“Use your knowledge! We’ve been through this before. That way!” orders 559 and points towards a manhole in the middle of the street ahead. Being the highest-ranked changeling present, the small group of two other warriors and one infiltrator obey without question.
Last thing they all recall before appearing here is them fighting off hordes of worm-puking, invulnerable equines, then some weird, mantis-like creatures appeared and dragged everyone into swirling portals hanging in the air. Now they’re back in Canterlot… somehow. 156 and 387 are gone, drones are gone, and it’s only them left. Left in the past, to be exact, or some awful version of it.
Why awful? Because this time the ponies were ready.
When the queen ordered the all-out assault, the magical barrier held. Thousands of shocktroopers and drones broke their bodies against it with only a little effect, so infiltrators had to step in and use their stored love to help using energy beams. In the end it worked, but the tired changelings found themselves facing an enemy completely different from what they fought in Canterlot before.
Swaths of changelings were plucked from the sky by catapults and blasts of magic, ripping the army ranks apart. Before the changelings could get into the streets, the losses were already catastrophic. Army or not, warriors or not, the truth is the changelings haven’t faced a real war for even longer than ponies, and that’s saying something. Still, where untrained and panicking ponies would quickly fall, changeling discipline as well as copied combat memories and instincts saved them from the worst.
Now they’re running for their lives, hoping that if they can get to the castle, the queen’s presence and leadership will be something to save them.
559 uses a strength enhancement to rip the manhole cover off and dive into the sewers. 2899, the lowest ranked warrior of the group, is the last one to go in. Once on the ladder, he secures the cover with a layer of sticky goo.
“Alright,” 559 turns his head to 918, the only infiltrator of the group, “What the hole is going on?”
“Why do you think I know?!” she barks back between gasping for breath.
“This is either magic or some kind of illusion inside our heads. Even out there, the only hive links I sensed for real were ours. All this is your territory, so shapeshift your problem-solving horseshoes on and give me some ideas!”
“No clue where we are, no clue how we got here, even less of a clue as to how we get out. Good en-”
559 slaps her.
“I know you’re used to working alone in the shadows, infiltrator, but we’re here as a unit. You have us as resources and raw power, we have your world experience and mental abilities.”
“I don’t-” she objects.
“And I will keep slapping you until you do,” 559 interrupts her, “Stop panicking, start thinking.”
918 finally catches her breath and looks around. The three warriors are calm but alert and her hive link full of noise from the chaos inside her own mind finally equalizes and synchronizes with them properly.
What does she really know?
“All I have are guesses and theories.”
“Start with the most realistic one,” says 559, staring down at her.
“I don’t think this is just in our heads,” she shakes her head, “No, that’s not right either. Okay okay,” she takes a deep breath, the heavy sewer stench thankfully being something changelings can easily ignore, “One - it’s not in our heads. Two - it’s not entirely real. Three - we should treat it as real because those damn things snatched us from a forest that was real. I wish I knew something about magic but I’m just a mid-ranked infiltrator-”
“Well done,” says 559, patting her head and immediately dispersing her explanation dissolving into desperate self-deprecation, “So far, we haven’t been attacked directly but we’ve seen changelings fall everywhere around us. Any idea why?”
The warrior’s incredibly out of place and confusing gentle gesture nonetheless helps 918 focus.
“Well, if this is only partially real, or anything of that sort, it could be that the goal isn’t to kill us. I can...” she blinks, “The creatures were invulnerable and some looked like… it might sound silly, but they immediately reminded me of how 387 described the infested changelings in the story about queen Shroud.”
“The burrower worm thing?” asks 559, “I must admit it crept me out somewhat, but according to the story, they could infest changelings almost immediately.”
“Three of the things dragged me down and started puking on me,” 2899 interrupts him, “but I got out and the worms just fell off. I managed to throw up even the ones that got into my mouth before that weird mantis thing snatched me. If they acted like those from 387’s story, I’d be a zombie now. They still looked terrifying, though, far past anything I’ve seen around the hive so far.”
“I think you hit the nail on the head there,” 918 nods, “Whatever those things were, they might be trying to make us afraid instead of killin-”
Her words are drowned out by an explosion of light and heat sending all the grouped up changelings flying deeper into the tunnel. The warriors recover quickly and form a wall in front of coughing 918.
A massive chunk of the sewer in front of them is missing, giving view of the sky above Canterlot. Countless changelings are still dropping like flies but there’s only one figure floating above the now evaporated section of the sewers, a figure they recognize from the hive link reports during the invasion, or at least a similar one - a white alicorn, her mane and tail burning like a living inferno around her. Her orange eyes lock at the group, spelling fiery doom for any creature threatening her city.
“You bugs are too smart for your own good,” she says, “But make no mistake - you will be of use to me, or you will die.”
The warriors steel their minds and grit their teeth. Their hormonal production changes and stops. After all, what good would a changeling warrior be if they couldn’t completely shut off their fear, their pain centers, and everything else stopping them from fulfilling their task? If the alicorn wants them to be terrified, then it picked the wrong willingly mindless fighting machines to mess with.
“I see,” the alicorn scowls, “Game over then.”
As her horn flares up with magic, they all start running. Not in panic, though, but with an effective, calculated strategy they’ll have to think of on the way.
***
As the surge of adrenaline coursing through 156’s body draws to a close, her memory of recent events starts coming back.
Running through the hive, fighting off underground monsters, being…
...being bitten in half.
She lets 387 and 47989 go, and turns around just in time to throw up as her entire body relives the experience. Sometimes, changeling memory can be a curse. Involuntary tears start streaming from her eyes and she resumes shaking. What eventually stops her is the soft touch of 47989’s muzzle rubbing her hind thigh.
“No matter what happened, no matter what you saw, I need you to control yourself right now,” says 387, “The less calm and collected you are, the greater the chance that the Tantabus will find us. I can keep myself and the dummy hidden but it’s drawn to fear, regrets, and the majority of negative emotions, really. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and count to ten. I know it sounds trite, but it really helps.”
She wants to argue, she wants to grab his shoulders and shake him until he starts making sense, but some small part of her latches onto the idea that he knows what’s going on… somehow.
So, she does as she’s told. Then she turns around and simply says:
“Explain everything.”
387 blinks and allows himself a half-smirk.
“I’m a little behind on the recent discoveries regarding the theory of gravity. Sneaking books into the hive was pretty difficult.”
“I order you to EXPLAIN THIS!” she points at the shimmering green dome surrounding the peaceful clearing. On instinct, she tries to break into 387’s mind and fails miserably yet again. How is a warrior deflecting her control without even trying?!
“Gee, you’re so grumpy even after your wake-up hug?” he rolls his eyes, “I’m stumped. 47989, I order you to sort this out.”
“Eeee!” the drone hugs 156’s foreleg.
“Better?” asks 387 again and immediately raises a foreleg when he sees 156 open her mouth to snarl at him, “And before you do something stupid that might get us both… in trouble, think about what I said before about the emotions. Besides,” he nods towards 47989, “Do you really want to bash my skull in with a rock in front of the dummy? Where else would you get hugs for free?”
She grinds her teeth, glaring at the smirking warrior, but eventually has to admit defeat.
“387, in the name of the hive, I order you to tell me what’s going on. I’m lost, I just died, and only your snarky, bull-headed stupidity is reassuring me that this is real. Give me something… something...”
“What’s the magic word?” 387 sticks his tongue out.
“Abraca-I’lleat47989forloveifyoudon’tstarttalking?” she says without really meaning a word of it.
“Banter, finally, that’s good,” he breathes out, “Okay… so - where we are, why, and how we get out, I’ll try to summarize,” he taps his hoof on the grass in thought, “Where? This is the dreamscape, a strange semi-reality linking the unconscious minds of most creatures. Why? The dreamweavers dragged us here. I’m assuming they have the power to affect the real world due to our invasion of Canterlot and its effects on the psyche of ponies. As to how we get out...” he frowns, “Last time it was this bad, shadow king Sombra enslaved and broke the minds of hundreds of thousands of Crystal Empire citizens and the shadow he cast all over Equestria using the Crystal Heart struck fear into dreams of ponies until he was stopped by Celestia and Luna. However, the Tantabus didn’t exist then, and I’m sure its presence enhances the aggression of the native dreamscape creatures. The first time I knew about it appearing was a few years ago along with the return of princess Luna. The only way to get out of the dreamscape I know of is to wait until the experience in the minds of ponies fades and the dreamweavers as well as the Tantabus grow weak. We are physically real, we shouldn’t be here. The dreamscape will spit us out.”
156 keeps staring. She’s heard of some of the events, fragments of history, and she’s been operating outside the hive for most of her life. All this brings out the main question again.
“How do you know all that?”
387’s smirk fades.
“Does it matter? Think about the answer, 156, before automatically spouting something about loyalty to the hive and unconditional obedience to higher ranks and all that garbage queen Whisper instituted.”
To her credit, at least in 387’s eyes, 156 does think about it before saying:
“I… I need to know. I need to know at least something. I’ll let you pick what you tell me but I need some answers about you. Why is your hive link different? Why did no one catch on until now? Where did you learn all you said?”
“See? Finally something specific,” 387’s expression brightens, “One - my hive link is different because I am very very old. Two - no one noticed because the link I allow others to use while communicating with me is fake. Three - same answer as number one. See? Simple.”
“You. Didn’t. Answer. Anything!” blood rushes into 156’s face, turning her cheeks green.
“Au contraire, I answered all three questions.”
“One more.”
“Hmm?”
“One more question and I’ll drop it.”
“Alright.”
“How old are you?”
He takes a deep breath.
“The story of queen Shroud, the one I told to scare the drones… it wasn’t one that I heard from someone.”
She blinks several times before-
“I WANTED A NUMBER!” she screams.
“Well you should have asked for it, shouldn’t you?” replies 387 brimming with innocence.
“Arrrrrrghrblblbrlblrlbr!” she raises her forelegs to the sky in an incoherent scream of frustration and a possible stroke, tossing 47989 away while foaming, “IHATEYOUUUUUUU!”
“Remember...” 387 smiles widely and leans forward while lowering his voice, “Positive. Emotions.”
156 deflates like a balloon, then crumbles on the grass and starts sobbing while punching the ground.
“Huh...” 387 leans backwards.
That’s when previously tossed away 47989 walks over, sits up on its haunches in front of him, and sharply jabs him in the chest.
“Play nice!” it says.
“Come on, she deserves it.”
Another jab.
“This is a lesson that violence that’s not in self-defense never leads to anything good.”
Jab!
“It’s just liquid joy!”
*Wibble.*
“Don’t you dare wibble your lip at me!”
*Wibble harder!*
“Hey, I’m just messing with her and she knows it. If it was something important, I would have told her.”
*The wibbliest of wibbles.*
387 sighs, shoves 47989 out of the way, reaches towards 156’s head, and pats her.
“There there. You win some, you lose some. How about we focus on winning against the dreamweavers before we start digging into each other’s past, okay?” he asks in the most earnest tone he can, “How about this - now that you know how I’ll answer you, you get one more question, hmm?”
She looks up like a puppy who knows it’s been bad before sitting back up. He was right about her questions all along. Before that, however:
“Where is the rest of the group?”
387 nods approvingly.
“I can sense them but I can’t bring them here, not alone. You’re the infiltrator, the changeling made for controlling the minds of others. Willpower and control are everything here. My skill is more for… calming, soothing, understanding.”
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and when she looks at him again there’s fire burning in them again, and this time it’s not her anger at him.
There is, indeed, only one question.
“I exist to serve the hive. What do you need me to do?”