“Are you enjoying this?” asks Ten before entering the town hall, “I mean, spying on me. I’m not gonna betray you since you’re my best bet of getting out of here and into Canterlot.”
”I’m killing time, Ten, and observing how ponies react to us. I can’t simply walk out in the open, no matter what the Mayor said, and Eight is busy in the cellar.”
“That’s where you should be then- HI, Inkwell!” Ten stop muttering, lets the door close behind him, and approaches the momentarily blushing receptionist.
“Uh, hello Slipstream, Glowstick. Reports again? Has it been another week?”
“Hello, miss Inkwell,” Three waves at her, careful not to drop the filled binder on his back.
Inkwell’s ears splay back, her hooves tapping a nervous melody on her work desk.
“Does it mean… that you’re free tonight?”
“I wanted to go buy some more crayons with miss-” Ten shoves his fetlock into Three’s mouth, and says in a low tone:
“I’m a horribly busy… pony, and I could use a good receptionist to help me arrange my time better,” he leans in to Inkwell, “Hey, Three, go give the Mayor the reports. I’m gonna have a short chat with Inkwell here about… evening scheduling lessons.”
“Okay, Ten,” he trots off upstairs.
By now, Inkwell is positively melting under Slipstream’s breath tickling her muzzle.
“Do we have to wait until the evening?” she breathes out slowly.
“What’s in that closet behind you?” Ten nods to the side hallway leading deeper into the building.
“Copying room.”
“Soundproof?”
“Very!” Inkwell grabs a notice reading ‘5 minute break’, and tosses it carelessly on her desk.
”Have fun, Ten.”
I grin to myself, and jump into Three’s head.
It’s shockingly easy by now. I get the feeling that if I focused a bit more I could speak to both of them at the same time.
Humming a quiet tune, the drone knocks on the Mayor’s door.
“Come in!”
As Three enters, I realize this might actually be the first time I don’t see Hun by the pony’s side.
“Good evening, Glowstick.”
“Evening, mister Mayor. I’ve got the weekly reports from Ten and Eight here. Ten is busy downstairs with miss Inkwell, something about copying schedules or… I’m not sure, to be honest,” he drops the binder on the Mayor’s desk, “Here you go! How’s miss Hun?”
“Uhh, who?”
“Your mare… pony-”
”The changeling who wrapped him around her hoof.”
“-the chan- am I supposed to say that, boss?-”
”Say wife.”
“-wife. Thanks, boss.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Glowstick. Literally, it sounds as if you’re talking to two ponies and yourself at once.”
“Sorry, mister Mayor. The boss is in my head, listening in. He doesn’t want to go out too much, saying he’d scare ponies who don’t know about him.”
“I see. And the wife thing?”
“Umm, this pegasus mare called Hun?”
“Never heard the name.”
“She-”
”Let it go, Three.”
Huh, so it’s clear that Hun was a changeling and after we got discovered she covered her tracks and left. Considering she managed to influence everypony involved with us, there wouldn’t be much point in looking for her. She proved clearly that she was an infiltrator way above my Ten, since he had no idea what was even going on when we got confronted.
Did Chrysalis set up a safety net before the invasion in case it failed? No, that’s impossible. That’s not her at all, neither the forethought, nor the caring.
A neutral changeling who escaped from the hive long time ago living here? Possibly, as that would explain the extent of her control over the ponies, but I doubt she would disappear if that was the case.
Another survivor from Canterlot who landed around here before we arrived? It’s all guesswork, but I’d go with this one. However, why would she bother helping? Changelings ARE assholes, no way around it.
Are they? Eight is great, weird and with motives of her own, but great. Ten… kinda reinforces the whole asshole thing. Three is a drone, and drones are alright.
Grrr, NOW I could use the hive pile’s knowledge, and I’m getting nothing.
Asspile.
“-nevermind. Can I help you with something, mister Mayor? I’m not supposed to be walking around town on my own in case there are Royal Guards in disguise, and Ten is busy filling some forms… I think.”
”Filling Inkwell more likely.”
“Like with more ink, boss?”
”Uhh, sure. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Okay. Sorry, mister Mayor. The boss said he won’t interrupt anymore unless it’s really important.”
“You could fetch me something from the kitchen downstairs. Do you know how to make tea?”
“Uhh, I think I remember that one from the book I got. I stand up on my hind legs like this, then spread my forelegs like this. Right? Or is that a Y?”
The corners of Mayor’s mouth twitch.
“I mean tea ponies drink. Dried leaves in hot water.”
“That potted plant looks pretty dry,” Three points to a doubtlessly suffering flora specimen in the corner of the office.
“Alright!” the Mayor raises his foreleg and voice, “Go down to the kitchen grab a pitcher or something, fill it with water- COLD water, and pour it over the soil in the flower pot. Can you do that?”
“Sure thing, mister Mayor!”
“King...” I hear a strained voice, immediately losing connection with Three and jumping off of the couch.
Eight is in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her belly is absurdly distended, reaching under her knees.
WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?
Did I completely miss it? She was disguised as Truncheon most of the time, but I must have seen her… physically I mean.
Didn’t I?
I was mentally jumping between my companions, and sleeping a lot.
I didn’t really see Eight for over a week, did I?
Holes damn it!
“Are you okay, Eight?” I rush over, helping to keep the strained changeling steady, “You don’t look okay. You look very much NOT okay. What-”
She puts her nose to mine, shutting me up.
“Cellar. We can’t make mess… here… hnngh...” she grits her teeth, slowly turning around and careful not to trip, “I could use some help… unloading...”
The damn staircase.
“What now?” I panic, “Do I shake you so that they fall out easier?!”
Okay, drone! You’ve been around broodmares about to lay eggs before, both changeling ones and the precious few captured ponies. They need care, they need love, they DEFINITELY SHOULDN’T BE MOVING!
“Right here, Eight!” I order, getting a grip on myself and making sure she doesn’t slip on the last step She obediently spreads her legs into some crippled version of a squat.
“Hnnngh...” she closes her eyes, her whole body tensing up to push.
We don’t have soft goop where she can lie down, and I don’t have the time to make some fast… or knowledge, to be frank. Fine, more love it is then. Touching her horn with mine, I let the love flow from me to her with utmost care. The last thing she needs now is having to focus on balancing the incoming energy as well.
This isn’t how it was done in the hive. There, the broodmothers already looking more like limp egg sacks than changelings were able to easily contain far more mass than Eight, and let the eggs easily slip out. The surviving pony ones stretched into unnatural proportions as well who had been used for years mostly only whimpered, if even that. There were no complications, no love needed to make the laying easier.
Eight… Eight is in pain. I feel the echo of her suffering in my mind through the link between us.
The first egg is out.
Less pain now, more calm.
Another one.
No pain anymore, only relaxation and pleasant stretching.
And another one.
“Mmmmmm...” Eight moans, smile growing on her muzzle. Is she… enjoying it now?
Two more eggs slip out in succession.
“Aaaaaaah!”
I have to break the mental link so that at least I can think clearly while Eight is boiling in pleasure. She’s trembling and moaning, letting egg after egg out with wet squelching.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not needed here at this point,” I mumble, taking a step back.
“You could choke me with your ovipositor while I let out the last few eggs, allowing me to breathe only when I’m a good pet, and then immediately refill my belly so much that this time I wouldn’t move at all. Afterwards, you could chain me to the radiator and use me like a toy,” Eight’s eyes are rolled back, but the wild grin on her muzzle only grows as she heavily breathes out the words, shivering all over.
“Toy? You mean like the plushie Three got from Inkwell and which he now hugs in his sleep, or his colouring books?”
With one final egg dropping on the messy green pile, Eight comes down from her high and stands back up.
“Mmmm… now I get why broodmothers love this so much,” she turns to me, tilting her head, then shaking it, “You just be yourself, my King. I could use a little breather- whoah!”
Her foreleg fails to support her weight when she tries to take the first step up from the cellar. I catch her and guide her fall into a partially controlled sit.
Hmm, something is wrong with the eggs. Only one of them is a glowing blob of love. All of the others are…
“Empty,” Eight notices me looking, “We’ll have to work on your self-control.”
“Drones never breed, we aren’t built to breed! There is no reason for us to do so.”
Eight chuckles quietly.
“Well, warriors usually aren’t broodmothers either, but we’ll make it work. I can’t wait,” she pushes herself up again with a grunt, “Both the filling, and the laying.”
“So where do we put the-”
The only living egg cracks.
“What’s wrong now?” I groan.
Nothing, you pathetic excuse of a leader! There is enough love around, so the larva doesn’t need to absorb some ambient scraps of energy for days before hatching.
“Hmm,” Eight stumbles over to the white grub that starts munching on the broken bits of the egg it just crawled out off, “Seems okay. Hungry, definitely.”
“Should I give it more love?”
“Why are you asking me? I was born as a warrior, not a caretaker, and without access to the chapters of hive mind knowledge I’ve never needed before I can only guess.”
“You’ve got at least SOME experience! I just carried the eggs where they told me.”
“Then this is going to be a learning experience for both of us. If it fails, You know I’m always up for a refill.”
“You’re enjoying this far more than anyone would expect.”
“I just do what’s best for the new hive,” she winks at me, “Or you’re just THAT addictive, my King.”
I look away. No one could handle Eight’s hungry glare.
“Uhh, what happened to the eggs?” I blink, staring in disbelief at the gooey mess with just one bright green crystalline blob on the floor, “Did we break something?”
Larvae, swarming by thousands greedily devour their own eggs and any remains of those belonging to the weak ones who get pushed aside. They immediately throw up, forming green cocoons around themselves. Dozens of ponies are shackled on the sides of the huge breeding cavern, all positively gushing venom-forced love draining into the fresh cocoons. Minutes later, a new army of infiltrators and warriors is born, ready to devour the pony world.
This is how it is NORMALLY supposed to be, not this pathetic waiting and slow care. Take resources, spawn more soldiers, form their minds, finally enact our revenge for Celestia’s abominable heresy.
The blob cracks, and a fresh changeling drone pops out, still with a bit of solid goop on its small head. I feel a fresh mind opening for me, and estabilish a link on instinct.
I expected something like Three, but this feels different. Inexperienced, confused, and not developed yet, but definitely not sluggish. It doesn’t know words yet, and still I can feel it instinctively bowing before me and strengthening the mental link on its own.
Physically, the drone looks rather strange. It’s a changeling alright, though slender, long-legged, which it must have taken after Eight, and its chitin is heavily streaked with grey bits.
It stares at me, head slightly tilted.
“Eight, any ideas?”
She nods, stepping forward.
“Drone, shapeshift.”
With a burst of green fire, the drone shifts into a young mare, teenage maybe, I’m not an expert on ponies. Grey and black with aqua pony eyes, but still a pony.
Great, a fresh drone can do what I can’t.
And with another ‘poof’ she turns back. I sense her intent not to waste energy, liking the little critter already.
“Checks out,” Eight shrugs, “I guess name is in order then.”
“Four.”
“...come again...”
“I said her name would be Four. She’s a drone like Three, and I’m keeping the two slots open just in case,” I explain.
“No,” Eight coughs, “I mean that now that I’m lower rank than TWO drones, I’m not sure whether to be angry or come again.”
Pervert.
Can that even apply to changelings? We’re kinda love and lust predators.
There are worse ones. FAR worse. It comes with the territory.
Holes help me...
“Aaanyway, what do you think about her?”
Eight walks straight up to Four, and pokes her side.
“Eee- ehah?” Four’s eyes widen in shock, she flails her legs, trying to keep balance, runs to the side to control her fall, and eventually keels over, “Oww...”
Eight, clearly taken aback by the almost comical performance, just stands there, mouth agape.
Four stands up, her eyes cross, and stumbles again, this time luckily not falling.
“Dzz...” she tries to say something, “Diz- zee?” and after taking a deep breath, and a desperate look, she adds a proper explanation, “Dizzy.”
Eight pokes Four again, this time catching her as she easily loses balance.
“Mentally, she’s okay. Physically, not so much. I’d say she’s the similar to Three, only the exact opposite.”
“What do you mean?”
“Three is physically in a great shape for a drone now that he’s well fed. Mentally, he’s… you know. Chrysalis wanted him to be like that. I’m not sure how molding new changelings works from the king’s perspective, and by not sure I mean I have absolutely no idea, but if I were to hazard a guess I would say that deep down you didn’t want some new drone to end up like Three. This is what you got.”
I shuffle close to Four calmly watching me as if she had nothing to do but to wait for my orders, which is likely the case.
I softly poke her.
“Huh?” she stumbles backwards, grabbing my foreleg with hers for support.
Poor, unfinished creature.
“Drones shouldn’t be in charge...” I whisper.
“A-hem!” Eight clears her throat, “She lacks coordination, physical strength, or durability. I would heavily advise against using her as a warrior eventually. However, if we require an infiltrator, perhaps when we might have to get rid of Ten, she could be an alternative. One preferable to Three, to be honest.”
I hate to agree, but I’d hang before ordering Three to stop learning about infiltration from Ten.
“What do YOU want to be, Four?”
She looks around, carefully raising each of her legs.
“Drone,” with utmost focus, she maintains balance on three legs as she scoops an uneaten quarter of an egg with one foreleg, “Can carry.”
I catch her as she begins keeling over. The determination never leaves her scrunched muzzle, though.
“We’ll… think of something. Eight?”
“Yes, King?”
“Are you in any shape to show her around? If she can transform she can go outside. Evening like now might be a good time.”
“I’m okay. The laying was a bit of a surprise, but I’m absolutely fine.”
“Then go for it. Do you need more love?”
“With one more mouth to feed, I wouldn’t go around overcharging others too much if I were you. Don’t worry, we’ll be alright.”
***
”Ten?”
He jerks awake, then pulls the blanket over… Inkwell, of course.
“You know, an hour ago I would have been really pissed off by this.”
”We’re leaving tomorrow.”
He gets off of the bed, walking through an apartment I don’t know.
“Where?”
”Canterlot.”
“Why the sudden change of mind? Weren’t you against going straight into the danger zone?”
”Yeah, but I got an insight into the hive mind when Four hatched. They want an army like they used to have. They want to keep conquering again, I don’t.”
“Obviously. We’ve known that, though, for a while.”
”Eight says I need more changelings to spread the hive mind’s load between. The problem is that now that Eight gave birth to Four, they are pleased with my growth and are trying to gain control over me faster. My approach accidentally worked in exactly the way they needed. We gained love the new way, they just want to use it to get an army and power the old way.”
“You’re not giving me a good case for staying with you instead of getting the hole out of here on my own.”
”You want to get to Canterlot, and after I thought about it I need to get there too. There’s a better chance of some changelings surviving your magic explosion there than those who dropped down like a comet in the middle of nowhere like you did.”
“You’re missing the point that ponies would kill them all. I’m expecting changeling heads on spikes all around the city.”
”I’m expecting prisoners.”
“YOU WANT TO-” he shoves a hoof into his mouth, “You want to go to Canterlot, infiltrate the Royal Guard, and then snatch possible changeling prisoners from under Celestia’s nose?!”
”Well, nopony would think anyone would be stupid enough to try that.”
“I AGREE with them!”
”I’ll tell Eight to inform the Mayor later, you spend what time you have left with Inkwell. Or do you want to stay here with her? I won’t stop you.”
He huffs indignantly.
“Me? With a commoner? Don’t make fun of me just because you’re temporarily in charge. Now get out of my head.”
Slowly releasing the link, the last thing I see is Ten staring at sleeping Inkwell and mumbling:
“Holes damn it…!”
***
Disguised, equipped with saddlebags and even a sword in case of Eight, and carrying supplies for the trip, we head off to Canterlot.
Of course, not without a gift to those who fed and supported us, even if not completely of their own free will.
I don’t know the details, but I ordered Ten to screw with Truncheon’s and Slipstream’s heads, making them want nothing more than to resign and move to some far away place the Mayor suggested called Vanhoover.
With my head heavy, and not only due to the coat covering me from horn to tail, I follow Ten equipped with a map of Equestria full of resting spots and safer routes.
Our goal - Canterlot.
Hive mind is hungry.
The clock is ticking.