Reaching over Trixie’s shoulder, Applejack jumped back a few seconds in the video and leaned closer to the screen. The image was dim and grainy, but it was impossible to mistake those silhouettes. Blueblood and Lightning Dust.
“No,” said Trixie quietly. “They didn’t… Did they? But…”
Applejack let it play. They seemed to be arguing about something. Blueblood looked small, withdrawn; his pajamas didn’t help. Lightning was big, her wings flared, making long, sweeping gestures and was definitely leading the pair. Whatever they were saying, Applejack couldn’t tell; the tape didn’t have sound.
“How did they…” muttered Spike.
They vanished into the labs and Applejack scrubbed forward. The changelings swarmed out; forward again. Blueblood and Lightning exited the labs. Lightning’s head was high, and was she actually smiling? Blueblood’s head was low and his ears were back. Lightning clapped him on the back and it became clear that his knees were shaking.
There were some other places they’d wanted footage on. What about them?
Tap tap tap. Applejack went to outside Time Turner’s office; there were no cameras inside. After a bit of searching after the changeling breakout, she saw Time Turner run in. A few minutes later, she saw Lightning arrive, pull out a keycard, and head on in. A few more minutes later, she saw Lightning come out, her hooves coated with blood.
“O-oh, Celestia, no,” whispered Trixie. “He…” She sounded on the verge of tears. Flash reached out a wing, paused, then pulled her close. Trixie buried her face in his shoulder.
Tap tap tap. Neuromod storage. Lightning walked up and down the aisles, snatching up neuromods willy-nilly. By the time she had a pile, she started injecting herself, swapping eyes each time. Sweet Celestia, from the number of neuromods she had, she could’ve learned… just about anything. Was it safe, using so many so fast? Applejack would’ve guessed “no”. Lightning, apparently, didn’t care.
Tap tap tap. One last selection, the neuromod removal chamber. The angle was awkward, looking down at it from the outside, but Applejack could see well enough. As Thunderlane stood guard outside, her video self and Twilight were recording a certain video at the computer. Finally, she turned away and nervously got into the chair. Twilight strapped something to her head; she shuddered and went limp. Something began moving for her eyes, and the real Applejack nearly looked away. She made herself focus on Thunderlane. He seemed alert.
He glanced down the hall, twitched, then waved. Lightning Dust walked into view, a pistol strapped onto one of her front legs. They exchanged a few words and Thunderlane pointed at the neuromod removal chamber. Lightning’s eyes went wide and Applejack felt her throat tighten.
The procedure on video-Applejack was complete, the machine withdrawing from her face. It deposited a vial in something that looked an awful lot like a neuromod. Applejack herself wasn’t moving. Twilight patted her cheek, lightly shook her. When she got no response, her wings tightened up and her hoof went to Applejack’s neck. After a few moments, her wings relaxed again. She grabbed the neuromod-esque device in her magic and began examining it.
Lightning pulled something like a ball from her uniform and tossed it at Thunderlane. Before he could react, it’d emitted some sort of colorless shockwave; static briefly flooded the image. Twilight gasped and put a hoof to her head as her magic vanished, the neuromod dropping to the floor. Thunderlane nearly collapsed outside. As he gathered himself, Lightning ran up and rammed him into the wall. He fell to his knees, clearly gasping for air.
Then Lightning grabbed Thunderlane’s head in both hooves and smashed him repeatedly against the doorframe.
She’d guessed it already, but Applejack nearly screamed as she watched Lightning pound Thunderlane’s face in, over and over and over and over. Every impact made the door bloodier, and soon Thunderlane was barely recognizable as Thunderlane anymore. Bile crept up her throat.
Lightning tossed Thunderlane’s still-twitching body aside and turned to the door. But before she could do anything, it was already open, Twilight rushing through and body-slamming Lightning against the opposite wall. For a princess, she could move. Taken by surprise, Lightning could only put up her hooves in a weak attempt to shield herself. For a moment, it actually looked like Twilight was winning.
Then both ponies froze and their heads snapped to one side. Something offscreen had gotten both their attention. Lightning shook with laughter. Twilight backed up a step, then rocketed away. A dark shape rushed by the camera, and Lightning was alone, chuckling on the floor.
“What was that?” gasped Flash.
Trixie began, “It looked like-”
Then Blueblood walked into the frame, nearly stumbling over himself. As Lightning got to her hooves, Blueblood said something to Lightning, who snapped back, making him cringe. She pointed at the neuromod removal chamber and Applejack’s unconscious body, then undid the straps connecting her gun to her leg. She shoved the gun at Blueblood. He apparently made some protest, then nodded reluctantly. Lightning was gone immediately.
Handling the gun like it was going to explode in his magic (still sputtering from the effects of the grenade), Blueblood walked into the chamber and stood over Applejack’s body. Applejack felt her skin crawl. All that had happened only a few yards from her, and she didn’t know. And now, one of the saboteurs responsible for the whole mess was standing next to her with a gun. Applejack held her breath, waiting for Blueblood to shoot her in the head.
But he didn’t.
He stared at her, at the gun in his magic. His gulp was visible even at this poor angle. Carefully, almost delicately, he pointed the gun at Applejack’s head. He turned his head his head away, closed his eyes, bit his lip, and-
-did nothing. He took long, heaving breaths, yet never did the simple action of pulling the trigger. Suddenly the gun dropped from his grip and he turned to look at Applejack again. He picked up the gun, examined it, turned it over and over. Grimacing, Blueblood dropped it and went to the computer. Whatever he did there, Applejack couldn’t see, but he soon picked up the gun in his magic, hooked his hooves under Applejack’s armpits, and dragged her out into the hall, out of sight of the camera.
Applejack switched cameras to follow him down the corridor. Eventually, he and her unconscious body vanished into a door labelled Non-Chemical Waste Disposal. The trash compactor. Where she’d woken up. Not long after, Blueblood came back out, alone. He blinked at nothing, then banged his head against the wall. It looked like he was… screaming? He shook his head and ran off.
Pause. She’d seen all she needed to see. Applejack collapsed back into her chair and stared blankly at the screen.
“Well, um…” Flash whispered. “Dang.”
“Yeah,” said Trixie. “Dang.”
“So what’s up with Blueblood?” asked Spike. “If he did this, why… And why’s he…”
“We don’t know,” said Trixie. “And…” She rubbed her forehead. “We have what we came for. Let’s get out of here and ask Blueblood ourselves.” She stood up and made for the door, Spike and Flash following her.
But Applejack didn’t move. Something was nagging at her. She was missing something, she knew it. She didn’t even know what she was missing. She closed her eyes and kneaded her temples. Think, think, think…
Twilight. It had something to do with Twilight. But what? Where she’d run to? But-
“We found her in Neurothaumatics a few hours ago,” Spitfire had said. But Applejack had distinctly remembered seeing Twilight’s location tracker in Habitation not long after getting out of the compactor. Why would she go to Habitation, then go back to Neurothaumatics, and still escape physically untouched?
Unless…
“You’re still,” Trixie said suddenly from the door. “You’re never still.” Pause. Then in a small voice, “Trixie does not like this.”
“I think somethin’s wrong with Twilight,” Applejack whispered.
“You think?” snorted Spike. “You saw her!”
“No. Worse’n that.”
Because they were dealing with shapeshifters.
Her hooves were shaking as she backed out of the security footage, her heartbeat growing louder and louder with every second, her mouth growing drier and drier. She brought up location services… Guests… And…
“Oh, sweet Celestia,” she breathed.
Twilight Sparkle — Princess — Wounded (mild) — Habitation Decks
The lavender alicorn they had in the storage bay wasn’t Twilight.
Spike nearly ripped their manes off, grabbing them and dragging them back to the GUTS. He’d had a brief — very brief — moment of panic before snatching them up like grocery bags and bolting. The moment they were in the GUTS, he hauled himself hand over hand along the conveyor. His claws ripped deep gashes in the metal. “Gonna kill it,” he growled. And a dragon growl was far more dangerous than a pony growl. “Took Twilight… Gonna kill it…”
“Wait!” Applejack yelled, tugging at Spike’s wing. “Wait, hold on!”
“Gonna kill it… Monsters…”
“Wait!”
“You think you can take my friend from me? Let’s see-”
“Spike!” She tried slapping him across the face. It didn’t do much in zero-G, especially not against a dragon, but it got him to stop tearing his way through the station like a madmare. He managed to bring himself to a stop, blinking as if he was trying to dispel some haze. Clinging to a wall by his claws, he whipped around to glare at Applejack, green fire burning in his eyes. “What?” he snarled. Smoke curled from his nostrils with each breath.
Applejack swallowed. Staring down a dragon was something for an army to do, not one gardener, yet here she was. “Listen,” she said, “stay calm. We don’t know what that- thing can do. Maybe it’s smarter’n the rest of ’em.”
Spike breathed through his nose like a bellows, but he didn’t say anything.
“So we can’t just go chargin’ in. It’ll see us comin’ and be ready. And we got one to pump full’a the mirror whatsits, so-”
“You want us to knock it out,” growled Spike.
“I-” Applejack blinked. “I… honestly wasn’t thinkin’ o’ that, but sure, yeah, let’s do that. Lemme handle it, I’ll think of somethin’.”
At least Spike’s snort was amused.
“I know you wanna get Twilight back,” said Applejack. “Believe me, I do, too. But just throwin’ yourself at what y’think hurt ’er ain’t gonna do much! Y’gotta slow, think a little ’fore you go in, claws blazin’.”
Spike looked at one of his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Fine. But once we’re done with that thing, we’re getting Twilight back.”
“Damn straight. No argument there.”
Animals showing teeth was often a threat display. Spike’s grin reminded Applejack of that fact very much. “Then let’s get going.”
They arrived back at the cargo bay without further incident. Spitfire was already waiting for them, biting her lip so hard Applejack was surprised she wasn’t bleeding. “Are you all okay?” she burst out, apparently waiting to say it. Before Applejack could answer, Spitfire had already looked them over. “All okay. Good.” She let out a long breath and let her wings go limp as she wiped her head down. “So, did you, uh, find what you were looking for?”
“We did.” Applejack held up the data cassettes. “And, uh…” She exchanged a look with Spike.
“She needs to see Twilight,” Spike said quickly. “Just… make sure she’s still alive.” He shuddered, but it was so slight Applejack would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been looking for it.
Flash opened his mouth. “She’s a-”
Trixie immediately covered his mouth with a hoof. “An inspiration to us all and it’s a shame she’s like this and she’s a reminder of what we’re fighting for!” She gave Flash a Look.
Flash blinked, then nodded. Pushing Trixie’s hoof away, he said, “Yeah. That.”
Spitfire looked at everyone suspiciously. Then she sighed. “Go ahead,” she said. “It’s hard, seeing her like that.”
“Also,” said Applejack, “you… pr’y oughta come with us.”
“…Fine, whatever.”
The “med bay” was emptier this time around, with only a pony sleeping soundly, a bandaged leg on her chest. Twilight — well, “Twilight” — was still sitting at the same window, still staring out. It was like she’d never moved. She probably hadn’t.
Applejack sat next to her and squinted. She looked like Twilight. She looked exactly like Twilight. But she wasn’t Twilight. How did the changelings manage something like that so easily? Magic? Probably magic. She missed the days when the only magic she needed to worry about was good old earth pony magic. She cleared her throat. “Um. Hey. Twi?”
“Twilight” looked at her and blinked. How had she missed how dead those eyes were? Had she really attributed it to shock? Twilight turned back to the window.
“I, uh, don’t know if you’re in there,” said Applejack, “but, uh, things’re goin’… They’re goin’ alright. For starters…” A high-pitched buzzing filled the air as Applejack leaned close. “I know what y’are,” she whispered.
“Twilight” inhaled sharply. Ears up, she turned to Applejack, opening her mouth.
Just in time for Applejack to zap her with the stun gun.
Spitfire yelped as “Twilight” keened, a high-pitched screech nopony could make. As “Twilight” flopped to the floor, Spitfire jammed a gun against Applejack’s head. “Stand down!” she roared. “Now!”
Applejack immediately put her hooves up in surrender. She could hear other safeties getting clicked off behind her. “Wait, wait!” she yelled. “Before y’all do anythin’, take a look!” She pointed at Twilight’s body.
Or, to be more precise, what had been Twilight’s body. Now, it was a large shape, similar to the equinoid changeling drones, covered in tiny black cilia. The shape of Twilight’s body was unraveling into nothing, almost like an illusion. The changeling wasn’t moving except for the twitching of its cilia.
All the guards gasped. The gun on Applejack’s head was pulled away. “What in the…” muttered Spitfire.
“Twi’s bracelet says she’s in Habitation,” said Applejack. She took a few steps away from Spitfire. “She’s hurt but still livin’. I don’t know how the changelings’re doin’ this, but… well, you’re seein’ this.”
Spitfire stepped forward and nudged the changeling’s body with her gun. No response. She nodded. “Right. In that case…” She put the barrel to the changeling’s head.
“Wait!” Applejack pushed the gun aside before Spitfire could shoot. “Don’t shoot it! Twi — the real Twi — she’s got a plan! It was in the mail!”
Immediately, Spitfire grinned. “She does? Why didn’t you say so? Let’s hear it!”
“Well, uh, it, it ain’t that easy.”
Applejack laid out Twilight’s plan, and Spitfire’s expression grew more and more dour with each new word. By the end, she looked ready to punch something. “Son of a…” She took a deep breath. “So you need a changeling and a certain neuromod,” she said flatly. “And you want to use this changeling.” She tapped the drone with her gun.
“If it means I don’t hafta go back out there and knock one out myself… yeah,” said Applejack.
“But you still need to get that neuromod.”
“Right.”
Spitfire sighed and ran a hoof through her mane. “You know,” she mumbled, “if we were on Equus, I bet you’d remake the entire rail system just to be sure your mail got through, only to find out your mail was an anthrax bomb or something.” Another deep breath. “Considering what you’ve done so far, sure. We’ll lock that thing in a storage unit, I’ll give you some guards and-”
“Hold up.” Applejack’s lungs felt heavy. “ ’Fore I leave, there’s somethin’ else you should know. About… About Blueblood.”
They found Blueblood in a back room, sitting alone among some crates, staring at the ground in thought. It was lit by a single lamp with a harsh, cold light. The air was still as a tomb’s and what few sounds there were echoed deeply; you could still hear the reactor thrumming away, even half a station away. The entire place was the sort of grimy clean of a room that didn’t get used much. It was a place you went when you wanted to be alone.
Blueblood looked up as the group approached him: Applejack, Spitfire, three security guards, all five ponies armed. He looked… tired, Applejack realized. Hollowed. Burned out. Had she missed it before? Or had she ignored it because that would mean caring for Blueblood? Of course, even if she’d noticed, she would’ve just put it down to the stress of the situation, never guessing that he could’ve…
Although her head was swimming, Applejack spoke only the words she needed to: “We know what you did.”
To her surprise, Blueblood smiled sadly. “Well. Finally, a secret I can get off my chest.”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” yelled Spitfire, bringing her gun up. “Over two hundred ponies on this station are dead because of you, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”
“You’d never listen,” said Blueblood. He hung his head again. “I don’t think I’d deserve it, anyway.”
“Of course not,” said Spitfire, her voice getting tighter by the second. “Not after what you did.”
“See what I mean?”
As Blueblood and Spitfire exchanged barbs, something kept nagging at Applejack. He looked remorseful. He’d seemed to be growing up before she’d left for the servers. Maybe another pony could lie, but subtlety had never been Blueblood’s specialty, so it seemed strange that it could be a lie. He’d looked unwilling in the video footage, only going along with Lightning because-
Then it hit her. “Why didn’t you kill me?” asked Applejack. She spoke normally, yet her voice rang through the room unnaturally.
“W-what?” Blueblood flinched back. The guards’ guns twitched, but nopony fired.
“In the neuromod removal chamber. I’d been workin’ with Twilight and I was out cold. I bet Lightnin’ told you to kill me. You coulda just shot me right then and there. But you dragged me to a garbage chute and tossed me in. Why?”
“How did you-” gasped Blueblood. Then he sighed. “Cameras, I suppose,” he muttered to himself. “I- Murder isn’t as easy as it sounds. I could convince myself that it wasn’t my fault ponies were dying to the changelings, but if I’d killed you- Blood would’ve been on my hooves, no question. But I couldn’t let you live, so- I dumped you into the trash compactor and turned it on. And if that sounds like a painfully poor excuse…” He nodded sadly. “It absolutely is. It was shortly after that that I realized what a mistake I’d made.”
“But y’didn’t do it yourself,” said Applejack. Spitfire gave her a confused look.
“N-no?” Blueblood asked, one ear down. “That’s… what I said.”
“But if it’d been up to Lightnin’, she’da done it, no questions,” said Applejack. Was she thinking out loud or explaining her reasoning to the room? Both, maybe. “I saw her.”
“What’re you on about?” snapped Spitfire. “We should-”
“Quiet,” said Applejack, and she was surprised when Spitfire complied. “It’s… I dunno.” She took a seat in front of Blueblood. They looked into each other’s eyes. Deep breath. “Why’d you do it?”
Blueblood snorted. “Does it matter?”
“Kinda, yeah. To me, at least.”
A pause. Then: “Fine.”
A sigh. “Do you know what it’s like to be… ignored and untrusted by your own mother?” Blueblood asked, his voice distant. “I think the Queen always wanted a daughter. Princesses are traditional,” he spat venomously. “Mother always doted on me, but she never taught me. I was given everything I wanted, never anything I needed. And as I passed through my teenage years, I began noticing that, for all I was told about the importance of the Cosmic Thrones in Equestria, Mother wasn’t doing a damn thing to prepare me for either of them. When I asked her for the smallest whit of responsibility and experience, she said she wanted me to be happy and changed the subject. By the time I grew up, what would’ve made me happy was being useful. But by then, Mother was already grooming Twilight.”
The harsh light of the cargo bay cast dark shadows across Blueblood’s face. “I wouldn’t have minded if Mother had been honest with me,” he said. “If she’d drawn me aside and told me that she didn’t think I was fit for carrying out the duties Harmony required and was looking for a replacement. Equestria’s never had a tradition of the crown passing to family simply because they’re family. I just wanted to be more than- than an obligation. After Twilight was granted Ascension, Mother stopped treating me like her child and started treating me like a pet long past his prime.”
His voice was growing lower and lower, more and more growly. “I am inept. I won’t pretend anything else. I’m not blind. But I was never taught anything! Twilight was always given the best: the best tutors, the best assignments, the best bodyguards, the best press. And she deserves it! Don’t get me wrong! She will be a fine queen when the time comes. But I wasn’t even given her crumbs. When Twilight steps out of line, she is gently guided back. When I step out of line, I’m given a scolding and shoved back. And if nothing I do will ever measure up, why bother trying?” He chuckled bitterly. “Acting like a clueless, entitled ponce drives most unwanted ponies away, and after I adjusted, the shame did nothing but remind me I was still alive.
“And then… on the way up here, I… heard a voice in the back of my head. It promised me power, respect, the chance to get back at those who had wronged me. I was told it had contacted Lightning Dust the same way; she was assigned to me as a punishment detail, remember. At first, I wanted nothing to do with it. I could make it on my own, surely. Then I spent the entire week of my supposed job getting pushed aside and told to let the big ponies handle it. I- I gave in and did as it said.”
Blueblood raised his head and looked out with eyes so piercing it made Applejack take a step back. “So, yes. I did it, with Lightning Dust’s help. I let the changelings out. I’m not going to justify it. I made a mistake and sent everything on this station to Tartarus, and by the alicorns, I wish I hadn’t. I know it’s pointless by now, but I’m sorry.” He blinked and wiped his watery eyes down. “Do with me what you will. I deserve it.”
Applejack and Spitfire looked at each other, exchanging words without speaking. Spitfire groaned and stowed her gun. “What, exactly, happened?” she asked.
Blueblood looked quizzically at her, then shook his head. “On the trip up here,” he said, “I felt a… pressure on my mind. Telepathy. Are either of you familiar with it?” He shrugged and continued on. “A voice in my head told me it had seen my pain and offered a chance to make it right. ‘Make it right.’” He made air quotes with his hooves. “A euphemism if ever I’d heard one. I wasn’t about to make a deal with a draconequus, so I nobly turned it down. Then we reached Golden Oaks and I spent a week getting shuttled around from place to place, never allowed to get involved with anything. All while that voice kept whispering in my ear.”
He adjusted his position on the floor. “It was after a long day and a great deal of drinking when I finally gave in. I told the voice I’d do as it asked. I was told to go to a certain part of the station, and it was there that I met Lightning Dust. She’d been hearing the same voice and she said she was through with being pushed around. I began having my doubts immediately, but I managed to convince myself it wouldn’t be so bad. We let the changelings out.”
Swallow. “It was so bad,” he said quietly. “I immediately knew I’d done wrong, and I couldn’t stop it. The best I could do was sit back and let it blow over. Lightning, though? She reveled in it. She told me she’d jam herself with every neuromod she could get her hooves on, turn herself into a peak pony. I heard she did work in security to cover our tracks and make sure communication was cut down as much as possible.”
“Why, though?” asked Spitfire. Applejack was surprised to see that she wasn’t as angry as she had been. “What do the changelings want?”
“I cannot say. The voice merely told us that everyone on board needed to die and that word could not get out. The reactor shutdown? The destruction of the mana rod? Those were both Lightning.” Blueblood looked Applejack in the eye. “Getting locked out of email? Also Lightning. She wanted to prevent different modules from communicating, so she did it in the fastest, messiest way possible.”
“Hold up,” said Applejack. “Down in the reactor, I- We both heard the changelings kill Lightnin’. Why-”
Blueblood smirked. “Did you see the body?”
Applejack didn’t have an answer to that.
“You wouldn’t go looking for her if you thought she was dead. You heard exactly what you were supposed to hear. She’s probably still out there.”
Spitfire snorted. “Well, that’s super.” She glanced at Applejack and nodded at Blueblood. “So what d’you reckon?” Her gun leg twitched.
It took Applejack a moment to realize what Spitfire was asking: What should we do with him? And for a while, Applejack wasn’t sure. She’d never held a pony’s life in her hooves before. Killing Blueblood wouldn’t solve anything. Just another dead body among hundreds of others on board a little station in the void. And… did he even deserve to be shot? He’d spilled everything with an ounce of prodding. He was repentant. That was halfway to recovery, right? Not like Lightning. There were better punishments for him than a bullet to the head.
“I’d say leave him be,” said Applejack finally. “He ain’t gonna cause nothin’, so he's either gonna die up here from the changelings or get jailed on Equus. Justice either way, I'm thinkin’.” It didn’t extend all the way to forgiveness, but she was sympathetic. She’d come up here to escape from her troubles on Equus, just like Blueblood. Even if her methods of escaping were... cleaner. “But you’re the security chief. Your call.”
“Dangit, stop delegating my delegation.” Spitfire glared at Blueblood, who looked neutrally back. Gritting her teeth, she groaned. “You're lucky we’re in the thick of it,” she snarled to him, “but if you put half a hoof out of line, I’ll blow your head into so many pieces we won't be able to find them all.”
Blueblood grinned, and for a second, Applejack was reminded of the wannabe-debonair ladies’ stallion he was supposed to be. “Perfect.”
Spitfire shot him another stinkeye. “You are going to tell me everything you can about that voice. If it has a favorite color, I want to know it. I’m sick of being in the dark about these things.” Then she turned to Applejack. “But first, let’s get you some guards. You're going to find that neuromod and you're going to find Twilight and you’re going to get these monsters off our station.”