//------------------------------// // Unpony // Story: We Don't Talk About Captain Thunderhoof // by FanOfMostEverything //------------------------------// Twilight awoke to a far too familiar experience, a cavern dimly lit by bioluminescent slime and rank with the sour chemical smell of changeling secretions. An attempt to wriggle confirmed that she was encased in the stuff. When she tried to channel magic, she got a feeling not unlike trying to exhale through a stuffed nose, so it was covering her horn as well. She tried to cover her revulsion by observing how red slime gave the cave a more volcanic aspect than Chrysalis's lair. "Ah, good, you're awake." Photuris stepped out of the shadows and into the slightly less dim shadows, the same serene expression she'd worn as Thunderhoof on her muzzle. She dipped her head towards Twilight. "Please allow me to apologize for letting my temper get the best of me. No changeling reacts well to getting exposed." Twilight scowled at her. "That apology might carry a bit more weight if I weren't literally up to my neck in structural spittle, to say nothing of the glob on my horn." Photuris lay on the ground and lit her own horn. The substance beneath warped and bubbled like rising dough, forming a plush-looking divan. Twilight tried not to think about the stuffing. "The way I see it," said the queen, "this way neither of us runs the risk of doing something that might provoke a harsh response from the other." "Speaking from experience, I will need at least eight hours and most of the hot water in Ponyville to feel clean again. You have most certainly provoked a harsh response from me already." Twilight didn't dwell on the key assumption in that statement. She would get out of this. Somehow. Photuris grinned at her. "You probably shouldn't have told me that. But it's not like we're going to get anywhere by lying to one another." "That's rich coming from you." "I swore I wouldn't lie to you, Twilight, and I held myself to that. Shaped the truth, yes, but never fabricated a lie." Before Twilight could dispute that, Photuris added, "Much like how you chose not to mention your title when you introduced yourself." "I didn't think you'd react well to an alicorn princess nosing in on your business," Twilight muttered. That got a throaty chuckle. "As opposed to one of the many alicorn commoners running around Equestria." Twilight winced. "I... was kind of hoping the town's isolation would make that believable." Photuris nodded. "Fair enough. Especially since I kept my true identity hidden from you for similar reasons. After all, a pegasus or an alicorn could have strange ideas, but as a fellow pony, surely they'd just be misguided, and might even be worth listening to. But a changeling?" She gasped and brought a hoof to her mouth. "Especially a changeling queen?" She shook her head. "The moment you even thought I wasn't what I appeared to be, you decided I was evil incarnate." "You pounced at me, kept me from escaping, and sent wave after wave of your drones at me until I was exhausted enough for a bait-and-switch sneak attack. Plus, let's not forget my current accommodations." Twilight let that sink in for a moment. "And that's just what you've done to me. I think I had good reason for that decision." "Again, my instincts were working against me. The idea of letting you go wasn't just strategically unsound, it was literally unthinkable. You were an intruder in the hive, knew our secret, and had to be dealt with accordingly." Twilight rolled her eyes. "So your instincts had the better of you for what, ten minutes?" "Far less." Photuris smirked behind her tented hooves. "But then I decided to turn it into an... experiment, shall we say." Twilight found herself intrigued in spite of herself. Photuris might have been a parasitic bug, but she had brought in technologies that could revolutionize Equestria and adapted them at workable scales. "How so?" "I was hardly the only creature whose instincts were in play. While my children were getting into position, you had ample time to dispel the dimensional anchor. But you didn't. Why do you think that is?" It was uncomfortably like one of Celestia's pop quizzes. An idly asked question in the middle of a lesson, laying bare a cognitive failing Twilight didn't even know she had. "Because... because..." "Because you were injured, alone, and afraid. 'Stillness is death,' said the horse brain, but you had nowhere to go, so you milled about aimlessly until I offered you less abstract opposition. Once you had a foe you could wrap your head around, you were back in control, but kept on the back hoof. And by the time you started working with this—" An orifice opened on Photuris's couch and produced the contingency earring. "—it was too late." She spun the earring in her magic, contemplating each facet. "You needed a miracle to win, and for once in your thoroughly charmed life, there wasn't one." The magic bubble imploded and the crystal crumbled to dust. "In a way, it's a microcosm of Equestria's military shortcomings." "Was that really necessary?" Photuris tilted her head, still smiling. "Destroying your contingency or the extended metaphor?" "Yes," Twilight deadpanned. "Twilight, I respect you too much to give you any potential edge before I've had a chance to make my case. As for the comparison, it was the central disagreement Celestia and I had. I may not be as invested in preemptive strikes as I was back then, but one need only look back at the last few years to see that our nation is woefully unprepared to withstand any form of military aggression." "'Our nation'?" said Twilight Photuris sighed and rose, her couch melting back into the floor. She began to pace. "Yes. Our nation. Believe what you like, I still consider myself an Equestrian." A moment's pause, then a moment's smile. "Bureaucratically speaking, I've been several Equestrians. And everything I have done, I have done for Equestria." "Like kidnap humans from a universe without chromelanin and feed on them until they're practically drooling in the streets." Twilight's paleness on the other side of the lake portal neatly explained the predominance of orange in the townsfolk. "Another tactical omission on my part, though 'kidnap' is a very strong term. Many volunteered. You'd be surprised how many people in that world would happily give up their thumbs in exchange for a peaceful, fulfilling country life with gainful employment and familiar conveniences." The grin returned, this time a friendly sort, like Photuris was sharing some private joke with Twilight. "Sometimes I wonder if their phones are doing more to deaden their minds than my hive is." Twilight was in no mood for jokes. "Many volunteered. Not all." "A portal of that size is bound to attract unwanted witnesses, even when we own the land on the other side." "You do?" "Well, Lampyrid Solutions, LLC does. Same difference." Photuris booped Twilight on the nose, drawing back her hoof before Twilight could even think to snap at it. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the power of paperwork." Twilight all but spat out her next words, angrier at twisting bureaucracy for evil ends than the indignity. "So. The witnesses?" "Yes. Sometimes we bring them through just long enough to convince them it didn't happen; much more energy efficient than doing so on their side. Other times, it turns out they're drifters who won't be missed." Photuris gave a beatific grin that she definitely copied from Celestia. "Why let their lives go to waste when they can be part of something so much greater?" "How magnanimous," Twilight deadpanned. Photuris scowled and stomped a hoof. "You see, it's that exact attitude that made me destroy that earring. You're barely even listening to me; you're just spending this time trying to think of way to escape the dastardly clutches of the changeling queen." "I'm in your dastardly clutches." "I don't deny that. The clutches, anyway. The dastardry is up for debate, or at least should be. All I ask is that you listen with an open mind." Photuris sighed. "I suppose that's asking a lot from Celestia's personal student after she's crossed horns with the viridian idiot a few times. Still, I had hoped that this investigation into me might have made you a bit receptive to other points of view." More quietly, she added. "Of course, that information did come secondhoof..." Twilight tilted her head. "What do you mean?" Photuris froze for a moment before clicking her tongue. "I'm too used being able to speak freely while undisguised. Very well. I wasn't planning on divulging this much, but call it a show of goodwill." At some unsensed command, a drone came in from the darker recesses of the hive. A burst of red, and it took the form of Moondancer. "Over here, Twilight!" she said, a mocking smile on her stolen muzzle as she waved. "No mocking our guest, Luciferin," said Photuris. She turned to Twilight. "Now, how did you think we knew that this mare would distract you?" Twilight could only see a few possibilities, and she didn't like any of them. "I wasn't sure how good your intel on me was. I thought you might have, I don't know, plucked her out of my mind or something." "Pfft. I wish it were that easy," said Luciferin, still wearing Moondancer's form. She turned to Photuris. "Commander, she clearly hasn't figured it out. Are you sure—" "Yes. I know how wrong this feels, little one, but this is Twilight Sparkle we're dealing with. If anypony can be swayed through open, logical discussion, it's her." Photuris nodded at Twilight. "And I do mean that as a compliment. On that note, do you see where I'm going with this?" "Last night at the library..." Twilight shook her head, unwilling to finish the thought aloud. "And afterwards. You really are the Princess of Friendship." The admiration in Photuris's voice was worse than any scorn spoken by Chrysalis. "Who else could feel a purely Braytonic bond so intensely that it could nourish as much as love?" Twilight glared at her. "What did you do with the real Moondancer?" "Nothing. She was seeing a play with her other friends at the time. We were already aware of your interest in me and wanted to see what you knew thus far." "Really says something when you're better at opsec than the..." Luciferin trailed off as she noticed her queen's glare. She returned to her true form and backed away. "I'm just going to go now." Photuris watched her do so. "As you can see, my more radical ideas still haven't quite caught on in my own hive." Twilight gave that a vague nod, more concerned with recalling what she had said when. "You've infiltrated the Wonderbolts." "More like my influence never fully left. I have a long history with the 'Bolts, Twilight. I make sure they're in good hooves." "But you don't have any eyes in the palace or Ponyville." Photuris gritted her teeth. "To my continuing frustration, no. Celestia's balcony is too high-risk, while Pinkie Pie and long-term infiltration do not mix. And that's saying nothing of Thorax's counterspies and the one you know as 'Kevin.'" Twilight filed that away for later. Assuming there was a later. Which she still was. "Still, with such a comprehensive intelligence network, you must know that you don't need to steal love." "Of course. We discovered the process decades before Thorax and Starlight Glimmer stumbled upon it. And the drones who volunteered for the tests made for fantastic infiltrators. At first, nopony would have seen them as dangerous. These days, they assume they're part of Thorax's hive. But that metamorphosis runs against the vision I have of our two races living in harmony." "Of course you have a vision." Twilight tried not to roll her eyes. Really, she did. Photuris smiled regardless. "Indeed. Just look at Galloping Grove. We developed a way of life that changed the pony-changeling dynamic from parasitism to a true symbiosis. In exchange for food, we offer safety, security, comforts and luxuries unimagined by the rest of Equestria. My children and I have gone from wolves to sheepdogs." "Implying ponies are sheep." "You can't tell me you don't envy the life of a sheep at times. No expectations, no obligations, literally growing your rent from almost every inch of your skin. And ponies, like sheep, are poorly suited for combat." Twilight snorted. "Take the gunk off my horn and we can test that hypothesis." "Alicorns are statistical outliers by definition," said Photuris, waving away the point with a forehoof. "And as we saw, even you aren't exactly combat-hardened. Celestia wields the power of the sun itself, but she is a teacher and a politician at heart, not a warrior. Luna? I've heard rumors, but seen nothing to suggest that she'd break from her big sister's lead. Not after last time. And we both know how well the Princess of Food handles herself." "You clearly never saw her during the last months of her pregnancy." "I'll take your word for it. And speaking of Flurry Heart..." Photuris bobbed her head from side to side. "Well, we'll see what becomes of her. But you all represent ponykind's best and brightest. Out of the lot, you have the best track record of late, and that includes all of Equestria's armed forces considered as a single sixth alicorn. And against me, with no time to prepare, you showed all the tactical acumen of a loaf of bread. Face it, Twilight, we're better at this than you, and there is no shame in that. In my system, we can each play to our strengths. You grow and love and frolic. We can keep watch from the shadows." "And humans?" said Twilight. "Where do they fit into this?" "Humans can do what they do best: Invent. Innovate. Bend that merciless, magicless world of theirs to their will. And we can duplicate the fruits of their labors here." Photuris shook her head. "Thank goodness for miniaturization. You don't want to know what we went through to get a car through the portal. Thankfully, some transformed humans have much more portable knowledge and skills, and changeling biomancy covers many of the exotic human materials that we don't have on hoof." She grinned. "You didn't think those phones were all made of plastic and circuitry, did you?" Twilight fought her rising gorge again. "That's disgusting." "Progress is often messy." "So in this utopian system of yours, why are the few humans who have some idea of what's actually happening so afraid?" Photuris's eyes widened in recollection. "That's right, you met Todd. He made sure to report the incident. Really, he's everything I could ask for in a stallion: Considerate, honest, easily bribed with comics and collectible cardboard." "Terrified of you," said Twilight. "Terrified of what he thinks I am. He cowers at a story he tells himself based on the stories he heard in his home, ones full of alien abductions and pacifying lobotomies." Twilight had seen human science fiction for herself, but that still left one datum unaccounted for. "And the Beam of Friendship?" "A bit of theater put on for the foals. One you inspired, actually. Luciferin?" The drone scuttled back into view and shifted into a disheveled, dirt-brown earth colt. "Hurr hurr hurr," it laughed in a voice like Snails trying to sound menacing. "I'm Sliigo, and I'm not nice!" Photuris assumed her Thunderhoof form again. "I will show you the error of your ways!" "I'd like to see you try!" One beam of light later, "Sliigo" had his coat brushed, his mane combed, and his ragged shirt replaced with something involving a ruffle color that would drive Rarity to bloodshed. "I'm sorry, Captain Thunderhoof," the drone said in the same voice as before. "I'm going to go do volunteer work at an animal shelter now." It trotted off into the hive. Twilight digested this for a moment. "That's horrifying on multiple levels. Also vaguely insulting." Photuris shrugged her wings, then returned to her true form. "There are those who read more into it than what's intended, but I can hardly be blamed for their overactive imaginations. Actual compulsion spells are far more subtle when cast competently." "So Corn and Peg?" Photuris tilted her head. "What about them? They're just foals. Darling creatures, always so eager to help everyone they meet, but foals all the same." She drew back a step. "Did you actually think I had some kind of child soldier program planned? I may be pragmatic and ambitious, Twilight, but I'm not some mustache-twirling serial villain." "I, I mean..." Twilight cleared her throat. The hurt in Photuris's voice had sounded so genuine, Twilight had to wriggle again to remind herself of her situation. "I only ask because they stand out. I thought they might be drones." "Ah. They stand out because they were born here in Equestria. Much of their generation was. Part of the reason we recruited so heavily before was that many of my most loyal followers were drones. Our food supply was uncomfortably tight those first few years; that was why we experimented with metamorphosis in the first place. But as I said, that is a dead end." "You said it just didn't mesh with your personal vision. What if you changed your own outlook?" Photuris shook her head. "It's not that simple. Removing the changelings' need for love leaves them with no tangible incentive to look after ponies." "Why would they need one in this perfect system of yours?" "The same reason ponies need human technology to entice them, and humans need the splendor and opportunity Equestria offers. Change is hard, Twilight, and yes, I'm aware of the irony there. It took one of the wisest, most brilliant minds on the planet to get me to change my mind about how best to spread Harmony." "Though that mind apparently isn't wise or brilliant enough to keep running her own country." "Face it, you've outclassed her at this point." That left Twilight too shocked to respond. Photuris continued, "It took us decades to reach a point where Galloping Grove was a truly self-sustainable community, and I had to fend off more than a few attempts to overthrow me along the way. You've seen how dissent still simmers in the hive. And even humans who agreed to go through the portal reacted harshly when they first took in their new bodies." "A common reaction." Twilight cleared her throat. "From what I've heard." "I know the transition to my system will be anything but easy. Indeed, that's why I'm still trying to convince you. I know this seems strange. Misguided. Perhaps even evil." Photuris flicked her jagged horn with a porous hoof. "Coming from a changeling queen can't be doing it any favors. But if you look at it rationally, you'll see that this is the best for everyone involved." It was, admittedly, a well-formed argument. Just one with a hole the size of the lake portal. "You're turning ponies into barely sapient livestock." "That's just a consequence of scale. We've achieved self-sustainability, but we're far from my ideal proportion." Twilight took a moment to process that. "You want more ponies per changeling?" "Yes!" Photuris buzzed her wings the same way Thorax did whenever he was excited. "Once we can expand this system to the nation as a whole, once my hive can act openly, we can relax internal security to a massive degree." Pieces came together in Twilight's mind. "So how many drones do you have in Buffalo?" "An increasing number," Photuris admitted. "We've never performed a transition to the system in a pre-established community before, so the plan there errs on the side of caution. And once word of your investigation reached us, well, I'm sure you can see how that would be cause for concern." "Enough to drain ponies until they thought I was Luna, apparently. And that's an impressive response time." "It's not quite dragonfire, but—" A chittering noise cut off Photuris. She floated an oblong chunk of chitin out of her mane, looked at it, and sighed. "Excuse me, I have to take this." She brought it to her ear and started pacing again. "Hello?" "Slow down, I can barely understand you." Photuris came to a dead halt. "What do you mean they've mobilized!?" Whatever the changeling on the other end had to say to that, Photuris just ended the call and practically threw her living phone back on top of her head. Snarling, she loomed over Twilight and said, "What did you do?" Twilight couldn't help but smile. Changeling queens trying to intimidate her. Finally, she was back on familiar ground. "Celestia said your ego was your biggest weakness. Starlight Glimmer helped me get into the mind of that kind of mare. We figured you wouldn't be able to resist the chance to rub my helplessness in my muzzle." She smirked. "So we made an earring that would signal the Cutie Map when it was destroyed." "No." Photuris backed away from Twilight. "No, you couldn't possibly have planned to get captured." "Of course not. What did you think I was trying to do when that drone distracted me? But we did account for the possibility." Twilight focused on a thaumic frequency she'd been calculating throughout the discussion. Steam hissed from the glob of matter on her horn, and she teleported to Photuris's side before the queen could react. "Now, learning how to cast through changeling slime? That was just making sure I wouldn't get taken out the same way twice. Even if it did drive Pharynx up the wall." Photuris glared at her. "You're still horribly outnumbered, Twilight. Even the Wonderbolts won't get here immediately, and this time, I might not bother keeping you conscious." Her expression shifted to the same sort of desperation Twilight had seen when Celestia had pleaded with Nightmare Moon. The queen extended her hoof. "But I would much rather work with you than against you, so I ask you one more time: Will you join me?" Twilight looked at the offered hoof and found herself actually weighing the pros and cons. "I admit, you actually do have some good points. In a world without Thorax, this would be an excellent first step towards pony-changeling reconciliation." Photuris sighed and let her foreleg fall. "I'm sensing a but." If asked, Twilight would insist she took no satisfaction in seeing Photuris be the one to take a spell to the back of the head. Princesses were above such petty feelings. The princess who delivered the spell planted a hoof on Photuris's narrow barrel, glaring at her as if waiting for an excuse to press down. "But you did not ward your hive against spacial gates," said Luna, her portal fading to nothing behind her. Three hissing drones sprang at Luna. She whirled to face them, but even a fraction of a second was enough for Photuris to slip out from under her and hover near the chamber's ceiling, which rose even as she did. More drones approached, some from doorways that hadn't been there a moment ago. Luna sneered, horn ablaze. "Come then. Face the true darkness, vermin!" "Fool! Do you realize all I've done for you?" Flames consumed Photuris, and the compact Thunderhoof from the old photo stood snarling in her place. "I was Thunderhoof!" She transformed again, into a pink mare with a bright blue mane. "I was Firefly!" Again, this time a scarred mare who has all stormy grays. "I was Hurri—" Between one moment and the next, Luna went from a few feet beneath Photuris to standing over her prone body once more, glowing horn at her throat. "We stood at Hurricane's funeral. We wept as Pansy lit the pyre and the commander's ashes rejoined the sky. Thou shalt not profane her name in Our presence, insect!" The light intensified. The drones tensed. STOP! The drones stopped. Luna stopped. For a brief moment, everyone in the chamber was so still, it was as if time had stopped. And as the echoes of Twilight Sparkle's Royal Canterlot Voice faded, she made to heave Luna off of the changeling queen and said, "It is my expert opinion that this is a friendship problem. We are going to solve it like one."