//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: Escape 
// Story: The Switchboard 
// by NewKerbalEmpire 
//------------------------------//

The tunnel was slippery. Exceedingly slippery. In fact, so slippery that they neared the bottom of the tunnel in considerably less time than they expected, and so had not prepared for the landing early enough. The result was two crumpled massed squashed against one another on the hatchery floor.

Easily Aerial popped up and immediately looked around. The hatchery lights had all but gone out, and the result was the sight of nothing but shadowy hexagons everywhere the Spotter looked. He let out a tiny chirp to signal to his comrade.

Hearing the whispered signal, Adept Pondering ceased his state as a heap of chitin on the floor, and stood up. He did not detect any injuries on himself, and so the next step was to continue. He stepped forward, and onto something squishy and wet. There was a squelch. His horn lit up, and he cast an enchantment.

This particular enchantment was an area-of-effect Status Relay enchantment, which diffused in all directions, affecting everything with a direct line of sight to the caster. Once the enchantment reached all the objects it could, it would scan those objects from within and relay the information it discovered straight back to Adept Pondering. As a result, he would gain intimate knowledge of the composition, shape, and even short-term history of said objects. It was no substitute for sight, but at least he had temporarily memorized what his surroundings were at at least that moment.

What he found was a cavernous space more or less vertically ovular in shape lined with a damaged and non-functional incubation honeycomb consisting of hexagons that ranged from the size of an egg to the size of a house. They had all been damaged by crude tools with shapes that matched those of Equestrian weapons, save a few that were attacked with horns. Their contents, namely the wounded and unhatched, had been ripped out and thrown into a central pile at the bottom of the chamber, where some of the Equestrians and Mangled had tried to burn them. However, this had occurred three days prior to the scan, when the Home was still mentally active, and the mind within it had hermetically sealed the entire chamber. The fire consumed the breathable air inside, and as a result the ponies within had died desperately stabbing the wall in the vain hope of allowing more air in.

Adept Pondering supposed it was quite ironic that they had landed on top of the pile of bodies. The Equestrians had done quite a bit of work constructing this little monument, and in the end it had been used to help the Changelings by cushioning their fall.

So where were the Mangled that had accompanied them? They didn’t show up on scans like these as separate from the background perceptions from the Home’s structures, so he decided to sort through the operative coding that he had received from the Changeling remains.

Funnily enough, a previous operations team had also used this passage to exit the Home, killed them, and piled their corpses on top of the pile. He decided to store the Mangled coding he received in his internal interface to analyze later.

“So what did you find?” Easily Aerial chirped a bit too loudly.

“We’re in the middle of the hatchery. Facing north-northwest on the top of a slope. Exit was formed two days ago, 140 degrees to your right.”

“On it. What’s the rest of our route?”

“We go down the tunnel through an auxiliary silo station, where we resupply. Then we jump down a few balconies in a lift shaft. After that comes the hard part.”

“I get the feeling I’m not gonna like this.”

“We skirt the outsides of Biomass Recycling.”

“That’s bad? We’re not being recycled.”

“Let’s just head to the silo station. We’ll talk as we go.”

They set out for the chamber exit, and down a narrow passage about half a horizon long.

“So, you gonna tell me why that’s so bad?”

“Have you not examined the order of battle, unit? That’s the only place that the Mangled could possibly be being manufactured at.”

There was a pause. Manufactured. That word was more comforting than anything. It seemed as if it had been carefully chosen, but both Changelings knew it hadn’t. Nevertheless, it was at once heretical and a tribute to the lost. On one hand, it was a glorification of whatever sick torture the ponies had devised, to use such a sacred term. On the other hand, it was the equivalent of saying the Mangled were in a better place, and termed their loss as more peaceful, surrounded by the emotionless industry that Changelings so loved. Because of this, the units instinctively pondered the double-meaning of the word, making them think more about their kin, and the tragedy that surrounded them. Their spirits fell.

A moderately short silence later, they had arrived at a small silo station that had already been smashed. The silos had already been punctured, and flooded the room with different types of nectar that had fortunately not mixed. There had been a short skirmish here, and there was a small, almost quaint assortment of bodies floating in the liquids.

The Changelings’ legs gave way voluntarily and they began floating in the nectars as well, drifting from type to type, absorbing the nutrients and resources they needed for the coming journey. For a moment, it was almost a sort of forgetful bliss, and they had forgotten that their entire civilization was crumbling around them.

Then they heard a voice.

“Star? Star, you here?”

The two Changelings had been immobile, but now they were frozen in place. The voice was speaking Equestrian, and was soon joined by the click of metal hoofguards on the sclerodermic floor unique to the compromised areas that now pervaded the entire Home. This was coming from the next passage on the Changelings’ evacuation route.

“Star, c’mon. We gotta help with the final sweep. But I guess I already am, looking for you, huh? Is this an elaborate trick to get me to do both our jobs?”

Looking down the passage in question even in their immobility, the pair of units saw a lance of energy rush out from the wall towards a dimly lit shape in the distance, which fell to the ground as the voice let out a shout that sounded a lot more like a cry of frustration about forgotten luggage than your usual cry of mortal wounding. A second lance of energy arced out and flung the body against the wall opposite for good measure, lighting the passage red once again.

Having absorbed all the nectar of all the best selections that they could, and desperately wanting to know if there were any other survivors of the battle at the Encyclopedia besides them and the already-departed other squadrons, as well as recognizing the lances of energy as coming from Changeling focusing lenses akin to those on the hooves of Easily Aerial, the pair rushed forward with abandon to examine the situation.

What they found was a Mark VI focus turret, set up there on the wall as an automated defense years ago. Normally, it would have two barrels for the attached conduit’s energy to be focused through, one on either side of the turret, but the left barrel, the one closest to the ceiling when the turret was pointing away from the pair, had been torn off by what looked like a three-pronged gardening cultivator. Gardening tools? How desperate were they to field soldiers for this? Anyway, the tunnel was only on a slight incline as a precaution against nectar spills like the one behind the two Changelings, and so there was a thin layer of healing nectar even there, which Adept Pondering splashed onto the turret using his wings as a small gesture of thanks.

As they moved on, the two Changelings had a bit more pep in their step. There were still other units, and they were still fighting, and that was good to know.