//------------------------------// // 14: Downtime // Story: Homeworld: Equestria - The Silent Hunters // by hiigaran //------------------------------// “I don’t get it,” Swift continued chatting with his brother, as they alighted the crew transport and headed down a corridor aboard the orbital crew station. “Two days to complete one stupid little mounting for a stupid little fighter?” “These vessels are built to strict standards, Swift,” Shadow explained behind the twins. “Any modifications would deviate from those and require extensive testing, especially to ensure they can withstand hyperspace. Gravitational fluctuations alone could pull apart the assembly and anything attached to it.” “Yeah, but that’s what makes no sense. Why put work into a temporary mounting for some old modified aircraft, when Achelois, which has ships that can get to and from a planet’s surface, is meant to arrive at that same planet in a week anyway?” “Because that would delay the mission by several days,” Shadow replied. “The readings picked up by the outposts only started recently. Maybe they won’t last long. Lose the readings, and you might not be able to track them.” “So … get one of the local production facilities to build an appropriate ship?” Swift offered. “I’m sure this station could do that, actually.” “Do you have any idea how backed up the production queues are? Expanding fleets, larger and more redundant hyperspace inhibitor networks to protect our growing territory, repairing damaged ships, and general maintenance all keep those facilities busy. Building a single-use fighter is low priority when alternatives are available.” “Why not just build extra facilities?” “And who will run them with our crew shortages? No, we just have to make do with what we have.” “Meh,” Swift conceded. “Then that brings me to my next question. Why are we the ones tasked with recon?” “Can you think of any other combat group in the Navy better suited to the task?” “Alrighty, fair point. So what are you fellas gonna do with your two days in Canterlot? Think I’m gonna pick up a coupl’a sheilas for myself and Shift.” “I don’t think I need any help from you in that regard, mate.” Shift shoved his brother, almost into the path of an oncoming crew member. Recovering, Swift waved his hoof in Shift’s face. “Scars, bro. Scars. If the mares love me, then they’ll be all over you, too.” Shift slapped the limb in his face away with a wing. “Get that thing away from me. I know where it’s been.” “Same place yours goes,” Swift shot back, immediately regretting his choice of words. “Oh, shi—that came out wrong.” “Swift, you disgusting bogan drongo!” Swift flashed his brother a sly grin. “Well, you say that, but you don’t exactly have the high ground, if you claim you know where my appendages have been.” “Yeah, I’ve had enough of this conversation,” Obsidian muttered from the back of the group before breaking off. “I’ll see you in two days.” “Uhh, yeah, same here. Bye.” Glare took off after the changeling as he turned a corner. She followed, sighting Obsidian’s tail as it disappeared around another corner. Eventually she caught up, coming up beside him at the next turn. “Hold up. Where are you going?” “Going to look around the station. Overheard a few crew talking about some fast food place called Mosaic Chakra that has some interesting food. Want to check it out, then find some hot water pipes in a dark and quiet place to sleep these days away.” “You’re not planning on going to the surface with us?” “Home is too far away. What’s a changeling going to do in Canterlot for two days?” “Can’t you just disguise yourself?” “And then what?” “I—uhh, I don’t know. Whatever it is you like to do. Look, if you’re not planning on doing anything then, I’ve got a bit of a favour to ask you. Now I know you probably don’t consider me a friend, but”—Glare sighed—“I need to do something, and I might need a little moral support.” Obsidian stopped, and faced Glare. “You sure I’m the right one for that? What about your friends in Canterlot? Or one of the other Infiltrators?” “My Canterlot friends don’t understand this life as well as you. As for the other Infiltrators? Sparky never talks, Shadow is rather intimidating, and Swift and Shift are … well, Swift and Shift.” “Oh, Shadow is the intimidating one? Now you’ve got me envious.” “Obsidian, I’m being serious here.” “Alright, alright, just tell me what you need.” “Next transport to Equestria is in an hour. Meet me at the gate.” Obsidian stood at the main entrance to Canterlot’s largest hospital. The disguised changeling, masquerading as a blue unicorn, stood beside Glare, who appeared rooted to the ground while taking several deep breaths. “Are you alright, Glare?” “No. I haven’t visited in a while. I’m afraid of what I’ll see if she’s become worse.” “Take all the time you need.” With great effort, Glare pressed onward, the few metres to the entrance feeling considerably longer to her. After a minimum exchange of words with one of the mares at the reception desk, Glare proceeded to the paediatric ward, with Obsidian in tow. As they approached the door separating the ward from the rest of the hospital, a maroon stallion emerged, almost walking straight into Glare. Their eyes widened as they looked upon each other. Glare was the first to speak up. “Hello dad.” “What the hay do you think you’re doing here?” Glare took a few steps back. The question caught her off-guard, like a slap to the face. “I haven’t seen you in almost ten months, and that’s the first thing you say to me?” “What did you expect? ‘Hello Glare, I’ve missed you. How many lives have you taken this week?’ As you waltz in here with your—your camouflage uniform and comrade to corrupt my last remaining daughter?” Obsidian moved between the two. “Okay, I think you’re being a bit dramatic the—” “Who asked you for your opinion?” Glare’s father snapped. “Keep your bloodstained hooves out of our business.” Obsidian remained silent for a moment, as he stared down the taller stallion. Maintaining eye contact, his face turned slightly towards Glare. “Yeah, now that I’ve met your father, it just reinforces my opinion of him being a prick.” “Excuse me?” Glare attempted to wedge herself between the other two. “Obsidian, please—” “No.” Obsidian took a step towards Glare’s father. “You. You need to show your daughter some buzz—some bucking respect. Several thousand owe their lives to her, if not more. Now I’ve worked with Glare from day one, and not once has she violated your idealistic values. So how about you shut your hay hole, and leave?” “How dare y—” “Shut. Your hay hole. And leave,” Obsidian growled, leaning closer to the stallion. Glare’s father narrowed his eyes. He leaned slightly to address his daughter. “Glare, I’ll see you at home.” Stepping around Obsidian, he turned and made for the exit. “That was not what I had in mind when I said moral support,” Glare hissed, her body trembling. “In the middle of a hospital, no less!” “Well, I did say I wasn’t the right one for the job. At least, he invited you home, so that sounds like progress to me. Plus, you were going there anyway, so now you’ve got the initial argument taken care of. Though if you want my opinion, I’d say good riddance if he never spoke to you again. He’s delusional.” “Hey, that’s still my father you’re talking about,” Glare chided. “Still, I suppose it is some sort of progress. Come on. Glint’s room is at the end of this corridor.” The pair travelled down the colourful hall of the paediatric ward, its bright and cheery walls and decorations contrasting starkly with the sterile white environment most of the hospital showcased. Even the smell seemed more pleasant, devoid of all but a hint of any disinfectant odour, and replaced with mild earthy and floral scents instead. Passing by many of the rooms, Obsidian caught glimpses of the fillies and colts within, through the small panes of glass at each door. Some were lively, playing with toys or visitors. Others busied themselves with books or drawings. A few were bandaged, or hooked up to medical equipment. Obsidian almost bumped into Glare as she stopped outside the final room. Pausing, she knocked hesitantly, and pushed the door open slowly. Entering, Glare’s eyes landed on the small figure beneath the white covers of the bed. She sat herself beside the bed and nuzzled her sister, mindful of the nasal cannula attached to the filly. “Hey Glint. How’ve you been?” Almost identical to Glare in every way except size, Glint appeared to be asleep. As Obsidian stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes were drawn to a clipboard that hung from the bed’s frame just in front of him. While Glare continued to talk, Obsidian read through whatever information he could understand. Returning the clipboard, Obsidian moved up beside Glare. “I don’t think she’s able to respond.” “I know.” Glare appeared crestfallen, her ears drooping as she sniffed. “She can still hear us. She’s just … trapped in her own body, as the Doctors put it.” “Is she in any pain?” “No, her medication takes care of that. Otherwise, she’s got all her senses working just fine.” “She must be bored then. Few visitors here and there, with hours of listening to that clock ticking.” “Obsidian, she can hear you, remember?” The changeling backed away. “Right, sorry. I’ll just … sit in the corner and leave you to it.” Well over an hour had passed, with Obsidian seated patiently at the far end of the room. Despite the hushed, one-sided conversation Glare had with her sister, he could still hear the stories she told of her new life, excluding the more unpleasant parts. She recounted the developments in her spells, the vivid descriptions of space, and how she, in a way, met Glint’s favourite Element of Harmony. Glare remained seated, her head resting on the mattress as she stroked her sister’s mane. “I’m so sorry I haven’t visited for so long,” her voice cracked. “I—I need to go, sis. Dad’s waiting back home. I’ll see you again tomorrow before I head off. I promise.” Glare hugged her sister once more, as she reluctantly made her way to the door. Obsidian followed wordlessly behind. Pausing, he glanced back at the motionless filly, a thought brewing in his mind. “Glare, wait.” Glare looked quizzically back at the changeling. Obsidian’s horn was lit, and Glare noticed a green cloud leaving her body. Initially, she thought the changeling had fed off her, until she saw the translucent energy streaking towards her sister. Unsure of what was happening, Glare opened her mouth, but was cut off when she heard what sounded like a contented sigh from Glint. Before Glare could ask, Obsidian explained, “Emotions and memories are tied to one another. Typically, when a changeling feeds, the emotions are rarely strong enough to decipher the memory. The few times they are, however, they can invoke glimpses of the source’s memories.” “So Glint got to read my mind?” “No, nothing so specific. What you were feeling, the love for your sister and the emotions associated with the stories you told her, were conveyed in a more … effective format, so to speak. The idea crossed my mind just now, after sensing your feelings. Powerful, though I wasn’t sure if it would work between two ponies as it would for ‘lings. Judging by the emotions I’m sensing from her, I’d say it did.” Glare was speechless. Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her hooves around Obsidian. “This is the nicest thing anypony has ever done for me in a long time,” her muffled words came through between sobs. “Thank you.” “You definitely needed it. I’d have done the same thing with her to you, but I don’t know if it would harm her, given her current state.” Pulling back, Glare wiped her face with a hoof. “Makes sense. My sister comes first, no matter what.” Taking a moment to compose herself, she pulled the door open. “Alright, now to face my father.” “Go on. I’ll catch up. Just going to stop that buzzing clock first.” “So this is where you grew up, huh?” Obsidian looked up at the compact, two-storey villa. “Looks like you had a better foalhood than most.” Glare walked through the front yard, its dull green grass and wilting flowers indicative of their lack of care. “Don’t let the house fool you. We are by no means wealthy. This house has been owned by a member of my family for almost four generations now. My dad used to put a lot of work into keeping it pristine,” she explained, stopping at the door. “If only he put as much work into—” “Obsidian, please. Just”—Glare rang the doorbell—“keep quiet.” Through the door’s frosted glass, a silhouette could be seen making its way towards the pair. As the door unlocked and swung open, Glare’s father made to speak, before sighting the still-disguised changeling beside his daughter. “Oh. You’re here as well. Alright”—he stood aside, letting his daughter pass, before extending his hoof—“come in. Solar Flare. Or Flare for short.” Obsidian stared down at the hoof in front of him for a moment. He looked up to see Glare scowling at him from inside, tilting her head towards Flare’s hoof. Reluctantly, Obsidian shook it and entered. Looking around, the most striking features within were the many family paintings hung on several walls throughout the house. The hardwood floors and rugs offered a rather warm feel, and made several of the potted plants around the place stand out. Despite the tension that had grown between the two, Glare and her father seemed to be able to hold a conversation. Tuning out, Obsidian decided to peruse the paintings. Several were of Glare, her parents, and her sister at different ages, while others included additional ponies whom Obsidian assumed to be part of her extended family. As he moved into the living room, he continued inspecting the canvases, particularly the largest one hung on the stone cladding of the lit fireplace, just above its mahogany mantel. His eyes kept being drawn to one particular mare in each painting. There was something oddly familiar about the midnight-blue unicorn he assumed was Glare’s mother, though he could not tell what. He squinted at the details, from her long, flowing amethyst tail and voluminous mane, to the barely visible cutie mark that was impossible to make out from the angle she was painted at. His train of thought was interrupted when he heard his name. “Did you say something?” Obsidian looked back at Glare, who followed her father back into the room with two mugs. “I said did you want anything to drink?” “Uhh, no. No, thank you.” “So”—Flare sank into one of the couches—“Glare tells me you’re both part of the same team or something.” Obsidian returned to inspecting the paintings. “Correct.” “And is it true what you said earlier today? Glare saved thousands?” Glare appeared to shrink into her seat, hiding a light blush. “He was exaggerating a little, dad.” “Depends on how you look at it.” Obsidian turned to Glare. “You can say it was a team effort and divide those lives between the six of us, but you were the only one who supported me. Shadow might not have agreed to let me do what I did otherwise. If you want to be modest about it, we can split those lives fifty-fifty.” “I … suppose.” The three fell into silence, with only the sound of crackling wood, and the sips of what Obsidian assumed was hot chocolate, if the aroma was anything to go by. Flare leaned forward, placing his mug on a glass coaster. “Alright, look. Perhaps I might have overreacted a little with you joining the Navy, Glare.” The changeling snorted. “A little?” “Obsidian,” Glare warned. “Fair point. Glare, I still don’t approve of your career choice, and I never will, but”—Flare sighed—“as difficult as it is to say this, I can try to accept it. But make no mistake. If you ever take a life, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time in such an industry, what you do will be yours to bear. That said, it’s been real quiet without you around.” Glare hugged her father. “I’ve missed you too, dad.” Still standing, Obsidian watched the pair. Tired of waiting for them to part, he cleared his throat. “Right, I don’t think you need me around any more, Glare. I’m going to head back to the station.” “You don’t have to leave so soon, Obsidian. We’ve got a guest bedroom. If that’s okay with you, dad.” “No, I think you two need some time alone,” Obsidian quickly cut in before Flare could open his mouth. “I’ll see you back aboard.” Screams. All across Canterlot, the panicked screams of mares and stallions, fillies and colts, could be heard as the protective bubble around the city finally disintegrated, and thousands of black creatures descended. Though Equestria had a massive magical advantage with their mobilised defence force over the encroaching aggressors, the changelings had the numbers to easily overwhelm the defenders, even without the armoured elites interspersed with the rest. The elite spearheading the assault dived rapidly, cutting through the left wing of an airborne member of the royal guard and letting him fall out of the sky, as it intercepted another pegasus near its dive path. Grabbing the guard by his tail, it pulled him down with it, releasing him into a pair of ground soldiers and incapacitating all of them. Mere seconds into the commencement of their invasion, and a single changeling had already neutralised four guards. The changeling saw a lone guard retreating nearby, and immediately took off after him, weaving through a narrow street lined with shop-houses. Landing nearby, it crouched low, waiting for an ambush, listening for the slightest noise through the chaos unfolding around it. Wheeling around at a whimper, the changeling leapt into the air, skidding to a halt with its bladed wing extended centimetres from a civilian trembling against the glass facade of a café. Folding its wing back to its side, the changeling backed away and took off. Mere meters into the air, a barrage of bright blue bolts of magic struck the changeling, searing its armour and throwing the wearer back down to the ground. Rolling behind a small fountain, another volley of magic was sent its way after peeking around the concrete structure. Identifying its attackers at one end of the row of buildings, the changeling took a few seconds to charge a spell, before turning invisible. Shooting into the air, the changeling only had a few seconds before the spell’s effects would wear off. Positioned at the building’s side, the changeling dived. Visible once more, it pulled up, tearing through a window and slamming one surprised unicorn into another. Scanning the battered living room for others, he jumped out of the same window after a final prod at the pair motionless on the carpet. Over the course of several minutes, many others fell victim to the changeling. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen guards were out of commission, with the changeling showing no signs of tiring. Despite weathering assaults of magic to its armour and being flung through buildings with force, it continued advancing street by street through the city, leaving each secured block to its comrades. Another guard would soon become the twentieth to fall, before a second elite broke his back armour by landing on him. Collapsing to the floor, the guard released an unintended spell with great force at the first changeling, which simply bounced off its side armour. Whizzing into a group of civilians attempting to gallop across to safety, the streak of magic hit a midnight-blue mare, propelling her into a nearby building already damaged from the invasion. The changeling only managed a quick glance at the casualty, before the crumbling building enveloped the crowd in dust and debris. The last it saw before turning its attention back to the immediate surroundings was a long, amethyst tail. Obsidian bolted upright, nearly hitting his face on the row of pipes above him. Grasping desperately at the fading details of his dream, he tried to convince himself his memories were false. That it was just some odd mix-up, and not the horrific coincidence it was. Dropping from the ceiling, he landed in the empty corridor and started pacing, hoping to come up with a better conclusion. What about your mother? What does she think about all of this? She died during the Canterlot invasion. “No,” he muttered. “No, no, no, NO, NO, shit, buzzing, SHIT!” he struck the solid metal wall beside him as his voice echoed. He stopped, slumping himself against the wall as his eyes glazed over. “Obsidian? Is that you?” Shadow called out from somewhere nearby. Emerging from a nearby doorway, the zebra quickly found the changeling sitting on the floor. “What happened? What’s wrong?” “I did something bad.” Shadow blinked at the response. “Pardon?” “I did something really bad,” Obsidian repeated, his eyes still unfocused and staring off into the distance. “Would you … care to elaborate?” Obsidian shook his head, before getting to his hooves. “No. No, you’re not the one I should be explaining myself to. Where’s Glare? I need to speak to her immediately.” “She arrived a little early. Last I saw, she was waiting at our transport’s departure lounge. I’m guessing she’s still there. Why? What happened? Obsidian!” Without a word, Obsidian took off in a gallop. Shadow called his name as she tried to keep up with the faster changeling. Eventually, she lost sight of him. Moving between the decks, Obsidian continued frantically as he reached the deck where the lounge was located. Skidding to a halt just around the corner from the relevant gate, he peered into the room. Glare appeared to be the only occupant so far, busying herself with a book. “Obsidian!” Shadow hissed quietly, as she finally caught up with the changeling. “What. Is wrong. With you?” “I need to speak with Glare. In private. Can you make sure we’re not disturbed?” “Will you explain what is happening first?” “Later, if appropriate.” Giving up on the changeling’s cryptic responses, she resigned herself to Obsidian’s request. “Very well.” Taking a deep breath, Obsidian entered the lounge and cleared his throat as the door slid closed behind him. “Glare?” “Hey Obsidian. Guess you’re early as well.” Glare looked up from her book. She noticed something was off about the approaching changeling. “Is … everything alright?” “Glare, I don’t know how I’m supposed to say this, but before I do, please know I never intended for something like this to happen.” Glare placed her book upside down on the bench next to her and got to her hooves. “This sounds serious. What happened?” Hesitating multiple times, Obsidian gathered his thoughts. “You know how there were all those paintings of your family back in your house? Somepony in them looked familiar, and I only just realised I’ve been seeing her in a recurring dream I’ve had for the past few years. A dream of my involvement in the Canterlot invasion. I know I could have just lied about this, or said nothing, but you have a right to know.” “Right to know what? Obsidian?” “I … am responsible for the death of your mother.” Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as Glare processed the information. Her eyes scanned the changeling’s face, and her mouth occasionally opened and closed, unsure how to respond. “Glare? You understood what I just said, right?” Glare remained slack-jawed for several seconds. Without warning, she hit Obsidian in the muzzle with a left hook and enough force to knock the changeling out before he even toppled over. When Obsidian’s eyes opened, he found himself staring up at a medic who had been busy inspecting the changeling for signs of injury. Pushing the pony’s face away, he grunted, as he rolled over and got to his hooves, noting he was still at the transport gate. At the closest edge of the lounge, he found Shadow consoling Glare. Noticing the changeling stumbling as he rose, Glare gasped, and galloped towards him. “Obsidian, I’m so sorry! I—I didn’t mean to—and then I think heard a crack and—” Obsidian rubbed the side of his jaw, where a visible horseshoe marking appeared. “You’re apologising? Look, I deserved that. Pretty sure I deserved even worse. But right now, I just need to know if there is anything I can do to—” “Just,” Glare interjected. “How did she—how did it happen?” “Are you sure you want me to—” “Yes.” “I was battling several royal guards,” Obsidian hesitated, speaking slowly. “After the majority were subdued, one of my cousins took out another guard who fired off a spell. It hit my armour at a shallow angle and bounced into some civilians. The one hit was your mother. She … was thrown clear. I heard an impact, and when I turned around, I saw a building collapsing. In it, I saw …” Shadow gasped, placing a hoof over her muzzle. “Oh dear,” she remarked solemnly. Obsidian leaned to the side in an attempt to make eye contact with the unicorn. “Are you going to be alright, Glare?” “I … think so.” Blinking hard, Glare looked into the changeling’s eyes. “Obsidian, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was the result of a freak accident.” “How—how are you so calm about this? If I hadn’t been there in that exact spot—” “Stop. What happened was horrible, but being in the wrong place at the wrong time doesn’t make it your fault. Look, I’ve had many years to come to terms with my mother’s … passing, alright? It was a coincidence you were where you were, just like it was a coincidence for my mother to be where she was. I don’t blame you for what happened. Please, I don’t want you to give any of this further thought, okay?” “I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive myself just yet. But thanks, Glare.” “Hey, what are friends for?” Caught off-guard, Obsidian had to compose himself after a series of unintelligible stammers. “You know, there was a time when I wouldn’t have been caught dead saying something like this with sincerity, but … I think I’m okay with having a pony for a friend.” “So, should I call off the security crew?” the medic spoke up behind the three. “You know, for the whole ‘striking a superior’ thing?” “Leave. Now.” Shadow stared daggers at the medic, who promptly vanished. Obsidian managed a small grin. “Heh, beat me to it. Though that reminds me …” Obsidian’s face flashed green, hiding Glare’s hoofprint. “You know, for a pacifist, you can really swing those hooves. On a scale from one to Shadow, that was a solid eight.”