PROJECT HIVE
Purpose
Life in the Stable was rarely quiet, but never silent.
There was always the bustle of activity, chattering voices carrying down hallways and filling the open spaces, ponies and changelings alike calling out to each other throughout the day. Maintenance and Morale did most of their work in the daylight hours, adding to the chorus with laughter, cheers, occasional cursing and the sounds of tools. The cafeteria was always busy, almost as busy as the atrium, but filled with the inviting smells and sounds of cooking food. Freshly baked goods steamed as they were taken from the oven, while hay, harvested and dried by the Agricultural division, was fried into mouthwatering strips.
Daytime was a time of purpose and work in the Stable, warmed by false sunlight and given a cool breeze by hidden fans.
Night brought softer voices and muffled hoofsteps, as Security's late shifts made their rounds and Maintenance took to their less urgent tasks. Most slept, their days done. Others found themselves awake, kept from sleep for some reaon or another. The Agricultural division often did most of their work when the lights dimmed, the Hive filled with false moonlight, turning sprays of water from the sprinklers into showers of silver. Crops were checked and tended, fertiliser spread, and a few late harvests brought in. Even the cafeteria still showed some life, a small number of ponies and changelings preparing for both the next day's meals and nourishment for those who shared their nocturnal schedule. Others remained awake in their own homes, or the homes of others, enjoying the privacy and quiet offered by the late hours.
Night, too, was a time of purpose, accompanied by the soft buzz of dimmed lights and the gentle hum of fans. Even if the purpose was rather more private than some would like to admit.
Through a window, the Overmare watched the sparse comings-and-goings of her Stable, the few ponies and changelings crossing the atrium at such a late hour. She was, for the first time in a long time, in the office alone, with nothing more than a teapot for company, the old vessel steaming away silently beside a pair of well-worn, and decidedly empty, mugs. The absence of her changeling partner weighed on her mind, more out of curiosity than concern.
Oh, the Overmare certainly knew why the Regent was absent. They'd discussed the night's plans well ahead of time, what it meant and what would happen. Certainly, the pony leader understood what was to happen, and why it had to be so private. She even knew it would be finished soon, and that her changeling counterpart would return with little delay.
Hopefully, the Overmare thought as she eyed the teapot, the Regent would be back before the tea got cold. Reheated tea was unpleasant, but far worse was the thought of drinking hot tea alone.
Holly grumbled, flapping her wings in a lazy attempt to move, but ultimately gave up and remained where she was, flopped on the couch in her parent's quarters. The pegasus was feeling quite put out, not least because her mother had corralled her with promises of a family dinner, only to take the poor, beleagured young pegasus prisoner!
Okay, even Holly had to admit that was an exaggeration. Kinda. She still made a point of ignoring her parents, though. This was an important night, and here she was, expected to just stay with her parents and help make dinner, instead of being out there with her best friend!
With a deep sigh, and pointedly refusing to look at where Ironside and Merry May were busy cooking something that smelled amazing, Holly rolled over on the couch to stare at the ceiling, annoyed at having nothing to do.
She wondered how Lorrikeet was doing without her.
The town was quiet. Not the quiet of the Stable and Hive, that comforting near-silence broken by muffled sounds of life, of the herd and the swarm all around, but an unnerving quiet. It was the quiet of an open space, of unpredictable wind instead of steady fans and ventilation, of strange insects and animals crying out rather than the familiar voices of so many changelings and ponies.
Empty buildings were barely visible in the darkness, the former residents still abandoning them with the setting of the sun, choosing the comforting closeness underground over the oppressive, smothering darkness above. The great wall, reassuring during the daylight hours, was nothing more than inky blackness in the distance, seeming to hold up a circle of dark, unyielding grey. Here and there, tiny slivers of silver could almost be seen, patches where the clouds were thinned, just for a moment or two.
In the middle of the town, flickering torches and gently glowing crystals fought back the night, casting shadows from a small group of gathered figures.
Lorikeet swallowed nervously, trying to focus on the familiar, though even that was strange. Changelings he'd known his entire life, from all parts of Stable and Hive, who'd never given hint to the truth of their lives, their purpose. There, a mare from Morale. A stallion from Agriculture. Another from Science. In all, there were fewer of these chosen ones than he'd expected, the group barely a quarter the size of Security, but there were far more than he'd thought to ever meet.
They were the Queen's guard, their faces almost hidden in the shadows cast by their dark helmets, each familiar face watching him in stern silence, not revealing the eager anticipation each felt, or the pride and encouragement that would have gone unnoticed by a pure-blooded pony.
Lorikeet, however, was a flutterpony, and he drank deeply as the Queens Guard shared with him, soothing his nerves and helping to keep his head high. He could do this.
Slowly, one changeling broke away from the rest, approaching Lorikeet. He snapped to attention, his wings glittering in the soft light, his coat a patch of soft darkness compared the the shining shadows of the Guard. All those differences, those little things, meant nothing. Not here, and not now.
The Regent, no, the Queen's Captain, eyed the young flutterpony for a long moment, then nodded. "We," she began, her stern voice clear and strong, seeming to echo even in the sound-devouring night, "are the Queen's Guard. We serve by Her will, and obey Her word." A pause, as the helmet-clad leader looked to each of those around her. "We are the chosen sons and daughters, given purpose by the Queen Herself, to defend Her and Her Hive. Each of us has earned our place, shown our worth to our Queen and all Queens before." Another pause, pride swelling in her chest as each of the Guard stood taller, no doubt remembering their own night of joining. "Though our Queen is not with us this night, another may yet be brought into our ranks. Step forth, Lorikeet, and state your deeds, that we may know your worth."
With a deep breath, Lorikeet steeled himself and stepped into the circle of flickering light. He could do this. Carefully, refusing to let his voice waver, he spoke as he had practiced, reciting his deeds, the acts that had brought him to this point, the things that he had been told made him worthy. "I am Lorikeet, son of our Queen. I am blooded, for I have slain the rock hounds which would feast upon my kin, my brothers and sisters. I have passed beyond the Roc's Wall, from the lands beyond to our ancient home. My wings have carried me above the Rosedust Sea and to Flutter Valley itself." Here, he paused for a breath, praying to the Queen Herself his voice would hold strong as his eyes flicked to one changeling, more distinct than the others. A nod reassured him, encouraged him to continue. "My sister lives through my actions. I have tended her wounds and carried her to our kin." Slowly, he lowered his head in a bow. "These are my deeds, and this is my worth."
Silence hung heavy in the night air as Lorikeet remained like that, head bowed and waiting, under the stern gaze of the Captain. Finally, she spoke once more. "We have heard your deeds, brother." Slowly, she looked around the circle. "Who here would stand beside you, our brother, and call you to our Queen's service? Who here would stand before Her, and speak of your worth?"
One heartbeat, then another. A single hoof stepped forwards, joined quickly by its opposite, rubber scuffing the sand as Damsel approached and bowed to her Captain. "I, Damsel of the Queen's Guard, would call our brother to serve. Before our Queen, I would testify to his worth." She raised her head high, voice ringing with determination. "I live through my brother's actions, have seen his journey, and have heard the Queen claim him as Her Own." She looked around, into the approving eyes of her kin. The ritual was old, and though the specifics had changed through the many long years, some things remained the same. "Should any challenge this, I shall stand against them myself."
There was silence. Long minutes passed, an ancient part of the ritual that had never, not once in memory or myth, been taken up. Who would challenge the Queen's will? It was unthinkable. Even now, though the Queen was not present, Her will was clear. Yet tradition was tradition, and it must have been said.
Gradually, the Captain stepped forwards once more, nodding to Damsel. "His deeds are known, your words are heard, and his worth is judged. Lorikeet, son of our Queen, brother of us all, raise your head, and be known as Her Chosen Guard."
Slowly, Lorikeet raised his head once more, abandoning his bow and standing at attention. If his nervousness showed, none would ever speak of it.
Beside him, Damsel moved to remove her helmet, offering it to the young flutterpony with a bow of her own. Suddenly breathless, Lorikeet extended shaking hooves, gingerly taking the piece of armor from his mentor. The weight surprised him, lighter than he had expected, but heavy in some indescribable way.
Slowly, carefully, he placed the helmet, his helmet, over his head, murmuring a soft thanks as Damsel helped fit first his ears and then his mane through the slits. As it settled into place, Lorikeet stood just a little taller.
The Captain looked him over approvingly as Damsel moved to her side. The air seemed to fill with excitement and joy, emotions radiating from the gathered Guard. "We welcome you, Brother Lorikeet of the Queen's Guard."
At this, cheers and whoops split the night, the veterans fighting to be the first to welcome their newest brother, the overwhelmed flutterpony weathering the jostles, hugs and wither-slapping with no small amount of gratitude and pleasure.
A pony, flutter or fluffy, may have a cutie mark. But for the first time, Lorikeet truly felt like he understood his purpose.