Heavy Hoof had been following the strange group for two days since the report, and hadn’t learned anything useful, much to his growing irritation. On the other tentacle, he was there to observe, not to draw any perfectly accurate conclusions. The group’s behavior was odd, at least regarding the lack of any actual communication. The changelings barely spoke, and if so, then only to the tiny earthponies in a language unknown to Heavy. The small, heavily armored ponies hadn’t talked to each other either during the single time they’d set up camp, and the mechanical ponies had only replied when spoken to.
Simply put, everyone was on the same page about what to do without any need for orders he could interpret in any way.
What puzzled Heavy the most, though, was the amount of crystalline istrium covering the tunnel walls. Why would someone need that? The only reason he’d come up with stemmed from the old times when, coincidentially, an army of zebras and undead led by Nightmare invaded Equestria, and Blaze working with minotaurs from the shadows equipped warriors of newly founded Rift with armors crafted from the rough istrium crystals, not the fine, refined, silvery metal. The reason for that had been the need to keep his plan in secret against scrying magic of Luna, Celestia, or anyone trying to figure out what was going in the north. In fact, the old istrium armors granted serious magic resistance at the price of instilling fear in their wearers, which was why minotaurs were the only ones to use those. Here, protecting the tunnel against standard magic made no sense, so it had to mean it was to block scrying and divination magic of all sorts… which didn’t work in corrupted regions anyway.
So… someone was trying to hide… a tunnel underground… that was already hidden.
Duuuuuuh…
Heavy would facehoof if he had a corporeal body.
As his thought turned back to having a real body, he felt strange… spread and scattered. He’d never felt like this before - sluggish, as if he was a pool of goop, not originally a pony.
He waited for the group to pass again. It didn’t seem that there were any branching paths in this tunnel, so he decided to materialize out of the wall, feeling as if he’d been in the gym for days straight without rest, whole body trembling like jello. Sitting down and propping his back against the wall, he listened for any signs that anyone of the group noticed. There was nothing, only the echoes of the stomping mechs gradually getting quieter.
He just needed few minutes, hopefully, and when the group would eventually have to stop again, he’d get some proper rest.
Unfortunately, that’s when he heard screams from ahead.
***
Cromach had focused on Mistake, or on anything he knew about the zebra army. However, when he’d snapped his talons, he certainly hadn’t expected to reappear with a flash lodged horizontally up to his neck inside a wall.
Of course, the approaching, bared, sharp teeth of a tall, female changeling warrior with wine-red mane and slit, dark green eyes didn’t help his situation. Instead of biting his head off like she meant to, she headbutted him as a metal muzzle instantly appeared out of nowhere, locked firmly around her mouth.
In the next instant, Cromach flashed and appeared floating inside the tunnel properly this time. He looked around at the firepower aimed in his direction, and smirked. He must have had both Heavy following the dwarves as well as the zebra army on his mind, and the chaos did its irritating thing. So… where was Heavy then?
“I think I remember you,” he furrowed his brows, rubbing his chin, and watching the top-tier changeling trying to kick the muzzle off of her jaws, “One, right? Working for the boss?”
Reaching behind himself, he simply plucked something soft out of the air. A second, normal-sized changeling mare with bright red mane held by her barrel in his talons appeared with a shimmer running through her whole body.
“I don’t recall your rank, but I think we’ve met before, and you look equally as cuddly,” Cromach booped her nose with his free hand, deftly avoiding a bite from her needle-like teeth, “Now, what are dwarves and Brauheim changelings doing here with all this stuff?” he nodded to the gear loaded on the backs of the mechs.
One had stopped struggling, and was just watching the floating white chaos noodle, ready to pounce. She wasn’t surprised by him knowing her, she wasn’t stunned by his knowledge of the dwarven city and her hive, she wasn’t taken aback by the draconequus’ appearance in the first place. Confusion was something that happened to others. Whatever the creature was, she was just waiting for a chance to strike.
Seeing the hostility of the situation hadn’t changed, Cromach snapped his talons again, transforming into his griffon form, which made it somewhat difficult to keep holding the other changeling, so he lowered her down on the floor. Nothing changed about One’s demeanor. With the next snap, One’s muzzle disappeared.
She pounced immediately…
...and hit an immovable wall which knocked the breath out of her even with her reinforced chitin. That wall was Cromach’s outstretched palm.
“Okay, I understand that transforming into my old body is the last thing that would persuade a changeling, but it’s me. The passphrase I used to communicate with the boss is ‘arms race’,” he frowned, “And now that I said it in front of everyone, we’ll have to change it.”
That finally stopped One from launching herself at him again. She raised her foreleg, and ordered:
“Corona guinness artios!”
The dwarves hissed more words at each other, and relaxed, dropping their backpacks. The smaller changeling was behind Cromach again, observing him.
“What did you say?” asked Cromach.
“I told them to set up camp,” said One, “So, let’s presume for a second you really are Cromach. What brings you here?”
“An accident, it seems,” he shrugged, proceeding to lounge in the air even as a griffon. He tried to sense Heavy Hoof, but all he managed was to look as if he was holding in a yawn, “However, your escape from the Badlands through Pine Hills didn’t go unnoticed. I’d like to know what you were doing there with that pile of equipment in the first place. I’m not big on engineering, but Bucket said it’s a mix of dwarf tech, Silver Sun fusion of magic and technology, and Black Ops mechanics, all bought with Silver Sun money.”
One shrugged.
“Boss tells us what to do. He said it was absolutely crucial that we didn’t know anything directly unrelated to the mission, so we had parts of our memories scrubbed. When we get back to Brauheim, we’ll reconnect to the hive mind with details,” she waved her foreleg to encompass the tunnel, “This is all for protection. Oh right, Two, gear up our guest.”
The second changeling walked over to the dwarves, rummaged through one of their bags, and returned with a set of refined istrium bracelets as well as necklace.
“Put these on,” she said, “We’re not saying a word until you do.”
Shrugging, Cromach equipped the silvery grey jewels, not feeling any different while wearing them.
“Under no circumstances are you allowed to take those off now,” One leaned closer to Cromach, “Understood? It doesn’t matter what happens, those stay on. They keep you… not exactly invisible but uninteresting. I don’t know what it protects from, but anyone connected to the operation once needs to wear those forever, or until told otherwise. I repeat, it is absolutely not negotiable under ANY circumstances. ANY knowledge of these dealings must be in the heads of those wearing istrium protection. The mechs are already from the partially refined metal.”
“And who gives the word when it’ll be safe?”
“No idea,” One shrugged, “Not my place to ask, and I’m not sure even boss knows.”
“Got any spares? Just in case,” Cromach remembered that Heavy might be somewhere in the vicinity, “My chaos powers can be a little random.”
What he didn’t know was that Heavy Hoof was the wall next to which he was hovering. Heavy absorbed several of the raw istrium crystals into what could loosely be called his body right now. Maybe it would come in handy.
“We always do,” Two brought more bracelets, all of which Cromach put on.
“So, now that I look like a tribal zebra shaman, can we talk now?” he asked.
“We can share what little we know, I suppose,” One nodded.
“So, the Silver Sun money and building all this,” Cromach tapped the wall, “Go.”
“Dunno, really,” One shrugged, “The request came from you, or using your seals and passwords like usual. Boss knows more, but he’s not leaving our hive these days.”
“Strange. Who brought the encoded messages?” asked Cromach, “I explicitly ordered Bucket to conclude all business in person, same way as I did. No magic or long-distance transmissions to ensure you stay undetected. I take my promise to boss seriously.”
“Boss handles these contacts in person,” explains One, “There have been several of those recently. I’m not supposed to know any details right now, so I don’t.”
Two shifts on the floor, and clears her throat.
“I… might,” she whistles innocently, “Technically, none of our infiltrators are skilled enough to wipe my memories properly, so while I don’t know details of this mission, I know who brought the orders to dad. The question is whether or not we should share that.”
“The orders came from the Silver Sun, and while this guy might or might not be Cromach, he knows the top override password. Go on, Two,” One nods to her.
“Alright, I disagree, but let’s leave it at that,” Two scratches her head, “The one who brought the orders was a hippogriff mare. The same one who visited few times before for some minor business - electronics adjustments and so on. I think she makes living by exploring the world and looking for old dwarf ruins. She actually brought several very rare pieces of tech no one on the surface was able to work with. Hole, it even took the dwarves research effort to identify those. I think she was blond, with black coat, but I never saw her eyes nor cutie mark. Oh yeah, one more thing!” she tapped her istrium bracelets, “Mom, remember how Six and the entire academy of engineers were freaking out a whole week? That was because of her too. She brought back a long lost dwarf secret of forging istrium properly, holes know where she found that, and wanted us to make her that bodysuit,” she pointed back at the stationary mechs, “We upgraded the chassis of those guys based on her blueprints, and boss got his… you know,” she rubbed her chest in a gesture Cromach didn’t decipher.
“Des...” Cromach breathed out, “Blaze and I got the methods from nearly two thousand years old journals of Starswirl the Bearded. He shared those with Bucket and Des.”
So Desert Shade was behind everything, or at least she was the one who would know the most.
He raised his hand, and twirled the istrium bracelet. Why was the metal so important? Magic resistance couldn’t be the only reason.
A shocked scream resonated through the tunnel, clearly too high-pitched to be from any of the members of the expedition. Everyone looked around, weapons raised.
“Citra hopburn lager!” One ordered loudly, clearly meaning something along the lines of packing up and moving immediately.
Cromach remembered how he got here in the first place-
“Heavy?”
-and snapped his talons.