//------------------------------// // I Take // Story: Severance // by redsquirrel456 //------------------------------// It had once been music, filling the hole in his head. The constant drone of the Hive comprised of a million billion voices whispering supplications to Mother and bowing to her commands had given him purpose. It gave him life. It gave him reason. It lulled him to sleep and roused him in the morning, gave him sweet caresses when he was uncertain and courage when he was afraid. He hadn't just felt the touch of the Swarm, he was the Swarm. He'd been the finger of a giant, the eye of a dragon. But that was before the invasion, before the failure and the fall. Before Mother was cast down and the Hive scattered. In earlier times the thought of defeat was inconceivable. He remembered when Mother had first explained the plan to the Hive. How happy she had been that glorious day, and by extension all her Children! How excited had they all been at the thought of exerting their great power, which had been on a steady rise since Chrysalis took her rightful throne from the unworthy Other. They'd felt the burning, righteous anticipation of bringing pain and ruin to the Ponies, to suck the love from their timid, soft bodies and feed bountifully for generations! They'd gathered an unbreakable horde, ready for a swift victory, ready to gorge on the green land of Equestria, to consume! But then they failed. And the love of the Ponies, their promised feast, had become their doom. And now the music was gone. Mother was achingly silent. The Hive was scattered, divided, leaderless. And he was separate! Cut off! The very thought was anathema. The hole in his head contained only his own thoughts now, aimless and tiny. They echoed within the caverns of his own mind, barely enough to even make him feel alive. How pathetic it was to think only for himself. So hideously private. So dark and small. So lonesome. It hurt. He wandered without purpose or direction, skulking through a dank system of caves. The tight spaces and moist rock gave him a modicum of comfort, reminding him of home... but fresh heartache came when he realized these halls that looked so much like the Hive were not the Hive at all. He'd come here after wandering in a forest he didn't remember as anything but a dark haze. The direction he'd come from was meaningless. Where he was going was He wasn't bothered by the local wildlife; they hadn't seen a changeling here before, and didn't know what to make of him. But he didn't notice nor care that he'd been given that small mercy. He couldn't let his mind wander, to hear the awful tinny echo of his own small thoughts within the borderless expanse the Swarm once filled. He needed only to think of the Hive. To focus all of his thoughts upon them, to pour out the love he felt for them and the desolate howling need to be one with them again. Perhaps, if he felt sorrowful enough, his tiny echo of emotion might reach one of his wayward brothers or sisters, and they could begin to reunite. Mother, take me home. Every step he took he repeated the plea, casting out his small net of feelings into the vast sea of the unknown. Only a changeling would sense him, would even have a chance of finding him. And this strange new land was so very big, and there were only so many changelings. Mother, bring me back. Mother, I am lost, find me. Mother, I do not want to be me, I want to be one with you. Hungry. So hungry. Take me home. Skybright crested the rise outside of Dockota and stopped to take in the view. Hyacinth Hill was a well known landmark sitting just outside the Western Mountains, and it provided an excellent view of his little town, as well as the cream white unicorn stallion behind him struggling beneath a pile of surveying equipment. Skybright let the grin on his face shine and reveled in the huffy glare the unicorn sent his way. "Say it," he said. The unicorn blew some of his pale-green mane out of his eye. He continued to huff and puff and started to walk past Skybright, who kept pace, grinning like a loon. "Say it." "No." "Say it!" "Skybright!" "Chalk Tip!" "Ugh! Fine! Maybe it was a little too far for all this junk I've got with me. The least you can do is help out!" Skybright laughed and grabbed one of Chalk Tip's saddlebags, adding it to his own considerable burden. As a pegasus he didn't like having lots of uneven weight on his back, but he didn't feel the pressing need to fly. That could come later, when they were ready to start their survey. The mountains just outside Dockota were supposedly brimming with new caches of gems, and the local Master of Mineralogy had decided to see if the stories of crazy prospectors had any credibility. Skybright loved surveying. It was like being paid to have fun. He loved the outdoors, and he loved the solitude the job often provided. It was a job that wasn't likely to drop in demand, either: Dockota was on the northwestern fringe of the country, and many places remained unexplored. When ponies expanded, they did it slowly and cautiously, enjoying the control that knowing all the variables gave them. So went the need for the surveyors. Skybright liked to think there was an aura of mystery and daring do about ponies like him, who went into uncharted territory and plumbed its depths to better all of ponykind. He hadn't bumped into any adoring fans yet, though. Just Chalk Tip. "How far to the drop site?" Skybright asked. Chalk Tip levitated out the map and looked it over. "Looks like another couple hours of walking. There should be a ravine near here we can skirt around to get deeper into the foothills... then you'll have to fly the sounders up to the top of this here ridge and along the ravine. I'll take the bottom and line the base of this area here." "Right, right," Skybright nodded dismissively. "Take it slow, take it easy, and take it safe." "You have been paying attention," Chalk Tip said, rolling up the map again and giving his friend a bop on the head with it. "I could've sworn you were asleep at, oh, every single briefing we've ever had." "It's talent, my friend," Skybright replied, rotating his ears in all directions. "It's talent." The trip to the ravine was a short one, between Skybright's chatting and Chalk Tip's inveterate ability to zone out and ignore Skybright for long periods of time. Skybright never saw himself as annoying or impolite; it was just his way of making new friends. He could stand to be on his own for a good long while, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the company of other ponies. When he was up in the clouds, letting the sun warm his back and the wind comb his mane, he had plenty of time to think. It was like the words built up inside of him, stocked and prepared to be launched at the first opportunity. He liked to think his spyglass cutie mark wasn't just about having the ability to see well in general: it helped him spy unsuspecting ponies who just didn't know they needed a good conversation to brighten up their day. Sometimes, though, just sometimes he suspected that he laid it on a little thick, and on those days he was glad to have a friend like Chalk Tip, who was about as longsuffering as it was possible for a pony to get. They perched atop the edge of a rise and looked down at the ravine the prospector had claimed to find the nest of geodes and gems in, Skybright talking and preparing for his flight while Chalk Tip calmly fastened the sounders to his harnesses. The pegasus enjoyed the way his voice echoed off the rocks and boulders that surrounded them. This area was barren of plant life save for moss, and utterly desolate compared to the lush forest that ran right up to these foothills. "... So then I tell her, 'I must've flown so high I found Elysium, because you definitely look like an angel.'" "Uh huh," Chalk Tip droned, tightening all the straps at once with a yank of magic. "She didn't really take it the way I thought she would though." "You don't say." "Does it count as a reaction if they throw a cloud at your face?" "Straps are set." "At least I got her name. Diamond Beach... that's a pretty name, isn't it?" "You remember the guidelines for spacing, right?" "Sure, sure. Plant one at every hundred foot interval... no further up than halfway up the strata, and continue on to that ridge." "Right. I'll be right here keeping watch. I send up a flare, you know what to do." "Of course! Come on Chalk, I wouldn't leave ya hanging. Oh, uh... those Guard reports are recent, right?" "Just a few hours old. It's been a week since the changelings attacked Canterlot, and things haven't gotten any worse out here as far as monsters are concerned. Biggest thing they spotted was a bear, and that was miles north." "They haven't gotten better either." "Then let's get this over with. We still have that flat area in B26 and the ridge to the north to do." They gave each other a hoof-bump, and Skybright took to the air and dipped down into the large ravine cut between the rocks. It was a wide, rubble-filled place, dropping thirty feet down and fifty across with just a small trickle of water running through it. Earlier in the year spring run-off turned that bubbling stream into a gushing river that covered most of the bottom. That inexorable erosion had supposedly helped the solo prospectors find their haul of loot. Skybright reached over his shoulder and pulled out a sounder from the bundle attached to him, jabbing it into the rock halfway down the side. They were simple mechanisms made of brass, forged into the shape of a giant pin. The needle he jabbed into the earth, made easier by an enchantment that made the tip incredibly hot and incredibly sharp upon contact. Then through means beyond his understanding and above his pay grade, magical sensors inside cast intangible feelers into the rock, recording everything a pony needed to know about its composition. The bulbous head was where the majority of the fine-tuned instruments resided, and they had the ability to cast out a signal when a deposit had been found, which unicorns then used to help with their reports. Chalk Tip often described receiving the signals as having somepony 'talk into your horn,' which was unicorn-speak for 'I have no idea how to explain it except in weird metaphors even I don’t understand.' Whatever kind of signal this thing gave off, it was comprehensible to the unicorns and invaluable for the transfer of information about potential dig sites. Skybright didn't even want to know the details. He just knew it was much easier to stab the pointy thing into the rock and move on, letting the big know-it-alls handle it from there. One after the other, the probes slid into the rock. It was monotonous work, but Skybright knew how important it was. He'd been keeping an eye on the rocks around here on the way in; some of them just looked like they were perfect to start cracking into. Most of the rocks around here were volcanic, making them prime candidates, and somehow the ponies were the first to pick up on its potential value. He was surprised Diamond Dogs or even Dragons hadn't already moved in here. Maybe it had something to do with the remote location, or its proximity to ponies. At least the old volcanoes were long extinct... according to some of the local folklore, it had been a Dragon breeding ground in ages past, when the lava still flowed hot and thick. When he finished with the strata survey, he dropped to the ground and started plunging more sounders in, taking his time as he walked along the bottom of the ravine, enjoying the crunch and crackle of rocks underhoof. It was times like this he could enjoy the peace of the great outdoors, listen to the bubbling of the stream, the distant call of birds. Just for kicks he yelled up into the ravine to hear his echo. "Celestia's got a giant flank!" He giggled to himself as he planted another sounder, and when he looked up again for another shout, he saw Chalk Tip looking over the edge. "What'd you say?!" "Oh, uh, nothing!" Skybright called back, sheepishly going back to work. Maybe if he stared hard enough at the ground he could convince Chalk Tip he hadn't been yelling nonsense at the top of his lungs. "Well hurry it up! We don't have all day here, pal! I'd like to eat lunch at a reasonable hour!" Skybright grumbled as he flew to the next interval, jabbing the sounder in with a bit too much force. "Yeah, and I'd like to be the Duke. Like that'll ever..." The sight of a large crack in the face of the ravine wall. It was roughly triangular and jagged; clearly a fissure caused by the rock shifting over millenia, as opposed to water erosion. He looked up at the lip of the ravine. Chalk Tip had gone, probably scouting out the rest of the area. He looked back at the fissure. It was big enough for a pony to fit inside. Maybe, if he could squeeze through the entrance, he could get a sounder nice and deep into the rock. A nice deep sounding would provide information far more conclusive than a simple surface scan, which went deep enough, but even he knew that this job was just the first of several steps in making a decision. But it could be dangerous... something could live in there. A young quarray eel, maybe. It was deep down and far enough back a lazy Guard patrol wouldn't even spot it, let alone swoop down to investigate. He should at least let his partner know. "Hey Chalk! Chalk Tip!" he shouted up. "I got a little cave thingy here!" A few moments later, Chalk Tip poked his head over the lip of the ravine again. "Say what? A cave?" "Yeah! I'm gonna check it out!" "Skybright, we don't have time for that!" "But I could get a really deep sounding! We could cut the work in this sector in half!" "Key word is could, Skybright! Leave it alone! You remember what happened the last time we lost a sounder?" Skybright huffed. That landslide had been in an utterly remote area. The only casualty had been the sounder! But that hadn't stopped the boss from chewing him out over it. "Look, it'll just take a second," he shouted back. "Five minutes! Then we can break for lunch." "Skybright! Skybright, that's not in line with the regulations! Sky!!!" The pegasus ignored his friend and squeezed into the fissure, jiggling his flanks to what few sounders he had left in order. He didn't want them scraping along the walls; there was barely enough room for two ponies to walk abreast in here. He reached back into his saddlebag and pulled out a flashlight, fastening it to his shoulder. With a quick flick of his hoof it poured light down into the tunnel. It was slanted and uncomfortable, but as long and high as it was he could move somewhat freely. Not enough to open his wings to their full span, but... The cave went further back than he thought. He kept walking, keeping the light straight forward, though it didn't go too far into the utter blackness. Could this be some kind of access point to another system further in? He turned and judged the distance; maybe fifty feet in by how small the fissure looked now. He didn't dare go in too far; he might get lost if he started taking any bends and turns. He decided he'd gone far enough and planted his sounder, sticking it firmly in the rock. Then he heard the skittering, unmistakably loud and clear, less than ten feet away. He jumped back with a gasp and twisted awkwardly when he couldn't open his wings for all the bags and harnesses on him. Fear boiled up angrily inside, unstoppable and instinctive. Night terrors that once crawled in the back corners of his mind sprang to the forefront, menacing him with sharp teeth and grasping claws. He didn't care if he was panicking, he knew he heard something, and that something was in the cave in front of him. He tumbled back and cried out as his bundle of sounders caught on a wall, sending him flopping onto his back. He opened his wings but that made things worse; they brushed on the sides of the cave wall and couldn't get any lift, and he felt the weight of all his equipment holding him down, keeping him from flying. A pegasus who couldn't fly, stuck in a tunnel. The very thought sparked an hysterical fire that made him lose control over his own body. He kicked his legs and cried out in unbridled terror, hysterical nonsense words competing with the clatter of falling instruments. The flashlight pointed uselessly at the ceiling. Finally he got his legs under him and kicked out, but as luck had it a sounder got caught cross-wise across the tunnel as he pushed forward with his legs, sending him back onto the hard earth. His teeth clicked as his chin collided painfully with the ground. Something scrabbled noisily on the rocks behind him. He heard a hiss. "Get away, get away!" he screamed uselessly, kicking his hooves in a desperate attempt to defend himself. "Chalk! CHALK!" Something hard and heavy hit him on the back of the head. He didn't feel much pain, just a sharp burst and then a spreading numbness from the back of his skull. The world went dark and dull, the distant noise of the stream outside muted. His own hysterical breathing sounded hollow in his ears. His limbs went slack. Everything suddenly felt so hard to move. His own head felt ten times heavier when he tried to move it. The last thing he felt was something take hold of his bags and begin to drag him deeper into the tunnel, over the cold, uncaring rock. The changeling watched as the Wing-Pony stirred in his bonds, mumbling incoherently. The changeling had taken him further into the tunnels, away from the brightness where his friend might have found both of them. He'd struck the Wing-Pony with just the right amount of force: enough to incapacitate, but not cause lasting harm. That was the idea, at least. He'd just have to see if the Wing-Pony's brains weren't scrambled when he woke up. If not, fine. If so, still fine. He could figure something out. It'd been an unexpected event. Not necessarily a windfall. Not really a bad change to the monotonous wandering, either. But it was something. The changeling had seen a chance and took it, and now he was stuck with the consequences, come what may. He hadn't meant to encounter any Ponies, just noted that there was an exit to the caves, and he might as well take it. Outside he might be able to travel faster, even if he wouldn't be safely confined anymore. He'd been reduced to solid food the last few days, hunting rats and other small, insignificant things. The meat only went so far. The blood wasn't Pony blood. It didn't slake the real hunger inside, the need to devour the energy that flowed from feeling and emotion. They were his true food source. Feelings connected him to the Hive. They gave a changeling focus and were the medium through which Mother gave her orders. Without them, he'd felt his mind slipping, one hoof after the other, into oblivion. He could only stand the endless echo of his own thoughts for so long. But this Wing-Pony had been so full of life and vitality. The fear he'd felt as the changeling ran him down was like a heady drug, sharp and tangy and oh so rich. The base needs and emotions of animals were drops of water to a parched throat. A full-grown Pony was a feast. The changeling felt a rush of excitement as he looked the Wing-Pony over, covered in bags and silly, pointy things. What was he trying to accomplish here, jabbing that giant needle into the ground? Had such silly Ponies really defeated Mother? Trapped in the sticky webbing the changeling secreted the Wing-Pony looked so small. So helpless. So weak. Something like... what was this feeling? A sense of righteousness. Like what he'd felt when Mother made her grand speech about enslaving the Ponies and casting down Equestria. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but somehow seeing this Pony helpless and in pain made him feel better about his own situation. It empowered him, seeing a hated enemy feel just as helpless as he'd felt. Unable to drown out the howling silence due to the Wing-Pony's unconsciousness, the changeling felt his own thoughts return to him. And somehow they made a weird kind of sense, even if they weren't the emotions of the Queen, of Mother. Why should he be the only one to suffer like this? Before, it'd been a matter of food and sustenance. Nothing personal. But he'd been alone and miserable for so long, for no other reason than he'd fallen somewhere and his brethren somewhere else. And this Pony was so happy for no reason at all. He was glad to devour those feelings. The Wing-Pony started, twisting his head around. The changeling watched and waited, not caring how much noise he made. They were far, far back in the tunnels and warrens under the rocky hills. He'd picked up the scent of Diamond Dogs once or twice, but they were old and held signs that they'd only passed through. Larger animals didn't come here either. It was remote. He let the Wing-Pony wake up in silence. He sat impassively as he felt the waves of relief at being alive, then the fear at the Pony's immobility, roll off the Wing-Pony and wash into him, steadying his mind and solidifying his thoughts. It wasn't love he sought or needed right now; he'd take anything he could get. Love was a reward, a carrot at the end of a stick. Reserved for the skilled changelings who could steal another Pony's place and take the love of their family and friends. No, he wouldn't get pure love from this particular Pony. But maybe he could learn enough of his mannerisms and life that he could steal the Wing-Pony's place in Equestria. Maybe gather enough strength to strike out again and finish his journey home, or wherever the Hive had moved on to. "What... what's going on?" the Wing-Pony asked. The changeling stared. He watched the Wing-Pony's eyes roll in their sockets, trying to pierce the gloom. The changeling sent a surge of magic through his horn. It was precious energy he couldn’t waste, but he couldn't see well either in this utter pitch black. Both the changeling's horn and the Wing-Pony's bindings glowed, making him gasp in fright. His darting eyes fell on the changeling. "Ahh! Ahhhh!" the Wing-Pony yelled. "Ahhh! What are you! Where am I! What's going on? Let me go!" "Quiet," the changeling snapped. It felt strange to hear his own voice. Not just because he'd been silent for so long on his own, but because it wasn't backed up by the thrumming noise of a thousand other voices. It sounded sibilant and spiteful. Weak. Too weak. "Quiet," he said again. "You can't move." He hated having to speak for himself. It was a step further than thinking and feeling for himself. His disconnect from the Swarm became that much more acute. "You are my prisoner. You are not getting away." "Why did you do this? Are you a changeling? I saw the reports! You're a changeling, aren't you?" "Yes!" the changeling hissed. His wings fluttered and buzzed irritably. "I am a changeling! And you are my captive! Now be quiet!" The Wing-Pony went quiet. Uncomfortable silence reigned for some time, how long, the changeling didn't know or care. He had to watch this pony. Observe him. Get his little tics and inflections down pat. This was his one ticket out of here. "Are... are you gonna..." the Wing-Pony began again, and trailed off, stifling a sniffle. "You know...? I, I heard about the attack on Canterlot. I thought you were all beaten." "We were," the changeling growled. "But we will return! We are stronger than you!" The Wing-Pony shuffled his rear hooves on the ground. "My, my name is Skybright." The changeling said nothing. Skybright's mind tumbled on, heedless of the fear and the ache in his head. His stomach felt like it was turning over, and he was certain if he'd had lunch he'd be throwing it up by now. He was scared witless and in pain and alone, and he didn't know if he was going to die or not. He did the only thing he could do: talk. It distracted him from the throbbing in his head and the tears building in the corners of his eyes. "I don't know what you want with me. I've heard stories, so I guess... you're gonna try to suck out my emotions or something. Take my place. Well it won't work! It definitely won't. My friends know who I am. You're not getting away with this. We beat you at Canterlot and you're not gonna beat us here!" "Be quiet!" the changeling yelled, chittering angrily. "You are a Pony! I will talk and you will listen!" Skybright clamped his mouth shut, but he could already feel the words bubbling up behind his teeth. He couldn't help it. Nervousness and fear were taking their toll. He still didn't quite grasp the enormity of his situation, he was just saying things, and this changeling was really the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen apart from the burned pastries Chalk Tip tried baking once- "Stop that!" the changeling barked, beginning to pace. "Stop doing that!" "Doing what?" Skybright asked. His mind raced as he went through a myriad of feelings, ranging from anger to excitement to fear and back around again. He couldn't process what was happening and- "I said stop it!" the changeling almost screeched, holding his head in his hooves. "Stop stop stop! Stop talking! Stop thinking! I... I can't handle it all!" Skybright blinked as his thoughts came to a screeching halt. "You... can you read my mind?" The changeling clacked his jaws together. "I... feel it," he growled. "I taste everything in that stupid Pony head of yours. You feel so many things at once. It's repulsive! I will eat your feelings, yes," he said. "I will eat and grow strong and you will die! And then I will go among you Ponies and continue to eat until I can find my way home!" Skybright, for whatever reason, felt his ears perk at the mention of home more than anything else. This changeling had diabolical plans, yes, but... maybe if he kept him talking, kept him distracted with, well, feeling, then he might be able to figure a way out of this. He swallowed the icy dagger of fear that had been creeping up his throat and spoke again instead. "You... you're lost?" he wondered. The changeling hissed. "No more talking, Wing-Pony! You will shut up now! I will take you further into the caves until I can stash you somewhere safe. Then we will talk. You will tell me everything. And I will take your life as well as your feelings." He went over to Skybright's side and opened his jaws. Those big fangs made him want to shy away, but the changeling's sharp teeth were used on the gooey bindings that had so far kept him trapped against the stone wall of the cave. They carved through the bindings like bread. Skybright watched the chunks disappear back down the changeling's throat and struggled not to retch. Before he could think to make a break for it, more flowed out from between the changeling's teeth, fastening his wings and forelegs securely against his sides. He fell away from the wall still firmly tied together, and then the changeling pushed his head under Skybright and heaved the pegasus onto his back. The changeling's skin was dark and chitinous and disturbingly cool, having none of the pleasing warmth of another pony. "We go," the changeling intoned, and Skybright was left to whimper as he was pulled further into the shadows, away from everything he'd ever known.