Chrysalis has to admit that the simple physical exertion of pulling a cart with two recovering changelings curled up on it, after centuries of mostly just lounging around and giving mental orders, feels strangely relaxing.
She’s been avoiding another trip into the hive mind, her argument being that she wounded both warriors rather heavily and they were in no position to pull the cart, which was…
...obviously a lie. Their wounds were rather harsh but would do little to prevent them from doing their job.
It was because every time I thought about it my legs started shaking again.
Thankfully, warriors heal easily so the seemingly terrifying wounds she inflicted on both of them during her last dive into the hive memories are now mostly closed, the incinerated chitinous armor replaced by smoother, fresh, skin-like carapace.
As her thoughts turn to them, the warriors wake up as one, their hive links growing stronger.
“So, I asked you two before my last dive - how does the cycle of changeling failure end?”
96 politely waits for 68 to talk first. For once, the higher rank isn’t particularly happy about it.
“I’m waiting...” Chrysalis stops walking and takes off the goo-fixed harness.
“We, ummm, win? And, uhh, take enough territory over with… a good amount of ponies to feast on?” is the best 68 can say.
“96, a different answer that won’t make me want to tie the heaviest rock I can find to my neck and jump into the ocean, will you?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” 96 hangs his head, “I think 68 is right. Before the invasion, it might have been possible to… use diplomacy or something, maybe present our case, but now? I think we either win in 68’s way, maybe after several more decades of waiting back in the hive, or we eventually lose everything.”
“I see...” Chrysalis pauses before completely changing the topic, “Harness up. I’ll try to take another dip into the hive memories. Two days was enough.”
***
“Welcome back, Chrysalis. Glad to see you finally grew a pair.”
Chrysalis steels her mind the second the voice echoes through her brain, but the trembling returns. Gritting her teeth and growling at the empty blackness earns her only a round of quiet laughter.
“We’ll meet soon enough. Now go visit Carapace, I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing the worst our race has to offer.”
For the first time, Chrysalis has zero control over the hive mind shifting around her and spitting her out in the past. Some kind of a hive in the past in fact. The walls, however, aren’t the roughly hewn corridors barely holding together with resin she knows from the Badlands. These are proper halls, angular and filled with carvings of…
Chrysalis tilts her head and scrunches her muzzle as she inspects one.
“Drones… running away from some kind of a giant worm?” she mutters to herself while walking forward and examining the depicted events.
There’s much more. Worms, giant bats, balls of teeth, spikes, ravines, carvings dotting the walls as far as the eye can see. Without too close of an inspection, they do paint a picture of class and history.
How much do I really know about what’s in the depths under the Badlands?
“Waaaaaaaait...” she can’t stop herself from turning her head as she spots something rather different from the corner of her eye on the opposite wall.
In disbelief, she stops and stares, because this section is rather different, showing the same picture countless times, only with tiny differences. A changeling and a pony are always looking at each other while between them there’s a number of lines and symbols, some of which Chrysalis can actually recognize.
“I don’t believe this.”
Changeling - a ball - number of lines - pony.
Changeling - a horseshoe - different number of lines - pony.
Changeling - a sword or knife - large number of lines - pony.
Changeling - a helmet - some spiral symbol - pony.
And dozens- possibly hundreds more.
“Is this a… price list?!”
There must be more to this. Why would changelings with access to the hive mind need this?
Then it hits her as she returns to the part of the wall where the list of underground threats fluidly shifts to the shopping prices. Neither the sizes of the monsters or the ponies aren’t exaggerated, these are all drones.
Grandma’s rules - to save love, don’t overload the hive mind with unnecessary nonsense. It’s easier to breed new drones once the old ones die rather than retaining information on non-invasive natural threats. It must have been similar in the old days. These are instructions from drones to drones who will come after them.
Makes me wonder how many of these are down under the Badlands.
“Okay, now this is here just to make me feel bad, right…?” she sighs.
The next section depicts drones missing limbs, specific sections of carapace, and the ways of dealing with the wounds. The one Chrysalis is currently looking at is a close-up of a drone fetlock missing a hoof which is replaced by some porous rock, presumably some specific light kind she can’t exactly identify, and the proper placement of goo to glue the two parts together with the least amount of inconvenience.
Ah, there’s the part of the wall showing where the rock can be found. Apparently it’s something magmatic from ravines deep underground.
Before she can facehoof at some of the many rather terrifying homemade “medical” treatments, a round of boisterous laughter echoes through the halls, and she decides to follow it.
She must have landed near the throne room, either that or this particular hive is rather small. However, if there’s something that she won’t be able to get from the walls then it’s the map of the hive. That is something every changeling must have access to at any time, and showing it to any potential intruder borders on treason.
A stab of jealousy makes her pout as she spots what she presumes to be the gate to the throne room. It’s made of wood decorated with silver and glowing resin, and apparently made by someone who clearly had no idea what they were doing and didn’t know the meaning of subtlety. The green, bioluminescent resin is casting a soft shimmer on a picture of a rather slender queen, likely an infiltrator one, her horn glowing green and connected to many changelings of varying sizes via strands of green. Somehow, just like with the walls, it clicks to her that whoever made this did so of their own volition.
This queen wasn’t feared or simply respected. She was loved.
“I want something like this...” she mutters and pushes the gate open.
Twenty-or-so changelings are scattered dead on the floor, and the memory supplies their identities as the majority of ranks 1 through 30, warriors and infiltrators alike. In their midst stands a broad, towering, muscular, typical warrior changeling queen nearly twice Chrysalis’ size covered in scars, brown mohawk and a short duster tail being her only major distinctions. In the claws of her foreleg she’s holding the torn-off head of presumably the previous queen.
“This is what cowards and idiots get!” Carapace snarls, drops the head, and crushes it under her massive hoof.
Chrysalis suddenly feels a presence probing her head, one which certainly can’t belong to the warrior nor to whomever has managed to successfully strike terror into her heart last time. It simply feels different, non-invasive, yet impressive in its skill.
Once Chrysalis blinks, things get put together in her mind completely without her input.
“You challenged your mother to battle for control of the hive,” says Chrysalis, earning a haughty stare from Carapace, “But the corpses here aren’t her defenders, they’re the traitors who ambushed her. She was forced to kill her top ranks all while fighting you,” a sadistic smirk grows on Chrysalis’ muzzle, “You are the weakling here.”
“Shadow was pathetic,” growls Carapace in response, “Peace-loving, groveling, pony plot kisser. This,” she points to her surroundings, “was her legacy. A tiny hive underground in the middle of a pony city. She even let our prey in here! For sightseeing!” she laughs, “In the end, though, I turned her weakness into my strength. Ponies thought we were harmless thanks to her leadership, so they never expected anything until I made the hive rise up and enslaved the south! We were feasting! We were spreading! We. Were. POWERFUL!”
“Huh, Bloodlust was right. You really were the dumbest of all changeling queens.”
“I returned changelings to our previous glory. What did you do, you failure of a drone?”
Chrysalis narrows her eyes.
“You know what? No matter who is waiting for me deeper in the hive mind, I decided I hate you the most.”
Carapace smiles and cracks her neck.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
***
“Bark!”
“Woof woof!”
“Roll over!”
Carapace rolls over on her back.
“Beg!”
The flash of a spark of defiance in the warrior queen’s eyes is snuffed out by Chrysalis’ blazing horn, and the ancient queen sits up on her haunches and raises her forelegs.
“Your mother was an infiltrator, and I get the feeling that a pretty powerful one,” says Chrysalis with a disgusted scowl, “The only reason why she didn’t kill you and instead focused on the traitorous filth you persuaded to attack her was because she loved you!” Chrysalis clutches her head, “Get out! GET OUT! IT’S ME TALKING, NOT YOU!”
A whisper of a silent apology, more feeling than words, passes through her, and a blanket of calm falls over her.
Sensing Chrysalis’ weakness, Carapace lunges at her, and Chrysalis completely loses control of her body to someone as powerful as she is but with a moment of surprise.
No… to someone completely out of her league.
Her foreleg bursts into green flames, and digs. It’s not a punch, it’s an instinct she never knew she had, and her body adapts its molecular structure perfectly to match the material she’s touching in real time. The powerful, love-fueled armor of warrior queen Carapace provides roughly as much protection as a raincloud, and Chrysalis’ hoof simply leaves half of Carapace’s head missing as her corpse lands on the floor again.
Chrysalis’ mouth, without any input from her, says:
“My apologies. That was personal.”
With that, Chrysalis regains control of her body, the strange, adaptive instinct fading into the back of her mind and beyond her conscious reach, much to her regret. Such incredibly useful ability locked away just beyond her reach.
Infuriating.
After taking a deep breath to calm down, Chrysalis looks around.
“What now? I don’t feel like I got anything out of this.”
“Oh, really?”
Chrysalis only jumps away and her pulse quickens as Carapace slowly stands up and grins at her, her head hollowed-up where Chrysalis’ hoof passed dripping blood and brain matter down her neck.
“How about we try something else, Chrysalis?” she says.
There’s no burst of green fire accompanying the dead queen’s transformation, only a simple green sheen crossing her carapace as if someone moved a lamp over a porcelain doll.
Chrysalis grits her teeth.
Green eyes, a copy of her own, are staring directly into hers, but they belong to a different changeling, a much younger one although still almost as tall as her and just as broad - a female warrior. The warrior shakes her head to get the wine-red mane styled into an undercut out of her eyes, and the corner of her mouth curls up.
“Better?”
“I don’t know whether to feel furious that you’re using my daughter’s visage or insulted that you’d think it would make me hesitate before blasting your head off,” growls Chrysalis.
“Alright,” the warrior grows a spike out of her foreleg and rams it through her neck before collapsing on the floor, her forelegs reaching towards Chrysalis, “Help… me...” she gurgles as light slowly leaves her eyes, accompanied by coughing out blood, “Mo… ther...”
I WILL KILL HER! WHOEVER SHE IS, I WILL KILL HER! KILL KILL KILL KILL!
Chrysalis is gasping for breath, teeth bared, after barely stopping herself from rushing forward on pure instinct.
The body twitches.
Right now, Chrysalis would do anything to get out the hive mind but for some reason she can’t wake up.
Another transformative green glimmer passes through her daughter’s body, and this time the figure of an infiltrator queen rises up. Silver eyes glowing with power make Chrysalis feel small, and even here inside memories, the other queen made sure that both her long white mane and tail are sleek and without any hint of imperfections.
“We finally meet face to face,” she says.
“Which one of the cavalcade of royal rejects are you?” snarls Chrysalis.
“All bark, no bite,” the queen smirks.
Haze of red descends over Chrysalis’ vision.
“I WILL SHOW YOU BITE!”
The white queen smiles as Chrysalis charges at her, spitting acid and roaring.
“Too easy.”
Chrysalis grows a blade from her hoof to slash the white queen’s throat, the attack getting avoided by a simple quick step backwards. Punch after punch led by infiltrator accuracy and coordination gets dodged only with the smallest effort as the white queen starts moving aside seemingly even before Chrysalis attacks.
Chrysalis’ love reserves flare up as her uncontrollable blood rage reaches its peak…
...and everything fades, leaving her blinking, shaking, exhausted, but in control of herself, if not her love reserves.
“W- What?” she stutters, stumbling backwards on legs that barely have enough strength to support her.
As the white queen looks around with a sudden irritated frown, burning chains burst out of the ground and twist around her hooves, neck, and barrel. To Chrysalis’ surprise, the queen only rolls her eyes, seemingly having expected this to happen, and she smiles at Chrysalis.
“We will meet again soon.”
The chains pull at once, and the hive mind reality shatters.
***
Chrysalis finds herself floating low over a village. Ponies and changelings are going about their day, keeping distance and occasionally giving each other suspicious looks, but there doesn't seem to be any open hostility anywhere.
“Ask any questions you have about the brief period of our history when my daughter ruled us. I won’t hold you here long because you need rest after… all that. ”
“Queen Shadow, Carapace’s mother, I presume?” asks Chrysalis, looking around for the source of the comment.
“Indeed,” agrees the calm voice.
“What was the ability you used through me to destroy Carapace’s shade?”
“That wasn’t me, that was my mother. She also stopped you from burning through all your love.”
“Thank you for reminding me why I want all of you crazy hags gone instead of organizing a time sharing scheme for my head.”
Shadow laughs without a hint of malice, only with genuine amusement.
“I wish I could rest as well and, hopefully, I will soon. However, there is a process to this… process. Back to your questions.”
Chrysalis looks down at the village.
“Why am I looking at another peaceful period? From meeting Carapace’s daughter, I assumed I’d be watching changelings wading through the blood of their enemies and hearing the lamentation of their mares.”
“This is how I left things. We were weak because I was trying to present us not as predators. This forced me to hibernate the majority of the changeling hive due to our lack of love. After all, ponies were warily accepting us at best. Carapace used up all our reserve love to force a full-scale takeover of every territory where changelings were present. Ponies got cocooned, villages and cities taken over as breeding grounds over several days. If it failed we would have nothing to fall back on. She flipped a coin and won, ruining everything I worked for in one go. If I were one to hold a grudge I’d be pretty peeved.”
“This happened multiple times afterwards as well...” comments Chrysalis, “The rage consumed queens and made us do really dumb things.”
“I know. This time, though, it was just Carapace acting on her own.”
“I guess even scheming evil is no match for sheer stupidity.”
“You’re still talking about my daughter.”
“No offence, but your daughter was a moron and the world is better off without her. Judging by our current conversation, she must have taken after her father more than after you.”
“I would argue that her… approach was more a product of circumstances rather than genetics. As I said, I can understand her seeing us as weak and declining. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the patience to follow my path.”
“What did she do after she ‘won’? During her daughter’s time, changelings were hiding among the pony population again.”
“She invaded the Griffon Empire… and Equestria... and Zebrica… and the Dragon Lands… and the undead… at the same time,” Shadow sighs.
“Her daughter said exactly the same thing...” Chrysalis facehoofs.
“That, pretty much, is Carapace’s legacy. A larva, blinded by glory of the past which never really existed, lashing out against a perceived insult that never happened.”
“And she ruined everything for us changelings for centuries. Still, didn’t Scream have a hoof in it? So far she seemed to during most of our misfortune.”
“No. My daughter was unique in that respect. She managed to do the most damage to us completely on her own,” says Shadow, her voice suddenly old and tired, “Anyway, I suggest that you rest now, Chrysalis. We’ll talk again soon.”
“Why can’t we-”
The memory fades, and Chrysalis wakes up on the cart.
“-bootingmeoutofmyownheadfrickingoldassholebastardqueenseveniftheymaybemeanwell...”
“Your Majesty?” asks 68, glancing over her shoulder.
“The more holes-damned queens I meet the more I’m considering democracy!”