Chapter Two: For The Greater Good
The Changeling breathed slowly, eyes opening and closing lethargically, but not yet processing anything. The Changeling felt fuzzy, confused, dazed, and it couldn't hear the voice of the hive. It was such an alien feeling; it was such a lonely feeling.
The Changeling tried to move its limbs, but they refused. They felt cold. They felt numb. They felt like they weren't even there at all.
It could hear a voice: who had captured it? They weren't Changelings. This wasn't the hive, this wasn't a burrow, this wasn't a hideout or a safehouse. The Changeling's eyes opened and closed, and its mouth moved, and it knew it should try and hide these things, but it was so hard without the guidance of the Queen or the hive, and everything was in disarray and what a mess it had all become...
The creature grimaced a bit, before it stilled itself and calmed itself down when the voice drew nearer, going back to laying flat and still on the table, regulating its breathing. In, one-two-three... out, one-two-three. Repeat. Stay calm. Remember training, trust that natural instinct.
But why couldn't it feel any of its legs? Why was its vision so blurry? Why did its head hurt so much? Oh, why was it so hard to think?
“We have codenamed the subject Metamorph and have tentatively identified it as a drone member of the Changeling family.” came a male voice, and the Changeling heard the distinct steps of a stallion walking slowly around the table it was on. “The subject appears to be male and exhibits some advanced intelligence and logical behaviors. Melody, your observations?”
The Changeling was surprised to hear a faint shifting before it realized there was a second pony in the room. Had it been here the whole time? “The subject appears to be in some distress, and seems unaware of the changes to its physiology. The subject is fluent in common Equestrian and demonstrates a conscious and subconscious use of language that implies this goes beyond simple mockery. Comparing these findings with the data supplied by others suggests that these Changelings are a highly-competent, extremely advanced hive society similar to the F. Polyrhacequus, but far more capable of logical reasoning and adaptive behaviors. It has yet to be determined if the subject retains the capacity for communication or interaction.”
The Changeling tried to hide its trembling: it was so hard to process what they were saying, but it sounded to the creature like it had ended up in some kind of laboratory. What were they going to do to it? Oh, it had known this was a bad idea! These ponies had seemed so nice on the outside, but no one knew better than a Changeling that a smile and a pretty face almost always hid bad intentions.
Was this the real face of the ponies? Queen Chrysalis had said it would be easy, that she herself had infiltrated to the very top of the Kingdom, that the ponies were soft and full of the love and emotions they needed to survive! They had never expected or prepared for any real resistance, and when that blast of... of power had hit, they had been thrown to the wind like chaff...
And now here this lowly infiltrator was, caught in the grip of the enemy. It was no wonder it couldn't think or feel its limbs: they must have done something to it. Made it confused, made it hard to think, broken the link to the hive. It could barely wiggle its body, yet it couldn't feel any restraints: they must have drugged it.
It was helpless.
The Changeling did its best to keep quiet, but a faint whimper escaped its muzzle all the same. The stallion paused in his steps, then said, frighteningly casual: “I think a probe would be more effective than telepathic reading or truth serum, it has some natural resistance against both. But if we inserted a jack directly into its brain-”
“No, Square Hammer. That will not be necessary. I am not concerned that the creature will lie to us. Will you, creature?” asked the mare, and the Changeling trembled a little on the table, but it couldn't stop itself from opening its eyes, looking at the blurry shape of a gray pony. She was standing beside it, and the fuzziness in its head made it seem like she towered over him, all the way up into a vast black void that her voice echoed out of: “After all, our allies have already provided plenty of information to us from the interrogations and examinations that have been completed on other Changelings. It would be reckless and foolish not to cooperate with us.”
The Changeling squirmed on the table, and that was precisely what Octavia had hoped to see. The reaction told her many things: not just that it was awake and listening to them, but that it was intelligent, it understood tone and implication, it could be reasoned with; it could be frightened.
That meant it could be controlled.
Octavia measured the Changeling with her eyes for a few moments, then she looked up at Square Hammer, and the unicorn smiled at her kindly as he floated his recording device back towards his face, saying politely: “Whenever you're ready, Melody, we can begin the interrogation of the subject.”
“Very well.” Octavia said evenly, before her eyes flicked down to the Changeling, studying it. She watched as it opened its eyes: was it even aware of the damage to its vision, or that one of its eyes had been removed, and replaced with a synthetic eye likely more suited to pony than Changeling? How would it react when she activated that prosthesis?
There was no time like the present to find out, she thought: furthermore, it would inform her the best way to approach the subject: whether she should try and earn its trust, or make it afraid of her, and afraid of the consequences of lying to her.
Octavia reached down and pressed a button on the side of the table, and the Changeling flinched before blinking rapidly several times, as its vision likely began to clear. But it still seemed confused. That was fine, though: the less coherent it was, the better.
Octavia studied the Changeling, and the Changeling stared back at her, blinking slowly as its electric eye shone in its socket: she had yet to apply the film that would mask the brightness of that light and hide the blurry glass from view, but it didn't disturb her: if anything, it pleased her to watch as the mechanical eye shifted and moved in perfect time with the real one, as the camera pupil focused and unfocused.
The Changeling tried to shift, but it couldn't move: not with the vices locked around the steel sockets that had replaced its broken limbs. Cables ran in and out of these: not just so they could monitor data gathered by the machinery that had been implanted throughout the Changeling's body, but so if necessary, they could administer a powerful electrical shock. They weren't taking any chances with this creature, even if it was clearly at their mercy for the moment.
The mare studied the Changeling for a few moments, then she asked: “What is your name?”
The Changeling looked up at her, only staring at her: Octavia looked patiently back, before her eyes flicked up with a grimace as Square Hammer remarked: “Perhaps we could apply a bit of stimulation to the subject. It may make it more pliant.”
“No. That will not be necessary, Square Hammer.” Octavia said pointedly, and Square Hammer grumbled, but then nodded and backed off slightly, even as he eyed the control buttons on the side of the table almost longingly. But that didn't surprise her, of course: Square Hammer had always been fondest of the direct method. Sometimes, however, hammering down a nail just because it was sticking out did more damage than it was worth...
“My name is Octavia Melody. I am a researcher. You were grievously injured and we have taken it upon ourselves to do what we can to mend the damages done to you, but it would be easier if you would assist us.” Octavia said as gently as she could, and the Changeling trembled as it tried to move.
It didn't seem to want to look down, however: maybe it couldn't. Considering the fact it had been buried under a building, the creature's recovery over the course of the last twenty hours had been stupendous. On the other hoof, they were polymorphic creatures well versed in the art of transformation: she had little doubt that its natural magical abilities had aided greatly in its recuperation.
Octavia waited as patiently as she could, and then she repeated: “What is your name? Let's try and start off on the right hoof.”
“Moonbeam.” the Changeling said finally: that sounded like a pony name to Octavia: a female pony name at that, even though they knew this creature was male. “My name is... they told me to call myself Moonbeam.”
“Well, Moonbeam, I'm glad you spoke up. I think calling you Moonbeam is much nicer than calling you Metamorph, isn't it?” Octavia said, and the Changeling shifted uneasily, as if it sensed Octavia's hesitance to believe it. But for now, Octavia let the name slide: there was no point in pressing such a trivial issue. “Moonbeam, we know why the Changelings invaded and what their purpose here was. How long have you been here?”
The Changeling named Moonbeam bit its lip, then it said reluctantly: “I... I've been here for a long time now. They send in scouts first, to make sure that we can... feed and assimilate. They chose a pony for me, and I took on her memories, her emotions, and then came here to Canterlot. I don't know what happened to her. I don't know much at all. I wasn't here to hurt anyone, I was just here to make sure we could blend in, that's all!”
Octavia frowned, then looked up as Square Hammer noted thoughtfully: “Perhaps we should check the missing ponies database.”
Octavia opened her mouth, then slowly closed it: that was an interesting thought. Maybe if they cross-referenced the national missing ponies list with recent arrivals to Canterlot, they might be able to figure out the identities of other Changelings who may have gone back into hiding...
“When you mimic the form of another pony, does it require advanced preparation, or can it be done sporadically? Do you require an actual subject to leech from or are you capable of assuming any form you desire?” asked Square Hammer.
“Well, we can change our shapes to match most things...” The Changeling shifted uneasily, clearly not knowing what to say: Octavia imagined that these creatures had been trained from birth to keep as many secrets as possible, and yet that training was currently warring with both a desire to stay alive and the knowledge that they already had interrogated other Changelings successfully... which meant... “We can only change into things of equal mass, though. We can rearrange our bodies and change our form, but it's much harder to change our size. We can only do it to a limited extent.”
Square Hammer looked thoughtful for a moment, then he nodded to himself as he turned and picked up a clipboard, beginning to jot calculations over it. Octavia ignored him as she leaned over the Changeling, then she asked quietly: “Are you aware of the damage that was done to your body?”
For a few moments, the creature only shifted uneasily, and then it looked up and said weakly: “I can't move my legs. Am I...”
“You were not paralyzed, but all four of your legs were badly injured. We had to remove them.” Octavia said: it was better to lie at this point, she thought. She needed the creature to trust her, after all. She couldn't risk it getting upset over something it wouldn't understand. “We have created prosthetic limbs for you that will function adequately.”
The Changeling stared up at her blankly, confused, clearly not knowing what to say or how to react, before it shifted and looked away as its eyes filled with tears. Octavia watched it all clinically, detached and logical: if she felt anything at all, it was surprise that this creature was acting so emotional in the first place. The reports they had gotten about the Changelings varied greatly: some of the drones seemed almost emotionless, others had shown exaggerated emotions... it requires further research.
Square Hammer slid around the table, then leaned over to Octavia and muttered in her ear: “Before you turn into a bleeding heart on me, Melody, the creature may be faking its emotions. Do not forget that-”
“I am aware, Square Hammer. I'm watching the readings.” Octavia said pettishly, gesturing with her head towards the beeping machine at one side of the Changeling: the monitor showed a slightly-elevated heartrate and some fluctuations that could indicate stress, but she was well-aware that could also be from the exertion of trying to falsify those same emotions.
Square Hammer huffed, then said moodily in her ear, just over the chuffling sobs of the creature: “I would much prefer you watch yourself, Melody. I don't care if this creature has emotions or not, beyond scientific interest: it shouldn't make any difference to you, either, how much emotion or pain or anything that this creature has.”
“Our goals are different, Square Hammer. If the creature is in physical distress, then it is my duty to relieve it as much as possible; or rather, at least that which is caused by the prostheses. Furthermore, as you've apparently never learned, we will learn more from the creature by at least pretending that we can treat it civilly, Square Hammer.” Octavia answered in a low voice, her eyes glaring down into the unicorn's.
Square Hammer glowered back up at her, then he finally sniffed disdainfully before shrugging and turning his eyes back to the Changeling as it whimpered: “I... what happened? I don't remember what happened and I can't feel the hive...”
The unicorn gestured irritably at Octavia, and Octavia gave him a sour look, but then answered as gently as she could: “You were trapped beneath a building for some time. Your injuries were nearly fatal. Your telepathic link may have been severed in the blast.”
Did she ask for further explanation, or did she pretend she knew all about whatever the Changeling was talking about? Was that how they received orders, or was it simply a way for them to identify each other? Was it a literal hive mind, or something more subtle, like a constant call from home?
No, it was a better idea to pretend she knew and to sweep past for now. Let it be subtle: it was like composing a song. You wanted them to be drawn in by the energy and sound, but you wanted them to listen to the story hidden under the melody.
“I know this will take adjustment. But you have my word that our goal is not to cause you undue distress: quite the opposite. We wish to learn more about you and your species, and in return for your cooperation, you will be set free, in time.” Octavia lied bluntly.
The Changeling trembled, turning back towards her, and Octavia felt a tickling: they knew these creatures fed on emotional energy. Did that mean it could detect her lies? She only hoped that they relied heavily on their telepathic vampirism: perhaps that would mean its own natural acuity would be underdeveloped, in which case it would be easier to manipulate the Changeling and ensure it remained compliant.
The creature stared at her, and then it shook its head before it trembled as it finally made itself look down: it clearly took a monumental effort, both physically and mentally, and it moaned weakly as it saw its limbs were missing: in their place there were only the sockets, held tightly in vises, from which wires spilled. The Changeling let its head drop back on the metal table with a gasp, panting roughly, and Octavia's eyes flicked to the readings: accelerated heartrate, blood pressure rising... “You need some time to process. Square Hammer, administer a sedative.”
“I... I don't...” the Changeling started, but then it winced when Square Hammer pressed a device to the side of its neck before pulling the trigger, and it felt a short spark of pain before shivering as a heat spread through its veins, whispering: “I just want to go home...”
The Changeling fidgeted, but Square Hammer and Octavia were already walking to the door of the isolation chamber. The moment they were outside, Octavia asked: “What do you know about the telepathic link?”
“Very little so far. Dissections of several Changelings exhibited differences in the frontal lobe between different drones: some – other scouts such as Metamorph, I would wager – had more developed frontal lobes. The telepathic link may provide instruction where instinct fails: a collective knowledge base, one more often used by the lesser Changeling drones than these more-developed ones.”
Octavia looked for a moment at Square Hammer, then she gave a wry smile. “You don't always need an answer, Square Hammer.”
“There is an answer to every question, Melody, and I will find as many of them as I can.” answered Square Hammer haughtily, glowering at the mare before he added shortly: “Dissection would be a much quicker process towards achieving our answers than 'being nice.'”
“Dissection cannot tell us about the creature's personality, habits, or culture. Nor will it inform us how well the prostheses work and how the creature adapts with them. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Square Hammer.” Octavia retorted, and Square Hammer grumbled and rolled his eyes before Octavia said quietly: “When our research is completed, it is up to Princess Celestia what we do with the creature. The Luciferin exist because of her generosity, and-”
“Oh, spare me.” Square Hammer snorted in disgust as he turned away, but he only tapped a hoof against the ground before he said abruptly: “If you are so concerned with your prostheses, we should install your Type I on the creature as soon as possible. Perhaps this will also aid in earning its trust, since you seem to desire wasting the time and effort on compliance through kindness rather than force.”
“I merely see violence and intimidation as unnecessary. We will gain more from it if it opens up to us willingly, rather than because every time you suspect it is lying, you electrocute it.” Octavia snorted. “In that event, it will merely begin to tell us whatever it thinks we want to hear: it will adapt to our cruelty like a beaten dog.”
“Yes, and it won't abuse our kindness at all.” shot back Square Hammer, and Octavia scowled at him before the stallion suggested: “Perhaps we should indulge in what the common folk describe as 'good cop, bad cop?' You will concentrate on positive interactions, and I will use negative reinforcement to push the subject. It should at least allow us to create a psychological profile of Metamorph.”
“Moonbeam.” Octavia corrected before she could stop herself, and Square Hammer snorted at her. Octavia frowned slightly herself: why had she bothered to correct Square Hammer on the subject's name? But she shrugged it off with: “Moonbeam, it called itself. We confirmed it was male during examination, however. Why use a female name? Why copy a mare instead of a stallion?”
Square Hammer went from scowling to thoughtful at this, shrugging after a moment before he suggested: “Perhaps their sexual characteristics are meaningless to them. Perhaps only certain members of the species have the capability of reproducing, and thus sexuality or a need for division between genders lost on them. It will take more research.”
Octavia's muzzle wrinkled slightly, and Square Hammer snorted in disdain before he continued: “Furthermore, the creatures may not have 'names,' as we do. Names are merely a method of identification that feels 'personal' to us because of our culture. If they are subservient and lack family units, but instead are taken care of by the hive until they become mature enough to assume the duties given to them by their matriarch, they may simply progress from 'that larva' to 'that drone.'”
“A fair point.” Octavia acknowledged after a moment with a brief nod. Maybe she was giving the creature too much personality, these drones too much culture and personification. It was possible that while they were an intelligent race, they had not evolved socially or culturally from their insect roots.
As the earth pony reflected on this, Square Hammer turned his eyes back towards the door, saying after a moment: “By now, the drug should have taken effect. Shall we, Melody?”
Octavia hesitated for a moment, and then she gave a short nod, answering: “Very well. Please show some restraint, though, Square Hammer.”
The unicorn only snorted at her, and then the two turned back to the door and let themselves in: as expected, the Changeling seemed lethargic but aware, and Octavia couldn't help but smile a little. They were learning about their biology. They had calculated the sedative correctly for what they were aiming to achieve: diminished awareness, likely lowered inhibitions. In other words, it would be easier to get the information they wanted out of it.
Octavia mused for a moment on how she should approach the Changeling: should she refer to it as male or female, or just use its name? But before she could think too heavily on the subject, Square Hammer strode over to the table and pressed a button on the underside of it, and the Changeling gasped as a surge of electricity zapped across it. “Wake up!”
“Square Hammer!” Octavia snapped, and Square Hammer gave her an innocent smile that she completely ignored as she strode quickly towards him. The Changeling whimpered, half-turning towards her as Octavia said icily: “There is no need for that. Give... Moonbeam... a chance to cooperate.”
“Very well. If you insist on wasting time.” Square Hammer waved her off, and Octavia couldn't tell if it was actual irritation or the stallion putting on a show. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying himself more than he should.
Octavia looked at the Changeling, studying it for a few moments: it looked afraid. It was whimpering, trying to move, helpless: even if they didn't have it bound to the table, it wouldn't have been able to do anything with its injuries and missing its limbs.
The earth pony softened ever so slightly, and then she gave a short sigh before she said quietly: “Moonbeam. I want to help in any way I can. I imagine we haven't made the best impression on you so far, so... allow me to at least offer you this. I can restore your mobility and we can move you to something a little nicer than a steel table in an isolation room. We have a small apartment set up for you. I think you'll like it. You can walk there yourself.”
“H-How?” the Changeling trembled pitifully, and it shuddered against the bindings holding its sockets. “My legs are... they're... they're gone.”
The Changeling stared down at itself, and Octavia was reminded of the soldiers, the ponies, the clients she'd had in the past, and how she'd looked at all of them as just experiments. But no, they were living, breathing, actual people, who all had suffered enormously, and...
Octavia pushed those thoughts away. Why was she thinking like this was a person? It wasn't a pony. It was a monster. Furthermore, a monster that preyed on the weak and vulnerable by manipulating them and devouring their emotions. Why should she feel bad about doing what was necessary?
The earth pony shook her head quickly, and then she stepped forward and said gently: “You will have to relearn some things, but we can provide you with prosthetic limbs. These should be more than sufficient to give you some independence.”
“I... why would you do that for me, though?” the Changeling asked, confused, before it trembled and asked: “What do you mean? Am I some sort of experiment?”
Octavia began to open her mouth, but Square Hammer cut in rudely: “Yes. That's all I consider you to be. It would do you well to remember where we stand with this creature, Melody, instead of constantly trying to make friends with it.”
Octavia turned a moody look towards Square Hammer before she said evenly: “Moonbeam does not need to suffer. We can ease her pain.”
“His.” Square Hammer corrected pettishly.
“Her.” Octavia argued, not sure if she was doing it because the Changeling had identified itself by a female name, or because she hated it when someone tried to correct her.
“His!”
“Her!”
The Changeling whimpered a little, and Octavia rubbed at her head in frustration before she looked up and started: “Let's attach the limbs and-”
The Changeling whimpered again, and Octavia glared at it before she could stop herself, then grimaced and quickly smoothed her expression out. She took a short breath as the Changeling flinched a little and looked at her fearfully: almost like a child, Octavia thought. How stunted was its growth? How much had been withheld from it? How real were its emotions?
How much time was she willing to waste for the sake of this creature?
Octavia sighed a little, then said finally: “Moonbeam, ignore Square Hammer. He is a scientist and I am more like a... doctor. I want to make you better, because it's my job to make other people better. And I won't lie: you being able to move will be in our best interests as well. We won't have to worry as much about equipment, or moving you, or having to help you with everything. You want to be independent, don't you?”
“Changelings aren't independent.” Moonbeam whispered, looking down, and Octavia frowned slightly before she closed her eyes for a moment. Of course. She was talking to this creature like she'd talk to a pony, making assumptions again.
The earth pony let a small smile slip across her lips, before she said: “The limbs will make you useful, then. You want to be useful to us, don't you?”
Moonbeam looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then the Changeling nodded nervously, and Octavia nodded back before she instructed gently: “Square Hammer, let's attach the legs. Let's begin with the hind limbs.”
Square Hammer grunted, and as Octavia joined him at the rack that held the four skeletal prostheses, he asked under his breath: “What was that?”
“The Changelings aren't just social, they follow a strict hierarchy. We can use this to our advantage, especially with Moonbeam in such a confused state. If we treat her as subordinate to us, she may respond by acting the role. They take on characteristics as demanded, after all.” Octavia reasoned, before she cocked her head when Square Hammer gave her a moody look. “What?”
“It is a male drone, if its gender even matters at all. I much prefer thinking of it as an 'it,' and you should too. You're making the mistake of letting yourself get close to the creature. That is a mistake. It will use it against you far more effectively than you can hope to use your 'friendship' against it, or whatever you're hoping to achieve here.” Square Hammer said distastefully, and then he snorted in contempt before he hefted one of the prosthetic legs with telekinesis and turned towards the Changeling.
Octavia scowled at him, but followed and installed the leg in silence. She didn't like what Square Hammer was implying, and even less that he might actually have a point. But as she installed the rest of the prostheses, she couldn't help but sneak little glances up at the Changeling now and then; this Changeling that called itself Moonbeam, that still seemed afraid, that wasn't twitching or trying to fight or doing anything but simply waiting for the next command... and that wasn't just because of the sedative, was it? The poor thing was frightened out of her mind...
Changeling. It was a Changeling, not a pony, not a person, and she couldn't let herself feel sympathy for it. That was why they were giving it these very basic limbs. That was why they were taking every precaution with it. That was why they were using it purely for research purposes.
She finished installing the last leg, and without thinking, she stepped back and said: “Roll towards me, please, I need to check your hooves.”
The Changeling did as she asked, and luckily for her, didn't try to kick her: even if they were simple prostheses, getting kicked by four mechanical legs at once would have completely flattened her. But Moonbeam didn't seem intent on trying to escape: if anything, she only looked worried, fearful, like she was afraid there was something wrong, or she was going to be hurt...
“It's okay.” Octavia reassured as she checked the bottoms of the prostheses: they were more like picks than hooves, but they would provide the most balance possible with the lowest amount of material. She adjusted the rubberized cap on one, tightening it a little, before she tapped the others: they all seemed to be in place. She glanced up at Square Hammer, and he nodded briefly before he quickly went about the task of removing the electrodes and monitors from Moonbeam's body: with the cybernetics now active, they had better ways of monitoring her stress levels anyway.
“Would you like to try and stand up?” Octavia phrased it as a question, but it wasn't, really: the sooner they got Moonbeam on her feet, the better.
The Changeling shifted nervously, then winced as Square Hammer rapped on the table beside her with one hoof, her legs kicking and sawing wildly at the air as he snapped: “On your hooves!”
“I... I can't!” Moonbeam said fearfully, trembling violently as Octavia winced and leaned out of the way of the hawing hooves, before the Changeling yelped as she toppled off the table and landed on all fours with a gasp, her rubber-tipped prostheses squalling as they sprawled and skidded outwards-
Octavia stepped forwards and caught Moonbeam against her body before she could think to stop: the Changeling trembled against her, then whispered what sounded like a 'thank you,' leaning into her. And in spite of all her assumptions, the Changeling wasn't that heavy at all, her shell didn't feel so strange and alien that it was more like bug than pony; it was just an injured-
Don't go down that path.
Octavia took a slow breath, then she carefully straightened, and helped pull Moonbeam up a little, looking at the Changeling and saying in a kind but professional voice: “Straighten your back. I know it feels strange, but put your weight on your limbs just as you would normally. It may hurt a little at first, but your body will adjust.”
Moonbeam shivered a little as she stumbled a little on her hooves, before she took a shuddering breath: even with the sedative numbing her thoughts and making her feel tired, it hurt. “I... it feels like it's digging into my...”
She looked at herself and trembled: she was standing on steely stick legs. Nothing but thin metal bars, with visible wiring and... oh, she felt dizzy. She felt nauseated. She keeled forwards, but Octavia only caught her and held her gently, saying softly: “That's normal to feel. Your body will adjust. It will take some time, and these are only temporary prosthetic limbs. Can you stand up for me?”
Moonbeam shuddered, swaying a little for a few moments before she gritted her teeth as she straightened, her prosthetic legs shaking beneath her. She gasped briefly, then whimpered through her teeth before she settled a little when the pain didn't increase. But it was frightening: that pressure made it feel like she was standing on spears, like if she moved a little too much, those sharp legs would plunge back up through her and-
Moonbeam moaned, but Octavia only held gently onto her, giving her time to adjust. She softened, even as she held a hoof up to Square Hammer to stop him from saying anything stupid. “Just give yourself time. Take as long as you need. This is normal. This is what everypony goes through.”
“Every pony...” Moonbeam whispered, trembling for a moment, and Octavia smiled awkwardly as she reminded herself of the irony of her words. She ignored Square Hammer's glower: she wasn't letting herself get close. She was just trying to find the best choice of words to establish trust with Moonbeam.
The Changeling shuddered on her hooves, and Octavia smiled reassuringly, putting on her best face for the creature, being as reassuring and positive as she could even as her eyes clinically studied the Changeling's posture. Moonbeam was moving her legs unconsciously, making them shiver and shake beneath her. She likely didn't even realize that they were moving, or that she wasn't standing fully straight. “How much does it hurt? It should hurt less if you stand up a little straighter. You need to distribute your weight evenly between your legs. I know you can't feel anything, but don't think about it. Just let your body move normally.”
“I... I can't, the pain...” Moonbeam whispered: the same excuses, Octavia thought. She didn't know if that was a relief to hear, or frustrating. Of course it hurt, but the body would never adjust and the pain would never go away if they didn't get their bodies used to the prosthetic limbs.
“I know. We're going to start slow, Moonbeam. Take a few steps for me. There's a wheelchair right over here.” Octavia instructed, and Square Hammer rolled his eyes, but rolled the assisted mobility sling out all the same: it wasn't actually a wheelchair, since it was little more than a modified sling with wheels: Moonbeam could lay her body across it and then push herself around with her hooves. It would hopefully accelerate the process of getting her used to her new limbs without causing too much strain.
“Alright Moonbeam. Just over here.” Octavia urged, as she gently guided Moonbeam towards the wheeled sling. Moonbeam gasped in pain with every movement, but to her credit, she did at least try to move, even if her legs stuttered and stumbled and slid more than stepped. But that was more than she got from most of her patients- experiments. Research. Focus, Octavia. This is not a pony.
The Changeling stumbled and slid onto the sling with a groan of pain before she dropped into it, and Octavia murmured some meaningless reassurances as she quickly circled the Changeling, inspecting each socket in turn as Moonbeam curled her limbs prone, whimpering low in her throat in pain. She made a few adjustments, tightening and realigning supports, before she glanced up as Moonbeam asked weakly: “Will I ever be able to walk again?”
“You just did. It will become more comfortable in time. Your body has a lot of healing and adjustment to do.” reassured Octavia, before she straightened and glanced over at Square Hammer. The stallion scowled at her, but all the same used his magic to begin pushing the sling as Octavia headed to the door, opening it.
Moonbeam didn't seem very aware of her surroundings as they brought her through the lab, but Octavia noted that she was at least making some effort to move her legs. Right now, the sling was high enough that unless she purposefully tried to step down, only the tips of her rubberized pegs dragged against the ground.
Maybe Octavia was giving the creature too much credit. Maybe the legs were moving due to muscle spasms and pain reflex. But it did look to the earth pony like Moonbeam was at least trying to help... or maybe she was really just trying to delay being moved. Who knew? Moonbeam herself probably didn't, from the look in those teary eyes...
The Changeling. Think of it as a Changeling. Use its name in conversation but remember what it is, Octavia warned herself. But oh, this was precisely why she had left the Luciferin: one side of her was only interested in the riddles and puzzles that biology and cybernetics presented, the other side of her wanted desperately, desperately to help every lost little lamb that she came across...
“Moonbeam, I know that you're sore, but you're also frustrated, aren't you? And confused, and scared, I imagine.” Octavia smiled as kindly as she could, even as her eyes studied the Changeling's body impassionately. “You have to try and relax. I understand that's very difficult, but if you relax, this whole process will be easier.”
Moonbeam mumbled uneasily as she shifted and fidgeted, before she tried to roll on her side in the sling: it wouldn't let her do more than awkwardly twist her body, her legs kicking helplessly at the air before she finally sighed and slumped. One leg dragged along the ground as Square Hammer pushed the sling forward, but the other three limbs only twitched haphazardly as Moonbeam whispered: “I suppose I'm at your mercy anyway.”
“Yes, you are. And don't think of trying to escape, either. This whole facility has state of the art security, and unlike Melody, I have no interest in sugarcoating things for your or making you feel 'comfortable.' You are a research specimen. Nothing more or less. If you make yourself difficult, then I will personally dispose of you and find a more suitable subject. Understood?”
Octavia scowled at Square Hammer, but didn't say anything: it wasn't his words that bothered her, or even his tone, but rather the way he seemed to be enjoying himself and the pain of the Changeling. He looked back at her stoically, then sniffed disdainfully before his eyes returned to Moonbeam as she whispered: “I'll cooperate.”
“I know you will. Square Hammer is simply... establishing dominance.” Octavia said dryly, glowering over at the stallion as they entered the elevator.
It rose in silence to the lobby above: originally, they had considered leaving Moonbeam in one of the rooms in the basement, but this way it would be easier to monitor her and, if she did escape, she wouldn't be able to tinker with any of Square Hammer's tools on the way out. Not that escape was very likely, barring pony error: the doors were all electronically locked and functioned off a biometric sensor.
They headed down a side hall to a small bedroom that they had quickly turned into a bachelor apartment for Moonbeam: Vinyl watched distrustfully from another doorway a little further down as they wheeled the Changeling in, then skulked her way to the doorway, peering through it and watching as Octavia gently ushered the Changeling off the sling and onto the bed.
She ignored the eyes of her friend as she tapped the side table next to the bed, saying gently: “There's a buzzer here. Just press it if you need any help, but I'll come and check on you as time allows. Do you need anything, Moonbeam?”
The Changeling shivered on her side, and then shook her head, closing her eyes. Octavia studied the creature for a few moments: she already knew what it was going to say. “I'm fine. I would just like some time. I'm very... I'm very tired.”
“Of course.” Octavia smiled, gesturing sharply at Square Hammer, and the stallion scowled at her. For a moment, she thought he was going to argue, but thankfully he relented and left instead, and Octavia returned her eyes to Moonbeam before she encouraged gently: “Get some rest. We have plenty of time. As long as you cooperate, you'll be treated well.”
Moonbeam didn't answer, but it wasn't like Octavia expected her to. So the earth pony simply gave the Changeling a gentle pat on the back before turning and heading to the door. The moment it clicked locked behind her, Square Hammer said irritably: “You are getting too close to the subject, Melody.”
“Your fear of having any kind of contact with your research specimens has led you to miss many opportunities to benefit from their trust, Square Hammer.” Octavia retorted, before she added shortly: “I am not compromised. I simply recognize this response.”
Square Hammer tilted his head as Vinyl Scratch frowned, and Octavia sighed before counting off, as she tapped her hoof against the ground. “Lethargy. Confusion. Depression. Pain: in particular, I believe the pathopsychology of the creature's pain is extremely similar to that faced by pony amputees. If the creature continues to exhibit such similarities as predicted, then the further experiments we plan to conduct should allow several breakthroughs in prostheses and cybernetics research.
Vinyl stared, then she asked disbelievingly: “What the hell, Tavi? How can you be so cold?”
“I'll use small words so you understand.” Square Hammer said grouchily, as he rounded on Vinyl Scratch. “It's nothing more than a bug. It is a large bug that has learned to mimic pony behaviors and pony language, which some find upsetting and confusing, because in their tiny little minds, this somehow makes the creatures 'people.' But they are not 'people.' They are bugs. And it seems you have already forgotten that only a day ago, these very same bugs were attacking this very city, seeking to prey on helpless, little-minded ponies like yourself.”
“Look, pal, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but nobody talks to me like that!” Vinyl snapped, glaring at the stallion over her sunglasses as she leaned towards him, and Octavia grimaced as she put a hoof against her friend's shoulder to push her back slightly. “The thing talks! The thing feels, and it's in pain! And you just want to poke and prod it some more?”
She shoved away Octavia's hooves, glaring at her, and Octavia looked stonily back, hiding how much that look in her friend's eyes hurt her. “And you. It's like I don't even know you, Tavi. Sure, you've always done that whole stiff upper lip thing, but I never thought you were so damn cold.”
“It comes with the territory, Scratch. That's all.” Octavia answered evenly, and then she shook her head briefly before she returned her attention to Square Hammer. “I'll monitor her vital signs and continue to glean what information I can from her.”
“I'll finish production on the Type II limbs, in that case. I doubt the specimen will be very difficult to control. I'll notify you of any developments from the other Luciferin.” Square Hammer said dismissively, before he turned and strode away.
Octavia felt Vinyl Scratch still glaring at her, and the gray mare finally sighed before she turned her eyes towards her, saying reluctantly: “These matters are sensitive and these quandaries are beyond the moral comfort of most ponies. I understand that you may not grasp-”
“You and that jackass are torturing that thing!” Vinyl interrupted angrily, pointing at the door. “As far as I heard, no one was killed or-”
“Well, yes, the official reports always understate the mortality rates in any catastrophic event to maintain-”
“Tavi, talk to me!” Vinyl burst out, and then she dropped forwards, almost pleading as her sunglasses fell askew, revealing her large, hurt red eyes. “Just... just talk to me. Stop hiding behind all your big stupid words and talk to me.”
Octavia hesitated, and then she looked away with a soft sigh before she murmured: “Big, stupid words are very comforting and make a very effective wall from the world and your own feelings and failings, Scratch. I... I'm always drawn into this research, but I can never escape myself for very long. For a while, yes, you convince yourself it's for the greater good, and that a few hurt ponies in the present means that we will understand better how to treat these problems in the future. But at some point, it either becomes apathy or ennui.
“I don't know what this is truly about. I won't pretend otherwise: redemption of some kind, perhaps? I like to think I'm above such frivolous notions.” Octavia smiled briefly, looking at her friend quietly. “You always understood the dissonant chords, though; how there could be such beauty in sadness, and the yearning of an unfinished string.”
Vinyl Scratch sighed, then she said quietly: “Since when were you such a drama queen?”
Octavia looked down for a moment, and there was silence between them before Vinyl Scratch said almost abruptly: “It's a living thing. And... I just... I don't know if it's closer to animal cruelty than, like, pony experimentation, but I... I don't know. I guess I don't like seeing you being a jerk. Even to jerks.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Octavia gave a wry smile before she confessed: “The most flummoxing thing about the entire situation is that I do desire to help it. But I am lying, all the same: if I can heal it, make this 'prototype' perfect... then I can do the same for ponies.”
“But what's going to happen to uh... Moonshine, or whatever her name is?”
“Moonbeam. But it's a male drone. We examined the creature at great length. It's a very interesting...” Octavia halted when Vinyl gave her a glower. “Yes, I'll avoid going off on a tangent for now, of course. No, I don't know what will happen to her. That will be for Celestia to decide.”
Vinyl studied her friend for a few moments, and then she said: “You just told me the drone-thing is a guy, but you referred to her as, well, her. Why?”
Octavia scowled, opening her mouth to make some excuse, but Vinyl Scratch gave a brief smile before she asked: “Is it really that bad to care about your patients, doctor?”
“I am a scientist, Scratch, just like Square Hammer. My business is cybernetics and prosthetic enhancements... or was. That was how I found out that yes, it is very dangerous to care about your clientele. It is better to be impassive, and not allow your emotions to lead to errors in reasoning, to make you... doubt yourself.”
Octavia fell quiet as she dropped back against the wall, before she looked up and admitted: “It is an interesting research specimen, but there will always be a part of me that questions the necessity and the sanity of dissecting even the smallest of creatures for scientific gain.”
Vinyl Scratch sighed, then she shrugged before she sat against the wall beside Octavia. She smiled at her briefly, and Octavia looked away before the unicorn murmured: “I think you try too hard, Tavi. You try too hard to save people and you try too hard not to feel. I guess I've always heard that in your music, though... I get it, yeah, sad songs can be pretty, but... not every pretty song has to be sad, you know?”
Octavia looked down, and then she sighed a little before she gave a brief nod, gazing silently at the floor for a few moments. Vinyl smiled, then reached up and squeezed her friend's shoulder gently before she said finally: “You should go back to Ponyville. I will... I will try and remember your advice though, Scratch.”
“I haven't given you any advice yet, genius. And I will, but... this is a lot to take in and I guess... you know. I guess I'm trying to be here for you and whatever.” Vinyl shrugged, then she pushed her sunglasses up before smiling over at Octavia. “It's pretty cool and all. I'm pretty mad at you still, too. But hey, at least you're trying to listen. And... you're gonna help her, right?”
Octavia sensed a question under that question, and she bit her lip before she sighed, then said grudgingly: “I will do what I can. I believe... all things occur for a reason. Whether it is because all things are merely acting in accordance with the laws of the universe or because of some force like Fate, I don't know. But all things happen for a reason. There is rhythm, rhyme to the universe. I believe this happened for a reason, too, and if we benefit from this research, I will... return what favors I can to the Changeling.”
She stopped, sighed at the look on Vinyl's face, and corrected: “To Moonbeam.”
“Good.” Vinyl Scratch smiled, then she slapped her friend on the shoulder before saying: “Come on. Let's go get something to eat, Tavi.”
Octavia nodded, but for a moment longer, she only sat even as her friend walked away down the hall. She turned her eyes towards the door, and her gaze lingered there for a few moments before she nodded once to herself, and turned away.
Everything happened for a reason.