//------------------------------// // 20: Onwards to mystery. // Story: An Exercise In Management // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// “Glad you made it, Eight.” Eight’s muscles tense up as she’s about to spring forward. I feel her intention as our minds link up again. She’s going to take the Mayor hostage and then we negotiate our escape. -Freeze!- Again? Eight blinks, now completely motionless. I can sense the shock running through her as well as both Ten and Three. Taking a long breath, at last I can feel my shaky legs move again. “This is Eight, the one sitting on miss Mayor’s wife is Three, and the changeling clutching his chest and quietly weeping is Ten.” A mare from the crowd carefully walks over to Eight who only stares at her. “You know… you’re still better than Truncheon even when you look like this,” she gently touches Eight’s neck. “Umm, what’s going on?” I ask, “I was expecting torches and pitchforks, but not exactly… like this. First, how did you find out something was off?” The Mayor clears his throat. “When Truncheon and Slipstream became polite, friendly, and competent.” His statement is followed by group snickering. “What?” “You see, the two weren’t exactly the honorable type. They thought this was a cushy, out of the way job where they could push civilians around without doing too much. Whenever there was real trouble, they either ran away with an excuse of calling reinforcements while we had to form a militia, or when the trouble was so minor they were enough to stop it they milked it forever.” “They extorted me!” calls out a stallion from the back, “Saying that I had to pay for extra protection. With daily donuts!” “Truncheon groped me repeatedly when I was serving guests. One evening he caught me in the alley behind the bar as I was leaving, and... ” sniffles the waitress who touched Eight, "And whom can you talk to when they're the police...?" “They left me to fight a pack of swamp rats alone,” a different stallion with a wooden foreleg steps forward, “I got bitten and lost a leg.” The Mayor gives us a bitter smile. “There are many more stories like that. Almost everypony here has some… experience with the two. Slipstream was lazy and incompetent foul-mouth, and Truncheon was… borderline criminal. However, there was one thing they were great at, and that was defending their position in front of an inspection. No matter what, I wasn’t able to get rid of them for the past few years.” “I knew… the goody-goody approach of doing things well and being quiet was dumb...” Ten stops groaning, slowly picking himself up. “Hey, we’re the good guys in this one!” proclaims Three, hopping off of his pegasus carrier and walking over to me. Nopony stops him. “Which brings us to my main concern,” the Mayor’s tone goes darker, “How did you get here and what did you intend to do in Wet Soil. All we know is that your kind attacked Canterlot, and that we discovered one of you in a crater inside the swamp.” “Look-” Ten interrupts me. I feel a flicker of a message inside my head saying - trust me, I’m an infiltrator. “The changeling you found is... gone. I brought you proof. Out of us four, only I was in Canterlot for the invasion-” Ponies gasp and grip their weapons tighter. Ten continues: “None of you will believe this, but the invasion was a necessity. Most of us died just flying to Canterlot. Trust me when I say that while you saw one of us near-death, there is…” Ten bares his fangs, growling to himself, “a long trail of corpses from our hive to your capital city. We were starving, you were food. That’s all there is to it, at least from my point of view. I’m sure the Queen had some other reason, but I can easily speak for the vast majority of changelings when I say that was it.” “Did you… eat Truncheon and Slipstream?” “We fed on them a little, yes,” I admit, “but we got most from you. Some of you seemed to really like Eight.” “Yeah! He- she’s awesome,” cheers a young stallion in the back, “Can she teach me to fight like she did at the bar?” “...kinda hot too. In a strange way.” I heard the following whisper, and judging by the Mayor’s frozen expression, so did he. “What do you mean by ‘got most from us’? Did you… kill somepony?” “What? NO! What would be the point in that?” I scowl at the Mayor. “What do you mean? Didn’t you say you ate us?” We stare at each other in mutual confusion, until at least one of us realizes the problem. “Our feeding on you isn’t fatal by any means, unless we extremely overdo it,” explains Eight, still cautiously watching the group, “If we forcibly drain you you might feel weak for a day or two, but that’s about it. Real Truncheon and Slipstream are cocooned in the cellar.” “...cocconed...” “...I felt a little cold afterwards...” “...I’d let her drain me any day...” Many more whispers from the group meld into one until somepony says what clearly is on everypony’s mind. “Can you keep them down there a bit longer?” “What do you mean?” asks Ten, currently casually standing by the broken window. The Mayor clears his throat. “Exactly what he said. I don’t know much about your feeding habits, but if they’re not fatal or cause crippling injuries, I doubt they’d be worse than what Truncheon and Slipstream have caused here,” he looks at Eight, “And we could definitely use a real police force.” “Hey, boss, that’s so cool!” Three jumps into the air, “Can we? Can we? Can we? I’ve never been this full, and I don’t mind carrying stacks of paper at the station.” “Well...” I mumble. Why not? More importantly, why isn’t hive pile screaming at me right now? “No,” says Eight firmly, “I heavily advise against that, my King.” “No,” agrees Ten, “That’s a dumb idea.” I understand Ten’s position. After all, he wants to take out the Mayor, bang his wife, and then leave, but why Eight? “Eight?” “With all due respect, there are good reasons why all previous attempts at mass integration failed,” she turns her head from side to side to encompass the entire small crowd, “Right now we’re useful, but as soon as we aren’t we’ll be seen as monsters again. When the full testimonies of those who were in Canterlot during the invasion get printed in the newspapers, there won’t be any love or affection to eat here, and we’ll have to act like predators again. It always ends that way. We must take what we can get right now, not rely on some faint hope for the future-” That’s exactly what the hive pile would say. WE KNOW WHAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT! UNLIKE YOU, SHE IS OLD ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND. Eight shakes her head. “-You might be scared of us, but WE aren’t the problem as far as cooperation goes, at least not most of us.” “We won’t get anywhere cooperation-wise if you disappear. You are the only non-hostile changelings we ponies know about,” the Mayor objects. “And how do you know everything that’s happened since we took our place in this town isn’t a ploy to prepare the ground for mass enslavement or something?” “...I’d let her enslave me...” comes from the back, “...still less nagging than my ex-wife...” “Alright, who said that?” Eight gives the one slowly rising foreleg a burning glare, “Tonight, after my shift, if we’re still in town. You, your place, and me in my real form. Let’s see if you can get it up at all,” she grins, careful to show as much teeth as possible, “I could use a proper meal.” “Ehm,” the Mayor’s stare towards the guilty stallion shuffling out into the hallway is no less searing, “We aren’t kicking you out. As for your possible grand enslavement plan… we’re cautiously optimistic. There was no reason for you to actually help us keep the town safe if you just wanted food. Speaking of which, how exactly do you really feed? You said you drain us, but how?” “Ten?” Eight nods to the changeling innocently clearing the shards of broken glass from the window frame, “Stop trying to get out while we’re busy talking.” “What? Me getting out and leaving you here? Noooo…” he withers under Eight’s gaze, “Right, feeding. The common practice is to replace somepony you love, pump you full of venom, then feast on their love while you live their life and force them do what you want. When their love becomes too weak, alter everypony’s memories and get out. Repeat.” “...yep, still better than my ex...” “See?” Eight tilts her head, looking at the Mayor, “You cannot trust us. I mean, you can trust US, because our cards are on the table, but you can’t trust us as changelings. Even if we EARN our love by protecting and helping you, there will always be voices stirring up problems, and you ponies are too easy to influence. After all, you still hate even other ponies sometimes straight up because of their race. How do you think it would be with US? Eventually… it always ends the same,” she sighs, looking down at the carpet for a moment, “In an angry mob. Take it any way you want, but I agree with what our queen wanted to do. I don’t agree with the way she did it, but I understand her point of view. Every older changeling does,” she looks at me, “If we go down the path you want, you’ll learn the hard way as well.” “Can you sit down, miss Eight?” asks the waitress mare, stepping up again. Eight glances my way, I nod, and she sits down on the spot. The mare hugs her. One hesitant moment later, she’s not the only one. The farmer stallion she drained in the cellar embraces her as well, Three joins in… I look at Ten currently pulling himself out through the window. -Down.- I feel the command myself, and Ten climbs back without a word and sits down. A mare I recognize as Mayor’s receptionist Inkwell sits down by him. “You were posing as Slipstream, right?” Ten nods. “Thanks,” she gives him a peck on the cheek. Uhh, did I miss something? The Mayor’s wife observes Eight as the fluffy pile hugging her slowly disperses. “You look different than the others,” she looks at Eight’s slightly distended belly, “And after I heard what you did at the bar and with the swamp crawlers… you don’t feel fat to me.” Eight rubs her underbelly, soft smile on her muzzle. “I’m full of eggs, courtesy of the boss here,” she winks at me, then at somepony in the back, “But I’m still up for tonight, you… pony.” “WAY TO GO!” someone cheers again, “Both of you, I mean.” “Ehm… thanks?” I mutter. “That, however, brings us back to our main concern. What are you planning to do?” asks the pegasus. “Good question, Hun,” the Mayor nods, “What now?” I sigh. Staying here would solve so many things, but with hive pile connected directly to me, the time limit Eight thinks I’m on, and my promise to Ten, I think I need to take their decision. “I… we have to leave. Eight was right. We still need to find out what happened to others from Canterlot. If everyone ended up like T- the changeling who landed in the swamp, we must help whomever we can. I don’t know, maybe we might find a place as welcoming as this town. If it isn’t a big problem, though, then I’d like to stay here until Eight bears her clutch or whatever is supposed to happen. I’m not an expert.” The Mayor nods. “Then you’re free to keep posing as Slipstream, Glowstick, Truncheon, and… I don’t think I’ve noticed any newcomer which would fit you,” he looks at me. “I… can’t shapeshift. I don’t know why. I’ve been sleeping in this house and getting my info from Eight and Ten all this time.” “Really?” his wife interrupts, circling around me, “That’s... interesting.” “The word you were looking for is irritating,” I correct her. She chuckles. “I doubt that’s something we can help with,” says the Mayor, “Anyway, as I said. You’re free to stay as long as you need to. Most ponies you’ve met are here and have seen your real forms, and some others who had bad experiences with our police duo are suspicious too. We’ll keep it secret as long as we can, but I have no doubts Royal Guards are now travelling around Equestria, looking for stragglers from Canterlot,” a draft ruffles his mane, “I’ll have somepony trustworthy sent to fix that window. I don’t know how familiar with pony culture you are, but entrances like miss Eight did earlier are frowned upon.” “My ribs agree,” Ten scowls, rubbing his barrel. The mare sitting by his side whispers: “...there’s no reason why only Eight’s evening has to be interesting...” “EHM,” the Mayor’s wife clears her throat loudly, “With everything settled, we should leave. A crowd like this isn’t exactly the best way to keep a secret.” On her suggestion, the ponies slowly clear out. Amusingly, nopony bothers asking further about real Truncheon and Slipstream. The pegasus is the last pony to stay. She leans to my ear and whispers: “...sloppy infiltration, trashy underlings, but it worked out. I really thought they would just torch the house and barricade the doors. All things considered, you’ve left a mess for me to clean up, but there’s a good side to it as well...” “Wha- who-?” I blink as she leaves. “Who are y-” Eight feels my shock, and reacts on instinct, rushing at the pegasus. -Do not follow me!- We all freeze, only able to breathe until we hear the door click. When we’re alone again, Eight asks: “Should I tail her?” I shake my head. “I doubt we can, and she seemed on our side anyway.” “That can easily change.” “Any idea who she is?” Eight shakes her head. “I didn’t feel anything from her. Ten?” He shrugs. “Who, the pegasus mare? No clue. I couldn’t feel anything from her either. What’s wrong?” “Three?” I grasp for straws. “When she hugged me I felt better immediately!” I sigh. “Alright, I guess here’s the plan then. We do what we’ve been doing until now. We’re careful about any Royal Guards, and when Eight’s lays her eggs we get what love we can and move out. In the meantime, I’m open to suggestions as to WHERE exactly we go from here.” “As you wish, my glorious King, mind-breaker, and breeder.” “Yes, boss.” “Yeah yeah leaving or something. Now... the mare’s a commoner, but I’m a little rusty anyway...”