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Another update? Within the same month? WHAT IS THIS VILE SORCERY?

CHAPTER 38

“We are taking a tremendous risk allowing you back in the facility right now, Bluebone.” The tall, blonde-maned Unicorn stallion simply nodded to the other Pony, taking a perverse enjoyment in watching a co-conspirator he’d spent decades growing up with, plotting with, twist his face into a grimace of frustration and fear.

My family has held the Shadow Council together for generations. My will, my coin, has forged the connections with the lesser races we need to succeed. The aging Unicorn though proudly as he was ‘escorted’ past Unicorn guards in faceless helmets and blank, sterile steel doors, deeper into the facility underneath Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns than he, or any of the Council proper for that matter, usually bothered.

Here, several levels beneath the rooms and chambers the Shadow Council itself used for it's day-to-day operations, was the domain of the cold, analytical gaze of ‘Professor’ Beaker, where the prisoners of the Shadow Council and other 'test-subjects' languished in magically-shielded cells, unable to escape in any way, shape or form, not even through suicide. Here, the future of an old empire, the true inheritors of the world, waited impatiently to be born anew, to take and mold an imperfect world ruled by imperfect races …

“Damn it, Bluebone, listen to me! Do you have any idea how close the Council is to sanctioning an assassin before you even go to trial? It’s taken every favour I’m owed to get them to even let you back into the Sanctuary, let alone …” Almond Hooves’s harsh complaints were silenced as Bluebone turned to give his oldest friend a warm smile coupled with cold eyes that stared right through the other Stallion.

“That is why I am here, Almond. To make sure that all that I know, all that I have pushed this Council towards, will survive, nay, thrive should the worst happen and I fall to the Whore-Princess's minions.” Bluebone said after several long, painful moments of eye-contact with the other Stallion, whom had been either unwilling or unable to look away. “My wretched heir is utterly worthless, a traitor to his own kind and a willing servant of that treacherous bitch on the throne, and let us be brutally honest, my friend, the Council has about as much cohesion as a wet paper bag without a member of the Blue Clan at it’s head. Should I fall, the end of our great work will come in months, if not sooner, due to all the bickering and fighting for position the lesser Clans indulge in.”

“So what in the name of Faust herself does returning to the lair of the very Ponies who’ll have you murdered in your sleep have to do with coming down into this place? None of the Council-Members have any trust or liking for Beaker, they only put up with that sadist because he’s the only scientist who has the talent and the … the personality required to perform the acts to advance our cause. He’s no more loyal to our cause than a rock, and he only obeys us because we lavish bits on his side projects, projects that seem more and more ghoulish by the day!” Almond retorted, shaking his head as if to chide himself before trotting forwards and placing a hoof on Bluebone’s shoulder. “For the love of every God, they might just give you to that soulless bastard just to get their hands on the bloodline of Princess Platinum, to ensure whatever monstrosity that Beaker churns out next has some measure of authenticity. Let’s just get out of here already! I’ve already got a team of the best lawyers that bits can buy lined up to defend you against any charge the Princess can level at you. It might take a few years, but you’ll come out as a hero to the Unicorns and we’ll use the whole thing as a chance to paint Princess Celestia as a tyrant trying to crush a political rival with spurious accusations.”

“Your funds are not limitless, Almond. And mine have all been lost to me, at least until I can prove my innocence. If this is a ploy by one of our own to claim the chairmanship of our Shadow Council, they will inevitably make a play to remove me from the board, one way or another. Thus, it is vital I see Beaker immediately, to ensure that the Great Work does not fail.” Sighing, Bluebone returned the gesture even as he inwardly sneered at Almond’s theatrics. You always were so damned dependant upon me and my family’s connections. If you lose me, the rest of the Council will tear you apart and divide up your family’s wealth into so many pieces your children will be lucky to have a brass bit to call their own.

Traversing the cold, sterile halls in blessed silence now, Bluebone eyed the walls with a keen eye, although others might have called it morbid. Most of the test-subjects for artificial alicornization had perished, of course, but the good ‘doctor’ had managed to find new ways to preserve the remains, not just as ghoulish trophies but as a visible reminder that each loss put them a step closer to true success.

A malformed corpse here, a pair of entwined cadavers there, a pile of raw flesh that still quivered with unnatural life behind a barrier of solid magic, a piece-meal Alicorn made of ‘donated’ body-parts whose frame was only held together by the enchanted plates of armor and mithril stitches as the pieces sought to violently separate, even years after the poor wretch had expired.

The price of progress is always paid for in blood. Bluebood thought grimly as he passed a gruesome trophy locked in magical stasis whose face he recognized, and whose presence made Almond turn green and move away to the other side of the hallway. A wretched nephew of one of the Council, a wastrel and drunkard whose only value had been the refined blood flowing in his veins. Blood that had proven to be worthless in the grand scheme of things, the poor fool’s body unable to survive the infusion of divine essence from Celestia, his veins literally exploding out of his skin as the divine substance rejected the mortal host almost instantly, but whose imperfect fusion with the essence of an Alicorn also ensured his body would perpetually regenerate.

Finally the hallway ended behind a pair of heavy adamantite doors that looked very much out-of-place, having more in common with the armored doors on the vaults of Canterlot’s treasury than in the almost hospital-like confines of the Sanctuary, yet with a low, ear-piercing squeal and the low grind of dozen of gears moving against each other within them, the doors slowly swung open, exposing the room the Council liked to call ‘the Pit of Tartarus’ when the Pony who reigned here was out of ear-shot.

“Professor Beaker.” Bluebone said, loudly and without preamble, walking into the room as if it were the most natural thing in the world, a difficult task considering the Pony he was speaking to was up to his hocks in the guts of a Hydra, whose heads wriggled impotently in the cast-iron shackles of the operating table, either in pain or rage, Bluebone did not care.

“I am … hmmm … busy.” Beaker replied calmly, not looking up as the blank-faced Unicorn rooted around in the pulsating innards of the poor beast, poking and prodding with a dozen different tools, all wielded at once with clockwork precision as he dissected the living subject and watched the Hydra’s regenerative abilities piece the organs back together.

“I am aware, but it is urgent. Finish up as soon as you can and meet me in your office.” Bluebood replied, giving one of the pale-faced ‘assistants’ a glare to hammer home the point it was an order.

A young Mare led the two Stallions up to Beaker’s ‘office’, a long rectangular room that hung over the operating room that dominated the ‘Pit’, the floor made of thick glass that gave one a disconcerting feeling that they were floating above the ghoulish nightmare of medical equipment and arcane paraphernalia, and the filing cabinents and sole desk that graced the observation deck bolted into the walls and were thus kept off the glass floor only helped reinforce the feeling.

Bluebone had the distinct feeling that Beaker, bland, emotionless and utterly practical, had had the room built precisely to make other Unicorns uncomfortable, to have ‘nothingness’ under their hooves, to make them emotionally vulnerable and thus more willing to agree to his demands. The aging Unicorn gave the odd scientist a mental salute even as he fought down the waves of vertigo the unusual room caused, while Almond simply settled for turning pale and sweating heavily, although Bluebone suspected his friend’s condition might have had more to do with having a bird’s eye view of the squirming guts of the captive Hydra below than any sense of vertigo.

The bastard doesn’t even bother with sewing the beast up … or is he measuring the beast’s regenerative ability? The blond-maned Unicorn wondered silently as Beaker finally gave in to the prompting of his aides and stepped away from his latest project, having words of some kind with the closest assistant before stepping under a shower to sluice the green, slime-like blood of the Hydra off his hooves and neck before trotting up the staircase to his ‘office’.

“My apologies, Director, Councilor. Applying what we’ve learned from the Hydra’s regenerative abilities to the Project Eve's reproductive system could increase the ratio of successful incubation of the offspring by a full eleven percent, even without factoring the magical augmentations we intend to implement.” The bland-faced young Unicorn explained in his monotone voice, walking past the two seated Stallions without so much as a flicker of respect for their stations, making Bluebone smirk slightly and Almond’s colour return somewhat as anger warred with his vertigo. “I have an assistant monitoring the regeneration process now, so what did you need? If we are to proceed with your request for a hybrid womb to create a artificial Alicorn, and complete it within the timeframe you have specified, I cannot be distracted from my work.”

“Do you follow the news, Professor?” Bluebone asked in a pleasant tone, ignoring the confused glance Almond shot him.

“I’ve little time for the public media, it’s mostly a sham anyways, political maneuvering for control of the limited attention-span of the public. Or do you speak of the up-coming court-case against yourself, Director Bluebone?” Beaker replied evenly in his monotone voice, seating himself smoothly and turning those calm, dead eyes to the two Stallions with all the interest of a Stallion watching paint dry. “What is the purpose of that question, since you already knew the answer?”

“Matters have … complicated on the surface. I will be unlikely to deliver the required ingredient we discussed at a later date, so we will have to do it now, while I am still accessible.” Bluebone replied simply.

“What ingredient?” Almond asked, eyes narrowing as he looked between the serene, in-control face of Bluebone, and the blank, bland mask of Beaker. “Dammit Bluebone, you know the Council insists on having a full briefing on Project Eve and the Hybrid Womb, if they hear you’ve been slipping the nutty professor here things on the sly after all the shit that’s hit the fan recently, they will have you killed, no if’s or but’s!”

Beaker turned his expressionless face to the swearing Almond, then back to Bluebone, his expression not shifting or cracking as Almond’s ranting turned to panicked pleading for them to leave now, before things got worse, before the Council turned on them both, before the Great Work was undone before it even began.

“I believe one of my assistants can assist with the procurement.” He said simply after a few moments of thought looking down at the number of assistants working with cold precision in the Pit below. “I will page her and inform them of what is required, they will collect the ingredient, and our business is concluded for now.”

“A pleasure as always, Professor Beaker, to work with somepony else who values efficiency.” Bluebone stood up, nodded to the dead-eyed Professor and then to his friend and left the observation room, trotting down the stairs with a smirk on his handsome face.

“For the love of Faust’s right tit! What ingredient?” Almod exploded, almost livid with rage. “I’ve half a mind to go to the Council right now and let them know all about this! Bastards, ignoring me after all I’ve done to help you both!”

“Your anger is misplaced, Councilor Almond Hooves.” The ‘Professor’ replied after pushing a button on his desk that, after a few moments, summoned one of his assistants, the young Mare bustling up the stairs and rubbing shoulders with Bluebone, whose smile grew even wider as the much younger Mare cringed away from him. “The request to procure the ingredient is already lodged with the Council, after all. My assistant will take it from Director Bluebone, and the Great Work will continue on, regardless of what happens to the Director after this moment.”

Mouth working silently in rage for several moments, finally, the befuddled Stallion exploded just as the young assistant entered the observation room. “WHAT IS THIS DAMN INGREDIENT?” Almond swore, turning to face the dead-eyed scientist with his horn sparkling with an attack-spell ready to launch.

“Ah, Cubic, punctual as always. Your answer, Councilor Almond Hooves, is genetic material. The best source of the genetic material of the Platinum Bloodline we can currently access, specifically, being either Bluebone, or his progeny, Blueblood. Cubic will procure a sample from the Director to assist with the creation of the Artificial Alicorn, as simple as that.”

“A blood sample, Professor?” The young Mare asked, a demure smile on her face. “Exactly how much am I permitted to take? All of it, by any chance?”

“Not blood, Cubic. Semen. As much as you can harvest.” Beaker replied, his bland mask of a face not so much as twitching as the expressions on both Cubic’s and Almond’s faces turned ashen.

“Bluebone is providing the … but the Hybrid Womb is … the unicorn sample is … oh Faust!” Almond whispered, all but fleeing the observation room with his face turning green, barrelling past Bluebone and several startled scientists and out the door that kept the Pit safely quarantined from the rest of Sanctuary.

“B-but Professor, you want me to extract …” Cubic whimpered before biting off the complaint and shaking herself like a wet dog. “V-very well, sir, if that is your order.”

“I am ordering you to take two samples, Cubic. One for our work with the Hybrid Womb, the other as a backup. You will act as the incubator for the backup.” Beaker monotone at his assistant, whose face went from ashen-grey to pale white, and her knees wobbled as she grasped the meaning of the Professor’s words.

“B-but sir, there’s no guarantee that it would … I’m not ready to be … Bluebone? He’s a m-monster!” She quailed, collapsing onto her hind-quarters as she searched Beaker’s face for some sign, any sign, that this was some sort of sick joke.

“You know that all who work in the Pit have everything about them recorded, to ensure security both in and out of the lab. Your biometric rhythms suggest that today is one of your most fertile days, so conception should be relatively simple with the right fertility spell.” Beaker stood up and walked around the table, his voice as calm as if discussing the weather even as his assistant sobbed in distress. “Consider, Cubic, that Bluebone is also wealthy in connections and bloodlines, if not material wealth at the moment. Any offspring you carry will be as close to a pure-blooded descendant of Princess Platinum as we can achieve at this stage. This sacrifice will gain you much favour with the Shadow Council, whom likely already plot Bluebone’s demise to protect their secrets from Princess Celestia.”

“Fact: Bluebone is unlikely to survive unless he can continue to play the various factions amongst the Shadow Council against one another, and his ability to do so without access to his funds is severely limited, thus he is unlikely to ever come into contact with you again."

"Fact: Blueblood is the only other ‘pure-bred’ descendant of Princess Platinum, and despite having an entire Herd of young, fertile Mares that are known to be utterly devoted to him, has not produced any offspring himself at all despite being sexually active for some time, and is thus likely sterile."

"Fact: I am prepared to use my influence with the Council to ensure that you may raise the child as your own, without interference. You may raise it as a lab animal, a cherished offspring or foster it out to any Pony with close ties to the Shadow Council if you so wish it.”

Sniffling, Cubic lay on the floor for a few moments more before taking a deep breath and shakily getting back on her hooves.

“I’ll … do it, Professor. If you’ll hold to your promises, I’ll do it, with one more condition.” Cubic said in a voice marred by the bubble of mucus in her nostrils from her crying.

“Your condition then?”

“I want to be your second, in everything. All your notes, all your research, your other projects outside of the Hybrid Womb and the work on Project Eve, I want to be involved in it all, as your student. I want to assist you in it all, to learn directly from you.” The young Mare said sharply, eyes wet with tears even as she locked them into the calm, dead eyes of the ‘Professor’. “That’s the condition. I’ll act the part of the brood-mare if you’ll ensure I have full access to your research, and can assist you directly in it.”

Beaker blinked once, then twice, tilted his head to the side and then, of all things, smiled, the very faintest upward curling of the corners of his mouth, a smile that would have made brave Guardsponies’ blood run cold, but only gave young Cubic the courage to hold her head up high.

“Cubic, I would enjoy nothing more that a fellow scientist who understood the cost of sacrifice assisting me with my research. Consider your terms accepted.” The ‘Professor’ said, still ‘smiling’ as his horn flashed with the casting of a spell, sickly grey-green sparks floating lazily from his horn swirl around Cubic, coming to rest on her belly and under her tail and flashing brightly before fading into her skin. “That temporary Heat spell will accelerate your biorhythm to the optimum level to ensure a successful conception, but it will only last a half-hour at most. Move quickly and endure, for the sake of the Great Work.”

“Yes sir.” Cubic sniffed one last time, saluted, and walked slowly but determinedly down the stairs, heading towards the leering Stallion with the blonde mane and white coat that had marked the descendants of Princess Platinum for thousands of years.

“Soon” Beaker said out loud to empty air, his face settling back into the blank, expressionless mask that so frightened so many amongst the Shadow Council, his eyes flicking towards a large cage that hung suspended from the roof of the Pit, where three sets of eyes glared out from one of the grates designed to allow fresh air in to the occupants. “Soon, you will help me understand what makes an Alicorn special. Then, we all will be special ... or none of us will be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hell of a day.” Applejack groaned, looking out the window where Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Bell were chasing Winona around the shed, the three fillies laughing and chattering happily, the dressing down she’d given them seemingly forgotten.

Well, not entirely, she was sure of that. Taking Apple Bloom aside after they’d gotten home, Applejack had given the biggest bear-hug she felt the filly could take and apologizing for her tone.

“Ah ain’t mad at you, lil’ Bloom. Ah’m scared, right proper scared, that someday ah’ll be called down to the hospital ‘cause you’ll have done something an’ hurt y’self worse’n the doc’s can fix.”

“But AJ, ah ain’t a baby no more!” Apple Bloom complained, squirming ineffectively against her sister’s infamous strength. “Ah want mah Cutie Mark right now! T’aint fair that me an’ my friends are the only ones without ‘em at our age!”

“Lil’ Bloom, our family has lost so much already … please, please don’ be makin’ this family have to bury another of our own ‘fore their time. My heart can’t take that, ah jus’ ain’t strong enough to bear the thought o’ y’all getting’ hurt or worse.”

That, Applejack knew with more than a little guilt, had made Apple Bloom tense up in her arms, before the young filly, no, the young Mare, sag and hug Applejack back, promising to show some restraint in the future.

“Eh, for Ponyville, I’d call it about average.” Granny Smith tittered, the rickety old Mare walking ever so slowly to her rocking chair, Big Mac following a few steps behind with a tray carrying the old Mare’s cup of tea and several dozen pills to help deal with her aches and pains. “Didja really clock lil’ miss snooty-pants?”

“Haaaah … yeah, Granny Smith, Ah done punched one of mah best friends in the face today. An’ we jus’ barely avoided bein’ turned into some kinda demon-pony, thanks to Princess Celestia.” Applejack countered wryly, reluctantly leaving her watchful perch to follow Granny Smith and Big Mac to the front porch to indulge in their usual evening ritual of watching the sun set over Ponyville. “Apparently Rares is feelin’ a wee bit guilty about the whole not-believin’-Twilight-again thing, an’ as thanks for getting’ her outta there, an’ lookin’ after Sweetie Bell tonight, she’s springing us a fancy desert from the Cakes.”

“Mmmmm.” Big Mac and Granny Smith groaned at the thought of one of the Cakes’ delicious treats for desert, and all three Apples spent several minutes in quiet, comfortable silence, watching the sun slowly set over Ponyville and the surrounding area, bathing the landscape in beautiful reds, purples and gold as the laughter of the fillies out back and the excited barking of the family dog filled the air.

This. This is what it’s all about. Applejack sighed happily. Whatever else the day might have thrown at her, however bad things might have gotten, here she was at the end of another day, with her family, watching the day end in peace and quiet. My family, the day ending peacefully, and the promise of a better tomorrow.

“Hey Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”

Okay, so the promise of a long night, little sleep and then a better tomorrow, hopefully ending with a long night of sleep. The blonde farmpony sighed and looked up into the evening sky, where a familiar blue shape was descending rapidly towards the farmhouse, carrying a large white box awkwardly between her front hooves. “Well that’s a surprise! Sugarcube, everythin’ alright?”

“Just fine, but damn, when Rarity pays you back, she pays you back!” Rainbow Dash shouted back, a big grin plastered across her face as the three fillies all came running to see what was happening. “Wait till you see this thing, AJ! It’s the cake to end all cakes!”

Getting the Cutie Mark Crusaders to back off long enough for Rainbow Dash to land, and keep the now thoroughily over-excited Winoa from mobbing the cyan-blue Pegasus, took longer than the mentally-exhausted farm-mare had hoped, but once a vague sense of order was established and everypony marched in to witness this ‘marvel’, Applejack did have to admit that tomorrow, she’d probably have to go to the Boutique and thank Rarity.

Three layers of rich-black chocolate cake, separated by layers of thick whipped cream, the whole thing drizzled with caramel sauce, which in turn had been sprinkled with white chocolate flakes and then the top layer had been capped with small mounds of more cream with glazed cherries placed ontop of those.

Even Granny Smith had to admit that this glorious cake would be something to look forwards to, even as the stubborn old Mare’s eyes got that dangerous twinkle in them. We’re gonna be having apple in every dish tonight, or I’ll eat my hat! Applejack laughed to herself as she dragged Scootaloo and Applebloom back from the cake, while Big Mac did the same for Sweetie Bell and Rainbow Dash.

“Go on, y’all, and wash up for dinner. Granny Smith an’ ah will get dinner on.”

“You sure you don’t want some help?” Rainbow Dash asked as Big Mac turned his considerable efforts to herding the complaining fillies up the stairs to the bathroom. “I mean, I am kind of crashing the party here.”

“Now you listen here, missy!” Granny Smith quavered from the kitchen, her voice fragile but playful in a way that made cheeky grins appear on both Applejack’s and Rainbow’s faces. “You came aaaaaaall the way out here to deliver that dee-lish-us looking cake, an’ you’re a friend of the family too, heck you’re almost an Apple by association now any-who’s. There’ll always be room at our table for you!”

“Oh … wow, Granny Smith, thank you …” Rainbow Dash said, her features going sombre at those words.

“And my lil’ Jackie’s told me you live on hay-burgers an’ that mick-ro-wave junk when you’re on your own! How’re you gonna do your job right without a proper meal in your belly! Why, in my day …”

The two Mares looked at each other, and rolled their eyes before bursting into giggles at the ancient matriarch’s good-intentioned rambling.

“Do you mind?” Applejack whispered as Rainbow Dash made herself comfortable while listening to the old mare’s lecture. “Ah can distract her, an’ you can sneak upstairs to wash up.”

“Pffft, I can do that in ten seconds flat.” Rainbow Dash smirked and shook her head, heading into the kitchen so that she could listen to the old mare without her having to shout. “Besides, if Granny Smith didn’t care, she wouldn’t complain so much, and you know I … don’t mind that so much.”

“Softie.” Applejack smirked and gave her friend an affectionate nuzzle on the neck before joining her grandmother at the kitchen table, taking the kitchen knife away from the shaking hooves of the matriarch and started chopping up ingredients for the salad as Rainbow Dash settled in for a long, rambling monologue from Granny Smith, a small, sad smile on the blue pegasi’s face as she did so.