Strange Bedfellows

by BRBrony9


Fire Hive

Chrysalis was not through with the royal sisters, and with another flash she returned to battle, appearing behind them and striking again immediately. They turned to meet her, while in the background, disaster threatened to unfold.

'What have you done?' Luna shouted, dodging a magic blast and retaliating with one of her own. Her question drew a derisive chuckle from the Queen.

'Please. Even a simpleton like you should be able to work that out soon enough,' she replied, showing no signs of relenting in her attack while making conversation with her foes. The two sisters whirled around her, trying to distract or disorient her, to no avail. Chrysalis was not to be confused so easily, nor was she keen to ease up. Instead, she fired a rapid burst of magic, directing alternating blasts at each sister.

Behind them, the volcano, formerly relatively benign, just gentle smoke wafting from its peak, was now belching out thick clouds of smoke, with steam venting from the flanks of the cone. Earthquakes were shaking the valley below where battle was still raging. The airships, unaffected by the tremors, tried their best to keep a close eye on the volcano while still fighting off the swarms of drones. Ash clouds could seize up their engines and cut visibility to almost nil, and if the volcano was starting to erupt, then being close to it was not advisable.

Princess Celestia had a dilemma to face up to. Chrysalis was in possession of the Element, the true prize, but it was unobtainable without first defeating her in battle, something that was proving very difficult indeed. But if the volcano was undergoing upheaval, then Twilight was in danger. The raiding party may have recovered her, or they may have been slaughtered before they even entered the Hive. She had no means of knowing, but the Element was right in front of her, in addition to which abandoning the fleet would leave them open to Chrysalis and her magic. Despite their shields, the airships would stand little chance against such power.

As if to prove her point, a stray shot from Chrysalis missed her sister, slashing wide of the mark and cutting clean through the shield of the Indomitable. It struck only a glancing blow to the bow of the gondola, but it was enough to smash it to smithereens. The bowsprit fell away, figurehead of Celestia dropping to the ground below. Unlucky crewponies tumbled out into the void, those that lacked wings flailing helplessly. The airship was still operational, but it was a visceral reminded of how strong Chrysalis was, and the danger she posed not just to the fleet, but potentially, to the royal sisters as well.

Celestia knew there was only one course of action she could take, and that was to continue pursuing the same one. Chrysalis was the threat, and she needed to be dealt with. She did not want to abandon Twilight, to leave her fate in the hooves of others, but that was the decision that her position required. As princess, she had to make the decisions that others could not. Weighed down with emotions, Twilight's friends, for example, would almost certainly have charged into the Hive in search of her, regardless of the danger and regardless of other threats, greater threats, that needed to be mitigated. Celestia knew she could not be so rash. She had to trust the commando unit. They were the best of the best; the Special Tasks Group, the premiere infiltration unit of the Equestrian forces, led by Major Spitfire, a mare of great experience, level-headed and smart, and backed up by the best companies of Assault Infantry, those with the greatest close-quarters combat experience. If they could reach Twilight, if they could find her, then they could get her out. Celestia knew she had to cast her doubts and fears aside, for if she did not, then it might cost her dearly.

Chrysalis continued to fight eagerly, more than happy to engage both sisters in battle at once. For any other foe, the combination would prove impossible to stand against, but Chrysalis seemed to have gained an untold energy from somewhere, proving herself to be far stronger than the last time Celestia had tangled with her- an encounter that had seen her defeated, at least temporarily, by the Changeling. She was determined that this time she would not be overcome. With her sister's aid, together they would defeat their enemy, recover the Element, rescue Twilight...

That was the theory, at least. That was her fervent hope. But reality had a way of interfering with dreams and desires.




The Fillydelphia nosed carefully back into line, a gap being made by the Starswirl and the Indefatigable, allowing the airship to move back into its old position. In their absence, the intensity of the fighting had hardly lessened. There were still countless Changelings whirling around, throwing magic and striking where they could. Captain Ironside knew that his ship's presence could be invaluable. Many times in the past, a single airship had changed the course of a battle. Equally as many times, it had made no difference at all, but if there was anywhere Ironside loved to be, it was in a fight. His past crews had been right there with him, standing firm, eager to do their duty, and he had no doubt that the crew of the Fillydelphia was the same. After their encounters with boarders, an unusual occurance in the life of most crewponies, they were relishing the chance to rejoin the battle the way they had been taught. The gun crews were itching to re-engage targets, to strike back against the enemy that had dared to try and seize their craft from under their noses.

There were plenty of them, to be sure. Despite the heavy toll taken on them by the guns of the fleet, Changelings were still everywhere, no doubt taking inspiration from their Queen and her stand against the princesses. Ironside ordered the port gun crews to fire at will, and they readily obliged, opening up on the swarm. There were more of them now, perhaps driven out of the Hive by the sudden activity of the volcano they nestled beneath. Ironside had observed through his telescope as the Changeling Queen had seemingly set in motion the destruction of her own home. If the volcano was to erupt, the Hive beneath would be annihilated, either destroyed by earthquake, filled with magma or crushed under collapsing rock. Of that, there could be little doubt.

Ironside knew it was too late for his own passengers, and the rest of the infantry units, to make their way into the Hive. The Queen had made sure of that. After all, a Hive with compromised security was no place for the Changelings to live, when they could be attacked at any time by the ponies or, potentially, the humans with whom they were allied. They might as well fight, either to flee to another location, or to defeat the attacking force entirely. Ironside was determined that it would not be the latter.

A quick look along the line showed him that the battle was no longer going quite as well as it had been. With the Queen distracting the princesses, the drones they had been carving through effortlessly were now able to join the fight against the airships and the infantry down below. The growth in their numbers meant that every airship in the line could now be mercilessly attacked. Drones crawled all over the shields like flies on a carcass. Despite heavy mutual supporting fire from each craft, as well as their own guns, there was only so much that could be done. Several airships' shields were threatening to fail, while the Indomitable, struck a body blow by the magic of Chrysalis, was defenceless, its shield gone entirely. Drones were on the deck, where the crew were fighting a similarly deadly battle to that which had unfolded aboard the Fillydelphia earlier. There was nothing Ironside or his crew could do, but some of the Pegasi infantry who had aided them after taking off from the transports were now heading for the stricken patrol craft to help her.

The Fillydelphia had to turn its attention back to the threat that now faced them directly. The shield was back up, the unicorns having recovered from the initial collapse, but a good number of drones were coming at them once more, and their ammunition was running low. With so many targets to engage, that condition had to be widespread throughout the fleet. Though no guns were yet silent, there was the threat of magazines running dry at a crucial moment. Each airship was loaded with extra rounds for all of their weapons in anticipation of a major and prolonged engagement, but the sheer number of drones was proving to be greater than even the most overzealous projections had estimated. Ironside was glad that he was not an infantry pony, with just a rifle and a helmet for protection, in the midst of the swarm. Being on board an airship invited the enemy to target you, but there was a lot more protection, and a lot more firepower at your disposal.

The Fillydelphia was making full use of hers, engaging drone clusters with rapid fire, pummeling the flocks of Changelings that tried to close in on her. The magazines were not empty just yet. Ironside took another look and could see that the battle line was holding. He kept a close eye on the flagship, watching for and signals. The volcano was pumping out a vast plume of ash and smoke, and while the prevailing winds were carrying it to the east of them, there was no telling how it might shift, or what else might result from Chrysalis's actions. The interaction of magic with a natural volcanic event had never been studied before, and Changeling magic added another layer of danger and potential to the mix. Through his telescope, Ironside could see sulphurous clouds rising from vents in the flanks of the volcano, boulders rolling down the slopes, spurts of lava leaking out here and there. Even at a mile away, he did not feel remotely safe from the mighty mountain. He had no idea what it must be like to be inside of it.




The tremors were becoming almost constant as Spitfire and Arcwing dragged Twilight back through the chamber. The magma blocking their path was traveling at a surprising rate, and would be entering the cavern soon. There were several other rocky tunnels branching off from it, but which one might lead them to safety and which might lead them deeper, they could only guess at. Spitfire signalled for the squad on point to enter one of the tunnels which, they knew from their previous investigations, sloped upward, at least to begin with. How far it would continued to rise would have to be discovered through hoofwork. If they were walking themselves into a dead end, there was nothing they could do about it, except pray to Celestia that there was some other way out.

To Twilight, every tunnel looked the same, uniformly grey and hot, glimpsed only in the half-light from the torches the ponies wore. She knew what was happening, but she was still in a half dazed state. So much movement after so long being stationary was throwing her equilibrium off, and her legs were weak. Arcwing was supporting her, but she still felt frail. The darkness was not helping either, as she couldn't see the floor and kept stumbling over small protuberances in the uneven surface. The Changelings, evidently, felt little discomfort from not having a smooth floor to walk on. No doubt their wings helped them navigate the Hive painlessly, but that was of no comfort to the exhausted mare.

To add to her unease, it was getting hot in the Hive; not just warm, as it had been, but hot, like being on a subway platform in Manehattan on a summer day. She was too dehydrated to sweat efficiently, and despite Arcwing offering her more water, her throat remained parched. Her mind was reeling, still thinking about Chrysalis and her threats, the brutality of her guards, the darkness and solitude of her cell, and the pain of torture. She could not quite believe it was over, but the irony was that her freedom had seen her thrown into a maze of tunnels from which there seemed to be no escape, inside a volcano which appeared to be about to come down around her ears. She could have almost laughed, if her throat was not so dry.

She looked around at the ponies who had come to rescue her. Strong ponies, brave ponies, who had come surely to their deaths. Spitfire, Rainbow Dash's idol as the leader of the Wonderbolts flight demonstration squadron. Rainbow will absolutely die when I tell her that Spitfire is the leader of a badass commando unit as well, Twilight thought, before correcting herself. Rainbow would have died, had they not all been trapped inside their tomb. The secret would likely die with them, if the covert unit was as secretive as it seemed. Perhaps the true identities of its members would never be revealed to the public, especially if their mission was to fail.

Twilight, even in her dazed state, fervently hoped they would find a way out of the labyrinth. She had seen the bodies of the dead ponies who had fallen during their rescue attempt. She did not want to be responsible for the deaths of the several hundred ponies who were now all around her.

Spitfire, sticking close to Twilight, knew their mission hung in the balance. They had found the prisoner, to be sure, but there was no sign of the Element. Nor was there any chance of them finding it. The earth was moving under their hooves; the volcano was surely taking its last deep, deep breaths before erupting, and there was no time to search for the prize. They would have to be content with their rescue mission, assuming they could pull it off and actually find an exit. The path they had used to enter was closed to them, the rest of the Hive was a confusing maze. The one upside, Spitfire reasoned, was that since the tremors began they had not seen a single Changeling. No doubt they have already abandoned the sinking ship.

The tunnel rose and began to turn, first left, then right, then left again, seemingly arbitrarily, though in reality probably navigating its way around deposits of metal ore, pockets of magma, or some other impassable obstacle. It led to a chamber, this one fairly small, but free of obstruction. Another tunnel led upward, and they took it, climbing still further as everything shook around them. Dust and rock tumbled from the ceiling, cascading down upon the string of ponies making their way through the tunnel, in search of that most futile and fleeting of things, safety.

Spitfire knew the lives of all of the ponies under her command hung in the balance. Yet, there was nothing she could do, nothing any of them could do, except to simply soldier on. If the mountain collapsed around them, if magma flooded every orifice and every passageway of the Hive, then they would die, no questions asked. But if, somehow, they could beat the clock, race against time and come in first place, they might just find a way out, a way to live. She offered a quick prayer to Celestia, who she knew was still out there. She would watch over them. She had to.

They came to another chamber, and despite shouts to go back, Spitfire ordered the column to press on. Magma was breaking through the right side wall, a great orange mass, radiating heat like an oven. It was oozing into the chamber, but they had to pass it. To go back was to invite certain entrapment, wasting time and energy. At least this route was heading upward, towards the surface. That was where they needed to go.

There was no way of telling how much time they might have. The volcano could erupt at any moment, or it might merely be undergoing a brief spell of activity before calming down once again. But the worst case scenario had to be assumed. Spitfire needed to get Twilight and her ponies out into the open air as soon as possible, before disaster overtook them. Pegasi were not meant to be underground; this was the domain of the Diamond Dogs, or at best, earth pony and unicorn mining crews, who toiled in the heat and the dark and the danger in search of wealth untold, deep within the earth. Pgeasi were meant to be free, soaring high in the sky, always on the move, not trapped down in the depths, afraid of the unknown. It would not be a fitting place for them all to die.

And so they continued on, climbing the path to freedom, or perhaps to false hope. It was all they could do. The tremors did not stop as they came to another branch in the tunnel. This time, their choice was already made for them. One of the tunnels was blocked with a mass of debris, the ceiling having collapsed under the constant shaking. The other tunnel was clear, at least up as far as their torch beams would reach. They pushed on, but soon they did not only have the tremors to contend with.

The tunnel ahead levelled off and entered a flat, low chamber. It seemed at first to be full of smoke, but as the first ponies in the column began to hack and cough, it became clear that the chamber was actually flooded with toxic fumes. Sulphur dioxide, hydrogen sulphide, carbon monoxide, and who knew what else. The atmosphere was choking, barely breathable. But they had to push on. To turn back was to consign themselves to death down below. The only way was up, and as far as they knew, this might be the only surviving tunnel that actually led to the surface, the only salvation from the depths of hell.

Spitfire ordered a halt and for the leading squads to back out of the chamber, into the tunnel. Some of the gases that were heavier than air were filtering down the slope towards them, and despite their short retreat, the ponies at the front were soon coughing again. Spitfire ordered them back to the rear of the column to recover, swapping the rearguard and bringing them to the front to lead the way. They would have to push through the chamber. She instructed everypony to don their gas masks, part of the standard issue equipment for every military pony. The offensive use of gas was well-known and had been carried out in the past. The Zebras in particular had access to a wide array of substances which they could use to manufacture a poisonous or debilitating gs, which they would aerosolise and then disperse through artillery shells. As a result of heavy casualties in the past, the development of a mask for troops had been expedited by the top brass, resulting in the present respirator issued to each pony.

Once their masks were on, the ponies no longer resembled their own species, but instead looked like some kind of sea monster from the briny deep. Their expressive eyes were covered, all now displaying two black orbs of dull, filmed acrylic, each alike, identical to their squadmates. Instead of a mouth, they each appeared to have a shower head, dozens of small holes drawing air into the mask and through the filters, which sat like a short elephant trunk jutting out from where the snout of the ponies lay. Spitfire had one of the spare masks brought up for Twilight, and Arcwing busied himself in explaining its functions to her and fitting it over her head and horn. The masks were not breathing apparatus, and supplied no air of their own, meaning they were of limited use in environments where there was a lack of air to begin with. While it was clear that the noxious fumes in the tunnel and the chamber must have displaced a lot of the atmosphere within, if it was necessary to pass through to reach safety, then it was far better to not inhale the gases while doing so.

Twilight found that seeing the ponies don their protective masks, eerily lit in the torch beams, just added to her sense of unease. Being rapidly talked through how to wear and use one herself made her scared; not quite terrified, but full of worry, and breathing shallowly but quickly, not exactly conducive to remaining calm, or to properly using a gas mask. Spitfire made her way over to reassure her.

'Don't worry,' she said, her voice muffled and somewhat indistinct as she was speaking through the filters of her mask. 'You just need to wear this for a little bit, ok Twilight? Just until we're through the chamber. Once we're safe from the gas, we'll help you take it off. Can you do that for me? Arcwing will be right with you the whole time, but we need to get moving.' She patted Twilight's shoulder comfortingly. 'Don't worry. You'll be fine. We're not gonna let anything happen to you.'

Twilight nodded, though the calming intention of Spitfire's words was somewhat undermined by the fact that, hidden behind her mask, helmet and camouflage polymers, there was no indication other than her voice that it was actually Spitfire. She looked all but identical to the others of her Special Tasks Group. At least they, in turn, differed from the Assault Infantry by the shade of their unforms, although in the darkness they all blended into one anyway.

'I-i think I'll be ok,' Twilight assured Spitfire, though she spoke as much to steady herself. She wasn't sure how she would cope, but it had to be done. Arcwing slipped the mask into place and raised his hoof. Spitfire did the same, gesturing to the new lead squad, who set off into the chamber. The rest of them moved too, swiftly, flying or cantering through. Arcwing kept hold of Twilight and pulled her along firmly, supporting most of her weight on his burly frame, trying to get her through the gas as quickly as possible.

Twilight kept her eyes open, as it was the only little thing that could help stave off feelings of claustrophobia. At least Arcwing's flashlight provided some illumination just ahead of her. She sucked in air through the mask, as much as she could, while letting him do most of the work, her hooves moving but only weakly. The apparent confidence of the ponies around her helped keep her on task, and before she knew it, they were through, into a tunnel on the other side. Arcwing waited for a signal before removing Twilight's mask. It was safe to breathe the air, but they needed to keep moving. The earth tremors continued to build in intensity, and a deep rumbling could be heard, seeming to come from all around them. A tremendous upheaval was underway, and they were caught right in the middle of it.

Spitfire headed up to the front of the column, taking the lead as they continued upwards. Rocks fell from the ceiling as the ground shook violently, throwing a few ponies into the walls as they lost their balance. The tunnel began to corkscrew, spiraling around itself as it climbed, getting ever steeper.

A particularly loud creak and crash came from below. The earth bucked, like sitting atop a cannon as it fired. Twilight stumbled, but Arcwing held her up. A shout came from below, urgent.

'There's magma coming up!'

The shout was echoed from a dozen other voices. Twilight dared to glance back, but could see nothing except a worrying orange glow from around the bend in the passage. The cries were repeated, and Spitfire, from the front, cried,

'Then get your flanks moving! Go, go, go!'

They responded, climbing up through the curving tunnel as fast as they could. Arcwing called for somepony to help him with Twilight, and another Pegasi came to their aid, a dark blue mare, visible now as they had all removed their gas masks. Together, they steadied her, and kept her moving at a fast pace. The rearguard flapped up, using their wings to stay ahead of what was following on behind; a thick mass of molten rock, glowing from the fiery heat it possessed, surging up the tunnel in pursuit.

After seemingly endless twisting, the tunnel straightened, and leveled off at another chamber. It seemed they had found the holy grail. Up ahead, across the dark expanse, Twilight could see a dull glow. Not orange or red or yellow, like that which shadowed them behind. This glow was a pale but familiar white. Daylight.

The head of the column headed straight across the chamber toward the tunnel as the ground continued to shake beneath their hooves. Their salvation was near, but fate, as ever, was both fickle and cruel.

A sharp crack could be heard from up ahead. Debris was falling; great chunks of rock, crumbling away from the ceiling that was shrouded in darkness above. Spitfire, at the head of the column, shouted a warning, gesturing for the rest to go back, to get clear. With a great groan, the roof of the cavern gave way, spilling rock and dirt straight down upon the vanguard, debris smashing into the entrance to the tunnel that had promised salvation. When the dust settled, there was only silence and darkness.