//------------------------------//
// Trial By Fire 
// Story: A Shift In Gears 
// by BlackRoseRaven 
//------------------------------//

Chapter Six: Trial By Fire

The last few weeks had moved too fast for Octavia's liking. Moonbeam had been spending a lot of time out at her model's little home: Octavia and Vinyl had visited out there with her once or twice, and noted that she'd cleaned much of it up and made herself at home in the little bedroom there. Moonbeam had awkwardly babbled all about how it seemed like the bedroom had been unused and she was trying hard to respect her predecessor's privacy, and while Vinyl had been skeptical, Octavia had only taken one look around and understood. The bedroom had been very similar to hers, after all.
They had discussed what Moonbeam had figured out at some length over the first week, and Octavia had repeatedly talked Moonbeam out of trying to go back to the Hive to 'save' the ponies being held there. Still, unbeknownst to Moonbeam – and really, Octavia didn't know why she had done it herself – the earth pony had submitted a report to Princess Celestia on the matter under the pretense of Luciferin research: Moonbeam had told her quite a bit about how the Hive kept prisoners, after all, and Octavia thought that the other Luciferin might not have made the same discoveries as she had.
The cold, logical part of her said there was no point bothering to stage a rescue operation for a few ponies: it would end up being little more than political theater, where they showcased a bunch of their soldiers and made some empty threats so that ponies could feel like they were actually cared about.
But what if there was a chance to do more than that? There was another little voice inside her that kept asking that question, that defied all logic with some strange feeling that Octavia had never really experienced before. Was that hope? But what was the point of having hope when logic clearly stated something else?
You couldn't deny facts just because they weren't convenient to you, or what you wanted to believe. That was how Octavia had always lived her life, in a search for truth, not hope.
Still, she supposed there hadn't been any harm in compiling that research and sending it along. Perhaps it would be useful in the future, after the Luciferin developed further countermeasures to the Changelings, or if any ponies important enough to risk a rescue were ever captured.
But to her surprise, Princess Celestia had responded by asking her to bring Moonbeam to Canterlot with her at the end of the month, for a special meeting where she would present her findings and all the information she had accumulated on the Hive. Octavia felt extremely nervous about it: she didn't know what she was going to say to Celestia, and the last thing she wanted was for Moonbeam to get her hopes up and then be disappointed.
More frustrating for her, that seemed to encourage both the little voice in her head and Vinyl Scratch to gnaw at her some more with their ideas that they should 'do something.' That was easy to say, but didn't they realize that the repercussions for 'doing something' could be far worse than doing nothing at all. Did they want to give the Changelings a reason to kill their hostages instead of release them? Did they want to risk the lives that could be lost and captured in an uncoordinated, low-intelligence attack on the Changeling Hive?
As unpleasant as she knew it was for ponies to think of, the rulers of Equestria had to do what was in the best interests for the entire nation, and sometimes that meant there had to be sacrifices, that some ponies had to suffer for the greater good. That was why the Luciferin existed: that was why scientists like her were trained to think and act in rational terms, instead of allowing their emotions to drive them like every other pony in Equestria did.
But Moonbeam was getting up her hopes and Vinyl seemed to think they were going to just rush in and take over the Hive, and it was starting to make Octavia both a little frustrated and apprehensive. What if Celestia did want them to come up with some way to try and rescue the captured ponies? Or, conversely, what if Celestia and her generals had determined that the Changelings were too great a threat to allow to live, and the captured ponies were acceptable collateral damage?
She didn't really want to be a part of that, either. Maybe she could recognize that it was the best possible decision, but it wasn't something she wanted to be a part of. Besides, that was more Square Hammer's skill set, not hers.
But that meant she also didn't really want to get Moonbeam involved with what might possibly be plans to exterminate the creatures who were, for all intents and purposes, still her former herd. She knew Moonbeam wasn't happy about what had happened, but she highly doubted she hated them to the point she wanted to see them die, either.
So it had been a fitful, frustrating few weeks. She felt too many things she didn't want to, and while she'd like to pretend it was the others who were grating on her patience, in reality it was only her own mind running away with her. It wasn't as easy as it had once been to simply distance herself from her patient and her roommate: was that a flaw? Was that some failing on her part?
She didn't know. She didn't want to think so, at least. She did recognize that, for better or worse, she had allowed Moonbeam to get closer to her than was strictly necessary, but Moonbeam was very persistent and had proven surprisingly good at making friends. Maybe it was that desire to be a pony that drove her, or the fact she had been pushed out of the Hive and told she couldn't be a Changeling anymore, so she wanted to make sure she was the best pony she could be.
Octavia bit her lip as she looked across the little table at Moonbeam, studying her quietly: she looked anxious but ready. A little pale, Octavia thought, and like she hadn't slept the night before. Well, that wasn't much of an assumption, considering she had been up all night herself, going over research, and she'd heard Moonbeam pacing every time she'd passed her room.
Vinyl, in the bench beside her, was trying her hardest to play it cool, but Octavia could just about feel the anxiety coming off her in waves, not to mention the way she was nervously tapping one forehoof against the wall of the train. The earth pony hesitated, then she reached up and carefully touched the mare's shoulder, smiling at her briefly, and Vinyl blinked over her sunglasses at her before she gave an awkward smile back, and a small, thankful nod.
Octavia turned her attention towards Moonbeam, saying softly: “You need to calm down as well. This will all be very routine, I'm sure. A few questions, and then we'll go on our way. I know you might be hoping for more than that, but please. Remember that this is bigger than just what we may desire ourselves.”
Moonbeam smiled awkwardly and nodded a few times, and then her eyes roved downwards before she murmured: “I just think that if there's anything at all we can do... we should try and do it, shouldn't we?”
“Yes and no. That kind of thinking is why you and I aren't good leaders, Moonbeam. But I like to think it also pushes us to do things that other ponies would hesitate to do. There is no reward without risk, after all.” Octavia answered with a brief shrug, and Moonbeam studied her for a few moments, which made Octavia frown and tilt her head curiously.
“It's just... do you really think we're similar?” she asked meekly, and Octavia laughed in spite of herself, giving a slow shake of her head.
“More than you might rightly understand, Moonbeam.” Octavia answered, and then she turned her gaze towards the window, biting her lip for a moment before she suddenly said: “I do want to help the world. Help, not harm. But any tool I create is only so good as the hooves that use them, Moonbeam. Look at your prosthetic implants: those legs can allow you to walk a thousand miles and climb even the harshest of terrain. To go places no other pony could go; they've returned your mobility to you and have allowed you to do good things for other ponies: don't think I haven't seen your little escapades around Ponyville.”
Moonbeam blushed, and Octavia smiled briefly as she looked over at the mare, saying quietly: “But they also have the power to crush more than stone or kick more than trees. Some ponies wouldn't be satisfied with that alone: some ponies would use these tools to take revenge on the world they think took everything away from them. And even if I made some perfect set of prosthetic limbs that could never harm another pony, still, they could be used in the service of... things I'd rather not think about.”
Octavia fell silent, and then she turned her eyes back out the window, but she didn't shrug off Vinyl's hoof when it gently settled on her shoulder. They rode the rest of the way in silence to Canterlot, but even if it wasn't what Octavia would call precisely 'comfortable,' it was thoughtful, at least.
Thoughtful: a funny word for it. As if 'thinking' always made things better. But even just having Moonbeam and Vinyl present seemed to do a lot to soothe her thoughts, brought a balance to her, somehow. She liked that, even if part of her feared it was a failing, or a vulnerability.
But Octavia did her best to just concentrate on the here and now as they made their way from the train station to Canterlot: it was a dreary, dark day, and the thunderous skies above made their journey seem all the more final somehow, like they were passing some kind of point of no return. Everything was about to change: Octavia knew that was a stupid thought, but at the same time, she couldn't stop herself from thinking it, from feeling it was true. Something being stupid didn't make it any less true, after all.
They were greeted by an aide outside the castle, who brought them around to one of the private entrances instead of the crowded public doors: Moonbeam seemed almost disconcerted by the treatment they received, and Vinyl tried to put on a brave face, but Octavia thought that only she was in any sense prepared for what was happening right now, let alone what laid ahead of them. It was one thing to be invited to talk to the Princesses: it became entirely something else when you actually arrived and began to go through the process.
And it was a process: she thought even Vinyl recognized that they weren't just being escorted to some nice, cozy, private waiting room, but that the aide was vetting them as they walked. They passed through beautiful stone archways that also had some of the best magitech in the land built into them, scanning them from multiple angles as they passed through. The aide's pleasant conversation was spiced with a few very precise questions: where had they been recently, what contacts or visitors had they had; small but important things.
Octavia wondered briefly what details local security would have on them: not just the solar guard, but the elite who guarded Celestia with the help of Luciferin inventions. They had given her all the usual security protocols: no weapons, no strange substances, no magic amplifiers, but they had also asked for Moonbeam's emergency shutdown codes, which she had supplied with some hesitance. She didn't want them turning off Moonbeam's limbs, after all... not that she didn't have her personal overrides, but still...
She glanced up as the aide cleared his throat, and the earth pony gave a brief smile before she said: “Apologies. I was just going over my presentation. I don't want to waste anyone's time, after all.”
“Not to worry, Miss Octavia. I was just reminding you that Princess Celestia is interested in interviewing Miss Moonbeam as well as yourself. You can be present if Miss Moonbeam desires, but following your presentation, Princess Celestia will want to speak to Miss Moonbeam directly.” the aide said with a kind smile, but that smile did nothing to soften the order only half-hidden in his eyes.
Moonbeam shifted uncomfortably, but Octavia nodded, replying evenly: “Of course, I understand that fully.”
“Good.” The aide smiled more openly at this, and then he nodded once before gesturing around the little waiting room, saying pleasantly: “Please take your seats. We're just finishing setting up in the next room and we'll call you in once we're ready.”
Octavia nodded politely again, and Vinyl waved lamely as Moonbeam only shifted a little. But the aide didn't acknowledge any of them as he turned and left, and there was silence for a few moments before Octavia sighed and gestured at the comfortable little chairs around the cozy little room... which likely has foot-thick titanium walls, magnetic doors, and every other security measure imaginable on the off chance they determine we're hostile... “We might as well settle in for now.”
Vinyl Scratch shrugged and tossed herself down across two chairs, while Moonbeam settled into another near the corner, nervously looking back and forth. Octavia walked over to sit beside her, saying gently: “Waiting is difficult, but necessary as a safety precaution. It allows them to judge our stress levels and to determine whether or not we're trying to hide something. I know you don't like to think about it, Moonbeam, but I'm sure a few ponies are still a little afraid of you.”
“I know. I... I hate that.” Moonbeam murmured, shaking her head briefly before she gave a small smile, raising one stockinged leg and studying it silently: even though the stockings were fitted especially for her unique limbs, it didn't hide the fact that they looked narrow and distorted compared to the average ponies' legs. And even the nice little poncho Moonbeam was wearing didn't really hide the differences in the shape of her body made by the mechanical implants.
Moonbeam looked up at her worriedly, but Octavia only reached up and gently squeezed the mare's shoulder, saying softly: “Try not to worry yourself. They know all about us and why we're here. They may not be as kind to you as you deserve, but they won't treat you like a monster, either.”
“I hope not.” Vinyl muttered, scowling a little over her glasses before she quickly pushed them up, grumbling: “We went through all their stupid security stuff already. I thought we were just coming here to answer a few questions and stuff.”
“You're just here to... enjoy the experience, as I believe you put it.” Octavia said mildly, and Vinyl huffed before the earth pony added, as gently as she could: “Please just remember to be respectful. It will be good to have you here as a witness, but... no shouting, even at Square Hammer. Even if he deserves it.”
“Douche.” Vinyl said, and Octavia sighed even if she privately agreed, and Moonbeam blushed and covered her mouth, as if to hide a smile. “I told you already that I'd behave, didn't I?”
“A reminder never hurts, Scratch.” Octavia countered, before she hesitated and confessed: “And besides, the reminder is good for me, as well. Sometimes I too am struck by the urge to... speak rashly.”
Vinyl grinned despite herself, before scowling when Octavia added: “And you might want to remove your sunglasses, by the way. We'll be in the presence of the Princess, after all, not to mention the Luciferin and other nobles. They will want to see your eyes.”
Vinyl grumbled under her breath, but then she nodded and reached up to remove her sunglasses. She looked awkwardly down at them for a few moments before sighing and hanging them off the collar of the jacket she was wearing, muttering: “I guess you're right. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though.”
“Well, Scratch, then you'll be pleased to know you aren't supposed to like it. It's an honor to be here, it always is... but I rarely like it, myself. It's a terrible amount of pressure and stress, and... I suppose I have never been good at bowing my head to authority figures.” Octavia answered with a brief shrug.
Then she turned her eyes back towards Moonbeam saying gently: “And remember to answer honestly, Moonbeam. You still have a bit of a problem with trying to say the things people want to hear, rather than what they need to.”
Moonbeam blushed and lowered her head a little, mumbling in agreement despite herself, and there was silence for a few moments before Octavia reassured quietly: “Just be yourself, Moonbeam. I know you mean well, and I know you can provide a lot of help to us.”
Moonbeam smiled briefly, and then she glanced up as there was a polite knock at the door before the aide stepped inside, bowing his head and saying kindly: “They're ready for you now. Please follow me, Miss Octavia. Miss Moonbeam, Miss Scratch, we'll call you inside in a moment.”
“Well, remember. Keep a stiff upper lip and be yourselves.” Octavia said after a moment, and then she turned and headed towards the aide, nodding to him once before she gave a smile and confirmed: “I'm ready.”
The aide nodded and turned, and Octavia followed: she wasn't sure if she was really ready or not, but either way, there was no going back.

There was no going back.
Moonbeam breathed slowly in and out as she looked nervously around the transport: talking to Princess Celestia and the Luciferin had been bad enough, but now here she was, trying to hold it together and look like she knew what she was doing with an Equestrian special ops team all staring at her-
“Hey, kid. Don't freak out on us yet, the operation hasn't even started.”
Moonbeam blinked and looked up with a blush at the stallion who had just spoken, and he gave her a grin and a shrug from beneath his helmet, saying easily: “Heard you were the one we're supposed to cover for. We hit 'em hard from the face, you sneak in around back, we wait and get you out.”
“Cut the chatter back there, Jester!” ordered another voice, and Jester shrugged as he sat back, absently adjusting the straps of the harness keeping him locked into the seat.
Moonbeam winced a bit as they hit a bump, feeling the transport jostle, and the other soldiers shifted a bit: less because of the movement, she thought, more because of the CO's baleful eyes glaring across them. Moonbeam did her best not to draw his gaze, but all the same she felt his eyes move to her as he asked sharply: “And you. You know your orders, right?”
“Yes, um, sir. Yes.” Moonbeam said awkwardly, nodding quickly before she winced as they hit another bump. “I'm-”
“I know my orders, you just make sure you do your part, Changeling. We're putting a lot of good boys and girls at risk for this.” the stallion interrupted shortly, and Moonbeam bowed her head awkwardly before she looked up in surprise when there was a loud beeping. “Okay! Get yourselves ready! Changeling, your drop point is here, so move it!”
Moonbeam fumbled at the harness before she stumbled out of the seat, hurriedly patting her mechanical legs across her own body in a quick, awkward check over the custom-fitted body armor she was wearing before she blushed when the officer at the front of the transport snapped: “Grab your gear and move, we're on the clock!”
Moonbeam hurriedly grabbed a U-shaped case from the shelf above her seat, fitting it over her back: luckily for her it snapped immediately into place on its own, thanks to the magnets on her armor. She turned and hurried for the door, blushing a bit as the soldier who had talked to her before called: “Hey, good luck, lady!”
“Shut up, Jester. Okay Changeling, we're dropping you in three... two... go!” barked the officer, and Moonbeam flinched as the door she was standing in front of opened. “Go, go, go!”
She leapt: whether because of instinct or training or ingrained behavior, she didn't know. She leapt out into the open air, and for a moment she tried to fly before she remembered her wings were useless and missing, and she winced as she flailed her legs for a moment before she closed her eyes tightly as she dropped-
She hit the ground hard, but her metal legs barely flinched when she crashed down to the ground, the rest of her body flexing in surprise more than anything else. She bit her lip, then straightened with a short breath, looking up to watch as the transport she had been in twisted in the direction of the Hive, the machine they called a zeppelin sailing through the air like a flying barge.
Moonbeam winced as she heard a great, thunderous bang, and the distance lit up for a moment with magic: was that an explosive? God, everything was happening so fast now, what was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to get into the Hive and-
She had to move. There wasn't any time for panicking, there was only time to move. Moonbeam took a sharp breath, and then she put everything else out of her mind: the sounds of explosions and war, the sights of the zeppelins lowering around the Hive and the swarms of Changelings already surging up from the shell of the nest to meet the intruders.
She galloped across the barrens towards the rear of the Hive, going over their simple plan in her mind for the thousandth time: the soldiers would draw the Hive forces and keep them busy, and she would sneak in around the back. There were a dozen secret ways in and out of the Hive, many of which only certain classes of Changeling were supposed to use, or in times of emergency: it felt like heresy to think about sneaking in like this, but at the same time she supposed she was already an exile, wasn't she?
Moonbeam stumbled her way down into a narrow trench, trying to keep herself as small as possible: she knew that even if most of the Hive's attention would be focused on repelling the Equestrian military, there would still be scanners and scouts on this side keeping an eye out for any ambushes. Changelings weren't known for their creativity, but they both well-trained and extremely thorough.
There were ways to confuse them, though; she grimaced as she focused her magic for a moment, then allowed it to simply disperse, feeling it taking her shape with it. It stung, worse than it should have, but then again, she had gotten so used to wearing her Moonbeam body that she had forgotten it wasn't really her own.
But even though it hurt like she was peeling off a layer of her own skin, there was still a strange familiarity when it was all done and over with, a sense of her whole body loosening up and becoming... lighter, in a word.
She looked uncertainly down at her mechanical limbs as she kept running through the trench, staying as low as she could as she drew closer to the Hive. She just hoped that if the scanners detected her, all they would see would be another Changeling rushing to get back to the Hive, and they wouldn't detect the magical crystals inside her limbs. This was the biggest hurdle to the plan, she thought: well, this and then getting any ponies she found inside out of the Hive.
Moonbeam scrambled her way up a short incline, then winced at how close the Hive was ahead. She could see Changelings buzzing angrily through the air above it, disorganized and confused by the Equestrian technology and weaponry: not just guns and zeppelins, but bombs that released both choking smoke and thick, clinging mist that made it impossible for the Changelings to stay in the air with their bug-like wings.
She winced as she saw a blast of cloudy mist wash across a team of drones, and they fell from the sky, struggling, flailing, screaming-
No, no, no, she couldn't concentrate on that. Moonbeam blocked out the link with the Hive as much as she could: this close, she felt connected to the Changelings again, even if another part of her was so acutely, painfully aware that she wasn't one of them anymore. She was something different.
But did this make her a traitor, too?
No, there was no time for that right now.
Moonbeam's hooves carried her automatically towards the rear entrance of the Hive for a few moments before she caught herself, and it was almost physically painful for her to turn and head for the drainage ditch instead. It went against her Changeling instincts and all the training that had been ingrained into her, but that itself was exactly why she knew this plan was going to work.
She winced as she stomped across several spike traps, stone uselessly biting against her steel prostheses before hit the edge of the ditch and skidded sharply down. It was steep and jagged, and her old legs would have quickly buckled and sent her tumbling head over heels, but her new legs held firm and let her slide all the way to the creek at the bottom without incident.
She splashed down, stumbling only a little before turning and heading quickly through the murk and grime towards the outflow ahead. She bit her lip as ridiculous thoughts whipped through her mind: what if she was caught doing this? What would the other Changelings think? This wasn't what a Changeling was supposed to do!
But she wasn't a Changeling anymore, was she? No, she wasn't coming home, coming to help: she was invading. She was exile, and enemy.
She grimaced as she ducked under the low cavern entrance into the drainage cave, shivering a bit as she waded through the muck: a mix of gunk and garbage and things she didn't want to think about that pulled and sucked at her limbs as she waded through the slime.
After a few moments, the ceiling of the cavern sloped upwards and the cave itself widened into a large natural pool, a faint sloshing reaching Moonbeam's ears: the slime and castoff pouring down from above. She shivered a bit as she made her way carefully around the edge of the lake of slime, biting her lip as she looked back and forth, her horn lighting up and casting an eerie green light over the murky wastewater.
She spotted a narrow path that led up one of the sloped sides of the drainage pool, the mare scrambling up onto the end of this and beginning up before she flinched when something shifted in the darkness, automatically shining the light of her horn towards it.
A green glow washed over a Changeling, and Moonbeam stiffened before her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she realized the Changeling had no horn, its eyes milky and faded, its mottled body filthy with dirt and slime. It leaned towards her, rasping slowly in and out, and Moonbeam could see others shifting in the darkness around them, some clinging to the walls, others skulking over the floor and staring at her.
They were all clipped: slaves of the Hive, left to drudge in the bowels, no longer even considered real Changelings by their own brethren. Moonbeam trembled a bit as they inspected her, realizing the flaw in her plan too late before she flinched when one of them reached out and touched one of her steel legs.
All of a sudden, one of the clipped rose its head sharply and declared: “It is like us. It is one of us.”
“I...” Moonbeam mouthed wordlessly for a moment, and then she winced when another of the clipped stroked one of her mechanical legs through the thin cloth veiling it. She shifted uneasily to the side, trying to think of something to say, even if just to agree with them, but before she could, the clipped shifted away and vanished into the darkness around her, leaving her confused, uneasy, and feeling a little sick to her stomach.
She shook herself out quickly, then took a breath before starting forwards, following a trail that she guessed had been carved throughout the underbelly of the Hive by the passage of countless clipped Changelings. She kept her horn's glow dim, just in case, but even though things shifted in the darkness all around her, she never felt watched, never felt unwelcome: that hurt, somehow. She had been rejected by the Changelings above, but these slaves below welcomed her as one of their own.
No, she had a task that she had to do, and she had to focus on that, and that alone. Not on the clipped, not on the Hive, not on all these bizarre new thoughts about right and wrong that she had learned from the ponies.
She followed the path away from the drainage pool and into dark, uncared-for tunnels: the maintenance tunnels of the Hive. These were used only by the clipped Changelings and the mindless worker drones, the ones who weren't able to think properly for themselves, produced purely to keep the Hive functional.
Higher-order Changelings shunned the tunnels: they were all taught to follow their own specific routes, to stay on the 'right' paths, in the 'right' lane. They were designed to always obey the structures and rules of the Hive, even now, when the Hive was in chaos as the Equestrians attacked. But all they had to fall back on was their own training and the orders of their superiors: they couldn't think for themselves.
It was their biggest vulnerability, and Moonbeam knew it was the key to getting through the Hive. The voice of the Hive was nagging at her, but her time away had taught her that she didn't have to listen to it, that she could ignore it: that was her biggest advantage over the Changelings.
Moonbeam pressed upwards through the maintenance tunnels, moving slowly and quietly. Even though the Hive was shaking around her as the Equestrians attacked, the drones and clipped Changelings were still moving slowly and surely through these tunnels, ignoring her even when she stopped to stare, only ever making the vaguest effort to go around her and usually forcing her to press to the side of the tunnel to get past.
But even if she'd never been in these tunnels before, even if normal Changelings were supposed to avoid them, her instincts told her where to go. The voice of the Hive wasn't strong, but it was still enough to guide her: to follow to the place she wanted to go, as long as she kept it firmly in her mind.
Moonbeam hesitated beside a vent, leaning down to peer through it and watch as several Changelings ran past. Were those soldiers? That meant she had to be near the barracks, which meant that she had to be close to the prison.
Moonbeam nodded to herself, biting her lip before turning and continuing through the maintenance tunnel. She let her hooves guide her, turning at an intersection even though she wasn't really sure if the barracks were ahead of her or behind her, but the image of where she wanted to go was still strong in her mind, and the voice of the Hive was still there, guiding her.
So she followed it, even though it led her out of the maintenance tunnels and instead into narrower, cooler ventilation tunnels. She winced as she scrunched herself down and crawled as best she could through the tight passage, doing her best to only listen to the voice of the Hive, using that to reassure herself...
But why was the voice of the Hive still telling her the right way to go if she wasn't a Changeling anymore, if she was here as an enemy?
No, no time to think about that. Besides, they called it a voice, but it wasn't, really, was it? It was instinct. It wasn't sentient. It wasn't really 'helping' her, she was just-
Lost in her thoughts, Moonbeam didn't feel herself pressing on a thin panel of rock until too late, and she yelped as her metal hoof pushed right through it before she tumbled forwards. She landed with a painful thud, blinking dumbly a few times before she winced and stumbled to her hooves as she saw she had fallen right into a cell.
She looked wildly back and forth, then sighed and grasped her chest, stilling her frightened heart as she noted the cell door was open. So she wasn't trapped, and even if it hadn't exactly been the most graceful entrance, she was where she wanted to be: the prison section.
She shivered a bit as she stepped out into the open floor of the prison: this area wasn't very large, mainly because they didn't have a lot of prisoners. This was a very short-term place: it was where they kept ponies before and after they were drained for information. Her eyes lingered on the restraining rack in the center of the room, and she grimaced as she saw her victim in it, Moonbeam pulling uselessly at the restraints, struggling and angry until the feeding had begun...
The Changeling shivered and flinched a bit, then she shook her head quickly, getting her bearings before her eyes locked on a heavy metal door at the other side of the square room. That had to be the passage down to where they kept their prey in stasis. She'd never been down there before: soldier Changelings rarely crossed paths with workers and harvesters, and had little reason to go down to their love stores.
She made her way to the door and forced it open, then winced as a bit of dust pattered down from the ceiling as something boomed above. She knew her time was limited: she had to move fast. If she could free the ponies below, it would weaken the Hive itself, and she could hopefully get them out the same way she had come in, through the drainage ditch.
She nodded to herself, biting her lip as she slipped into the passage and hurried quickly past an abandoned checkpoint, keeping herself low and not lingering just in case there were still some Changelings present, hurrying down the curling, ramping hall beyond. But she was fairly certain the Equestrians had caused enough of an emergency that all of the Hive's soldiers were being pulled to help fight off the enemy, with only a few left behind to guard the essential areas of the Hive.
She just hoped that meant the love stores would be unguarded. They should be, she thought: located at the base of the Hive and far away from the combat, it was almost wholly maintained by worker drones anyway.
Moonbeam slowed her descent as she approached another checkpoint, pausing at the corner for a moment and leaning around it. There was a Changeling soldier sitting at the checkpoint, but his back was to her, his attention focused wholly on something else.
But they were also right outside the love stores: if she tried to get through that heavy door ahead, she had no doubt she'd alert him. That gave her one option, really, even though it made Moonbeam feel sick to her stomach to think about.
She took a slow breath, then carefully crept around the corner and into the open area. She ducked behind the counter, steeling herself: she could almost feel him, this close. Could he feel her? No, he was distracted. She had to act fast all the same, though: a Changeling wasn't a pony. They were faster, tougher, stronger...
Moonbeam took a breath, then she stood up and leapt the counter, jackknifing it with a smoothness even she hadn't expected her mechanical limbs to give her before she swung a metal hoof out. It smashed into the back of the Changeling's head and sent him face-first into the wall with a sick thud, and he collapsed in a heap.
Moonbeam shivered: she had felt the shock of his pain. That was why Changelings didn't usually hurt each other: lashing out usually made you feel worse because you were connected to all your brothers and sisters, your-
But we don't think of each other like that, as family. We're... not, are we? Moonbeam closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself before she reached up and rubbed a hoof across her head. Then she shook herself out before looking down at the unconscious Changeling. She was glad he was still alive, but at the same time, this felt like the last straw. Like she had passed some kind of point of no return.
There was no going back. But she'd known that already, hadn't she?
She reached out and picked up what the Changeling had been playing with before, and she smiled faintly: he had been hovering over a communication stone, likely waiting to be called to the field. She glanced down at the Changeling she had knocked out and shook her head briefly: he was young, she could tell by how smooth his carapace was. She had knocked out a kid, possibly on his first assignment.
She didn't feel very proud of that.
All the same, it was time to move on. If there really was no going back, that meant she had no choice now but to prove herself to these ponies. To save every last pony she could.
Moonbeam turned and hopped the counter to return to the door, carefully pushing it ajar so she could peek through it into the enormous cavern beyond: it was filled with eerie green light that came from both the phosphorescent moss and the glowing ooze that made up the cocoons the ponies were held within.
Workers and harvesters trundled constantly back and forth: they seemed completely heedless of the noise or the occasional tremor that went through the Hive. Moonbeam bit her lip for a moment before she took a slow breath as she slipped into the storehouse, planning to be as stealthy as possible-
A Changeling worker brushed past her side, followed by two clipped, and Moonbeam winced and looked awkwardly after them before her eyes shifted in surprise to watch as several harvesters, swollen with love, approached... but completely ignored her as they walked past, heads low and eyes almost hollow, one of them drooling a little as they followed a path that led along the wall, and spiraled upwards to the... reserves, I think.
That was right. The harvesters took the love from the love stores, and brought it up to the central reserve, where it was distributed throughout the Hive. From the activity, it looked like the harvesters were in the middle of transporting today's dose of love... but then again, she wasn't sure if they ever really stopped. Even when the Hive was starved for resources, the harvesters still drained as much as they could from whatever prey they managed to capture.
Moonbeam shivered as she made her way carefully deeper into the love stores, looking nervously back and forth as she passed by several cocoons. She could see floating shapes in many of them: here was the silhouette of a griffin, there was a buffalo. Was she supposed to try and save them, too?
She shivered a little as she moved deeper, towards the source of the glow that pulsed through much of the love stores: a pool in the center, full of liquid love. That was right: even though Moonbeam had never seen it before, never really acknowledged its existence, the whisper of the Hive in her mind told her precisely what it was, how all of this worked. The cocoons held the ponies and kept them in a state of dreaming stasis: every twelve hours or so, workers channeled their magic into the cocoons, when the ponies were 'ripened;' this squeezed the love out of ponies, which fed down through the strange roots and living veins of the hive, and joined the nutrient slurry drones created in the love well at the center of the love stores, making a nectar that would be distributed throughout the entire Hive.
It was an efficient way for the Changelings to distribute and get everything they needed: mental and physical nutrition, and chief of all, love. Normally the slurry wasn't very filling because they only had so much love to distribute throughout Hive: but with so many captured ponies, the Hive had already begun to expand, to grow stronger, and the slurry glowed with the stolen love of Equestria...
Moonbeam shivered a little as she approached the well, studying it silently before she watched as a harvester calmly strode down a natural ramp into the slurry, then bowed his head and siphoned some of it up, to carry it in his rotund belly, where it would be further condensed and processed while the harvester brought it to wherever it had to go.
She shook her head, then bit her lip as she turned around, looking across the cocoons that filled this cavern as reality crushed down on her. There was no possible way she could save them all. She didn't even know if she would be able to cut one open before the harvesters turned on her. And she knew that her time was running out, too: the Equestrians wouldn't be able to keep up the distraction for much longer.
Moonbeam clenched her eyes shut for a moment, and then she shook her head before she looked quickly back and forth for something, anything she could use. But all she saw were harvesters and workers and clipped servants: Changelings didn't have technology like the Equestrians did. She was so close, she was right here, and now what was she supposed to do?
She looked desperately back and forth, then trembled as her eyes caught on a clipped Changeling who was calmly repairing a cocoon, blurting: “I wish you could just help me!”
The clipped looked at her for a moment, and then it simply stopped what it was doing, asking: “What do you need?”
Moonbeam stared dumbly at the clipped, before she glanced up in surprise as another clipped echoed: “What do you need?”
For a few moments, she was too stunned to say anything, before she flinched in surprise when a voice snarled: “Who's there? We're on alert! What are you doing here?”
Moonbeam looked up and paled slightly as a Changeling in armor came running into the open area around the well: he was larger, brawnier than her, with thicker chitin protecting what wasn't covered by shaped steel plating. His eyes caught on her, and his horn lit up with emerald flames as he snarled and leaned forwards aggressively, shouting: “Intruder!”
“Queensguard.” Moonbeam stumbled backwards, then steeled herself, even though she was face-to-face with one of the Hive's elite warriors: fearless, ruthless, and incredibly strong, their sole task was to uphold the Queen's rule in the hive, by any means necessary.
The Queensguard didn't hesitate, leaping forwards and swinging his horn down, lashing out at her with crackling green flame. Moonbeam barely dodged to the side before she winced and brought up a metal leg when he tried to swing a hoof into her: she was still knocked stumbling, the gears in her steel limb grinding together, but the Queensguard staggered as well, cursing and caught off guard by the fact he had just punched metal, not flesh.
Moonbeam took the chance to back off instead of pressing the attack, shocked by the fact he had left a dent in her limb, clearly visible through her now-torn sleeve. The Queensguard set himself, taking a moment to study her instead of pressing his attack before he barked: “Are you from another hive? Or are you a traitor and a thief?”
“My... my name is Moonbeam, and I'm here to free the Equestrians! They don't deserve this!” Moonbeam blurted out, and the Queensguard snorted, baring his teeth in disgust.
“Traitor it is.” The Queensguard rose his head, and his horn flashed as he roared: “Traitor in the Hive!”
Moonbeam felt the message thrumming through the Hive, felt anger boiling through the air around her, pressing in on her from all sides like a physical weight. She flinched beneath it, and the Queensguard leapt forwards, aiming to stomp on her head, but she was able to quickly throw herself out of the way, wincing before her horn glowed as she yanked the rifle off her back.
She took aim, but the Queensguard stepped forwards and swung a hoof out, swatting the barrel of the rifle just as she pulled the trigger: the rifle was knocked out of her psychic grip even as it gave a deafening bang, and the Queensguard howled as he staggered to the side, covering one ear in shock more than pain, face barely scraped by the bullet. Moonbeam swore, but reacted out of desperate instinct, leaping at the stunned Queensguard and slamming a metal hoof into his face as hard as she could.
He was knocked crashing down onto his side, but he rolled quickly back onto his hooves, even as he shook his head violently with a rasp of pain. Moonbeam tried to press the advantage, jumping at him, but the Queensguard caught her and flung her down before he snapped his horn down, and the mare gasped as she was knocked skidding backwards by a blast of eldritch fire, feeling her armor searing and cracking from the power of the magic.
She twisted her body and flung herself back up to her hooves, before she narrowly avoided another blast of malicious energy. The Queensguard followed up with several more, but Moonbeam dodged between these before she swept up her rifle with telekinesis, gritting her teeth as she tried to concentrate on reloading the gun even as the Queensguard continued to lash out at her with magic.
She half-cocked the rifle and popped the burnt-out cap of crystal at the bottom loose as she ducked quickly behind a cocoon. Magic pummeled the other side of it, sending up splatters of green jelly before the Queensguard snarled as he moved to flank, but Moonbeam was fast: a new crystal cap was snapped in, Moonbeam pausing only for a moment to register the blue of the gemstone before she pulled the hammer all the way back and spun around just as the Queensguard leapt around the cocoon.
The Changeling elite winced back in surprise as he found the rifle pointing at his face, bringing up one of his legs as if to defend himself, and Moonbeam hesitated only a moment before she dropped the rifle and fired at his other leg instead. The blast hammered across his limb and made him hiss before he looked down in shock as ice violently spread across his leg and fused to the ground.
He tugged uselessly at his frozen leg, then looked up just in time to see Moonbeam's hoof coming towards his face before it slammed into his jaw with a devastating crunch. The Queensguard collapsed a moment later in a broken heap, leg still frozen to the ground, twitching once before he gave a groan as he fell unconscious.
Moonbeam stood over him for a moment, trembling and indecisive, before she shook her head sharply. She popped the slice of crystal loose from her rifle and loaded a new one before gently lowering the firing pin against it, and then she holstered the weapon on her back, trembling for a moment before she looked up and called: “I need help!”
At first, she was afraid the scuffle with the Queensguard had overrode whatever instinctive need to obey the clipped had: but after only a few moments, several emerged, staring at her in that awful, lost way they had, until one of them asked: “What do you need?”
“We... we need to remove all the ponies from the cocoons and transport them to safety. We need to... move them.” It was hard not to come up with a bogus explanation, but Moonbeam hoped that maybe if she kept it simple...
At first, the clipped didn't seem to respond, and Moonbeam bit her lip before she sighed in relief when one of the clipped approached a cocoon and calmly pushed his hooves into it, gently grasping the pony inside and carefully pulling it out of the viscous substance.
The mare took a quick look around the cavern, watching as the clipped approached other cocoons to begin pulling the ponies free. Many of the ponies remained unconscious, but a few of them stirred, although Moonbeam knew they would be weak: even when the rare creature managed to escape the cocoon on its own, it never got very far. The cocoons kept them alive and dreaming, but their bodies suffered atrophy after so long in the goo.
But without a word, clipped hauled ponies onto their backs, whether they were stirring or comatose, without complaint. Moonbeam did a quick circle of the cavern, biting her lip as she passed several beings still left in cocoons: they wouldn't be able to get every pony, let alone every person. And she knew it wouldn't be very long before the alarm the Queensguard had sounded drew all the Changelings down on top of them.
She stumbled around the cavern as she tried to find a way out, then staggered to a halt, staring at an unopened cocoon that contained... “Moonbeam.”
She trembled, then leapt forwards, slicing her horn through the thin membrane that covered the cocoon before she plunged her hooves into it. She gritted her teeth as goo sloshed and burbled down around her limbs, before she gasped as she pulled down and yanked the mare inside loose, Moonbeam falling down into her Changeling's limbs with a wet splatter and a weak gasp. For a moment, the Changeling hoped and feared she would stir, but Moonbeam settled after a moment, shivering a little, weak and thin and so brittle in her steel forelegs...
Changeling-Moonbeam could only stare for a few moments, then she shook herself quickly before she stepped backwards, away from the cocoon she had torn open. Worker drones were already trundling in to begin cleaning it up, not seeming to notice Moonbeam even as she gently hauled her precious cargo up onto her back. Still, she still had the problem of where to go, of how to escape, and now it seemed all the more pressing now that she had retrieved the pony she had promised to rescue above all else...
She frowned as she watched one of the worker drones walk away, loaded down with already-hardening sludge across his carapace. It didn't seem like he was going to repair the cocoon. Where was he going, then? To a garbage chute, or-
Moonbeam's eyes widened slightly, and then she quickly looked over her shoulder, calling: “Follow me! We're going to leave the Hive!”
The clipped didn't respond, but they didn't argue, either. Moonbeam didn't have time to make sure they were all listening, either way: all she could do was trust in them and focus on her own task.
She turned and rushed down the path, pushing past the loaded-down worker drone as she let her hooves and the voice of the Hive guide her. She could feel a growing anger in the air: was that from the Changeling soldiers drawing closer, or was that the voice of the Hive, trying to warn her about what was coming? Either way, it didn't matter. She was almost out of time and she had to get these ponies out of here, as quickly as possible.
She looked back over her shoulder and she saw the clipped were following after her, but they weren't rushing, either: she shouted at them to hurry up, but even as she did, she knew it was useless, if not counterproductive. But everything was happening so fast and it had all seemed so easy at first but she had underestimated how deep in the Hive she would have to go, or how many prisoners there actually were...
Moonbeam swore and looked ahead, forcing herself to focus back on her task: escape. She shifted the mare on her back to a better position as she let her hooves guide her, running down an offshoot that ramped down into another cavern. This smaller cave was full of building materials, but Moonbeam ignored it all, including the workers who were mixing adhesive and shaping stone, and who ignored her equally in return.
Instead, all her focus was on getting to the other side of the cave, where she skidded to a halt with a wince in front of an incinerator that was burning and rumbling away. She bit her lip for a moment as she looked at the four drones keeping it going: two were shoveling fuel and garbage into it, two were keeping the flames hot with magic, burning everything inside to ash.
“Sorry.” Moonbeam blurted finally, before she grabbed one of the drones and threw him down. The worker landed in a stunned heap, and the others looked up in surprise before one of them shouted as Moonbeam slugged him across the face, knocking him prone. The other two panicked, but even in their panic, one of them still tried to skitter behind the debris, as if he was going to try and continue to feed the furnace even as the other ran away.
Moonbeam leapt on top of the pile of debris and snapped her horn down, blasting him with magic and knocking him in a stunned heap. Then she bit her lip as she looked at the incinerator, then back over her shoulder: the clipped hadn't arrived yet. Now she had just to figure out a way to get through the incinerator and the vent beyond without being burned alive...
Moonbeam bit her lip, and then she reached back and grasped the satchel that contained the magical ammunition the Equestrians had outfitted her with. She pulled it off and dug through it, quickly pulling out a hoof-full of gemstone slices, all of the same distinct blue color, and then she looked up at the open incinerator for a moment before she took a breath, lifting the crystals with magic before gritting her teeth before snapping her horn forwards to sending the crystals rocketing into the inferno.
There was a tremendous bang and gasp of air, Moonbeam wincing and stumbling as first hot, then terribly cold air whipped past her. The incinerator screamed like a living thing as metal and stone both cracked and crumbled, reeking, thick fog filling the air and making Moonbeam's lungs burn as she coughed and rasped, stumbling backwards, then catching herself as she automatically reached back to steady the pony on her back.
She swung her horn forwards, using magic to blast away some of the fog: enough to reveal the outline of the now-dead, broken incinerator, and the shattered venting beyond. She hesitated only a moment before leaping into the ruined furnace, coughing as she pushed through the humid, uncomfortable air to the hole in the back of the incinerator, where brittle metal venting had collapsed into broken ruin.
Moonbeam leaned into this, grimacing at how the passage beyond still felt hot, but she could also feel a draft, and the thick smog was wafting down this way. Where did it lead, though? She didn't have time to check, she had to make a decision: leave immediately, or wait for the clipped and get as many through as possible...
She came here for Moonbeam. She wasn't going to pretend this wasn't selfish on her part: she wanted to prove herself to the Equestrians, to help them, sure, but most of all, she wanted answers for herself: she wanted to save this one pony above all others.
But she had already been forced to leave behind who knew how many captives, and all she had to do was be patient, and maybe they could get out of here...
Or maybe she was sending them to their death, at the end of this tunnel. She didn't know how long the fall was or if there was even really a way out!
Moonbeam trembled, but she had to believe. She had to at least try and do the right thing, and she knew a chance like this wasn't going to present itself again. Now that the Changelings knew there was a traitor, they would increase security and she'd never be able to sneak back inside...
And like a sign, she heard a crunching, a moment before a clipped calmly stepped into the incinerator behind her. Moonbeam bit her lip, then slipped out of the passage, gesturing quickly at the clipped and ordering: “Get to a safe place and wait for me! We're... we're all leaving together!”
The clipped didn't respond, but it walked into the passage, and Moonbeam guessed that was enough of a response as she hurried out of the incinerator and ran past the line of clipped. Several worker drones had stopped to watch the passage of the caravan with a strange fascination, as if they couldn't believe what was happening, and Moonbeam bit her lip before she blurted out: “You can leave too!”
“What? No. We can't just... leave.” one of the workers answered, looking confused. “The... we're part of the Hive. This is what we are, where we belong.”
“It doesn't have to be. You... we can be anything.” Moonbeam argued, but the Changeling worker only stared at her like he didn't understand... and he really didn't, she thought. But how could she blame him? All he'd ever known was the Hive: was existing for the purpose of the Hive, and the Hive alone, and staying in line and doing the one job he'd always had.
For a sickening moment, Moonbeam missed that: that self-assuredness, that familiarity, that safety. But she knew that as logical, as simple, as easy as it had been to be obedient and nothing more... it was madness, too.
“The Hive wants you to be free.” Moonbeam said before she even realized what she was saying, and the workers all stared at her now, watching her instead of the procession before she shouted: “The Hive wants us to be free! It's the Queen and the Queensguard and the elite that want us to obey! But I still hear the voice of the Hive, because the Hive knows that if we're going to survive, we... we have to change, but that's what we do! We're Changelings! We're not... slaves!”
The workers shrank away, looking confused, scared, and Moonbeam bit her lip before she flinched and looked up with a wince as a voice shouted: “Traitor!”
Two hulking Queensguard smashed their way into the storage cave, carelessly knocking both clipped Changelings and their pony cargo flying. One of them almost immediately unleashed a blast of green fire at Moonbeam, and she winced and ducked away, staring in horror as the magical blast smashed into a shelf of supplies and knocked it crashing down on top of a worker, who howled in pain. “Stop it! You're hurting them!”
“Kill it!” The Queensguard ignored her, lunging forwards, but they were slowed by the parade of clipped still trying to pass through the cave, who seemed almost like they were getting in the way of the soldiers on purpose. But they barely slowed the Queensguard, who crashed through them like battering rams, and even though Moonbeam didn't want to fail, didn't want to abandon all these ponies and the clipped who were just like her, just like her, she had no choice but to turn and run.
She felt tears running down her cheeks as she weaved through the clipped marching towards the incinerator and the Queensguard crashed and staggered their way after her, shouting in frustration and anger.
Moonbeam ducked through the incinerator and into the vent passage, wincing as she almost rammed into the back of a clipped and pushing it quickly forwards as she looked anxiously behind her. But to her surprise, she saw two clipped stop at the entrance to the vent, blocking it with their bodies even as the Queensguard forced their way into the broken furnace, before she flinched when she heard the smack of a hoof pounding into a carapace.
But the clipped didn't move, and Moonbeam cursed under her breath: it would only be a few seconds at most, but she hoped it was enough time for them to escape, as she turned her eyes forwards and pushed the clipped in front of her onward, hurrying him down the narrow stone passage before she blinked as he seemed to vanish under her hooves, a moment before she half-fell herself into a steep chute.
Her metal hooves kicked down into the sharp slope of the slide, wincing as she skidded sharply downwards and leaning back to try and keep the pony on her back from falling off before she yelped when she was ejected from the bottom of the slide, flying out to crash down into the drainage pond with a splash. She coughed, then panicked for a moment as she realized she'd lost Moonbeam, looking wildly back and forth, before her eyes widened as she saw a clipped was already fishing the unconscious mare out of the muck for her.
“T-Thank you...” the Changeling Moonbeam stuttered out, but the clipped didn't respond, only hauling the pony onto his back. For a moment, the mare stared at this, feeling it refusing to connect in her mind before she realized that all the clipped that had come with her from above had already been carrying ponies.
She looked around: the clipped all had their cargo. The ponies were in varying states of injury and unconsciousness and filth, but the ones who had escaped all seemed alive, at least. But all the same, she could see at least six clipped who were only lingering with the rest, and then the clipped that had picked up Moonbeam for her...
“What do you need?” asked one of the clipped, and Moonbeam realized that somehow these other clipped had simply... joined them. Had she started some kind of bizarre exodus?
There was no time to think about that, though.
“We're leaving.” she said, before she could question herself, and then she turned and quickly headed for the exit of the cavern, and it took all her strength not to look back to make sure the clipped were following her. But she could hear them splashing along behind her, slow, steady, and unrelenting, and the mare was both thankful and somehow afraid of what she'd started as she led the way out of the Hive.
The only goal now was to get as far away as possible, but she didn't think that would be hard. The Changelings inside the Hive would be furious, but the ones on the exterior was still distracted by the bombardment from the Equestrian forces, and when she tried to get a sense of things, she could almost hear the voice of the Hive, telling the Changelings to keep at the front, to let the Queensguard deal with what was happening inside.
Was it trying to help her, or was she just wishing and hoping that it was, giving it a sentience and a kindness that didn't exist?
It didn't matter. She just had to take every advantage she could get.
She focused herself, then flinched a bit when she felt a spark of pain before her synthetic eye flashed, readouts partially obscuring her vision ahead. At the same time, the communicator on her mechanical limb buzzed before she leaned down, saying quickly: “I've... I've got as many prisoners as I could escape with and... uh... I've got a bunch of people here. Changelings. Changelings that escaped with me. Can you-”
“We need your coordinates.” interrupted a brisk voice. “We'll pick up the captives-”
“And the Changelings! They were... you need to pick them up too! My coordinates are uh... N42 by 48 by 47 and W89 by 38 by 37!” Moonbeam said quickly, reading out the number on display, even though she still wasn't entirely sure what they actually meant. “We need a full transport, we have at least twenty-”
“A transport is en route to your location and soldiers will be dropped in to assess the situation. Keep moving away from the Hive so we can secure the zone.” advised the voice on the other end of the line, and Moonbeam grimaced before she nodded and cut the link, stumbling her way forwards.
She didn't have to give the order: the clipped continued to follow her until they were a good distance away from the Hive, but she only stopped when several pegasi descended from above and dropped in front of her. They looked uneasy, but when Moonbeam stopped and bowed her head to them, and the clipped made no further movements, one of them whistled before he asked: “The hell happened to them?”
“They're... clipped. It's what they do to Changelings who don't listen. They're... they helped me. They're like me.” Moonbeam almost pleaded, and then she reached up and rubbed at her face before she blurted: “I just want to get them out of here, please! They'll die if they go back, they'll.... they'll die.”
Or worse, Moonbeam thought, not wanting to imagine what the clipped would be forced to endure on top of losing their wings and horns.
The pegasi looked at each other, and then one of them sighed before grasping the radio on his shoulder, saying: “Overwatch, I hope you have a big transport en route, you've got a lot of people to get out of here. These... these Changelings aren't hostile.”
“Thank you.” Moonbeam said with a smile, trembling a bit before she closed her eyes, lowering her head as she repeated weakly: “Thank you.”

The ponies had driven in two huge transport vehicles that had taken all the prisoners and clipped aboard, where medics had immediately attended to the injured. They were visibly unsure of what to do with the clipped, but since the clipped stayed quiet and didn't ask for any help, they let Moonbeam handle riding with them and checking them over.
They had returned to Equestria, and while the clipped had been escorted to a secure facility for now: on the bright side, many of them were getting treatment, not interrogations. But it didn't take long for the Equestrians to realize there wasn't really anything to be gained from the clipped, anyway: even if they hadn't been just slaves, they were so broken that neither threats nor bribes could get anything out of them.
Moonbeam hadn't thought about what the clipped would be like outside of the Hive: sometimes they seemed like they had just shut down. But there were little things, here and there, that spoke to her, told her they were just waiting for the right motivation, the right spark to turn them back on: the way their rooms were never disorganized, the way they clustered together, how they reacted – even if only slightly – to ponies coming and going.
She had hope.
The Equestrians had rewarded her for saving a dozen or so ponies, but Moonbeam didn't feel like she had done enough. She was told they would all recover, in time: that was good, she couldn't deny that. But other ponies had been left behind, and the Hive would put even more of a strain on them, draining more love from their bodies every day... what if she had just made things worse?
So she poured herself into helping the clipped, and helping take care of the injured ponies, even though everyone told her that she had already done so much. But she could still help: Changelings couldn't feed love back into ponies, but her natural ability to read emotions allowed her to help the medics figure out which ponies were in pain, how they were coming along, what they needed even when they couldn't speak or move.
Octavia said she should come home, but right now, Moonbeam needed to be where she was. She needed to keep busy. She needed to keep working, as she walked quietly around in her stolen pony disguise, doing what she could to help.
She sighed, then turned and blinked in surprise when she almost ran into a handsome stallion in a military uniform, who grinned at her as he reached up and gently caught her shoulder. She almost reached up and grabbed his leg, but thankfully stopped himself: that was good. The last thing she needed to do was accidentally injure a soldier.
No, he wasn't a soldier: well, he was, but he was dressed like an officer. He was handsome, with a polished roan coat, but his eyes were sharp. His short, peppered blond mane was brushed back, neat and styled, but his collar was untucked and loose. He was high enough rank that no one could yell at him for being untidy; not so high that there wasn't a sense of hurry around him, like he had places to be, people to please.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” he apologized, and then he smiled at her before he introduced himself: “My name's Overwatch. I'm in charge of mission intelligence. You performed really well out there, Moonbeam, and I'm here to offer you a job.”
Moonbeam blinked, and then she smiled awkwardly before she half-turned away, starting lamely: “I have... I have a few things to do here, still, I don't know if-”
“I read your file. I know you were a scout for the Changeling forces. I also saw what you did in that Hive. You brought a lot of ponies back home, along with some Changeling prisoners-”
“Clipped. Slaves. They were... slaves.” Moonbeam shook her head, then she turned away, but the stallion simply fell into step with her as she headed down the ward, mumbling: “I appreciate the thought but I don't think I could do... I don't think-”
“We need someone who can help teach us about the Changelings. Who can identify them on the field and who can deal with them. But the Princesses, after seeing the clipped, don't just want ponies who can hunt and kill Changelings. Maybe our enemy isn't the Changelings themselves. They're just doing their jobs, after all.” Overwatch said, and Moonbeam hesitated, coming to a stop to look back at him before he continued gently: “I'm just here to make the job offer. I know you need time. I know you have some... personal stuff to take care of. But I also know you're looking for a place to fit in and you want to help. This could be your chance to do that.”
Moonbeam was silent, and Overwatch smiled at her before he shrugged and said: “I'll leave my contact information with Miss Octavia, and some other information. Talk it over with your friends. I think we can benefit each other.”
Overwatch smiled at her, and then he gave her a little wave before he turned and left, Moonbeam standing for a moment in the middle of the ward before she shook her head quickly, then sighed and turned around, trying to refocus herself.
She headed over to the bed near the back of the ward, silently slipping past the curtain around it before she sat on the stool next to it, looking quietly down at the mare under the sheets. Moonbeam, the original Moonbeam that she had copied. She was still unconscious, comatose, her vital signs weaker than most of the others: she thought it was because Moonbeam had been one of the ponies who had been fed off of and copied, not just harvested for love.
The Changeling hesitated, then she reached out and gently touched her model's shoulder, looking at her and wondering aloud: “What would you want me to do?”
She didn't know. Moonbeam was rash and loud and... a little bitter, but beneath it all, shy and anxious. Moonbeam wasn't a lot like the Moonbeam that the Changeling mare had pretended to be.
She wasn't really Moonbeam. She kept forgetting that: not in the sense that she thought she was really a pony, but in the sense that... she didn't have to do everything Moonbeam would. She could make her own decisions. She should make her own decisions, instead of asking herself what someone else would do in her position.
Even Changelings could, should, be able to make decisions for themselves. Even Changelings should have their freedoms.
She lowered her head for a moment, and then she bit her lip before she whispered: “If I could... I'd help. I want to help. I haven't done enough, I don't feel like I've done anything but made things worse. I want to help. And not just... not just to make it up to the ponies anymore, because I want my Changelings to be free, too. We can be more than just monsters. Changelings can change.”
The Changeling bit her lip, then she looked up, and blushed in surprise, raising her head slightly as she saw Moonbeam's eyes were open, looking up at her silently.
The Changeling smiled widely, and Moonbeam tilted her head ever so slightly, before she murmured in a strange, confused voice: “But you're not me.”
The Changeling blushed, and then Moonbeam shifted slightly before she closed her eyes, falling back unconscious. But she was right, the Changeling thought: she wasn't her.
She was her own person.