadn’t they learned by now to respect their masters?

“Who wouldn’t?” he said irritably. “But I’m not doing dealings at this time of night. Anyway, what do you take me for, some backstreet lowlife? I’d need a receipt and anyway we’ve just closed the till.”

This made the dragon fidget at a much more frantic rate. “Um. Well. I suppose that’s true, if… uh… if the dragon had been, uh… owned before. You know how it is. New market and everything –”

“You!?” The earth stallion backed off and made to slam the door. “Pull the other one. I know you. You’ve got an owner, and I’m not getting arrested by buying outside of protocol. Darn con artist. Be off with you. And why would I want a scrawny runt like you anyway?”

He almost slammed the door. Something blocked the way and the woodwork rebounded, almost hitting his muzzle.

“Hey!” He stepped out again. “Just what kind of –?”

“Scrawny runt?” said a much deeper voice.

The earth stallion stared, mouth half-open.

“Peewee here isn’t for sale, dork.” The owner of the much deeper voice loomed over his head.

The earth stallion had to crane his neck.

Having stepped out of the darkness beyond, this new dragon was now threatening to block the entire doorway. It most certainly was not a scrawny runt. It probably ate scrawny runts for breakfast.

Scales burned bright red. Oversized fangs stuck out from the upper jaw like improperly sheathed swords. Despite barely fitting through the door as it was, the larger dragon stretched its wings anyway, and the earth stallion suddenly had a vision of this winged monstrosity swooping from the sky and engulfing him in the shadows of the night.

Dragons, he was sure, were not meant to be this big.

“Y-Y-Y-You’re… f-f-f-for sale?” the earth stallion stuttered. Being polite seemed a very good strategy right about now.

The red dragon grinned nastily. As its mouth already looked like a losing battle against the overbite, this merely added an extra few notches of terror to the earth stallion’s nightmares.

“Yeah,” said the red dragon. “For sale. Sure.”

“W-W-What for?”

The red dragon leaned so far forwards that the earth stallion felt, for a few seconds, its snout bump into his. “Do I ask you why you want a dragon?”

Gibbering, the earth stallion shook his head rapidly.

Thankfully, the red dragon seemed to run out of interest. It backed off, allowing the small figure to shuffle into the light again.

“No questions asked,” said the earth stallion, thinking fast.

“It’s nothing, you know, dangerous or anything,” said the small figure, contrary to all apparent evidence. “He’s just another dragon, like me.”

Teeth chattering, the earth stallion ran a critical eye over the red dragon, who was still grinning at him. Sure, dragons these days were just babies – they weren’t allowed to grow anymore – but “allowed” didn’t always count for much. After all, there were lots of things he wasn’t allowed to do as a business pony, and he did them anyway, and if the tax office never found out, what harm had been done?

Dragons, though…

Oh, they said that, once upon a time, dragons had been big and scary and did all kinds of things. Kidnapping princesses, or eating villages. Hard to remember these days, since all that was left were the stories and all these stupid baby dragons everywhere. No one really believed dragons could grow big anymore…

Possibly sensing his thoughts, the small figure hastily added, “Think about it this way, right? He’s just a really big little dragon. You get big ponies and little ponies. It’s not like, uh, he’s as big as a house or anything. And bigger means better, right?”

“Huh,” spat the red dragon. “That explains your case, Peewee.”

“Um,” said the earth stallion to the small figure. “How… exactly did he get so big?”

The red dragon folded his arms. “I work out.”

It was such an obvious lie that the earth stallion decided not to call it out. Arguing with a dragon was all right when they were small and weak.

“Work out,” he said hurriedly. “Right. Obvious, really, when you put it like that.”

“And not because of anything bad or illegal.” The small figure – somehow, the earth stallion doubted he was really called Peewee – waved his clawed hands in a placatory gesture. “Besides, everyone knows you can’t hatch dragons these days. You can’t even find any eggs!”

“Are we doing this or not?” Smoke snorted out of the red dragon’s nostrils.

“Er, sure,” said the earth stallion at once. “Of course. It’s just… supposing one of the Mages comes round?”

“So?”

“Um… won’t they want to see a receipt?”

“Geez, make one up or something. And ponies are supposed to be the master species? What a load. I could swallow you in one gulp right now.”

“Please don’t,” said the small figure.

“Well, yeah…” The earth stallion himself swallowed. Dimly, he remembered he hadn’t done the stock-check at the end of the shift. It suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago.

“We’re not asking for much,” continued the small figure. “In fact, I could write up a receipt easy-peasy. Just give me till tomorrow.”

The earth stallion was liking the small figure more and more, though, given the competition, that wasn’t hard. Anyway, he had wondered if it was time to up his game. A baby dragon was better than a suite full of ponies, provided you knew how to solve the fire sneeze problem. A large dragon was probably better than a suite full of baby ones…

“Well…” he said, in a voice begging to be persuaded and hoping not to be bullied.

“He might look scary,” said the small figure, who had stopped fidgeting and was positively bouncing under the smile. “But trust me when I say he’s the best dragon in the business. You remember the Wonderwide company?”

Shock of a wholly welcome kind entered the earth stallion’s brain. “No way… You mean to tell me he –”

“Yep.”

“But they’re the Number One company to work for! I saw it in Workaholics magazine!”

“He was their trade secret.”

Reality crashed over him. “Oh, I couldn’t afford a dragon like that. Wonderwide kicked butt last quarter. Lots of butts. They kicked butts most ponies could only dream of kicking.”

“And,” said the small figure, waggling his scaly eyebrows, “he’ll be perfectly fine with the Mages too.”

“But he’s a bloody great –”

“Within limits! He’s within limits! Size limits, flame breath limits, whatever limits they give on dragons. I know. I checked. It’s not like I’d sell you an illegal dragon, right? I said.”

“You sure? He looks pretty big to me.”

“Sure I’m sure.”

And the earth stallion was thinking, Good. That means you’re the one who said he’s fine. Everyone knows you dragons have to fit in. You know what I could do if you sell me a bad dragon. You know what the law could do.

“Ha,” he said, far more confidently now that he’d found an escape hatch. “Not bad. But you better get me that receipt, or I’ll have the authorities on your tail, Peewee.”

The small figure wiped his brow and saluted. “Dragon’s honour.”

“Uh huh,” said the earth stallion, indicating in just two syllables his opinion on how much that was worth. “All right. How much?”

Smiling more greedily, the small figure answered, “Ten bits.”

“Ten bits!?”

At once, the red dragon filled the doorway. “Is that a problem?”

“But even the cheapest dragons cost at least a hundred –” Survival instincts kicked his brain into another gear. “N-N-No. No problem. It’s just… surprising. That’s all.”

“Sweet.” The doorway was free of overwhelming redness. It had even felt hotter for a moment, as though someone had opened a furnace.

He hurried back inside and almost broke the till in his efforts to extract the money. The sooner this dream was over, the sooner he could find a much better one. One that involved a fortune with his name on it.

Suspicion hung around the back of his mind; no one sold prime dragons at that rate, and there’d been too much talk about how the whole business was aboveboard, even as it was being conducted at night via back entrance.

All the same, business was business. Even in the most cutthroat of companies, there was a time to be more trusting, wasn’t there? A good candidate would be the time when a large dragon gives you a nasty grin and suggests you get on with it.

“Ten bits,” he said, throwing them at the small figure. “And I’d better get that receipt, or it’ll be your hide, Peewee, not mine.”

Excited murmurs broke out among the shadows. For a moment, the earth stallion was caught off-guard; he’d plum forgotten about the lurkers.

“Um…” he began to say.

Red claws closed on his shoulder. “Nice to do business with you, little pony,” said the much deeper voice of the claws’ owner, who was incapable of speaking to him as though his opinion mattered at all. “Let’s have a look at the digs, eh? Oh, and that’ll be a chest full of gemstones and whatever your biggest room is. I’d ask for a cave, but I don’t think ponies know what those are, ha!”

“Now hold on –” said the earth stallion before he could stop himself.

He was turned sharply around to face two glowing, narrowed eyes. “I said… nice to do business with you.”

In the thoughtful pause, the earth stallion noticed how much it felt like his shoulders were being pressed against knives.

“Uh, s-s-s-sure,” he managed. “One g-gemstone ch-chest, c-com-coming up.”

The claws let go. “That’s much better. Stick with me, my little pony, and you can’t go wrong. My little pony, ha! It’s like you’re a toy, or something.”

---

Wincing, the small figure eased the door shut behind them. Without the light spilling out, he too was lost to the shadows of the street.

“Done,” he said, and he let out a sigh of relief. “That went well.”

“Do you think we’ll get into trouble over this, Spike?” squeaked a little voice.

The small figure shrugged. “We get into trouble whatever we do. Anyway, no one’ll figure this out. Just trust me, OK? It’s for the best.”

“You’re sweating,” said another tiny voice. “I can smell you.”

“Excitement,” lied Spike.

Wisely, no one said anything. There was merely the sound of shuffling. It didn’t matter that they had doubts. A dragon could not, after all, question the wisdom of stepping off a cliff when he was already halfway down.

Soon, there were no other sounds. Spike scratched and started fidgeting with his tail again, in spite of the click of coins; he had to shuffle those around the scales to do it.

“Ten bits…” he said dreamily.

Of course, he’d been forced to handle money before now, but then it had belonged to others. Now these coins were his… his to do whatever he wanted…

But he sighed. No. It’d never work out. There were rules about this sort of thing. Sometimes, it really sucked to be a dragon.

On his way home, he dropped the coins in a collecting box outside the first charity shop he passed. It made him feel a bit better, but not by much.

---

That same night, Twilight Sparkle sat in the highest room of the tallest tower, and read her book.

In truth, this was not the usual sort of book. She’d commissioned this copy especially from the Royal Archives. What saddened her most of all was that – unlike the usual commissions – there hadn’t been a large waiting list for this one.

Clover the Clever’s Compendium of Classical Creatures.

She was reading the chapter about dragons.

Before the multiverse had been discovered, virtually every cosmology had once involved dragons. Dragons that hatched the world, dragons that created mountains, dragons that brought rain to the thirsty land and so granted life. They were quite a far cry from the “Damsels in Distress” dragons of later centuries.

In fact, they clung to the imagination like no other beast before or since. Ahuizotls were too culturally narrow. Basilisks barely featured. Chimaeras never got the blood running. Ah, but of course… dragons were everywhere. Once…

She’d never tell anyone about this book. Other ponies always said she had strange interests. It wasn’t true. She had limitless interests. On any one day, she might begin by researching the nature of war and how to construct the most deadly weapons of all ponydom. By lunchtime, she’d be learning how to paint an enigmatic smile using the techniques of the old masters. Right at the end of the day, she’d have moved on to magical theory, wondering how to unscramble an egg without simply feeding it to a chicken and waiting for it to start laying.

Yet she kept coming back to dragons. Which was absurd. They were either romantic images – in truth, no different from any other random romantic imagery – or yet another species living in the capital. They weren’t even particularly interesting. The laws of the Mages had made them uninteresting, though as these laws also made them safer to be around, that was to her mind a Good Thing.

Nevertheless, the multiverse had been discovered. What little romanticism the dragons could have still claimed, that had long since been swept away. Today, everyone spoke breezily of inter-continuum transport as though they’d personally thought of it. The latest science always gave way, sooner or later, to the latest fad.

Well, she’d set that right.

Right after she’d checked a few misapprehensions about dragons, of course.

And possibly had rewritten the history of Mage-level philosophy, of course.

And, if she had the time, had learned a little bit more about the historical fusion of eastern and western traditions. Of course.

Outside her window, the city was bright. The city was magnificent. Towers competed against towers. All manner of pleasing shapes and imperial sizes invited her to come outside, to experience the cosmopolitan new age, to try new things, see strange places, and enjoy unsuspected delights provided by the creative minds of the modern generation.

She almost, almost wanted to go. Her parents often sent her letters hoping she would. She needed to broaden her horizons, they said.

She would. She swore she would.

Just not right now. There was still too much to learn. Magic, the arts, biochemistry, all the continuums of other spaces and other times. Whoever had designed the days and weeks had left them too short for Twilight’s standards.

She’d go out there. She’d take time out. Just not right now.

---

Spike rubbed his clawed hands together nervously. Daybreak drifted through the window of yet another room.

He hated this room.

Strictly speaking, this room didn’t warrant such hatred. That the curtains and blinds were designed to shut out all sunlight… that was annoying, true, but a dragon had perfectly good night vision, and if anything he was grateful that he didn’t have to go into the other rooms yet. Compared to those rooms, a bit of minimalist darkness was as wholesome and welcome as a day out in the fresh air.

However, he still averted his gaze. This meant he couldn’t see what he was doing. But he could hear it, though, and he could feel it, as he tied the rope around the struggling figure.

“It’s just temporary,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not my idea. I swear.”

With a final yank, he tightened the bonds. Trying not to be sick, he reached forwards and patted the lump gently. It stopped struggling.

“Look, it’s not me,” he said frantically. “It’s just if I don’t, then I’ll never – you know I can’t – I never wanted to!”

No one else was around. They usually trusted him to work on his own, in the same way that they trusted a dumb machine to work: ploddingly, accurately, and without a trace of independent thought. For once, that suited him fine.

He ripped the gag off. Coughing and gasping noises ripped at his reptilian ears.

As soon as it was over, the mare’s weak voice said, “They smashed the other eggs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And they tore up my magic books.”

“I’m sorry!”

“There was no need for any of that.”

“I, uh…”

Spike stopped to think for a moment. After all, this was no ordinary pony. This was a crystal pony. In the near-total darkness, facets gleamed.

Lots of species lived throughout the capital. Crystal ponies were among the rarest. Although they were called ponies, they really had little in common besides how they looked. Spike guessed they thought completely differently from ponies, too.

“I’m sorry they smashed the eggs,” he said gently.

“I know. Why do they hate dragons so much?” said the crystal mare.

“Oh, they don’t. They don’t hate us.” We’re not important enough to hate.

“I don’t blame you. You’re only a little dragon, after all. What’s your name, little one?”

“Oh. Uh. Spike. Spike the dragon. At your service.” Then he caught himself. “Well, not at your service, obviously, but if I wasn’t at the service of the, you know, the obligations and stuff, I’d like to be at your service.”

The crystal mare coughed; something splattered on the floor. “I feel funny.”

“Hold on a sec!” Spike hurried out of the room and soon returned with a glass of water. He dropped two white pills inside. Instantly, they fizzed and dissolved.

“They hit me quite hard,” she continued.

“Drink this. It’s got mind pills in it. They’ll make you feel better.”

“But… I’m a crystal pony…”

“I checked. They’re crystal pony pills.” Smugly, he added, “I know what I’m doing.”

Slowly, he tipped the drink down the crystal mare’s throat. Against the shame creeping back, however, his sapling pride withered and died.

“How did a fine dragon like you fall into such company?” said the crystal mare.

Spike sighed and removed the empty glass. “I can’t tell you.”

“I understand.”

“Not that I don’t want to!”

“I do understand.”

“It’s just… after all that’s happened… they know I know too much, and if I don’t do what they say…”

He fell silent. Gently, the crystal mare’s head eased towards him and rested on his shoulder.

After a few seconds, and all too soon, she raised her head again. “You can call me Master Crystal Pony Amber. I know who you belong to.”

Spike didn’t say anything. When none of the other “company” were around, he could almost believe this room wasn’t so bad. She hadn’t been the first through here.

“If it’s possible for such a busy dragon as yourself, Spike, I’d like you to perform a little job for me. I’d like you to go to my home and tidy up the place. Those books are my life’s work. The eggs… I don’t know what’s happened to them now…” She sighed, and to Spike she sounded as though she’d lost one of her children.

He gulped, and with as firm an expression on his face as he could manage, he nodded once.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway,” she continued, “but if you can, if they’re still there, then at least see to it that those poor eggs are treated with dignity. I’d prefer them to be buried. Returned to the earth: it seems… poetic, somehow.”

Spike dammed back the words. Obligation and fear kept him from speaking his mind. Instead, he gave another nod.

“Is that a yes?” said Amber sadly.

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot. Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you. That’s at least a load off my mind.”

Spike struggled hard not to break his obligation. Or his fear. It was extremely difficult.

“They won’t get away with this,” he said stiffly, and then inwardly cursed himself for the slip.

Amber shook her head. “They must be stopped, yes, but they’ve already ‘gotten away with this’. What’s done is done. History has played out. Your pain is a part of it forever.”

“There’s always the future.”

“This is true. The future, however, is simply another pony’s history.”

“I can’t do nothing!” Spike covered his mouth at once. He was saying too much. A dragon should not speak his mind. It was law.

Amber smiled weakly. “Everyone does something. What’s important is whether or not it’s the right thing to do.”

Spike winced. “Do all Mages talk like you?”

“Have they done so? Are they doing so? Will they do so? That’s a big question to ask of a Master, or to expect her to answer so easily.” Amber turned her head and appeared to look at him. “Spike, if I can help you at all, then I will. Don’t look for freedom. True freedom is emptiness. Look instead for –”

“Let me guess… My heart’s desire?”

“No. Even a fine heart should not be led by desire. Look instead for the right obligation. Look instead for duty. Codes. Principles. Limits.”

Spike screwed up his lips, but he didn’t have the heart – fine or otherwise – to say anything harsh. Regardless of the law against speaking his mind, he wouldn’t have done so anyway. Amber was far more understanding than most of the ponies he’d seen. But it was a close call.

Besides, he knew she couldn’t see his face. The blindfold took care of that.

Briefly, he reached forwards and – curiosity peeking out of his eyes – lifted the fabric.

“OK,” was all he dared say.

“Be open-minded, Spike.”

Milky eyes stared at nothing. A slight chuckle lay dying on her lips until he lowered the blindfold again.

“Remember,” she said before he had to put the gag back on too. “There are none so blind as those who will not see. Remember that, Spike.”

---

Comments

[RTStephens]

A very... odd start. We're diving right in and I've got on inkling of what's going on. A lot of Spike here despite a lack of character tag. Suppose we'll see where this is all going.

[B_Munro]

Another Shitty Racist Equestria. Normally I keep clear of such settings, but you do Quality Pone, so I shall forge onward to chapter 2.

[Fluttercheer]

A universe where ponies hold dragons as slaves..... Prevent them from growing up and also seem to prevent new dragons from hatching, desiring to make the entire dragon race go extinct.
Very dark, something I did not expect from the description and the tags. And the description is a real mystery, same as this first chapter. But I already notice your distinct, refined style here, so I'm already liking what I read.
I wonder who our big dragon friend is, to what kind of establishment he sold himself to and why he wanted to get in there so much..... And also what role Twilight is going to play in all this. And then this crystal mare, a pony, yet she seems to be getting enslaved anyway.....
You built up a lot of mystery already, I can't wait to read further chapters to see how this goes on.

[Emperor]

Well. That's quite the contradiction in character narratives to start off. For Spike it's obviously a crapsack world, where he's essentially trained from birth to be a servant for ponies (and potentially other races), and isn't allowed to question or really even think, or grow for that matter. And since dragons can live a long time, he has a long life ahead of them like this if he doesn't break free. Contrast Twilight, who has too much freedom if that's possible, and hence almost no direction in her life as she gets absorbed into book after book after pastime after study.

Given this is an AU and the synopsis, I'm guessing Twilight is neither Celestia's student nor an alicorn in this continuity.