King Phasmatodea was speaking. Patella was listening, but not paying attention. Sure, she probably should be, but it became quickly apparent that she just couldn’t appreciate his speech. All the same, she was mentally writing down the important bits in her mind.
Mostly, she was just fascinated with both the King’s appearance and the occult themes that ran through the collective funeral being held. As an Infiltrator, she had visited faraway lands that had similar practices. Several Ram conclaves for example had the brutal practice of sky burials. A reclusive Zebra tribe painted their fallen in magnificent gold paint, like they were fallen angels or gods.
Then there was King Phasma. The alicorn-tier being was throwing himself into the ritual; waving his hooves, gesturing dramatically, and all around seemingly being as involved as possible with this ceremony–
‘Oh, he just cut himself with a knife.’
Patella had never been to a funeral like this. As an Infiltrator, she was separated from the rest of her peers early on, with Her Highness picking her out for her skills while still in education. The royal attention had been greatly beneficial to her growth as an operator, however it left her feeling somewhat detached from everyone around her.
Even now, she watched the changelings all gathered in this warehouse by the docks. There were one hundred and sixty-three changelings in this building alone. That was a staggering number, one that Patella had not expected. She also knew that King Phasma’s Hive was bigger than this, too. The gathered changelings watched the King with unmatched reverence. Even the most boot-licking Equestrian nobles did not pay this unmatched level of attention to Princess Celestia when she spoke.
The crowd chanted something, prompting Patella to mumble along. Then, they began turning away from the center of the room where the tall changeling was presiding over the closed wooden caskets. Patella turned and left the building with the crowd, though in truth she did not want to leave. She wanted to get a closer look at King Phasma. She had not seen him until today, and seeing a being that powerful in person was an awfully rare event, even in her line of work. Especially in her line of work.
The changelings all took disguises before leaving, and so Patella did too. She decided to change into a dark brown unicorn with a black, curly mane. The Cutie Mark was not important, so she just decided to make it a wooden box. Judging from the changelings around her, even that detailed of a Mark was going above and beyond.
‘How do any of these bozos not get discovered by the Royal Guards? Are the Guards just that incompetent?’
Unfortunately, Patella knew from experience that the answer to that question was frequently yes.
But Patella did not come here to Manehattan, to King Phasma’s Fifth Hive to gawk at drones and observe rituals she had never been a part of before. She had a job to do, and she intended to do it. After eavesdropping on a few conversations of the egressing changelings, she picked out a particular group of them to follow to the Hive’s headquarters. According to her coworkers, it was an office building up in The Heights. It was apparently one of many in a quickly growing network that redefined the ancient structure of a Hive. The changelings she had eavesdropped on were headed to just such a location, ergo they had to be headed to the nerve center of the Fifth Hive.
As she trotted behind them at a distance, Patella gave silent thanks to her coworkers. The competent old guard, that is. Unlike the bloodthirsty greenies, her old comrades had managed to connect the sudden wealth influx to unsavory individuals in Southern Equestria to a company that didn’t exist save for on paper. That company, named M&M Enterprises, or ‘The Syndicate’ as its less reputable ‘employees’ referred to it, was owned by an earth pony named Natural North. Tracing Natural North to Manehattan was easy enough. Looking at the information on the paperwork filed for the founding of the company solved that. Finding him inside the metropolis was the real needle-in-the-haystack situation. No property was owned by him. Navigating his network of owned companies and their supposed locations was a Sisyphean task; many companies had fake addresses, and the ones that had real addresses were to locations not actually owned by him. It was a dead end.
Which is where Patella had entered the equation. It had taken all her skills, a few bribes, and more than one lucky break to learn of the Fifth Hive’s location. A warehouse owned by Butcher Cassidy, a sudden monopolist that coincided with Natural North’s rise, had purchased several properties in the past week in one of Manehattan’s dock districts. The official documentation was misfiled and nearly destroyed, but her fellow Infiltrators had rescued it from the shredders before that happened. To summarize, it was a stretch, but that was all she and her comrades had. This was the third warehouse that Patella investigated today, and today it was filled with the majority of the changelings in the entire city. The deadline for finding the Fifth Hive had been fast approaching, but here she was at last.
Now across several neighborhoods, she and the party she was tailing had come to its destination; the six story office building that served as the Fifth Hive’s core had no company label out in front. Patella opened the front door with a green hued magic and clip-clopped her way inside. The security inside was noticeably on-edge. She nodded to the security guards, four unicorns in white and brown security uniforms and stationed behind desks or near doors, and made for the elevator. She passed them without fuss, and they continued glaring at their respective walls or desks. Stepping inside the elevator, she saw that there was another changeling inside, this one disguised as a black pegasus.
“Floor?” He asked, standing by the button panels.
“Six, please.”
The fake stallion nodded, pressed the button with a wing, then stood back. The two stood silently, which Patella was thankful for. She didn’t exactly know what commonplace conversation topic could tip her hoof and reveal that she’s no ordinary drone, so avoiding small talk as much as possible was preferable for this operation.
The elevator stopped at the fourth floor, and the other changeling left the elevator. Two more changelings got on, much to Patella’s hidden annoyance. These two, a white earth pony and a white pegasus, chatted with each other as the elevator went up.
Tuning them out, Patella reminded herself of the goal. She needed to find the changeling named Coxa, and discover where they were keeping the podded ponies. And of course, escape without being caught.
The elevator chimed and the two changelings stepped off, heading towards a pair of double doors at the end, which were unlabeled. If Patella was a gambler, which she was not, she would bet that the office belonged to King Phasma. She looked around and saw a secretary changeling disguised as a unicorn, looking over some notes before her on a low desk.
“Excuse me, I am looking for Coxa,” Patella spoke up, drawing the changeling’s attention away from their paperwork.
“Down the hall, last one on the right,” the changeling replied before returning to their work.
Down the hall she went, knocking on the frosted glass window that took up a third of the door.
“The door is open,” came a reply from inside the room.
Patella opened the door, revealing a somewhat large office, piled high with assorted stacks of papers. What filing cabinets the room possessed had many of their drawers pulled open as folders were retrieved and stored by a small team of four changelings. One changeling sat behind a large desk, clearly the leader. None of them had a disguise on.
“What?” The lead changeling asked, muzzle buried in a large ledger.
“I’m looking for Coxa.”
“Speaking. And you can drop the disguise, this building follows the Closed Room policy,” He muttered.
Patella dropped her disguise, “I was told you were the one to go to get access to the podded ponies.”
The changeling looked up from his oversized book, “Yes. Who are you?”
“I am Patella.”
He scoffed, “That’s helpful. I meant what department are you in? Why do you need access?”
Falling back on her created cover story, Patella began lying, “I was stationed in Baltimare. One of the Division-P operatives captured there might have acquired extensive knowledge of our network. Good news is that he was captured. Bad news is that he had a backup of the intel. We need to find it before it gets picked up. Meaning, I need to ask him a few questions. Painful questions.”
Coxa cursed under his breath before asking, “What is the pony’s name?”
Patella shrugged, “I don’t know. I know what he looks like, though.”
“Damnit. Alright, come with me, I better see this through myself,” Coxa said, rising from his bureaucratic throne.
‘Yes! We’re in. I would have preferred it if he didn’t come, but this will work nonetheless.’
When she turned away to open the door again, it was opened before she could reach out a hoof to pull it. Three changelings were out in the hallway, and one leaned in. The two in the hallway were the disguised ones that had entered the King’s office a bit ago. The third changeling was a blue unicorn with a black mane and a fancy letter ‘u’ symbol Cutie Mark.
‘Is that King Phasma’s disguise?’
“Hey Coxa, the boys and I are going to see the speakeasy’s opening debut. You coming?” The changeling asked, looking over Patella’s shoulder.
“No, I’ve got important business to attend to. Some inq– ah, you know what, nevermind. A big problem came up, but I’ll get it fixed before shit hits the fan. You three have fun, I’ll pop in later tonight. And remember, always practice safe sex and use protection!”
The blue unicorn scowled, “We’re not going to have a threesome, Coxa. Not without you in the middle, you ugly bastard.”
‘Okay, definitely not a king, so just one of Coxa’s buddies.’
“All I hear is lies, lies, and more lies. Now get! I actually need to hurry,” Coxa said, stopping beside Patella.
Unfortunately, the changeling in the doorway frowned and looked between her and Coxa.
“... The curiosity will eat at me all night. What happened, Coxa?”
Coxa sighed, “An Inquisitor is apparently trying to screw us, even while podded up. Paterna here–”
“Patella,” she corrected him.
“– is going to point out the bastard so we can get information.”
The unicorn’s frown deepened, “Sounds like I should come and help.”
“If you really feel the need to, I won’t argue. It shouldn’t take long, you can just do the prep work and make things easier,” Coxa said.
‘No! I need as few changelings with me as possible. I need to dissuade this changeling before he decides to come along.’
“That’s not necessary,” She said, waving a hoof dismissively. “We have this under control. We don’t need any outside help.”
The unicorn raised an eyebrow and looked Patella over.
“This is Patella,” Coxa introduced her.
“I didn’t ask you, Coxa,” the unicorn said tersely.
‘What does that mean?’
The unicorn shifted his posture to fully face Patella. What started as a frown progressed into a full on glare and scowl.
“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, but did not speak further.
Patella realized from the lack of sound behind her that the rest of the changelings had stopped working and were watching them all.
‘Uh oh. Whatever is going on, isn’t good.’
“What?” She asked.
“Yeah, what indeed,” the unicorn changeling murmured.
‘Crickets, he’s onto me?!’
Before she could act, the changeling’s horn lit up in an orange hue, and she was pushed to the floor, prone. She struggled against his grip, but couldn’t move. Normally such a feat was impossible to achieve for a unicorn, and all information available showed that changelings rarely go beyond a unicorn’s level of power. Which meant–
“I asked your name, and you didn’t answer,” the disguised King said angrily. “I ordered you to bow, and you ignored me. I knew something was off the moment you didn’t bow before me like damn near every other changeling I meet. You’re not a drone of mine. Who are you, and how did you get here?”
‘This is bad! Time for Plan C!’
Giving up on trying to struggle free, Patella went limp.
“I… I am an Infiltrator of the Fourth Hive–” Patella began, a moment before realizing that Plan C would fail immediately for the same reason that Plan A failed.
King Phasma threw off his disguise and stepped close to Patella, “No, you are not. If you were an Infiltrator, you would hear my commands through the Weave. You’re no changeling at all. Who are you, pony? How did you get here? How did you find us? And most importantly, how have you disguised yourself and your emotions?”
‘Oh crackers, this is bad!’
“I… uh….” Patella stalled as she tried to think of escape plans.
“We can do this the easy way, where you talk, or the hard way, where I make you talk. Either way, you talk, see? I would recommend the first option, as that one carries no risk of turning you into a vegetable. Not the edible kind, might I add. If you want to avoid brain damage, you will answer my questions.”
“Okay, okay! I’ll talk!” Patella said, afraid.
She had been briefed on the King. He had used mind control in the past, and would absolutely do it again. All her training on resisting torture and interrogation techniques were pointless when you faced an alicorn-tier being that could simply magically command you to tell the truth. There was no way she was getting out of this, so she might as well do it as painlessly as possible.
“I am not a changeling,” she admitted. “I am an Inquisitor Sweetie Drops of Division-P.” King Phasma smiled in satisfaction, but motioned for her to continue. “I am here to investigate you, King Phasma. Leads pointed to that warehouse where you held the ceremony to being owned by someone associated with your network. I was sent to find out if we could confirm this, and if so, also find the location of the podded ponies you are keeping.”
“Ah. Well, we suspected this would happen. Coxa, get ready to move the Hive to the fallback location. Inquisitor Sweetie Drops, I believe you were about to tell me how you are hiding your emotions? Oh, and Thorax and Diamond, you might as well go on without me. I’ll catch up later with Coxa.”
The changelings behind him nodded and closed the door, leaving the King in the crowded office.
“Go on, pony,” he ordered Sweetie Drops.
“I... I’m wearing a necklace that masks my–”
“The necklaces! Of course!” The King cheered. “That’s what those schematics were for! It must be invisible while wearing it, right?”
‘He got the schematics for the Disguise Matrices?’
Sweetie blinked in surprise, “Uh… yes, King Phasma. It is. It is also how I can use different disguises.”
The King nodded, “That makes sense. Must be one hell of a complicated spell. Remove it. Now.”
Sweetie briefly struggled in his grip, “I can’t with you holding me.”
The grip laxened around her right foreleg, so she used it to fish the necklace off of her, scooping it up from underneath it. Pulling the invisible charm up off her neck and over her head, her changeling disguise vanished with a silent shimmer when the spell failed. The charm, a large green circle covered in etchings, was picked up out of her hoof by King Phasma.
“Adamantium, of course. No other metal could fit such complex enchantments… But where did you get the metal? Last I checked, it’s damn near impossible to find in Equestria.”
He looked down at Sweetie.
“Your peytral, King Phasma. It was melted down– actually, it was carved up. They couldn’t find a way to melt the metal, so it had to be carefully taken apart, piece by piece, to use for the necklaces.”
The King’s smile disappeared, “My peytral? Those bastards, I wanted that back! Ah well, at least I have a much better replacement. So, judging by the size of this thing there’s… hundreds of these necklaces out there?”
Sweetie shook her head, “No. Most of the metal is in storage, or used in other experiments. The R&D department is completely fascinated with that miracle metal of yours.”
“That sucks, Phasma. Looks like no shiny jewelry for you,” Coxa said from behind Sweetie and out of her view.
King Phasma chuckled, “Can’t have shit in Canterlot… You know Inquisitor Sweetie, you’re the first pony to actually talk. Why is that?”
‘No one else has talked? Do those idiots not know the damage that mind control can do?’
Sweetie Drops realized that she didn’t answer his question, “Uh… p–probably because you’ve only run into the fresh Inquisitors? T–they’re more zealous and bloodthirsty than the rest of us.”
“Us?” He asked, confused.
With no reason to start lying and every reason to avoid his anger, Sweetie explained, “Former Special Agents from the now defunct S.M.I.L.E. Division. We were Princess Daybreaker’s eyes and ears, a–and hooves if necessary. But Princess Daybreaker had a change of heart after the invasion– even changed her name, and decided to expand our numbers. The new mares just don’t have the experience, self-awareness, control, or common sense necessary to cut it as an operative…”
‘And we know when the jig is up.’
“Celestia’s intelligence organization, eh? That’s… interesting. Tell me, Former Special Agent Sweetie Drops, did you enjoy your time under Princess Celestia? Do you… prefer her over Princess Daybreaker?”
‘What is he…’
“... Are you suggesting that Princess Daybreaker isn’t Princess Celestia?”
‘It’s changeling propaganda. But it does make so much sense… Then again, only bad propaganda doesn’t make sense. Cripes, this is so confusing.’
King Phasma smiled, “That is exactly what I am suggesting. Do you prefer Celestia over Daybreaker?”
“I mean, yes? I think?”
‘Just tell me the right answer, will you?! I’d rather not become a statistic!’
“Interesting… and if given the chance, would you work to bring her back?”
“Bring her back?” Sweetie echoed.
“Would you work with Princess Luna and Princess Cadence to bring Celestia back to Equestria, and to help sabotage Division-P from within?”
“The Princessess? I… I am a trained agent loyal to Equestria. I will not and can not take foreign tyrants– rulers, foreign rulers, at their word.”
King Phasma leaned in close, “What if Princess Luna told you this herself?”
‘What if she did? I don’t know much about her, save that Princess Celestia was extremely focused on her return. So much so that practically everything else seemed to not matter to the Princess… If Celestia cared that much about her sister, then surely her sister is trustworthy? If Princess Luna tells me that Princess Daybreaker isn’t Princess Celestia, then things would be different, right? If she’s at the palace all day, then no changeling agents would be able to use mind control on her, so she must be sound of mind. They would know each other best.’
“If Princess Luna says so, then it must be true. I thought the war had hurt Princess Celestia, and this is how she reacted to that pain, but if she wasn’t actually the Princess….” Sweetie trailed off, pursuing the tangent in her own thoughts.
‘Changelings across the battlelines working to save Equestria? Stranger things have happened, but only in legend. But Harmony setting this King’s course on the path to save Equestria, after he once tried– and nearly succeeded– to destroy it, certainly sounds like the Harmony Princess Celestia spoke of. I will have to determine whether or not this message from Princess Luna is real. If it isn’t, then it’s just another changeling trick. If it is...’
“Coxa!” King Phasma barked, pulling her thoughts out of the clouds. “Arrange for Inquisitor Sweetie Drops to stay in a room within a habitation building, under constant guard. We may have another ally within Division-P now. And potentially more, if she can convince her fellow former agents…?”
‘Convince them? If it’s to save Princess Celestia, I think that’s possible. But again, that is only if he’s telling the truth.’
“Coxa do this, Coxa do that…” a sarcastic tone from Coxa mocked King Phasma, the changeling still out of view.
“Considering none of us like the current state of affairs, that’s p–possible,” Sweetie said as neutrally as possible. Making false promises would potentially be a death sentence..
“Well then! It’s settled, you will meet my better half tonight.”
‘Better half? Isn’t that supposed to mean wife?’