//------------------------------// // Crumbling // Story: Troubled Times // by GIULIO //------------------------------// Buzz was still panting; it had been minutes since his alpha warrior, Mandible, had kept him for an out-of-schedule session of procreation. He wasn’t what one would normally classify as a fit mating candidate (with eight breeding females, the entry bar had to be lowered) but as of late, the sessions and their frequency were wearing him out. A wave of sympathy reached his olfactory senses. Looking to his side he sensed a fellow podmate, Clasper. Are you well? he asked nonverbally. Buzz let loose an affirmative waft before sighing. No, he communicated, eliciting an inquisitive smell from Clasper. “Tired,” he huffed, trying to focus his attention on the food before him. “I figured,” Clasper said. “You’re her favorite, you know. You’ve been with the Alpha the most. How are you even standing?” Buzz shook his head, flicking his wings. I don’t know. He finally made the effort to masticate the food pellet in his grasp. The resounding crunch was muted with his exhaustion. Fortunately his jaw was not among the parts of his body that ached. “Who went after you, Buzz?” Clasper asked in between bites. Buzz was slow on his response. “Ah...” he rubbed his head. “Scape, I think? I wasn’t paying attention.” The drone contemplated whether or not it was even worth the effort to finish the pellet that he had taken the minute bite out of. The stillness of the feeding chamber was pierced by a distant moan from a tunnel. All of the drones present perked their ears, but otherwise paid no attention to it: having now grown used to it as of late, they knew that it originated from the Alpha’s private chamber. Buzz had to repress a shiver. Scape didn’t sound like he was having an easy time of it. Clasper buzzed his wings. “Scape really can’t keep quiet, can he?” That earned a chuckle from Buzz. No, no he can’t, he communicated. Perhaps he would finish that pellet after all. He needed the energy after all, now that the Alpha was mating so often. That news from the nursery had spurred her attempts to create a new queen to take up the task of leading the Hive. As such, the Alpha’s hisem were feeling the consequences of that obsession. “I just hope that we’ll get a queen soon,” Clasper muttered, sighing. He swallowed a pellet whole. “As fun as it is being a mate, it is tiring.” Even though he couldn’t see him, Buzz gave his podmate a leery stare. “Are you not worried about the Hive’s integrity?” he said, working to keep his tone even. “We’re not doing this for fun, you know!” Put on the defensive, Clasper radiated an apologetic aura. “Of course I am. I’m just trying to stay optimistic.” He groaned. “The concern I can smell in the tunnels is so thick that I sometimes think that I’m going to choke in it. I need some good humor in the air; otherwise I’ll go mad with worry.” Buzz had to bite back a response; he was about to tell Clasper off, but in truth, he felt the same. Even though no one talked about it, spirits were low in the Hive; no one needed to. The very sensation, as his podmate had said, was just so much that it reverberated within the changelings themselves. Even the younglings were aware of it: the Hive was ill. The sounds from the Alpha’s chambers died down, and for a moment, peace, though sullen, returned in the feeding chamber. Buzz tried once more to munch on his food, not making much more progress on the pellet. A waft of urgency snaked inside from one of the outlier tunnels. Buzz and Clasper, being closer to it, were the first to take notice of it. Hooves scraping against the dirt denoted the arrival of a newcomer. “Message for Alpha Mandible!” a gamma warrior called. “Is she available?” The chamber filled with laughter. “She is currently indisposed,” one of the epsilon drones said, “you might have to wait a while.” The warrior seemed unfazed of the innuendo. “It is imperative that she hears this,” she huffed. “When will she be ready?” Renewed sounds of sex rolled out from the Alpha’s chamber. “A while,” Clasper answered, inspiring a new bout of guffaws and pheromones of entertainment. The warrior groaned in frustration. “I’ve got to get this message to the other Alphas, so tell your Alpha that she is to convene with her equals.” “Why, did one of them realize how screwed we are?” a drone quipped. This time, there were no laughs as a flash of green light pierced the darkness. A shriek of pain and a thud followed. The warrior’s face glowed from her horn’s magic, revealing narrowed eyes and a menacing fanged scowl. The chamber plummeted once more into darkness, and the once tranquil atmosphere was overwhelmed by the authoritative and fear-inducing pheromones. “You think that this is some joke, drone?” the warrior said in a threatening voice. “You might be fucking yourselves silly with your Alpha, but in case you haven’t noticed, my Alpha is trying to keep the Hive afloat.” She paced in the center of the chamber. “Mandible can try to push out all of her eggs out of her ovipositor as quickly as she can, but it won’t help if we don’t keep a level head.” “Y-you…!” a drone stuttered. “I, what, drone?” she seethed, approaching the drone. “You need to get your heads out of your ejaculatory ducts!” “Mandible shall hear about this!” Clasper said. “You’re out of line!” The warrior snarled. “I’m a gamma! I have authority over you.” She spat. “But since you’re insistent, then have her hear this: our infiltrators are considering desertion! How’s that for out of line?” That shut Clasper’s response and that of any other drone. Unwilling to allow the situation from worsening, Buzz stepped in. “Very well, Gamma,” he said evenly, doing his best to hide his exhaustion and pouring out as much bravado in his pheromones as he could. “We’ll let her know of the call. But know that we will also tell her what you have done here.” He held his breath when the Gamma walked up to him. He felt her breath on his muzzle, knowing that she stood tall over him. She then snorted. “See that you do. Alpha Stinger and the others are waiting for her.” Without any further words, she turned and scrambled through the tunnel to the rest of the Hive. Several drones were all over the downed changeling who was still writhing from the blast. “Someone get a healer in here!” one of them called out. “I’ll go,” Clasper volunteered. “Who will inform the Alpha?” A smell of trepidation was the response from the majority of the drones. Not one of them wanted to risk being the target of Mandible’s ire once she learned about what had happened to her drones. With a sigh, Buzz said, “I will, since I am her favorite.” Slowly, carefully, he walked to the tunnel leading to the Alpha’s chambers. After all, he thought, who else gets to call her Mandy? “How dare you?!” A furious Mandible stormed into the conference, flaring her wings. Clypeus stood up. “Mandible, this is a—” “Quiet you,” she growled, focusing her attention to one particular alpha. “One of your gammas put one of my hisem into the infirmary, Stinger!” Stinger, the Alpha sitting in the circle opposite of Mandible, narrowed her eyes. “I know what happened, Mandible,” she said in a calm voice. “She has been disciplined and demoted to epsilon.” Mandible’s anger was almost overwhelming to the warriors’ olfactory senses as her eyes bulged at Stinger. “‘Demoted to epsilon?’” she repeated mockingly. “You should have her drawn and quartered! She almost killed one of my mating drones!” Stinger didn’t flinch at her equal’s tirade. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, a lopsided smirk forming on her snout, “but it sounds like you’ve grown attached to your hisem, Mandible.” Mandible’s head recoiled slightly as if it had been physically pushed. “I’m not ‘attached’ to my drones,” she spat, venom tainting her words. “I only wish that they are safe. They are my only hope in creating a queen, after all!” She rubbed her chin. “In fact, one could make the assumption that you purposefully had your Gamma attack one of them to lessen my chances of saving the Hive!” Stinger rose up, wings flared, hissing slightly. “Don’t you accuse me, Alpha,” she snarled, charging as much spite into the latter word. “I had no part in that.” Mandible took a step forwards, posing her body and releasing the appropriate pheromones for a challenge. Stinger seemed ready to accept it were it not for their alpha companions stepping in between them. “Order!” Labrum stated. “Mandible,” she said, regarding the angry warrior, “the warrior under Stinger’s command has been punished according to her crime. She is the one who decides what her underlings deserve. “And Stinger,” she said, turning her head to the opposite warrior, “you must supervise your warriors better so as not to cause this friction between us.” At the small scoff from Stinger, she also added, “Don’t antagonize Mandible.” Clypeus nodded. “The two of you are not the only ones who are struggling to save the Hive. Save your petty rivalry for when after the Hive is safe once more.” Slowly, unwillingly, the two alphas tore themselves out of the combat stances and took their seats, still meeting the others’ eyes. “Now then,” the elder began, “we have received some grave news from some of our more distant cells. I trust you all know the details?” A waft of agreement reached her nostrils; she nodded. “Good—as you all know, infiltrator desertion is a grave concern. While the search for a new queen still takes precedence, we must address this situation. “Additionally,” she continued, “reports from both Ponyville and Appleloosa suggest increased foreign activity.” The chamber grew somber. Nobody said it, but the smells were clear: the Other hives were behind this. “Baltimare, Fillydelphia, and Vanhoover,” Stinger listed off. “Vanhoover is very far and can be abandoned if need be and Baltimare’s small size allows us to shift our focus elsewhere.” Her eyes flicked across the alphas around her. “Fillydelphia’s too valuable a city for us to consider dismantling the cell there.” “What about Manehattan?” Clypeus asked. “We have received no word from that cell,” Stinger replied. “It could be that the messenger has been intercepted.” Mandible scowled: regardless of the contempt that she held towards Stinger, she wasn’t one to lie when it came to messengers. “Perhaps the Hill Hive might have something to do with it,” she said. “Reports from our western posts indicate that they are concentrating their forces.” Clypeus clicked her teeth. “Do you think that the Others are preparing for an assault?” “It’s entirely possible,” Stinger answered. “They may have gotten wind of Chrysalis’s death.” “A leak?” Labrum posed. A shrug was Stinger’s only response. “However they’ve figured it out, we need to be ready for a possible attack,” Clypeus said, her tone even. Her attentive eyes turned to Clava. “How are our forces?” The Alpha brought her forehooves together, taking a moment to respond. “Mandible’s efforts to produce a queen,” —her eyes flicked over to the mentioned warrior, who scowled in annoyance— “as misguided as they may be, have proven to be helpful.” She waved a hoof indicating everyone present. “All of our efforts in fact, have given a boost to our warrior count. We should have more warriors than the Hill Hive. Possibly more so than all of the Others’ forces combined.” Stinger scowled. “But most of the new warriors are still young,” she pointed out. “Not only that, they only heed the alpha that birthed them.” For once, Stinger had actually provided something that Mandible had forgotten: when there is a queen, all of the Hive’s warriors abide to her words because they are her daughters. In a situation where there are multiple mothers, however, it was more complicated. They were all still of the same Hive and would willingly die to defend it, but with differing loyalties to their superiors meant that command wasn’t as clear cut as it would have normally been. In essence, it meant that Mandible would have to coordinate with Stinger and the others. She grimaced inwardly. “You forget, Stinger, that we don’t simply up and attack one another,” Clava said, leaning in close, releasing a small amount of inviting pheromones. The others drew in closer, watching the Alpha expectantly. She uttered a single word: “Tournaments.” Everyone nodded in understanding. “True,” Clypeus said, “so long as we have the numbers and the pomp, they wouldn’t dare attack.” “But if they do know that we’re queenless, wouldn’t the Hill Hive still try something?” Mandible paused as the others turned to face her. “We really need to look to the Hive’s defense rather than some meaningless outpost.” “But what if the Others don’t?” Stinger rebutted, her scowl evident. “We don’t want to give up an outpost for free. We’ll appear weak, and if we appear weak, they’ll put on more pressure on our borders.” Mandible’s pheromones of protest were drowned out by those of approval from the other alphas, so much so that her nostrils felt overwhelmed. “It is agreed then,” Clypeus gathered, in spite of Mandible’s interjection. “Spread the smell: mobilize the warriors for tournaments.” The veteran warriors began to move and shift, pheromones wafting along with them. Only Mandible stood still, emanating almost nothing. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep the Alpha from fuming her true feelings; had the others caught wind of them, they would have felt a chill run along their backs. “Pod, atten-shun!” Carapace squared her shoulders and snapped her eyes towards the horizon as did twenty-nine other warriors. It was a warm day, with the sun beating down hard on Carapace’s already warm chitin, as well her still tender wounds. She didn’t so much as flinch when she felt one of her deeper wounds burn in the heat. The Beta paced along the rank, somehow managing to look through every warrior present, pumping the air with dominance and authority, stomping down on the barren ground with heavy hooves. The hairline fractures of the dried dirt grew in size and number underneath those hooves. “The Hive is paramount!” she bellowed. “We’ve all known this since we first emerged as younglings.” The Beta stopped in front of a warrior not too far from Carapace’s left. “But as of three months, a truer statement has never been uttered.” The warrior whom the Beta was currently doing her best to melt with her stare stood like a statue. “By now all of you know that our leaders are running out of time,” the pod leader continued, resuming her slow, plodding pacing. “If the Others catch even a whiff of what’s happened, they will be upon us like crazed parasprites that have been starved for a month!” She stopped her pacing once more, this time settling herself at the center of the rank. “We cannot, I repeat, cannot, allow that. The veterans among you already know what’s coming, but for the sake for the newcomers I will explain: “We do not fight the Others when it can be helped,” the pod leader stated aloud, as if reciting an old military verse. “But we can sure as Tartarus get them to stick their muzzles elsewhere! How you may ask?” She eyed the warriors and kept her nostrils flared in case someone decided to give a dumb answer. Neither sound nor smell came. “We show them who’s the bigger, nastier ‘ling! And who might that be?” “We are!” chorused the rank. “Louder!” barked the Beta. “We are!” responded the aligned warriors with more gusto and an exertion of intimidating smells. “Exactly!” The Beta grinned. “Now that’s the attitude I’m looking for when we throw down with our tournaments! File your fangs, sharpen your horns, add war paint for all I care; just make yourselves look meaner than the Other bitch that’ll be facing you!” The pod leader returned to pacing along the line. “But it won’t be that simple. A single warrior of ours can look meaner than any of the Others, but alone, a warrior will be useless.” Her keen eyes scanned her pod squad’s faces. “Our brothers and sisters work together to sustain the Hive and scour for food, and we,” —she waved a hoof to indicate the whole pod— “are the hide and fangs of the Hive. We are stronger united, sisters!” The expected symphony of hisses and plethora of smells of approval rolled out from the thirty warriors. Belatedly, Carapace noticed that the warrior to her right, a newly reared warrior, was oddly inert. “You’re not my sister.” The hisses ceased. The pheromones dissipated. The Beta’s eyes seemed to bulge out even more so than usual. “Who the fuck just said that?!” Carapace and the warrior flanking the offending changeling, a zeta, merely glanced at her. “You’re not my sister,” she repeated, eyes still set on the rolling horizon. The pod leader flew up to the warrior, standing just under a head taller than the younger changeling. She took a deep sniff before regarding the Zeta with what looked like undirected frustration. “Are you trying to pamper me up? Getting me all emotional so that you can feast on me?” The Beta snarled. “No ma’am, just stating a fact,” the Zeta reported, eyes unmoving and ears unflinching. For a moment the pod leader actually seemed nonplussed. “Who do you serve, Zeta?” “Alpha Man—” A swift hoof strike interrupted the response, making the warrior stumble. She did manage to keep herself from falling. “Wrong fucking answer!” yelled the Beta. “You serve the Hive first!” The Zeta coughed, slowly resuming her previous stance, this time with a shut eye. “Yes ma’am,” she replied quietly. “What’s that? I didn’t quite hear you.” “Yes ma’am,” the warrior repeated. The pod leader closed in on the Zeta’s face, muzzles almost touching. “Speak up!” she shouted. “Yes ma’am!” Another blur brought the warrior crumbling to the floor. This time she cried out in pain. “That’s Beta ma’am to you, you worthless grub!” Stepping away the Beta groaned under her hoof. “You’re disgusting,” she spat. “You’re stinking up my beloved pod, and I will not have that.” Pointing to both Carapace and the gamma next to the writhing Zeta, she ordered, “Get this reeking piece of Other shit out of my damn sight and nostrils.” Allowing herself to only release a miniscule affirmative in the air, Carapace and the Gamma both helped the Zeta get on her feet and led her away to the closest entrance to the Hive. "What the hell were you thinking, Zeta?” muttered the Gamma once they were out of earshot of the pod leader. Despite wincing on every other step, the Zeta did not utter a single word, only concerning herself to not dawdle. Now that she was this close, Carapace had to admit: this Zeta did almost stink of Other. It took her some effort to not give in to the temptation of sinking her fangs into the troublemaker. Mirror was busy rubbing a hoof against his temple when he sighed. Both Silhouette and Undercover both shared Mirror’s reaction, with Silhouette grumbling and Undercover planting a hoof against his muzzle. The fourth changeling in the room, a drone, tilted his head. “So let me get this straight,” Mirror began, still massaging his temple. “We’ve got Others threatening the Hive.” “Affirmative.” Mirror ceased his ministrations to look at the messenger in the eyes. “And our standing orders haven’t changed?” “Affirma—” “Quit trying to be cute, hiveling,” groaned Silhouette. “You’re neither an infiltrator nor a warrior, so stop pretending to be both. Yes, no or even a smell is plenty.” The drone blinked twice. “Er, yes. That’s what they told me to tell you.” Mirror looked away, snorting. Undercover approached the drone. “They have received our message, right?” he asked him. With a muted nod and affirmative smell, the infiltrator opened his mouth for a sharp retort before chewing on his lower lip and pawing at the floor. After a moment, Mirror turned back to the messenger. “What about the other cells? Did they tell you anything about them?” The drone drew back slightly. “They didn’t tell me anything,” he said. However, the waft emanating from him piqued Undercover’s nose. “But you know, don’t you?” he prodded. The smell of panic started to seep into the room. “I don’t think I can tell you,” he said, eyes shifting to each of the three infiltrators. “Look, I think you’re good ‘lings, but I honestly don’t think you ought to know.” Silhouette laughed. “You want to be an infiltrator, hiveling? Try thinking for yourself and make your own decisions for the better of the Hive, even when the big alphas back home would disagree. Grow some initiative.” To the hiveling’s credit, he did seem to consider it. Mirror approached the drone. “Please, Epsilon,” he said softly, charging his words with emphatic smells. “If you think we ought to know then tell us.” Again the Epsilon eyed each of the infiltrators. He sighed. “You didn’t hear this from me, alright?” “We’re infiltrators, we know how to keep secrets,” Undercover said, allowing himself a smug smile. A slow nod. “Yeah. Yeah okay.” The Epsilon coughed. “I uh, overheard some of the alphas talking about the other cells—Vanhoover and Fillydelphia, I think. They mentioned that the infiltrators there shared your thoughts on the current ah, situation at the Hive.” Undercover reflexively smiled to himself and Silhouette pouted pensively. Mirror only blinked, silently urging the drone to go on. “The alphas, well, they couldn’t seem to agree on what their response to your requests should be.” He looked up in thought. “In fact, when I was given the message by one of them, there was a loud interruption from another of the alphas; said that that was the wrong order.” This time Undercover scowled. Silhouette’s pout seemed to deepen. “I don’t like how this smells,” she murmured. “Did you hear anything about the other cells?” Mirror asked. The smell released was answer enough. “I didn’t. By then I was shoved out of the chamber.” Undercover thought he heard Mirror mutter something under his breath. With the pheromones he released though, he could tell he was concerned. “Mirror?” Silhouette said, remarkably quiet. “Do you think it’s happening?” The Beta didn’t respond, opting to look at a dirty spot on the wooden floor. After a long pause, he turned to the group. “I can’t be sure without actually smelling it for myself,” he murmured. “But there’s already disagreement, the Epsilon here said so. “How long did it take you to get here?” he asked the messenger. “Just over two weeks.” That got Undercover and Silhouette’s brows to rise. “That’s quick,” he said, honestly surprised. “Guess I was lucky,” the drone said, shrugging. “No,” Silhouette suddenly interjected, “getting here in just under a month without any training is being lucky. Two weeks is infiltrator standard.” Her expression grew mischievous. “You sure that you’re just a messenger and not an infiltrator?” The room again began to stink of panic. “I, er...” “Simmer down, Silhouette,” Mirror said, “I’ve seen betas do worse than him. Just because he—” He suddenly stopped, turning to the drone. “What’s your name?” The Epsilon blinked. “Alula,” he replied, a curious waft wading around him. “Right, just because Alula managed to make a difficult journey without attracting any attention to himself doesn’t make him an infiltrator.” Mirror’s eyes were on Silhouette, killing her cocky smile. Turning back to face Alula, Mirror put on a grin of his own. “However, that does tell me that you’ve got a talent for it. What did you say that your role was back at the Hive?” Mirror could have sworn that he saw a blue-green tint form underneath Alula’s cheek chitin for the fleetest of moments. Alula rubbed his neck. “I’m part of Alpha Clava’s caretakers. I mostly take care of her food.” “What about before?” Undercover asked. “What did you do before that?” The drone seemed to rub harder. “I ah, was about a month into infiltrator training before the Queen died,” he said quietly. A general smell and sense of understanding filled the room. “That explains the overly-formal responses then,” Silhouette said, sizing up Alula in a new light. “I take it back; you don’t smell half-bad.” For his part, Alula appeared unsure how to respond to the compliment, looking on Mirror and Undercover for help. With only a warm smile from Undercover and a thoughtful expression on Mirror, the young drone hesitantly thanked the infiltrator. The thoughtful expression only deepened as Mirror approached Alula. “Epsilon,” he said evenly, “considering what you have just told us, I am inclined to share something with you.” His expression grew incredibly neutral. “Something that could be considered treasonous.” Both Undercover and Silhouette perked up at the words. Silhouette almost cried out ‘What!’ whereas Undercover merely bristled. Alula’s eyes hardened on the Beta. “If you don’t want to hear it, I’ll understand,” Mirror told him, almost whispering. “If you think that the Hive is in the right hooves, I’ll shut up right now and we’ll forget that I’ve said anything.” Moments passed slowly as both Undercover and Silhouette looked on the drone and their chief infiltrator with baited breath. Unblinking and unflinching, Alula simply released a smell: tell me. Mirror slowly nodded. “Alright then.” He walked over to the table, inviting the Epsilon to sit opposite of him. After the both of them were seated and the other two infiltrators took their own seats, the Beta brought his hooves together. “We’re convinced that the Hive will collapse, but you probably guessed that if you knew what our response to the Hive was.” Alula merely nodded, unsure whether adding anything else would have been fruitful or not. “If what you have told us so far is true, then there is little hope that there will be a hive come back to. So, we have considered every option, and it’s with no pleasure that I say this.” Mirror paused, gauging the young drone’s expression. Surprisingly blank, he noted, smiling inwardly, he’s really got the talent. It was with a heavy breath when he said, “We’re leaving the Hive.” Both Silhouette and Undercover’s eyes bore into Alula’s. The drone’s breathing seemed to quicken, but besides that and a solitary blink, he did not respond. Mirror subtly tensed up, already preparing himself to take down the young changeling if he tried to make a break for it. Please don’t make me kill you, he silently pleaded. Alula did no such thing. Eventually, he opened his mouth, to shut it close, to open it once more. “You’re abandoning us?” There was no anger behind his words, nor in the pheromones he pumped out. His question was purely academic. Mirror actually felt uncomfortable by the lack of emotions exerted by the Epsilon. “We live for the Hive, Epsilon,” Silhouette provided, her tone matching the attentiveness in the room. “But we’re changelings, we have to adapt to changing circumstances—us infiltrators especially.” Alula’s gaze dropped. “There must be some other way.” “Trust us, we’ve thought long and hard over this,” Undercover replied. “Unless we’re extremely lucky soon and either they birth a new queen or by some miracle Aurelia’s alive and willing to adopt her mother’s hive.” He shrugged. “You’ve said it yourself: the alphas are divided.” Mirror’s eyes almost seemed to glow. “There will be blood, Alula. Innocents will be killed.” Alula grew silent. After a spell, he glanced back at Mirror. “What if you’re wrong?” The Beta shrugged. “If we’re wrong, we’ll face the consequences then. But until then, we prepare for the worst.” The drone sat in thought, eyes shifting to each of the infiltrators and ears twitching once. “What do you want to do?” Undercover and Silhouette exchanged glances before looking to Mirror. “Mirror?” Silhouette asked. “We need to get into contact with every cell that we can reach.” Mirror looked to Alula. “You said both Vanhoover and Fillydelphia had come to the same conclusion as us, correct?” Alula tilted his head slightly. “I didn’t. That’s what the alphas seemed to have been saying though.” Mirror nodded. “Alright. Well, we’ll reach out to both of them, and maybe Manehattan and Ponyville if we get the chance. We’re going to see if they want to group up so that we’ll improve our chances out there.” He stopped, licking his left fang for a moment. “We will have to hide ourselves very well. And if we’re found out...” The words hung in the air. “By the ponies?” Alula prodded. The corners of Mirror’s mouth twitched. “Well, them too, but honestly? I’m more concerned of the Others. Heck, even anyling from the Hive that decides that we’ve grown too independent would be worse.” Alula placed a hoof on the table, offering a comforting waft. “I shall not raise a stink.” His ears perked up. “In fact, I want to help.” His eyes grew steely. “Just tell me what to do.” Mirror grasped the hoof. Thank you, he communicated nonverbally, thinking it more fitting than the spoken word. Undercover placed his own hoof to the table. “You’re in this, Epsilon,” he said. “We’ll help you during these times.” Grinning all the while, Silhouette added hers to the others’ hooves. “Just stick with me, and I’ll make you into an infiltrator by my damn self.” The laughter was loud enough to perk up the ear of a passing unicorn outside, but not much else. Fortunately the veritable cloud of accompanying pheromones billowing out the window went by unnoticed. “Alright,” Mirror began, “this is what we’re going to do.” Buzz lay on the raised platform, panting from the third mounting this evening. His duct had already retreated into his shell, but he felt something akin to a phantom pain to where it had been just minutes prior. His mouth felt dry; his wings were tired from their exertion during and after mounting; his eyes, while difficult to tell in the dark, felt unfocused. One thing that he could tell for certain was the almost dizzying amounts of musk that both he and Alpha Mandible had exerted previously. Off to his right, he could sense the warrior cleaning herself. This was part of what the drone considered as their routine as of late: for a few minutes she’d clean herself up, then sit next to Buzz, silently enjoying his company for a few minutes longer. Hatcher below, how had he ever considered that being in a hisem would’ve been fun? There was a momentary lull as Alpha Mandible fluttered her wings to cool herself. Soon afterwards Buzz could feel her warmth as she settled herself next to him. Belatedly, the drone noticed that she wasn’t lying down however. Turning to face her, he could barely see her form. Where his sight failed, his nose picked up on a faint waft of tension among the various smells of sex. Had he done something wrong? Buzz had heard from the other drones that Scape had displeased the Alpha during one of their sessions, and had been kicked out of the hisem and put into the pod responsible for her wellbeing. Not that I would mind if it were me, he thought to himself. Regardless of his superior’s current mood, he felt obligated to ask if she was well. There was no response to his probing smells. Feeling somewhat brave, Buzz said aloud, “Alpha?” Still no response. It took Buzz some effort to not let his fear known. “Was my performance, ah, satisfactory?” he asked, slightly out of breath. He thought he saw Mandible’s ear flick. “Excellent as always, Buzz,” she said sweetly, not bothering to turn her head towards him. It was a compliment, but it didn’t feel like one. At least the drone didn’t do anything wrong. At least, I don’t think so. “Tell me, Buzz,” Mandible piped up suddenly, “do you think that what I’m doing is for the good of the Hive?” Buzz actually blinked, completely caught off guard. Whenever there was a conversation between the two, if there was one at all, politics was not among the discussed subjects. The most Hive-related topic that they had spoken about was whether or not the Alpha should have cut down on the hisem. “Of course,” he said automatically. It was true: even if Buzz didn’t necessarily agree with the way that the warrior went about helping the Hive, she was helping. Sullenness slowly replaced the musk within the chamber. Buzz felt his pulse quicken. “You are aware of the upcoming tournament, right Buzz?” the Alpha asked, her gaze still fixed on something that Buzz couldn’t quite see. “Of course,” he repeated. How couldn’t he have been aware of it? The news had drowned the tunnels in pheromones for the last week. Clasper’s grumblings in particular have been louder than usual. Mandible turned to look, her face devoid of any discernible expression. “Do you trust me?” Buzz had to work especially hard to not swallow back the heart that had jumped into his throat. “Yes, Mandy.” He thought that he saw a glimmer of a toothy grin, even though it was very dark. “I like you,” Mandible cooed. “I really do.” She finally lay down next to the smaller male, sighing as she lowered herself onto the platform. The two sat in silence: Mandible stared at the dirt ceiling above with no real point of focus; Buzz stole occasional glances at the Alpha warrior just a breath away from him, unsure as to whether relax or tense up. The breath that he felt was like ice on his warm shell. If changelings had the physiological capacity to sweat, Buzz was fairly certain that he would be drenched in it right about now. “Buzz, listen very carefully.” Mandible’s words, while audibly soft, held a weight that Buzz couldn’t ignore. “When the tournament starts, get yourself out of the nursing chambers.” Buzz felt a chill. He knew he’d regret asking, but… “Why the nursery, Mandy?” “Just don’t,” she snapped, still in a half-whisper. Soon afterwards Buzz heard Mandible muttering something under her breath. He thought he made out ‘wouldn’t hurt you.’ His mind, despite being wrought with exhaustion and tension, raced to understand what the Alpha had just implied. Wouldn’t hurt me? he asked himself. That meant that someling would have been present in the nursery to do said harm upon him. But why the nursery? The grubs and pupae were of no threat to anyone. Really, only the nursing drones and workers would do anything dangerous, but they would only attack if— Buzz’s breathing stilled and his eyes widened. A small part of him worried that the Alpha would have noticed it, but his mind was focused on the dangerous realization: She’s going to kill younglings. A familiar lump formed in his throat again, if perhaps larger than before. Thoughts shot this way and that in Buzz’s head, quickly weighing his options. He was just a delta, what authority did he have outside of Mandible’s hisem? Who should I warn? He paused. Should I warn anyone? Protection of the Hive’s eggs and younglings was something that was intrinsic in all changelings barring Others. It was quite unthinkable to kill your own siblings before they had the chance to walk on four hooves. How in Tartarus had Mandible even come to plan the murder of her own si— For a second time his breathing stilled. They aren’t her siblings, Buzz understood. He had heard murmurs among the tunnels about some of the newly reared warriors causing trouble or being involved in fights. There hadn’t been many of them, but… “Buzz?” The drone’s breathing stopped for a third time. “Yes?” He suddenly felt a muzzle caressing his frill. “Stay safe,” Mandible whispered. Buzz hesitated on returning the caress; too long. Mandible drew back slowly. “What’s wrong?” There was that lump again, grown to an even greater size. Perhaps too quickly, the drone gave a caress of his own. “Sorry, I’m worried about this tournament.” It wasn’t a lie: he was concerned about what the tournament would bring, though he wasn’t concerning himself about the Others as much as he was before. The Alpha seemed to accept his statement, returning the caress in the way that he should have. A silent hum reverberated within the two of them. “Mm. Who isn’t?” He allowed a small amount of affirmative smells. He was careful not to add, ‘but not for the same reasons.’