//------------------------------// // Redemption // Story: Home Is Where The Hive Is // by TwistedPretzel //------------------------------// Redemption A bright, lurid ball of green fire silently erupted high overhead Ghastly Gorge, and, as it vanished, six changelings now hovered in a loose circle. They silently hovered there, wings lightly buzzing as they station-kept their position. [i . . . i handled that badly. i let Rainbow Dash] #flash of intense anger# [get under my chitin and anger me] #feelings of reassurance/understanding# |we all knew how unlikely this could be| {they hate us; even before exposing ourselves in Canterlot, there were always whispered rumors, and fear and hatred of our kind} #agreement# There was no need for vocal speech, for changeling communication was virtually instantaneous, crystal clear and unambiguous. Granted, most everyling except for the strongest —and Queens, of course— were limited in range, usually no further than within the Hive itself. There was no need for names; not when you knew with whom you were communicating simply by the “taste” of their mind. There were no ways to hide emotions, not when you communicated on such a deep, intimate level. Which meant that —again, with the exception of the strongest (or shrewdest), and, of course, Queens— it was virtually impossible to lie to one another. [what do we do now? i fear I have buried all our corridors behind us] >?< #puzzlement# . . . >!< #urgency!!# With absolutely no warning, save for a bright flash of curious perplexity immediately followed by blinding, fearful urgency, one of the changelings took off in a streak of green fire . . . before flashing out. Rainbow Dash floated very high up, perched atop a wispy yet-still-concealing cirrus cloud. Down in front and below were six hovering changelings. Hah! Found you! she exulted. Granted, it was a bit of a hollow victory, as they were positioned exactly where they said their evil lair was located. The moment the jig was up they’d ran like frightened chickens, and as soon as they had, Rainbow had leapt up and zoomed after them, leaving everypony behind in her dust. Twilight had urgently called out after her, but Rainbow pretended she hadn’t heard. Waiting for the cavalry to arrive —not that she needed any such thing; she was Rainbow Dash!— she kept a close eye on the up-to-no-good group. I wonder what they’re plotting? she broodingly pondered. Now that this scheme has been uncovered? Ah-HA! she crowed, as one of them abruptly streaked off, disappearing in a lurid line of green. All boasting notwithstanding, Rainbow Dash truly was a superlative flier, with truly daunting somesthetic, kinesthetic, and spatial awareness. With only half a second to see that changeling streak off, she had already instinctively calculated the three-dimensional vector, speed, and likely destination of the departed insect, shifting her head and eyes to target that point. And as she did . . . She almost threw up. Her gorge heaved in horror as she spotted a tiny figure falling from the lip of the chasm, hitting a rock and then spinning into space . . . freefalling towards the bottom of Ghastly Gorge which was hundreds of feet below. Excellent eyesight was also part of her pegasus heritage, and in harmony with her already-prodigious skills, her vision was also exceptional . . . Snapping into clear focus was the unmistakable sight of Apple Bloom pinwheeling into space, a look of unbridled terror on her face. Even before all of that had truly registered, Rainbow Dash was already in motion, wings extending and beginning a downwards sweep even as legs tensed for a lunging launch. But Rainbow was already mentally crying out in impotent dismay. As fast as she bragged she was —and she actually was that fast, so perhaps that wasn’t boasting after all— Rainbow knew she’d never make it in time. That she’d have to witness the death of her dear friend’s little sister, right before her eyes . . . because she was too damn slow. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. Rainbow had barely begun her descent, when a bolt of shocked surprise actually had her wingbeat falter a moment. There was a vivid green flash halfway down the yawning chasm, and abruptly a changeling there now. The next few seconds were a blur to Rainbow. Yet, blurred or not, they also remained deeply graven in memory, as vivid at her death as it would be all her life. Time took on that eerie duality that emergencies always did for her: seconds seemed to race by, at the same time moving glacially slow. As before, again her unparalleled spatial awareness ticked courses, vectors and speeds in her mind, calculating both Apple Bloom’s pinwheeling freefall with that of the high-speed, purposeful flight of the changeling. And with the brutal, unfeeling and uncaring, bitterly cold logic of maths, Rainbow Dash could see the intersection point . . . within the wall of Ghastly Gorge. She actually cried out when, somehow . . . somehow . . . the changeling rolled onto its back . . . matched Apple Bloom’s rate-of-fall . . . enveloped her in its arms, nestling her against its chest . . . . . . slamming backwards into the unyielding granite of the chasm’s walls. Once . . . twice . . . three times! The changeling somehow kept hold of Apple Bloom, shielding her from the worst of the impacts with its own body. Somehow kept —albeit shaky— control of that descent, decelerating the rate until finally spinning to a stop at the rocky bottom, lying on its back, the unconscious filly protectively sheltered in its limbs rolling free once the changeling came to a stop. Seconds later, with a screeching slide and a rocky clatter, Rainbow Dash skated to a stop. “Apple Bloom!” she cried out, “Apple Bloom!” Dropping to her knees the anguished pegasus did a quick examination. No stranger to injuries —hers in particular, and others as well— she rapidly inspected and catalogued, wise enough not to move her to do so. Scrapes and abrasions; a lump forming at the back of her head; skinned foreknees; slow, steady respiration; limbs looking straight . . . Rainbow’s eyes widened as she quickly scanned the unconscious filly; they rounded wider as she looked way, way up to the lip of the chasm so very high above. “I . . . I can’t believe that!” she stuttered, voice growing louder with amazement with each word. Turning to face the changeling, strong emotions rocked the usually-brash pegasus. “No way!” she exclaimed. “No way you did that! That was awesome! Huh?” Rainbow tipped her head, trying to understand the low, faltered buzzing of the changeling. Pacing over and standing next to the changeling, Rainbow gazed down. “Are you ok?” she asked, feeling, well . . . yeah, it was a bug, and Rainbow had no love of bugs; not since the horrifyingly near-successful invasion and conquest of Canterlot. But this one had pulled off an impossible save; had rescued Apple Bloom from certain death. Her face furiously blushed, ashamed that she hadn’t even thought to check up on the heroic changeling. “Youn . . . youn . . . youngling . . . is ok?” Rainbow’s ears swiveled forwards, straining to catch the words. “OK? OK?! Dude, you saved her!” Five changelings settled down in a loose circle about the three, utterly silent once their wings were folded. “G.good,” the changeling softly exhaled. “Good,” came a barely audible whisper. [farewell] {farewell} | farewell| \ farewell\ < farewell> “Hey! Hey!!” Rainbow felt a surge of dread as the changeling’s eyes slowly lost their inner gleam, becoming cold and dark. It was only then that she saw the multiply-cracked chitin, the liquid shimmer of leaking ichor that the cold, unfeeling ground soaked up like a thirsty sponge. Spinning in place, she stared at the silent statues about her. “What’s happening?” she cried out to them . . . even as she realized, with sinking, helpless horror, exactly what had transpired. Once after another, each changeling lowered its head, lightly touching the fallen one’s chest with the tip of its snout, a gentle buzzing of wings as they did. “No,” Rainbow whispered. “Oh, no, no, no!” violently shaking her head in denial. “You . . . you gotta do something! You have to!” she cried out. “Please!” she implored, tears starting to freely flow. Twilight Sparkle popped into space just about five hundred feet in the air, almost exactly overhead of Rainbow Dash and the changelings that had surrounded her. At the moment she was alone, but she knew that her guards were frantically on their way to support her. She knew she should wait for those reinforcements before doing anything; Princess or not, alicorn notwithstanding, she could be just as vulnerable as anypony else, given the right circumstances. But Rainbow Dash was in dire straits, surrounded by the enemy . . . Twilight tucked her wings in close, like a falcon about to stoop, exactly as Rainbow herself had taught her . . . she gathered Magic about her, its aura dancing along her form, coruscating in a nebula that visibly flickered in the bright clear sky. Something wasn’t right. Carefully cupping her wings Twilight spilled air and started braking her lightning descent. They weren’t attacking Rainbow Dash after all. They were just standing there, and . . . A look of horror spread across her face, as she started another dive, having spotted the prone figures of both a changeling . . . and Apple Bloom. Wings thundered, dust and pebbles scattered as Twilight furiously backwinged to a stop, and still the changelings just stood there, although their heads did turn to silently watch her. She felt a jolt of shock seeing Rainbow’s face: tear soaked, tears literally streaming down her cheeks. “Twilight!” she choked out, grabbing the alicorn with a hoof and dragging her over . . . to the changeling! Not Apple Bloom! She could barely make out Rainbow’s words through the sobs. “Twi-twilight! You . . . you gotta help him! He . . . He’s hurt bad. Real bad!” she bawled. “He . . . he saved Apple Bloom. I . . . I cou . . .couldn’t reach her in time. But . . . but he . . . oh sweet Celestia, Twilight! He . . . I don’t know how . . . it was impossible . . . but . . . but he did it!” It only took one look for Twilight to understand that the changeling was gone; far beyond the reach of any healing, any spell. Rainbow Dash saw the sympathy, sorrow, and regret in her friend’s eyes and, with a loud sob, collapsed, shamelessly weeping. She still didn’t understand what, exactly, had happened. But the “He . . . he saved Apple Bloom” had been crystal clear. As despicable and detestable as the pegasus found changelings, something truly major must have occurred to have caused that abrupt tack to her attitude. Twilight turned, roughly facing the remaining changelings, about to ask for explanations, but paused. One and all, they seemed to be staring into the distance. \there! do you taste that?\ {yes. throbbing pain. fear. exhaustion.} [surrender. terror. despair] With the ease of long practice, it took only twelve seconds for them to precisely home in on the source, and when they had . . . “Hey!” Twilight blurted, as, with absolutely no sign, no warning, the five remaining changelings took off at the exact same second. Wings loudly buzzling they half-galloped, half flew, charging along the chasm’s uneven floor, with Twilight in close pursuit, leaving a deeply grieving, sobbing pegasus behind. Thirty seconds later and they skidded to a halt, and, as so did Twilight, she had to control the surge of nausea that threatened to spill up and out of her. There was a large, fresh pile of rubble next to one chasm wall, forming a broad scree. Flicking her eyes upwards she could trace the route those stones —ranging in size from dust and pebbles up through several massive boulders— had taken as they’d fallen. The same path that Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had fallen down, as well. Both were half-buried under loose rubble, although —Thank Sun and Moon!— not by any of the larger rocks. As the changelings loosely semicircled the rubble, Twilight dimly sensed . . . something . . . building. Normally that would have been enough to catch, and thoroughly hold, her attention. But not today. Not today when the badly injured bodies of Sweetie Belle —the little sister of Twilight’s dear friend Rarity— and Scootaloo —the orphaned pegasus filly that might as well be Rainbow Dash’s little sister— lay unmoving and unconscious in front of her. A few seconds later and two changelings lifted into the air, and over towards the precarious rockfall, which was still very unstable. Even during the half-minute since they’d arrived several small rocks, and three much larger ones, had come bouncing down, landing with a dusty crash. “Hey!” Twilight blurted out in warning, but before she could say more, or do anything, she just felt her tongue freeze up in astonishment. With a rapidity reminiscent of hail striking a sheet metal roof, the two hovering changelings began . . . spitting. Faster than the eye could follow, globule after globule of lurid gooey green flashed out, striking both scree and rock face. And as they did so, Twilight started perceiving both pattern and purpose, both of which were confirmed moments later as one of the silently observing changelings spoke up. “They are architects,” ling explained with a raspy dissonance as he watched them at work. “They are responsible for expanding Hives by boring into stone and creating new corridors, as well as maintaining their structure. As such,” ling paused as he followed the progress, “they instinctively —and very precisely— sense both structural strengths and weaknesses. That,” ling gestured with a perforated foreleg, “is how weaknesses are shored and strengthened.” Within a minute the two changelings had shored up the unstable areas, their, well . . . spit, she supposed . . . had solidified within seconds of striking, bonding so strongly it rendered individual pieces of rock into a singular, solid mass. No sooner did they land —looking greyish, exhausted and drained, dropping to the ground the moment wings were folded— then a third changeling approached the two badly injured fillies. That changeling took a moment to examine and appraise, and then its horn started glowing. Twilight choked back a blurt of outrage, forcing herself to remain a bystander —for now, anyway— as first one, and then the other, filly was encased in a translucent greenish cocoon. “That one is a conserver,” ling explained. “Conservers are responsible for preserving and maintaining a Hive’s food source,” ling matter-of-factly explained. Twilight smothered the outrage that blossomed inside at that, fully understanding what was meant: a conserver would be the changeling responsible for cocooning captured ponies that were subsequently stored in a Hive, to have their love drained from them on a daily basis. She wanted to be furious . . . but couldn’t, not with the history lesson she’d just learned so fresh in her mind. Why shouldn’t changelings look at ponies —the race responsible for invading their land, claiming it for themselves and, in the process, destroyed their civilization and came close to driving them into extinction— as a source of food? No sooner had the conserver finished then the remaining changeling buzzed forward, next to one of the cocoons. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” ling apologized, “but I will be needed now.” With that, he positioned himself at the other cocoon. “Sweetie Belle!” Twilight jerked, hearing Rarity’s near-hysterical cry. Glancing far up at the chasm’s rim, Twilight had a moment to notice her fashionista friend standing there, along with a host of guards, before she winked out, reappearing next to Twilight. “What have they done to you?” she screamed, as her horn ignited in a terrible blinding glare. “Stop,” Twilight made herself calmly say, a calm backed up by the incredibly strong magic shield she clamped down around her friend, smothering Rarity’s burgeoning spells before she could cast them. Furiously stomping a forehoof, the enraged unicorn, feeling betrayed, turned on Twilight. “How . . . how . . . how dare you!” she spluttered. As unicorn guards started winking down, and pegasus ones gliding, Rarity jerked around at hearing a familiar, yet unfamiliar, voice. “They . . . they’re trying to save them,” Rainbow Dash said, her voice thick and clogged, eyes bloodshot and rimmed in red from weeping, her cheeks and muzzle absolutely soaked. Rarity started to reply, still aggrieved and furious, but those emotions slithered to a stop when her pegasus friend, in a stronger, determined voice, declared, “Apple Bloom would be dead except for one of them. He died saving her,” and again tears started flowing. “And I think —I know— he was sacrificing himself to save her. A changeling, Rarity,” she was freely weeping again. “A changeling died. To save a pony. A little filly.” As outrageous as that sounded, the stunned unicorn never, not for a moment, doubted. A trembling forehoof lifted to her lips as she watched . . . as she truly looked . . . at what the changelings were doing . . . and why. Sniffling, Rainbow Dash was looking about as well. She saw the three collapsed changelings, and fear —an emotion she wasn’t accustomed to feeling— grew inside her. Not fear for the badly-injured fillies. Not fear of attack. Not fear of betrayal. Fear for the changelings, who lay there, light blue eyes dimming, barely breathing, normally gleaming black chitin a dusty dim grey. Just like the changeling who died for Apple Bloom had looked. Rainbow Dash suddenly remembered one of the last things they’d said before disappearing in a burst of green fire: Everyling, including Queen Tabula Rasa, sacrificed almost all of their energy to us, so that we would have the strength to travel and parlay. Looking down at the prone, motionless figures, Rainbow suddenly understood. They’ve burnt themselves out. They’ve used up everything they had . . . for Sweetie Belle and Scoots. Closing her eyes, Rainbow thought about Scootaloo, her little sister in all but formality. She remembered her bravery, her zeal, her zest for life and adventure, her refusal to let her disability define her . . . she remembered how all that made her feel. She reached out to the love she had for Scootaloo . . . brought it to the fore . . . stoked it . . . blanked out everything else about her but that love . . . and then imagined that flowing out of her . . . funneled to the starved and dying changelings. It took Twilight longer than it should have to realize what Rainbow Dash was doing, but she could be excused for that delay, as her concentration was queasily focused on what the remaining two changelings were doing. Thankfully, the translucency of the cocoons made it difficult to see clearly, but, even so, she could perceive some of what was happening. Disregarding potential internal injuries, Scootaloo had been the worst injured, with a simple fracture to the left foreleg, and a compound fracture to the right hindleg, along with a possible skull fracture and concussion. The last two changelings had positioned themselves just in front of their respective cocoons, before settling down, lying upright atop folded legs before closing their eyes. Horns softly glowing, barely perceived even in the semi-shade of the chasm’s depths, nothing seemed to happen at first. But then Twilight noticed that the fillies’ respiration started easing, shifting from pained and labored to slow and regular. Their expressions changed, as well, altering from unconscious agony and easing to drowsy peace. What made her queasy, however, was when Scootaloo’s injured legs started visibly glowing —well, not exactly her legs, but there was definitely a gleaming aura surrounding the injuries . . . and not just glowing, but shifting. Twilight had seen fractures set before, but this . . . this was different. Scootaloo’s face never changed, remaining relaxed and peaceful, not even a halting catch to her breathing. It was as if she were heavily sedated. That was when she became aware of her surroundings again, and realized what Rainbow was most likely doing. “Rarity!” she hissed, catching the distraught unicorn’s attention. “Do all you can to remember the love you have for Sweetie Belle,” she instructed. “And, once you do,” she gestured with a forehoof, “let that flow from you, to them.” Not fifteen minutes ago, such a statement would have been met with disbelief, anger, fury and a sense of betrayal. But now? Within minutes the three collapsed changelings were back on their perforated legs, gazing quite oddly at Rarity and Rainbow Dash, both of whom were oblivious to that scrutiny, as their eyes were still closed. In the meantime, Twilight had sent one of the pegasus guards back, not to the Castle, but to the hospital instead, with the message that three fillies were badly hurt and would need air transport back to the emergency department. The two changelings taking care of Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo remained at their post, stopping only when the emergency medics, along with the air transportation Twilight had requested, arrived. There were quite a few askance looks exchanged, but, as everypony else seemed at ease . . . The medic in charge was, however, absolutely stunned when one of the changelings approached her and started providing vitals . . . not just age, height, weight, race, respiration and pulse, the easily observable and measureable, but descriptions in such detail that required specialized medical examination equipment. But a quick glance at Princess Twilight conveyed the understanding that, whatever the changeling was reporting, take that as fact and not speculation, no matter how difficult that might be to believe. Speaking of difficult to believe . . . “Ah, Your Highness?” the medico began, “Did I understand you correctly? You want——“ “Yes, I do,” Twilight gently interrupted. Gesturing behind her, she indicated the conserver and two preservers. “They will be accompanying us back to the hospital.” There was the slightest stress to “us”, but that was more than enough to reassure the medico. If Princess Twilight was also coming along, there was little need to worry about, well . . . changelings. “Go ahead Rarity,” Rainbow nudged the anxious unicorn. “It’s alright. You need to be with Sweetie Belle.” “But Rainbow!” her voice raised in astonishment. “What about Scootaloo? Don’t you want to be there for her, too?” “Yeah, I do,” the usually brash pegasus quietly confirmed. “But first, there’s something important I have to see to.” While Rarity could not imagine anything that would be more important than Rainbow being there for Scootaloo, neither could she deny the sober, somber determination in her friend’s eyes, voice, and expression. Nodding once, she paced over to the air evacuation transports, watching as both fillies, still changeling-cocooned, were carefully loaded, then secured, aboard, while another group went back along the trail to ready Apple Bloom for extrication and transport, too. Sorry Squirt, but there’s something I have to do first. Exchanging hushed murmurs with some of the guards she was most familiar with —and, therefore, more confident of their probable reactions and responses— Rainbow gravely paced over to the remaining two changelings, who watched her, and the guards that followed, with unblinking eyes. Meeting them eye to eye, without flinching, without any reservation, Rainbow Dash announced, “I understand your Hive is starving. We,” she gestured at the nine guards behind her, “would like to feed you.”