//------------------------------// // XX. Beneath // Story: The War in Heaven // by voroshilov //------------------------------// “When the new Emperor came upon the world of Zelios, he was met by the Duke of Autumn. As part of a plot to kill the new Emperor, they brought forth a tank of The Ether, a hyperpotent drug only a Zelian can safely consume. Though the Emperor sensed the plot, he consumed The Ether regardless, breathing in the entire tank. There was not so much as a change in his body temperature, forcing even the Duke of Autumn - whose independence he had asserted for nearly a century - to bow before their new Emperor.” - The Rise of the Emperor by Anna Strik - The Eternal Emperor, Nicholas The Everlasting, Master of Time, sighed. He had been staring at a theoretical brief, the creation of a group of trusted scientists, into the nature of the Great Light's physical - for want of a better term - form. The paper said, in no uncertain terms, that he could not kill the Great Light. At first, he had questioned why, demanding an answer and believing that his will trumped that of fact. It took one of the scientists explaining his own powers to him for him to be fully convinced. "You can't," they said, "because you and the Great Light are like matter and antimatter. If you try to destroy the Great Light with your powers, you will just destroy each other. But, since the Great Light is larger in terms of amount than you, it will survive and you will die." He had, reluctantly, accepted defeat. Though not at the hands of the Great Light. He bore almost the entire power of one of the primordial forces of the Omniverse, the Great Light was the other. Nicholas relied on the Darkness within him to survive, though he had far more power than just that. The thought suddenly clicked: if he couldn't do it, get someone else to. Though the idea was so simple, it just might work. All he would need was someone powerful enough, he could design them any number of weapons to kill the Great Light provided they had the strength to back it up. Kaurava's songs could probably do the trick, though more condensed, something the Great Light wouldn't have the time to defend against. Perhaps, he thought, rather than a song, a killing word? Or words? A killing voice, to carry the power needed to kill the Great Light. All he needed was to shorten Kaurava's songs, making them more dangerous to the wielder, granted, but also more dangerous to everyone else. A phrase would be less cumbersome than a song, also, able to be used quickly or in rapid succession, should it be needed. He could make a killing voice, relatively easily, the problem was finding someone to use it. All those that he knew were powerful enough would fall foul of the same reason he couldn't do it. An ordinary mortal, theoretically, may be able to use it, but even the knowledge of such a powerful killing spell might just kill them instead of his target. The only creatures powerful enough were of his own creation, like Kaurava or Kyhron, so they were out; or, some of the more powerful beings in the Dauxite Assembly, who were all dead. Or were they? Nicholas delved into Chronove's databases, trawling through enormous amounts of data pertaining to every living being in the Assembly's records, disused since the Great Rebellion billions of years prior. One species in particular stood out: from the planet the Assembly had called Xayanth, a Precursor species, relatively new to the Assembly when the Great Rebellion wiped them out. The latest Assembly record keeping showed an access of the Shield World known as Cradle by a creature the world's AI had identified as "Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra" one of, if not, the first Assembly encounters with the species. This "Penumbra" had accessed and deactivated the entire portal complex of Cradle, preventing the Great Rebellion from spreading to that area, effectively saving the installation. Other records, those of messages from one of those studying Penumbra's species, had identified Xayanth as being nearby to Cradle, as well as another Shield World: Sanctum. From what data he could gather, Penumbra was more than powerful enough to carry a killing voice. Unlike the Assembly, Penumbra's species may not have gone extinct, given that they effectively cauterised access to Cradle. He made a note to look into the matter further, turning his attention to a more practical and immediate task: the elimination of the rebel nobility. The next planet on his list was in the Ivar system, home of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess Thana. According to records, they had a son on the verge of adulthood, Duke Alastair. If he could be turned, excellent, if not he would be disposed of. High Admiral Sol, a youthful looking woman with short blonde hair, mostly covered by her officers cap, stood over the partially cocooned Rainbow Dash. The cyan pegasus, now knowing she was permanently disabled, had followed the advice of the PHALANX Em, asking one of the doctors to bring High Admiral Sol to her. The High Admiral had arrived only after Em was consulted, the PHALANX having given a personal recommendation to what they described as a "promising new candidate." When Sol had first seen Rainbow Dash, she had shook her head and prepared to leave. She had immediately remembered why she usually didn't listen to Em, especially given his notoriety when it came to messing with command. She had only stayed because the pegasus had tried to shake her hand, even when her foreleg was clearly broken and also tied back with bandages. "Do you have any idea what the PHALANX project entails?" Rainbow Dash laughed. "Of course: armour and guns." Sol chuckled, before chastising herself and forcing back a smile. She did, though, pull up a stool next to Rainbow's bed, looking the pegasus up and down before speaking again. "There was someone in my family," she said, "long ago now, who was just like you. They were brash, jovial, crazier than you, of course, a lot crazier than you. But, they turned out to be one of the most highly awarded people the Empire has ever seen. I'm only staying here now because I think that they would like you." "Who were they?" "Admiral Argent Sol, first member of my family to join the military, started a tradition that's been going on for over eleven thousand years. Won two Stars of the Obsidian Throne, the highest order in the Empire. Every person in my family since has tried to live up to them. I'm one of several to get above their rank, I've commanded an entire WarFleet when they commanded only one ship, but I'm still nowhere near up to their pedestal. They commanded that ship for one hundred and nineteen years straight, not once taking a holiday or anything. They didn't even retire, they died covering the escape of their first officer whilst on an assignment raiding a pirate base. Oddly enough, their joyfriend was originally a pirate, most highly awarded pairing in Imperial history, those two. Three Stars of the Obsidian Throne, nine Stars of the Irenton Empire, seven Orders for Merit in Defence of the Empire and eighteen Imperial Combat Merits Gold Class. It's an even bigger achievement when you realise both were what we'd now classify as insane and totally unfit for the job, Argent shouldn't have been able to get a commission, let alone a Supercarrier, and Hayden shouldn't even have been allowed in the military, they were both sociopaths, sadomasochists, had multiple personalities and were near instant to anger but both represented the Empire far better than I could ever hope to. The reason I'm telling you all of this, is because you're now in the PHALANX project, no backing out now I'm afraid, and I like my new recruits to hear that story. Because, although I could never live up to Argent Sol, I hope that they might." Rainbow had been told only one thing about what the PHALANX project actually entailed: "pain," which had really helped her not become anxious about it as a squad of Fusiliers led her out of the medical facility on a hovering bed, loaded her onto a dropship and ferried her up to the enormous, grey, blocky form of a Carrier, hanging a few hundred miles above. The Carrier, which High Admiral Sol informed her was technically named the "IESS Triumph of Tycon" though was referred to by its personnel as simply "The Carrier", was the home - so to speak - of Project: PHALANX. All the facilities needed to produce the equipment for PHALANXs, as well as the PHALANXs themselves, was onboard, along with suitable quantities of ship-based armaments as to ward off most attackers. She was brought straight from the dropship to a meeting room by a pair of PHALANXs, their armour gunmetal grey and polished to a shine. The two brought her hovering bed to a rest at one end of the table, then filed out, not even a stray look from them. "This." High Admiral Sol pointed the roomful of officers, doctors and three helmetless PHALANXs towards Rainbow's bed. "Is Rainbow Dash, the newest candidate for the PHALANX project." One of the helmetless PHALANXs, wearing dark blue armour with number of scars along his face, gave her a look seemingly comprised of pure hatred, before speaking, voice loud, rough and apparently permanently angry, "are you fucking joking, Sol? Is this some kind of practical fucking joke? Our PHALANXs get thrown into fucking hell twice for no fucking reason and this fucking thing is how we replace them?" Another helmetless PHALANX, this one wearing forest green armour, with a smoother, but no less rugged face, interrupted, thankfully not ascribing to the military theory that swearing more makes you a better soldier. "If you have a better idea, Lucius, why don't you tell us? Otherwise, keep silent, the grownups are talking." To Rainbow's surprise, the blue PHALANX didn't say another word. "Now," the green PHALANX continued, "why has this candidate been chosen?" High Admiral Sol looked to her. "A combination of reasons," she said, "firstly, a recommendation from a PHALANX operative. Secondly, I believe she has courage, which she showed to me when I first encountered her. Thirdly, her file reports she had a natural proficiency for flying, enabling the creation of a specialised wingsuit that she will not need to be trained to control. Finally, I received this recommendation." She slid a black, puck-shaped, holographic projector onto the table, which lighted to reveal an image of Emperor Nicholas. "This one," he said, "shows far greater promise than any other prospective candidate. Given proper materials, she can easily be inducted into your Project. She has, in the past, flown faster than the speed of sound using only her natural wings, if you needed more practical evidence. I have no doubt she will make the ideal PHALANX soldier." The holographic projector flicked off and High Admiral Sol rose from her seat. "Any questions?" There were none. She nodded/ "Doctor Alphyas, I want you to run a simulation of the augmentation process needed to bring her up to PHALANX requirements. Doctor Tiber, I want you to prepare augmentation instruments based on the simulation that Doctor Alphyas will provide. Commodore Young shall have engineering design a PHALANX suitable armour and weapons system for the candidate to use. First Admiral Horrocks and I will oversee the final augmentation process and develop a flash training regimen for her to use. We're on the clock here, Emperor Nicholas expects results and we are going to give them to him no matter what it costs." Rainbow had been led into a holding area, with the only comfort being a screen allowing her to watch a number of Imperial entertainment shows. The doctor who had delivered her had recommended something called "Sharpe," a show about a gruff soldier type during a period called the Perseus Acquisition. Rainbow had, initially, only put it on because she didn't know what else to do, but was quickly enamoured by its story, costume design and characters. She had become so engrossed in the story, she didn't even notice the hours go by. Fusilier-Colonel Sharpe was leading a company of Fusiliers, their armour similar but greyer and more blocky than the Fusiliers she had seen, from his regiment up a ridge during the invasion of Uriel VI, he was crouched low, sniper fire constantly pinging at the lip of rock barely an inch above his head, artillery thundering in the distance, before he suddenly vanished and was replaced by a black screen, then a pair of doctors. Both wore full face rebreathers, attached to a small pack on their lower backs, as well as a surgical mask. One held a gun-like implement containing a vial of yellow, viscous liquid attached to a syringe, which they planted into Rainbow's neck, the pegasus feeling an odd heat arising from the entrance point but nothing too out of the ordinary. "Priming serum delivered, suspect is primed, preparing for transfer." Suddenly, Rainbow was struck with immense pain all over her body, like fire was flowing instead of blood. She let out a startled yelp and struggled violently and vainly against the restraints the doctors had quickly placed her in. Her every breath came out staggered and hacking, as though she could hardly breathe at all and the sclera of her eyes ran yellow, the same sickly colour as the liquid in the vial. She didn't hear what else the doctors said, or paid much attention to their movements, such was the agony she was in. As she was, writhing against her restraints, she was mostly deafened and her eyes practically welded shut. Her passage of time was so warped that, when she opened her eyes again, she was in a dimly lit, empty, grey room adjacent to the operating theatre, which she was informed by the two medical Fusiliers in the room with her was halfway across the ship from where she had been previously. Her bandages had been removed, as had the restraints, with Rainbow realising that she had been unconscious for what may have been an embarrassing amount of time. "How long was I out?" "Seven hours." One of them said, no movement to indicate which. "Your restraints and bandages were removed, you won't need them anymore." Rainbow nodded, rising slowly, aware of the painful tension in her back and shoulders. She rolled it off as best she could, before one of the Fusiliers spoke again, "no use getting comfortable," they said, "the operating theatre is next door, Doctor Tiber is waiting for you." She hopped from the bed, before realising why she was in it in the first place when she felt and heard her bones compress and groan. She held back a groan of pain, before trudging towards the door, which, mercifully, opened automatically. Doctor Tiber was, as expected, waiting for her, fully decked out in rebreather as well as a surgical gown and mask. She nodded meekly at her, to which Doctor Tiber gestured to the metal table that lay ahead of her. The pegasus limped towards it, climbing up onto it, with Tiber attaching her in, arms and legs splayed open, cuffed in with thick bands of metal that Rainbow had no hope of cracking. "The procedure," Tiber said, "is a long one, which will involve a number of automated movements of the table to enable us to properly access the relevant pieces of your anatomy." Rainbow chuckled, worriedly. "What? No, 'you won't feel a thing' talk or anything?" Tiber looked at her. "You will feel it all," she said, "anaesthetic combined with the drugs we shall give you to augment you would kill you. Hopefully, you pass out from the pain early on." To Rainbow's horror, she turned and left, the doctor genuinely serious about lack of anaesthetic. "Heh, I've changed my mind," she called out, before yelling it in fear as several very wicked looking instruments rose from panels in the ground. She yelped in shock when needles in her restraints bit into her skin, releasing something that did anything but calm her down. A pair of needles came up from the floor on either side of her neck, slowly approaching then jabbing her, dispensing something that made her itch, the itch quickly spreading from the entrance point of the needles to all over her body, though she couldn't move at all to fix it. The needles retracted, before being replaced by something that sounded worryingly like a pair of drills, coming in on either of her temples. Further down, at her abdomen, a small, circular saw approached, with a pair of small, knife-like implements approaching either side of the bottom of her ribs. Though the reflection was small, it gave her a relatively good look at herself. She looked like plain old Rainbow Dash, save her mane had been cut to the skin and her eyes were yellowish, pupils wide open in abject terror. She then saw the two drills nearing her temples, which caused her to scream out something unintelligible, with even Rainbow herself not knowing what she'd said. The drills took an agonisingly long time to approach, Rainbow being able to feel the spinning of their bits for about a minute before they made contact with her skin. It was frightfully cold, before becoming frightfully hot as they burrowed through her skin and into her skull. She didn't scream, just lay back, teeth clenched, unable to move as the pain suddenly registered. After boring a pair of clean holes into her skull, the drills retracted, another pair of smaller needles entering in their place. From the ceiling above her came a number of implements that appeared to be wires of some kind, though in Rainbow's state of mind they could have been anything. Two entered up her nostrils, another pair her ears, with the last four fiddling with her eyes, two cutting cleanly through the cornea and entering the pupil, where sudden flashes of white light marked where their tiny lasers cut at the ligaments holding her lenses in place, which were removed by the other pair of small implements and taken somewhere unknown, leaving her vision fuzzy and unable to focus. The last thing she felt before blacking out entirely was something cutting just below her ribs. Mercifully, the pain didn't go any further. She awoke in what was clearly a hospital suite, though rather than a bed she was suspended in what seemed to be a tube, a pair of resistors above and below her keeping her floating. The only pain she felt was a dull ache in the nape of her neck, which she considered at least a partial victory given the horrible nightmare she had experienced. The more disbelieving part of her thought of it as just that, a nightmare, which she had woken up from before it got too awful, not that it wasn't already the worst thing to happen to her. A pair of doctors entered, four armed medical Fusiliers following, with High Admiral Sol at the back. The officer stepped forwards, looking closely over the partially trapped Rainbow Dash. The pegasus tried to speak, but her voice refused to make any sound. "Doctor Tiber," Sol said, "show her the results of the procedure." Doctor Tiber brought forwards a large, thin screen, displaying a rendering of Rainbow. Her mane was buzzcut, most of her coat was gone, she was covered in scars, her eyes had a shifting red halo within them and her wings had been replaced entirely by a pair of sockets. Her wings. Rainbow choked when she saw them, not even stubs remained, just a pair of sockets where her wings should have been. Her jaw trembled for a second, before her stomach decided to eject everything in it, which proved to only be some dark blood clots and stomach acid. She looked at the blood and acid on the floor, then to the picture of her wings, then vomited again, now just acid. The one upside was the metallic taste in her mouth from the last time had been washed out and replaced with just burning. "Your augmentations will take some getting used to," Sol said, "you most likely will get phantom pains in the area of your wings for the first few weeks, as well as auditory and visual hallucinations, you will feel like you are just learning to walk again and your breathing may feel as though you are drowning for the next week or so. You will get frequent nosebleeds for the rest of your life as well as probably an addiction to the drugs contained in your suit, which you will be placed in shortly." For a list of side effects, it wasn't the worse she had heard. Though, the worst had included death and cancer. She was released from her little floating pod and kept aloft by a pair of the Fusiliers, who acted as balances whilst her legs slipped out from under her, as though she was just learning to wake. Sure enough, only after about a minute free of the pod, something metallic entered her mouth. She wiped the top of her lips with a hoof and, just as Sol had said, found blood coming from her nose, an alarming amount of blood. Fortunately, it stopped as soon as it started, though the tip of her hoof was stained crimson. Slowly, she got to grips with her legs, learning to counter their odd spring and wish to move. Her body was constantly shaking, with a major twitch every ten or so seconds. She let the shakes keep her upright, using their momentum to essentially keep herself partially in the air at nearly all times. "The first test," Sol said, "is to follow me to the armoury." Rainbow half-walked, half-spasmed along the corridor, which was fortunately free of anyone besides herself, Sol and the Fusiliers just behind her, keeping watch. Aside from a few near falls, she made it to the armoury in one try, Sol opening the door for her. She was greeted by a large, white room, with a number of technicians surrounding a large upright circular frame. She was handed a black bodysuit, which a pair of Fusiliers helped her fit into. It was snug and moved fluidly but was surprisingly firm when hit and kept her well insulated. One of the technicians, wearing a lab coat but clearly more an engineer than a medical doctor, led her forwards to the frame, placing her feet into four crimson shapes fitted perfectly around her hooves, which the technician closed a number of small clips over, before gesturing to one of their fellows. The circular frame made a mechanical click, moving forwards slightly so it rested just over Rainbow Dash's neck. Another technician brought forwards what the upper for what Rainbow realised was hoof armour, which clipped perfectly over her hoof and with the lower part. The circular frame made a buzzing noise, the hoof armour seeming to jolt slightly downwards as it clicked together more firmly. The technicians repeated the process with her other hooves, before another pair joined them and attached her leg armour, the circular frame making a buzz before the armour was properly secured. The process continued all along her body, large and small plates being fitted to absolutely everywhere she didn't need uncovered to move, save everywhere up from her shoulders. A number of small plates, spaced enough to allow freedom of movement, were attached to the back of her neck. Then two halves of an oval shape were attached at the very bottom of her head, apparently forming the base for her helmet, which arrived in a number of pieces fitted slowly and carefully. The only concern she had was the apparatus for her muzzle, which arrived in about nine pieces and involved two tubes entering and totally blocking her nostrils for a moment, forcing her to use her mouth, which was entirely secured by a seal of rubber, to breathe. The visor was a seemingly opaque silver when it was attached about a half centimetre from her eyes, with the armour further up her brow taking away vision entirely until the process was completed. Rainbow Dash waited, fully encased in armour she couldn't see and could hardly breathe out of, for five minutes, whilst the technicians did something. What it was, she didn't know, she could neither see nor hear them so interaction was completely out of the question. Eventually, with an electrical whirring, her visor faded from opaque to transparency, greeting her with a faded image of her surroundings and a number of diagnostic texts she couldn't fully understand. "Activating PHALANX virtual assistant," a robotic voice said, "welcome, initiating final suit diagnostic, please stand by." She waited another minute or two, paragraphs of runes she couldn't read flashing in front of her, until, eventually, it was done and her vision suddenly shifted. She wasn't confronted by a visor anymore, but by a clear view of the outside, as though she wasn't even in the suit. "Visual augmentations working nominally," one of the technicians said, "she should be able to hear and see us." "If you can see and hear us well, say you're here," said another. "I'm here," Rainbow said, confused for a moment about how processed her voice sounded, "I can hear and see you good." The technicians nodded, tapping out various things on their little datapads. "Look up for me," said one, "now, down, good, good. Now, left. Now, right. Now, back to the centre." "All systems nominal." One of the technicians pressed a number of buttons on their datapad, creating a hiss from the frame Rainbow was on and making her slump a little. "Alright, take a step, nice and slow." Her step was much less shaky than the ones without armour, though much slower and heavier too. The technician beckoned her forwards, nodding at their pad as they did so. She definitely felt less of a spring in her step, though certainly felt more confident in each one she took. "Good, good," the technician said, before pushing one last button, "movement systems normal, activating auto-drug injection system." Rainbow felt six needles penetrate along the nape of her neck, though it felt good, almost pleasurable, rather than the immense pain her previous needle experiences had been. She felt a number of things rush into her, calming her down immediately and heightening her awareness, returning the springiness to her step and clearing her mind entirely. "Walk about," one of the technicians said, "tell us how you go." "Feels good," Rainbow said, "feels way better than before." "Good, good. We'll give you back to High Admiral Sol." Sol got her attention immediately. "We'll head to the trainers," she said, beckoning Rainbow on, "shouldn't take too long." The trainers were a short walk down another corridor and were simply a number of booths in one large room. The booths were all empty save one, containing First Admiral Horrocks from the meeting, who had already set up a booth for her to use. "Step inside," she said, "get in a comfortable stance, legs wide and hold still.” She brought a pair of cables forwards, connecting them to a pair of covered plugs on the side of Rainbow's helmet. With a sudden flash, she felt a number of memories and pieces of information in her head that hadn't been there previously. Another flash yielded the same results. Then a dozen or so more. Horrocks disconnected the cables again, placing them both onto a rack on the booth's walls. “All done." Rainbow had the memories and knowledge in her head of solid weeks of training, but had only experienced about a minute worth of it. "Flash training," Sol said, "we use it for PHALANXs and other special forces, typically on top of stuff they already know. It gets the job done well, but personal experience is often the better teacher." "Finally," Sol said as they walked, "we get you a new pair of wings, courtesy of the development labs who won't tell anyone but have been working on prototypes of these for decades. It's almost a saving grace you came along, finally a reason for R&D to still exist." The development labs were enormous, though Rainbow was confined to only a small area. A pair of beaming researchers brought forwards an individual, mechanical wing each, with an attachment perfect for the sockets on Rainbow's armoured back, which were similarly plugged into the sockets on Rainbow's real back. Without much fanfare, but a visible great happiness from the researchers, the wings were attached and Rainbow gained real control over them. She flexed them out instinctively, testing their weight and movement, before thinking of ascension. A number of small rings on the upper filament flared to life, lifting her quickly upwards as she beat the mechanical instruments, then keeping her aloft as she stopped flapping. Rainbow Dash was airborne again. When Mothia had first arrived on Avor II, she had been filled with excitement, finally, a hive of her own, not only that but a hive on a planet of her own. She had arrived with two hundred Changelings and been greeted by a division of Imperial soldiers, who had already constructed a partially subterranean complex to begin a hive from. She had thanked the Commander, who had told her if she needed anything at all to come to him. Despite her initial excitement for the hive, she began to spend longer and longer on the orbiting Imperial Overwatch station, hovering in a geosynchronous orbit above the fledgling hive. She had told herself it was to experience the Empire, to see how different Imperial society was to that of the Changelings. Though, quickly she gave up the act and recognised it was just to talk to the Commander, Julius, his name was, who was always more than happy to accept any sort of requests or just simple, but short, conversation. Over the course of a month, she had learned his full name was Julius Andre Lucian, he was twenty two standard years old and had been born on the planet of Vocharis, in the Olympia system, and had joined the military on his 14th birthday - when his species reached full maturity. Though she hadn't even admitted it to herself at first, she liked the Commander rather a lot, culminating in a request for him to come down with her to her hive, the reason for which she disguised as "enabling ease of communication in case of issues." Small numbers of Imperial troops would come and go every day, typically bringing equipment and supplies for the Changelings, who were steadily taught by the Imperials how to grow sustainable crops, helpful so that they would no longer have to feed exclusively on love. "It's a matter of diet changes," one of the instructors, a Fusilier whose authority came both from their knowledge and their friends with guns, had said, "these plants are good for you, they might not taste brilliant, but they're very good for you." Until the Changelings could get proper farming going, which the instructors estimated would take about two months, supplies of food came in every week, delivered by cargo transport to a landing pad a kilometre or so from the hive, where it would be collected by drones who would deliver it to the hive's storage rooms. "Next shipment that's coming in is bringing the usual: grains and roots, mostly, a bit of honey to tide you over. But, we've also got another pair of water purifiers coming in. Keep you posted when they arrive, Commander, Overwatch out." "What're they bringing?" Mothia slunk into the large Queen's chamber, marked predominantly by the large and almost luxurious "bed" made up of a number of sheets, pillows and blankets as to create the effects of a mattress. "Usual food, some honey and a pair of water purifiers," Julius replied, slipping the IntraSAT pad into the blast-proof pack next to him. "Ooh." She began to slowly wrap herself in a cocoon of sheets. "I like honey." "I can tell." It was one of the only things the still technically Princess ate, having discovered it around when Julius first arrived, the Commander having used it to clean his teeth, to which Mothia thought to copy, beginning her love affair with honey. "Keeps me clean," she mumbled inside her small tower of sheets, a ritual she performed every night so Julius would push her over and they'd both have a laugh. Sure enough, he did, causing the wrapped Changeling to roll, bounce off the wall, then collapse in a heap. Both always got a giggle from the absurdity of it, no matter how many times they did it. The Princess always liked to keep the Commander close, which she, even after making a number of confessions, attested was purely just to maintain body heat. The kissing was for body heat too, something about energy reserves would be an excuse afterwards, that the actually trained Commander knew was totally false. "Preserves heat," she would whisper, "got to keep energy reserves high." "Sure, sure," would be the reply, "very low on energy here." Then it would repeat for about two hours before they both fell asleep. They would awaken exactly two hours after dawn, then properly clothe and wash themselves before beginning work for the day. Work typically consisted of reports for Julius, then some labour either transporting or sorting the supplies or building extensions onto the hive structure; for Mothia, it consisted about the faintest thought of children, then some honey, then to say something encouraging to Julius every once in a while whilst bathing in the sun. "I'll be off to the pad then," Julius said, ensuring his armour was properly secured, "new shipment will need shifting quickly." Mothia planted a quick kiss on his forehead, muttered something about body heat then smiled and headed off to give her frazzled tail a brush before the vital, backbreaking labour of sunbathing later on. She had thought it a little odd the hive was so quiet, but had chalked it down to everyone being at work. Though, when she exited it for the first time that morning, she quickly realised why. Her Changelings were lined up in four rows of fifty abreast, an armoured Changeling Princess followed by a pair of grey uniformed Imperial officers inspecting them. Julius was speaking with another soldier, a General by their plain purple shoulder cape. Above, surrounding the Overwatch station, were a dozen cruisers, with a carrier leading them. "Ah," the General said, looking to Mothia, "here she comes now. Colonel Exa, your last one has arrived." The armoured Changeling cantered up to her smiling, pulling her into a quick embrace. "Mothia! Oh, it's been a while. Heard you got with a Commander, lucky you." Exa then chuckled, shook her head and put on a more serious tone. "Mother has requested every Changeling that can fight to go to Cradle immediately, I can't tell you why, I'm afraid." She overheard the conversation Julius and the General were having, by virtue of her excellent hearing. "Your division will be stationed aboard the Glorious Storm and will deploy to assist the initial invasion forces." "What are the chances of casualties?" "High, I won't lie to you." The General placed an armoured hand on Julius' shoulder. "But this mission is far more important than any of us. If you want to back out, say so now, but the Emperor has called on everyone, says we'll need just about everyone too." Julius nodded. "I'll do it, let me get my gear sorted and I'll come join you." He passed Mothia, detouring slightly to embrace the Changeling and plant a kiss on her forehead. "Whatever happens, we'll meet again." He entered the hive, emerging a minute later wearing his full armour, rifle in hand, looking fully combat ready. He gave Mothia one last embrace before he boarded the dropship, the Changelings travelling to Cradle by Queen Chrysalis' magic. She waved him off, as he did her, confident she would see him again. See him again she did, if partially unknowingly, only instinct telling her one of the bodies was his.