• Published 4th Feb 2021
  • 12,450 Views, 1,084 Comments

Choice - zelkova48



When the time came, choices needed to be made. Consequences be damned. A series of short vignettes set in the Negotiationverse by Rated Pony

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Documentation


A pair of archivists sift through old files of the Equestrian Secret Service.


Deep in the bowels of Canterlot's government archive building, a pair of diligent archivists find themselves neck deep in paperwork. Stacks upon stacks of legal documents, both important and mundane loomed over the two like towering monuments to bureaucracy, swaying haphazardly to and fro disconcertingly. It would only take a slight breeze to tip it over and make a mess of things.

The head archivist, Rubber Stamp, an elderly earth pony with reddish pink coat, faded yellow mane and a big round red stamp for a cutie mark, and his eager young apprentice, Dotted Line, a dusty gray unicorn with an oily looking black mane and ellipses as his cutie mark, toiled away in the dimly lit records rooms of the government archive building, sifting through file after file on all things related to the now defunct Equestrian Secret Service under direct orders of ambassador Twilight Sparkle.

It had been six years since the end of the Conversion Wars.

Recently, the lingering remnants of the Equestrian Freedom Fighters had been snuffed out a few months ago after Task Force Centaur's successful raid on their hideout in the Macintosh Mountains, ending their niggling threat to the free world once and for all. And before that, the trial of Princess Celestia and her subsequent execution took place, wherein the solar tyrant was met with justice from both humans and ponies, bringing about the ceremonious conclusion of the old era.

While there was still much that needed to be done, Equestria had managed to weather the worst of it and achieved peace with itself at long last.

With potential civil unrest quelled and the threat of terrorism neutralized Twilight had saw it fit to turn her gaze inward. While a majority of the remaining loyalists to the old regime had already been purged at this point, in some cases violently so, their taint still lingered in all corners of the country, the Equestrian Secret Service chief among them.

It was time to take a closer look through their private records to see if they had missed anything important the first time around. Granted a vast majority of the more damning files were destroyed beforehand when Sweetie Drops and her ilk enacted the 'Fallen Protocol' and fled to form the Equestrian Freedom Fighters, there was still plenty of documents laying around that survived that could potentially shine light upon muddier circumstances.

Rubber Stamp coughed as he rifled through a stack of documents, the dust they'd been collecting over the years were disturbed and filled the air with the irritant.

"Argh... Damn it all," Rubber Stamp grumbled, furrowing his brow in irritation. He ran his hoof along the various folders and binders before him, noting the blatant unprofessional and slapdash organization of the files as his lips curled into a deep frown. "Didn't those manure-sacks at the ESS have a decent bookkeeper on their payroll? Tsk, this is amateur work."

"Er, what exactly is it that we're looking for again, sir?" Dotted Line asked, sweeping away the blanket of dust that formed by his desk.

"Anything that could potentially lead us in the direction of the remainder of Celestia's loyalists. They're not completely gone, and in spite of everything they haven't given up their effort to undermine the work of the new Equestrian government," he replied. "Ambassador Twilight suspects there may be something here worth investigating. Whatever that is, I'm not sure. In any case, these papers still need to be looked into regardless so that they can be logged into the archives. Buckle up, boyo. It's gonna be a long day."

"Aye, sir," Dotted Line nodded respectfully and proceeded to sift through the papers.

The hours passed by like sand along the dunes as the pair combed through page after page of documents. As the day drew out it became increasingly difficult to contain their horror and disgust at all they had come learn about the organization and their abhorrent behavior.

It's not that the cruelty of the ESS wasn't well known to the general populace by now, but the truth about the sheer depths of what they were capable of, and more importantly, willing to sink to in order to achieve their goals was stomach churning.

Fluttershy's defection, and by extension the Resistance, was a mark of shame upon the old order, one that the former Princess Celestia could not abide by. Insulted beyond compare that her little ponies had strayed from the path, she sought to rectify the situation by reinforcing preexisting loyalties as a means to make up for such a terrible loss, branding those who fled as heretics and traitors to the Equestrian ideal.

The Equestrian Secret Service was formed as a way enforce that goal. The brainchild of Celestia, backed by her fellow royals, the ESS were the stoic moral arbiters that worked tirelessly to ensure that the loyalty of the ponies of Equestria through any means necessary.

The gamut of psychological evaluations and personnel reports that Rubber Stamp skimmed through had revealed much about their recruitment process and the mindset behind it.

It wasn't the kind of organization you could just join on a whim; they were the ones that came to you if they felt you were worthy of being added to their illustrious ranks. But there were certain parameters that needed to be met in order to even qualify for the chance of being inducted into the ESS. A potential recruit didn't need to check all the boxes, just the ones that mattered the most.

To wit, a common quality that most, if not all, agents of the ESS possessed was that they came from a strong religious background, preferably from areas with fiercely dogmatic communities; Cloudsdale, for instance. That mean they were disciplined and were keen on a regimented lifestyle. They were usually young adults, fresh faced and in the prime of their lives searching for some sort of higher purpose in life. And if on top of all the aforementioned qualities they were already enlisted with the Royal Guard, then all the better.

From what Rubber Stamp could understand, these parameters were set in place to ensure that those who joined the ESS were firmly on the side of the crown from the get-go. And if at any time they expressed reservations about their charge their psychological profile made them easy to manipulate, to be molded like wet clay into the perfect agent; subservient, cold and utterly ruthless in their endeavor to enforce the will of the princess. It was insidious, really.

It was too much to take in, he needed to set the papers down.

"Good grief," Rubber Stamp let out a heavy sigh and sunk down into his seat, bringing up his hooves to rub at his temple. "To think these animals used to run about the country with no restraint. Were we really that blind to have allowed that go on for so long? I'm glad they're all gone."

"Took the words right out of my mouth, sir," Dotted Line piped up. "At least you weren't reading their incarceration reports." He strained himself to hold up a large beige binder full to bursting with files on all the ponies that were apprehended over the years under suspicion of, well, just about anything deemed a threat to the nation, its people or core political ideology. "Take a look at this one," he cleared his throat and began reading aloud one of the reports.


"Name: Sort'n Stack.

Type: Male pegasus. Red coat with white mane.

Cutie mark: A series of cans stacked in the shape of a pyramid.

Place of residence: Las Pegasus.

Occupation: Employee at Green-Greens Mega Grocers.

Apprehended under suspicion of: Gross slander of the Equestrian government and the venerable alicorn princesses.

Sentenced to: Hard labor at Camp Hummingbird."


"Gross slander of the Equestrian government sounds like fancy jargon for back talk," Rubber Stamp deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Tsk, utterly ridiculous."

"You think that's bad? Listen to this one," Dotted Line pulled out another file and read it aloud.


"Name: Mountain Song.

Type: Female Earth Pony. Light brown coat with green mane.

Cutie mark: A mountain peak with musical notes around it.

Place of residence: Ponyville.

Occupation: Professional Yodeler.

Apprehended under suspicion of: Deliberately obscene idleness in times of crisis. Inappropriate yodelling.

Sentenced to: Hard labor at Camp Blue Jay."


"Oh, for the love of-!" Rubber Stamp stopped himself short of a curse, a scowl forming on his face. He took a deep breath and centered himself, carefully maintaining his professional demeanor lest his apprentice think less of him. "I think we've heard enough of this manure for the time being. Why don't we take a break and get ourselves something to eat before we lose it," he suggested.

"I thought you'd never ask," Dotted Line let out a sigh of relief. "I'm thinking about trying that new fusion restaurant that just opened up- Oh, dang it!" he exclaimed, pulling out of his seat too quickly and accidentally pulling down one of the binders down with him, causing a few pages to scatter along the floor.

"Heh, it had to have happened sooner or later," Rubber Stamp guffawed. "Come on, clean that up so we can grab some grub."

"Yeah, give me a second... Huh, what the?" Dotted Line muttered to himself as something peculiar caught the corner of his eye.

It was another report, but from the binder reserved for their supporters and benefactors. Several were redacted to Hell and back, looking more like bar code than actual written documents as a way to keep the identity of the supporter under wraps. But this one in particular was incomplete, looking as it was done in a hurry but never finished. Dotted Line raised his brow and picked up the file, scanning it for a spell and drawing the attention of his mentor.

"Something wrong, boyo?" Rubber Stamp asked.

"This file... I think... I think it's Applejack," replied Dotted Line incredulously.

"What?" Rubber Stamp knitted his brow, nonplussed. "The former Element of Honesty? That can't be right. Why would she..."

"There's no name, and the photo attached had the eyes crossed out, but most of the information available is still there," Dotted Line pointed out. "Look, it says, occupation: proprietor of Sweet Apple Acres. Place of residence: Ponyville... Sweet peas in a pod, there's a list of the ponies she turned in," he blanched at all the names, the sheer number of unfortunate ponies Applejack had turned in to the ESS. "Davenport, Mountain Song, Ten Pins, Wishy Washy and several more." He swallowed thickly, unable to to suppressed the chill the ran up along his spine. "The ESS paid her handsomely for each and every one of them... Sir, we need to show this to the ambassador at once." He was about to take off to the castle, but was stopped by Rubber Stamp, who stared at him intently.

"Dotty, wait..." Rubber Stamp paused, looking as though he were at war with himself by the way his eyes seem to glimmer with uncertainty. Sighing heavily, he looked at his apprentice dead in the eye and finally spoke, "...Burn it."

"...Sir?" Dotted Line blinked, looking at his mentor like he had gone crazy. "But we have to-" He was cut off as Rubber Stamp narrowed his eyes. He had always known his mentor to be a harsh but fair stallion. If he wanted him to burn the document, there was usually a good reason for it, even if he himself didn't fully understand.

Wordlessly, Dotted Line complied and dumped out a metal wastebasket and dropped Applejack's file into it. He then reached for a book of matches from one of the nearby drawers, struck it alight and tossed it in. The old papers caught fire and blackened almost instantly.

The two watched with quiet solemnity as the files burned bright, making sure the flames stayed where they were as to avoid damaging the rest of the archives with their haphazard disposal method. Curls of smoky cinders wafted into the air as hot glowing embers ate at the papers' edges, consuming every last bit until it was finally reduced to soot stained pile of messy gray ash. Rubber Stamp then grabbed a pitcher of water from his desk and dumped it into the wastebasket for good measure, smoting any of the lingering embers that may remain.

As the smell of ozone dissipated from the cramped room and the ambient temperature turned cold, Rubber Stamp set down the pitcher and gestured for Dotted Line to follow him, treating the moment as just another day on the job.

"Let's get going, boyo. I'm starving here," he grunted as he began trotting to the door. "We can clean that up when we get back."

"Sir," Dotted Line gulped as he trailed behind. "Was there a reason we did that?"

"...It's presumptuous of me to decide for the ambassador, but it's probably for the best that she doesn't know about this," replied Rubber Stamp. "Let Twilight Sparkle remember her friend as who she was, not what she became. As for those who fell victim to Applejack's greed, well, that's where we come in. But, that's a talk for after we've had our fill. Come, let's try out that fusion restaurant you mentioned. It'll be my treat."

Dotted Line merely nodded and followed along beside his mentor. A part of him felt it distasteful that they had deliberately destroyed such a horrible revelation. He believed they should've shown it to Twilight, she deserved to know. However, he was still very young and equally as naive. Perhaps there was more to this than he was bellyaching about. Maybe his mentor was right to have that file destroyed. His hunger only made his feelings all the more unbearable.

But, he had followed through with the destruction of the file anyway.

What's done was done, and all he could think about now was what to have for lunch...