//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Deadly Decisions // Story: Sentry at the Charge // by Tumbleweed //------------------------------// Pandemonium broke out. Turns out, shouting 'poison!' at a banquet is much akin to yelling 'fire!' in a movie theater. Which, I should note, is something I have done (for entirely justified reasons), but I digress. “Zut alors!” Gnollpoleon dropped his wineglass, and then flipped the table in my direction. He literally barked orders to his goons, and the three of them started tearing across the banquet hall, sowing chaos in their wake. Glassware shattered, furniture splintered, and more than a few changelings wound up on the recieving end of gnollish claws and teeth. Not that I was in any position to do anything about it. I helplessly cradled Carrot Top as she slowly turned green. It was baffling to see Special Agent Golden Harvest incapacitated-- I'd taken her invincibility as a universal constant. “Nonononono.” I babbled, as if it could somehow help. “Sentry.” Carrot Top wheezed, painfully. “What? What is it?” I said, perhaps too quickly. “What do I do?!” She was the one who'd actually read the file on the Changeling Kingdom-- I could only hope there was some sort of contingency plan somewhere in there. “Listen.” “I'm listening.” I blinked tears from my eyes (no doubt from the acrid smell of poisoned wine). “Sentry.” Carrot Top's voice grew hoarser, weaker. She reached up with one weak hoof, cupping my cheek. “I--” “Yes?” “I--” “Go on, you can say it--” “I'm going to--” And then she threw up. Gorb, I soon realized, had about the same smell and consistency going out as it did going in. Carrot Top heaved and hacked, depositing her stomach's contents on the floor (and on my hooves). She panted, dry-retching a few more times before she collapsed against me, unconscious. I thought the worst for a moment, until I felt the pulse of her heartbeat against my chest. I blinked and sniffled, clutching Carrot Top closer to me for lack of anything better to do. A fresh commotion rose up from the other end of the hall. The first thing I saw was Gnollpoleon and his goons stumbling over their own feet in panicked retreat. A host of ponies thundered behind them with hooves stomping and wings flared. No less than Princess Twilight Sparkle led the charge, flanked by Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. A dozen other ponies followed them-- Captain Shining Armor, Princess Cadance, a couple of Princess Sparkle's friends-- --and me. For a moment I thought I was having some sort of out of body experience, watching myself charge across the dining hall, screaming bloody murder the whole while. Of course, the fact that 'I' was running into danger rather than away from it was the biggest clue that something was amiss. The gnolls ran howling into the night-- the herd of charging, stamping ponies skidded to a halt at the door, letting them flee. 'Princess Twilight's' disguise flickered away in a flash of green flame, revealing King Thorax's green carapace and ridiculous antlers. The other changelings followed suit, and started chittering and muttering amongst themselves. King Thorax gave a few orders, and the other changelings soon started buzzing about to start cleaning things up and tending to the wounded. “Lieutenant.” Thorax said as he walked up to me. “Are you alright?” “I'm fine.” I said, not taking my eyes off the unconscious mare curled against me. “She's not.” “How is she?” I hovered, literally, around the changeling that called himself (herself?) a doctor. I didn't let Carrot Top out of my sight, in fear that the changelings would break out the out the leeches and bone saws. Thankfully, the changeling stuck to non-invasive observations as Carrot Top rested fitfully in the hive's impromptu infirmary. King Thorax stood near the door, watching with a wide-eyed, helpless look. “Stable.” The doctor said, and I exhaled a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. “She drank a lot of gorb, which wound up lining her stomach. It slowed the effect of the poisoned wine. But--” “But?” I cringed. There was always a but. “She might not have been poisoned as much, but your friend was still poisoned. She could be in a coma for a long time ... perhaps even permanently. We'll do everything we can, but the only way we can be sure to wake her up is to get the antidote from Gnollpoleon himself.” “Right then.” I nodded, uncharacteristically resolute. I'd long since gotten used to having my own hide on the line, and knew how to react accordingly. However, being responsible for someone else's life was a different matter entirely. “We just find Gnollpoleon, and stomp the answers out of him.” “We know where Gnollpoleon is-- he's camped with his, uh, horde not too far from here.” “Perfect.” I said, already formulating a plan-- one that had me on the other end of a screaming horde of changelings, for a change of pace. “Give me a battalion-- no, a regiment, of your best troops, and we'll drag Gnollopoleon back here to answer for what he's done. We can fly, and gnolls can't. It'll be an easy fight.” “Uh. About that.” King Thorax said. “We ... we can't fight them.” “Posh. Gnolls may look mean, but I've faced enough of your bugs to know they can be just as nasty when they want to be.” Thorax winced. “That's it, Lieutenant. We're not the changelings we used to be-- we're peaceful now. We have to be. I'm afraid if we start fighting again, we'll ... we'll go back to the way we were. Cruel. Hungry. Desperate. As the new leader of the Hive, I can't let that happen.” “You can't be serious.” “I'm afraid so.” “But you routed Gnollpoleon at the banquet!” “We didn't fight-- we only scared them by wearing the scariest faces we could think of.” Including mine, I realized. Thorax went on. “And even then, just trying to scare Gnollpoleon was enough to ... remind us of the old ways. You don't know how it feels, Sentry, to be tempted into just ... giving in, into becoming something terrible.” “You know what?” I looked at Carrot Top, curled up and vulnerable on the bed, and then back to King Thorax. Frustration bloomed into rage, and I found myself glaring up at the be-antlered Changeling King. “You're right, I don't know what it is to 'give in' and become something terrible, because I'm already there. I've made something of a career out of killing changelings, and so help me, if anything-- anything happens to that mare, I will not rest until I see this hive, and everything in it, razed to the ground. Do I make myself clear?” “I-- er, yes.” Thorax stammered. He backpedaled until he had his back against the wall, at which point I jabbed an accusatory hoof into his chitinous chest for good measure. “Good.” I said. “Now, if you're not going to help, get out of my way.” King Thorax obliged, and I stormed out into the hallway. It was at that point I realized I had no actual idea of what to do next. It was bad enough that Carrot Top was out of comission, but that I'd probably just caused an international incident didn't help much either. Of course, if what King Thorax said about the changelings new found pacifism was true, that just meant I could do whatever I want, didn't it? Until, of course, Thorax and the rest of the changelings got fed up with my bullying at which point they'd turn into a ravening horde of monsters again and it'd be all my fault. I'd just have to be somewhere else when that happened. “Lieutenant!” A pinkish-colored pegasus pony with a military-grade haircut galloped down the hall, and snapped off a smart salute. “The crew is ready and awaiting your orders, sir!” “Crew?” “The airship, sir!” The pegasus barked. “In case of emergency, the crew falls under your command, as per Celestia's orders in the dossier which I am sure you've already read. Sir!” “Er, yes. That.” I said. “Er, at ease.” I waved a hoof, and the pegasus relaxed-- if only slightly. “How quickly can we get back to Equestria?” “A day and a half at full speed, sir.” “Right.” I looked over my shoulder, back towards the infirmary. “Can you make room for a, uh ... patient?” The pegasus winced, in a classic expression of somepony forced to tell their superior bad news. “That ... might not be advisable, sir. I'm not a doctor-- but, given your, uh ... best friend's condition, travel could do her more harm than good.” “Damn.” I rubbed at my eyes. “How many crewponies are on the ship, anyway?” “Seven of us including the cook, sir.” “Not enough to make a difference.” I said. “Sir?” “You said the airship was ready to fly, right?” “Just give the order, and we're off.” “Fine. It's given. Get to Equestria, and tell Princess Celestia what's going on here.” “Yes sir!” the pegasus saluted again. “Is there anything you need to bring aboard before we go? We didn't have the chance to re-load those crates you marked 'provisions.'” “That won't be necessary.” I pulled in a deep breath. “I'm staying.” As the airship lifted off, it was all I could do not to fly up to it and hop aboard at the last moment. I would've loved to beat a hasty retreat and leave the changelings to their gnoll problem (no business of mine, after all), but there was no way I could leave without Carrot Top. If word got out that the vaunted Flash Sentry, Hero of Equestria, abandoned a distressed damsel, then my entire reputation would be ruined. On top of that, I had the sneaking suspicion Fancy Pants would say something along the lines of “once more unto the breach, Sentry!” and send me right back, just in time for a proper gnoll invasion or something equally awful. I watched the airship disappear into a bank of clouds-- and I got an idea. The sun had long since set, making things a bit easier for me. I took to the sky, and gathered a small clump of clouds around me, leaving just enough room to peer out of. It was an old trick I'd picked up as a lad at flight academy-- quite useful for sneaking into the girl's dormitory. Which, I should note, I only did on invitation. Which, I should also note, was quite often, given that I was a dashingly handsome fellow even in my youth. But I digress. In any case, the handful of gnolls on watch were far less vigilant than my old headmaster, Mr. Bitterswitch. I silently glided over the camp-- there must have been hundreds, potentially thousands of gnolls gathered on that hill, arrayed out in a haphazard sprawl of tents and campfires. A fresh column of gnolls streamed in from the south, carrying pikes and singing some marching song about whips and ways or somesuch. It was damnably catchy, too-- all these years later I can't remember the exact words, but I find myself humming the tune from time to time. I steered clear of the marching gnolls, and circled around the camp. While I should have been trembling to the point of uselessness, I was able to keep myself in working condition simply by thinking about how much worse things would be if I didn't creep into a camp swarming with carnivorous hyena-creatures. And as much as I'd love to have someone (or, well, several someones) to hide behind, I knew it was easier for a single pony to sneak in undetected than a whole platoon's worth. Approaching from above helped-- like most terrestrial creatures, the gnolls didn't think to look up, allowing me to coast silently over their heads. The largest, most opulent tent in the camp was at the center-- and sure enough, I saw Gnollpoleon exit his tent, strolling down to review the new arrivals. Perfect. I took my cloud down lower, close enough to put my hooves on the canvas of Gnollpoleon's tent. I pulled a small knife from my saddlebags and used it to cut a Flash-sized hole in the roof. I left the cloud there to conceal the rent in the fabric, and slipped inside. Between the plush furniture, the fancy rugs, and the well-stocked liquor cabinet (filled with travel-sized bottles, of course), Gnollpoleon's tent was bigger and more luxurious than most apartments I've lived in. The only nod to military matters was the large table in the center, piled high with maps and reports. I ransacked Gnollpoleon's quarters as quietly as I could, searching for the antidote. I spent several fruitless minutes slashing open pillows and upending furniture-- that is, until Gnollpoleon walked back in. “Monsieur Sentry!” Gnollpoleon just beamed. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” I must've reached for the knife, or flared my wings, as Gnollpoleon held up one hand in a regal, 'please don't,' kind of gesture. “I have to give the word, and the guards posted outside shall entrez and rend you limb from limb.” “I've faced worse odds.” I wasn't bragging, either-- it was just a depressing statement of fact. “And I'm willing to bet I'm fast enough to take you down before your guards can do the same to me.” “Perhaps. But I am not a gambler. If you had come here to kill me, I would hope a soldier such as yourself would have done a better job of it. And frankly, either of us killing the other at this moment would serve neither of our goals. So relax, Monsieur-- I have no quarrel with you.” He trundled over to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a brandy. “Would you like a drink?” “Considering what happened last time, I'll pass.” I growled. “Ah, yes. The poison.” Gnollpoleon shrugged, and drank a shot of brandy. “If it is any consolation, it was not meant for you, nor your ... special friend. I only wanted to kill King Thorax. You see, the changelings, they do not know how to think for themselves. Without their monarch, they shall be easy pickings for my grande armée.” Gnollpoleon gestured to the table full of maps. “To be frank, I don't give a damn.” “Oh-ho-ho! Don't you know why I am telling you this, Monsieur Sentry?” “It's pretty obvious I don't.” “ It is because we are much alike, you and I.” “I wouldn't go that far.” I said. “I'm taller, for one.” “Oh-ho-ho! Do not be so shallow, Monsieur, and think.” Gnollpoleon tapped his temple with one claw. “We are both soldiers-- officers, no less. We both hate les changelings. And, most importantly, we are both driven by our passions. Moi, for la guerre-- and you, for les amour.” “What are you talking about?” “Monsieur Sentry, you are here for this, are you not?” Gnollpoleon reached into a pocket, and pulled out a glass vial of a faintly glowing blue liquid. “This is the antidote for the poison-- it shall restore your filly to perfect health.” I thought of the burly guards outside, and stopped myself from lunging across the tent. “Right then, just fork it over and I wont' have to beat you senseless.” “Ah, but this elixir is made from some very rare, very expensive ingredients. I cannot just hand it over without some sort of ... compensation. You see, I have a favor to ask of you, Monsieur Sentry. It shall be easy, I promise.” “A favor.” I narrowed my eyes. “All you have to do is open a door in the hive, and allow my gnolls inside.” Gnollpoleon kicked a chair back upright and plopped down into it. “If you were able to infiltrate my sanctum so easily, sneaking through the Hive should not be nearly as difficult, non?” “You really expect me to help you after you poisoned the mare I--” I reeled my words in before I gave anything away. “--came here with?” I added on, if weakly. “I have the I have heard the stories, Monsieur Sentry. You have fought the changelings on many occasions-- and you know, deep in your heart, that they are still your enemies, no matter how 'nice' they may claim to be. So what do you care what happens to them?” “So I let your gnolls into the Hive, and you give me the antidote?” “Exactement.” “And Carrot Top and I get free passage back to Equestria.” “But of course! My gnolls shall allow you to leave at your leisure. Perhaps even with a minor flesh wound or two, to make it look like you made a properly heroic retreat, hm? Why, by the time you return to Equestria with the terrible news, they'll declare you a hero all over again. Just another feather in your proverbial cap, hm? One door, Monsieur Sentry-- all you have to do is open one door, and you will never have to worry about les changelings again.” “Alright, Gnollpoleon.” I stepped forward, and held out a hoof. “You've got yourself a deal.”