Missing in Action

by LSTS Connor


Stage 3: Ballistic Coast

The following day, Canterlot Castle was abuzz with activity. Six and her Spartans found themselves being called to a meeting regarding the arrangements of an upcoming expedition to the changeling hives.

The morning had started out like any other for the Spartans. A morning run at 6, an obstacle course at 7, followed by another run through the nearby woodlands with breakfast at 8. It was a quiet affair for Six, with her Spartans chatting among themselves and still quietly wondering how Six could eat so much and not gain a pound. A more common conversation topic was why Spirit chose to remain in her earth-pony disguise even though everypony knew of her true identity.

Normally, Six would pay some modicum of attention to their banter with a cursory glance, but not this time. Her mind was still reeling from the revelation in her dream. She was quite surprised no one had questioned her why her usually composed and symmetrical stride was suddenly so…springy. Even her Spartans didn’t know whether to be worried, scared, or happy at the good mood Six was in. The smile she wore didn’t help matters.

Once breakfast was finished, their briefing would follow. After a short walk through the castle, the four of them reached their destination. It was a somewhat small, out-of-the-way room. Maps of the various regions of Equestria lined the walls as a round table sat at the room's center.

At the table's head was Princess Celestia sipping from a cup of tea whilst idly listening to her assistant tally off her schedule for the week.

“Good morning, my little ponies,” greeted Celestia before noticing the uncharacteristic smile on Six’s face. “I trust your good mood is thanks to my sister?”

“You could say that. Now, the briefing.”

“All in good time. We must still wait for the Captain. But please take a seat while we wait. May I perhaps offer any of you some tea in the meantime?” Celestia asked towards the assembled Spartans as they each took a seat.

Spirit and Sparrow were the only ones to accept her offer.

The doors opened as Shining Armor entered the room, prompting Celestia to speak up once more. “Good morning, Captain. I hope my sister granted you some pleasant dreams?”

“With that changeling King around, I should be thankful I got any sleep at all,” he responded somewhat groggily. Upon closer examination of the unicorn, it was easy to see the tiredness behind his eyes and the unkemptness of his mane and tail. If you looked hard enough, one might even see him swaying on his hooves.

“It is…troubling to hear you say that, but should all go well, we won’t have to worry about the King anymore. Speaking of,” she turns to look at Spirit, who was currently using Sparrow’s extended wing as a makeshift cape, “Spirit, as a changeling yourself, what do you know of our resident guest?”

Spirit set the teacup she held down, sighing loudly. “Not much. When the hives were fractured 500 years ago, such a Hive did exist but was quickly absorbed by the then Overqueen Chrysalis into the Great swarm. The memories and records of that era are… sketchy, to say the least.”

“Define ‘sketchy,’” questioned Shining with a raised eyebrow.

“Struck from the official records in the Hive. A fate shared by many of the hives that refused to submit willingly to the Overqueen. The only information available is through tales, legends, footnotes, and the words of Aura. So for all we know, the ruler of the Fifth Hive could have escaped the Queen’s wrath…”

“So our guest may be telling the truth about his origins?”

“I have felt his power. It is unlike anything I have experienced in the Swarm. If he, or any of his ancestors, even had a fraction of that aural power…There is no doubt in my mind that he could have escaped and rebuilt the Fifth Hive.”

A silence overtook the room as everyone present digested Spirit’s words.

Shining was the first to speak up with a shake of his head, “Even when defeated, they’re still a pain in my flank.”

Celestia gave a disapproving glance to the Captain before focusing on the disguised changeling. “Thank you for your input, Spirit. Now let us focus on the reason for my calling you here.” She cleared her throat quietly before continuing, “Our expedition to the Hives and the role your Spartans are to play in our security arrangements.

“I would have you and your Spartans be assigned to guard the King throughout our mission to the hive. We do not know how the changelings may react to his presence, after all. So, Six, just… be yourself, and I doubt we will run into any issues regarding the King. Your… Reputation will do the work for us.”


The wooden bolt cut straight through the straw target, embedding itself in the pole behind it. Spirit cheered silently, pumping a hoof in the air as she used telekinesis to reload her crossbow again. 

“One hundred yards,” Six noted. “Well-placed shot, Spirit.”

“Thanks, ma’am!”

“Sparrow,” Six called out. “You keep yanking the pulling lever and all you’ll do is break the thing!”

Next to Spirit, Sparrow grunted in frustration.

“I was taught how to use a crank, not one of these ground-pounding levers!” Sparrow complained, yanking on the lever to reload his crossbow.

“Let me help,” Spirit said, offering a hoof.

Sparrow glanced at the outstretched offer to help, sighed, and hoofed over his crossbow. Slowly, Spirit went through the process of reloading the crossbow, showing off the technique to Sparrow.

“You got it now?” Spirit asked.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I think you’ll find yourself having a tough time piercing any shield with those ancient toys.”

The Spartans looked up from their training exercise when they heard the newcomer's voice.

“Resume firing,” Six commanded her soldiers. “It’s not our job to break shields. By the time these things come into action, the unicorns have already broken the main defenses.”

“That makes sense,” the changeling King said, stepping up beside Six to observe the training.

“Spirit, resume firing,” Six commanded again. “One fifty yards, this time.”

Spirit glanced back at the shooting range before coming to a decision.

“Ma’am, permission to… uh… talk?”

Six shrugged, “You don’t need permission when it’s just us, Spirit. What is it?”

Spirit trotted over to the two imposing figures. With Six being as tall as Princess Luna and King Phasma being as tall as Princess Celestia, Spirit found crossing the short distance to be unexpectedly difficult.

‘Maybe it’s not their height that frightens me…’

When they first met in the streets, the King’s Aura had been overwhelming. Like an ever-present sun, it had threatened to smother Spirit. Now, it was a black hole: an eerie error in reality that threatened to… Spirit wasn’t sure.

‘Maybe it’s like deep, murky water that hides something? Spear was always a better poet than I am…’

“What is it, Spirit?” Six repeated.

Spirit blinked, realizing that she had just stood there silently.

“What happened to your… Aura? Yesterday it almost, uh, killed me…”

King Phasma cleared his throat, “I’ve tucked it away. It’s about as uncomfortable as it sounds but sometimes necessary.”

“You did what?”

The King waved a hoof dismissively, “It's a bit hard to sneak around when every changeling knows exactly where you are. I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way. Stuffing my entire Weave into an extra-dimensional space is just one of the few things I have up my metaphorical sleeve.”

“Must be useful, being able to hide like that. Wish I had something similar when I escaped Chrysalis’s clutches.”

“Yeah, that bitch’ll hunt you down like the Eye of Sauron,” King Phasma chuckled.

Six shouted to the two other Spartans, “Pixy, Sparrow! Handle yourselves for the time being. This conversation may take a while.”

The Spartans gave a brief salute before resuming their crossbow training.

“Cadance came to visit me,” King Phasma said quietly to Six. “She was asking a lot of personal questions. Did you tell her anything?”

“No,” Six replied.

The royal sighed, “Just Cadance being Cadance, then.”

Six shrugged.

“King Phasma,” Spirit said, “we haven’t met properly. My name is Spirit.”

“Phasmatodea, but you can call me Phasma,” the King replied.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay with you, King Phasma.”

“Go ahead,” King Phasma said.

Spirit asked, “What’s with your Aura? I know you’re there, but it’s like you’re a ball of nothing.”

“As I said, I have stowed it away. It’s not something a drone can accomplish. You need a… large Weave.”

Spirit frowned, “It’s called a Weave? I have never heard of such a thing– I only know about Auras, what every changeling has.”

King Phasma thought for a moment, “... I’m not from around here, so it’s not surprising that you haven’t met anyling like me.”

“Then may I try something, please?”

The King shrugged, “Fine. But if you get hurt, it’s not my fault. My Weave shouldn’t even be harmful to you in the first place.”

Spirit closed her eyes in concentration and reached out with her own Aural tendril to the singularity centered around King Phasma. She felt no response, so she pushed more onto his Aura– his Weave.

King Phasma spoke aloud, almost startling Spirit, “What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

Spirit twisted her muzzle as she concentrated, “Well, this Weave is nothing like any Aura I’ve seen! It’s exceptionally powerful and dangerous, as I’m sure you’ve noticed when I, uh, keeled over. So, I wanted to see if I could connect to it like with any other changeling.”

“It’s nothing quite that active,” the King explained. “It’s more of a passive connection. Let me show you.”

Spirit felt a connection form, a thread coiling around her Aura. The senses of the world shot away from Spirit as she was flooded with visions.

The first vision was of an Equestria with an orange, dying sun hovering just above the horizon. The streets were littered with skeletons, and the city of Canterlot was in a state of collapse. Next came a vision of Princess Luna reading a book by a fireplace. The scene was then plunged into darkness as a pony full of Evil and Hate swung a sword as black as night at King Phasma. Finally, the scene brightened to reveal Phasma sitting down at the shop in Canterlot, casually munching on some hayfries.

Spirit recoiled and gasped from the sudden, overwhelming influx of information.

King Phasma's voice boomed in her head, “Sorry, thought I clamped down on all the channels. You may have received a bit more than you could chew there.”

Spirit clutched her head and hissed, “Speak quieter! Please!”

The King’s voice rippled across her mind again, somewhat quieter, “I don’t think I can do that. It’s not how the Weave works. There isn’t a volume knob for this thing. I just talk.”

The changeling drone slowly recovered, horn glowing a bit brighter, and limited her Aural connection some more.

Then, she spoke through the Aura, “It’s fine. I’ve weakened my connection a little bit.”

“So I see. Now, what is it that you hope to accomplish next?”

Spirit grunted, “This!”

She sent a command through the Weave: sit.

At once, the King’s laughter echoed in her ears, “You sound like my mother.”

Spirit sighed and opened her eyes. Six was watching on in equal amounts of confusion and interest as the King stood before her, definitely not sitting down.

She hummed, “Interesting… Very interesting. It seems that commands from an Aura to a Weave do not work. That would have been useful a month ago!”

“Let’s see if the reverse is true. Kneel!

Spirit gasped as she found herself kneeling before the King, sweat beginning to drip off her forehead.

King Phasma hummed this time, “Interesting. You may rise.”

After a moment, the commanding presence left her body, and Spirit managed to stand back up, shaking from the experience.

“Is everything alright?” Six asked her.

 “Fine! Fine. Just… I deserved that.”


The King spoke aloud, “It seems that you drones around here are more susceptible to orders through my Weave.”

Six remained quiet, keeping her attention on Spirit. Spirit felt tired and weak, like she just ran twenty miles at a marching pace.

“I need a break,” she muttered.

Six looked to King Phasma, “Our conversation from before isn’t over. I still have a very important question for you.”

King Phasma looked around them, seeing plenty of Royal Guards training and trying to discreetly stare at the Spartan and the tall King in the courtyard. Spirit was wondering what the two were talking about but wasn’t going to ask.

“We have a lot of ears on us right now,” the King said. “Do you really want to ask your questions here?”

“No,” Six shook her head. “Meet me later.”


Six soaked up the sounds of New Alexandria. The hush of rain falling upon the cityscape and the sound of distant thunder caused Six to sigh, closing her eyes as the cool water fell on her head. She had never seen the city like this, in such a quiet and peaceful state.

Six had placed her helmet beside her, still within her reach, as she relaxed. Her hindlegs dangled over open air as she sat on the edge of the landing pad, gray clouds far below cutting off the view of the ground.

Her ears flicked back as she picked up the sound of hoofsteps on concrete from behind the unused Falcon parked on the helipad.

“So. Noble Six,” Phasma said as he approached. “The second hyper-lethal Spartan. I can’t say I ever expected to meet another human, especially after all these years…”

He came to a stop next to her at the edge of the helipad.

Six stared out at the horizon, “I only have one question for you. How? How do you know all this?”

At Phasma’s silence, Six looked up from the city skyline and at Phasma. He was brooding, staring off into the distance.

“I already told you,” he said at last. “From the moment you first met Noble Team to the moment that Sangheili impaled you with an energy sword, I saw it all. Outside of that… You remember what I called you when we first met two days ago?”

Six shrugged, “Remind me.”

“Video game protagonist. It’s why I dismissed you as nothing more than some jarhead with delusions of grandeur at first. To think that I would meet a Spartan, a real Spartan! No, you never existed on my Earth. The Covenant never existed. The UNSC never existed. You were nothing more than a story to tell, a medium for the Fall of Reach and the rescue of that AI.”

The silence lasted only as long as it took Six to stand up, rear up on her forelegs, and kick Phasma in the chest with both hindlegs. The changeling was sent flying off into the clouds below, with only a gasp of pain as the air was forced out of his lungs as he fell.

“Goddammit!” Six screamed. “I can’t believe I trusted you! You lying changeling bastard! How could I have let myself be manipulated like that!”

Six paced back and forth, grumbling to herself and slamming her hooves on the side of the helipad. Six struggled to put her anger into words. 

“I can’t believe… You bastard! Why did…. How… Grah!” She yelled as she kicked the side of the Falcon, denting the metal aircraft considerably.

Six paused as she noticed a silhouette on a nearby rooftop. King Phasma watched her as she angrily shook a hoof in his direction, pulled her knife from her shoulder holster, and hurled it across the space between the skyscrapers.

The knife landed in front of the King, embedding itself deep into the concrete edge that he was peering over. With a shake of his head, he turned away and retreated from sight.

Six yelled after him, “I am a Spartan! I am not some– some– some made-up pile of coding! I am a protector of humanity. I have killed thousands with twice as much wit as you!”

Six continued to yell into the skies of New Alexandria, with no one to hear her.


The day of the exhibition to the changeling hive had come, and upon the crack of dawn, everypony knew something was wrong. Not with the mission itself, however, no. Something was wrong with Six.

Her Spartans were the first to know, from the way she held herself to the sheer brutality her voice contained during their morning training. Six was angry– no… she was downright pissed off. Throughout the morning, she had barely said a word, but when she did, the fury within it was palpable. 

When the time came for them to board the train, everypony gave the Spartan a wide berth. On the train itself, those around her fared no better as Six made her way to one of the dining cars with a bar. She took a seat on one of the tables across from the bar, the windows to her left.

The resulting crunch of the chair snapping and shattering under her weight did not deter her, though it did the car's other occupants. Like a black hole consuming all that it touched, the room went utterly silent. Conversation ceased, eating and drinking stopped, and, were it not for the sound of tracks over rails, one could have heard a pin drop.

Uncaring of all those around her, Six merely pulled out her knife, eliciting a few worried inhales from the other ponies around her, and began to sharpen it. The scratch of metal against metal soon filled the air as ponies slowly began to filter out of the train carriage. 

Before long, only two ponies remained: Six and the Bartender.

“C-can I perhaps get you something, m-ma’am?” The pony behind the bar asked with slight fear painting his voice.

Silence and the continued scraping of metal was his answer.

He shut his mouth after that, opting to instead focus on cleaning the glasses and wiping down the bar to perfection. He wanted nothing more than to leave the obviously…aggressive mare alone, but his posting as bartender prevented an escape if he wanted to keep his job.

Keeping the widest berth available from the Spartan, he went about his duties of cleaning up the leftover glasses and plates that littered the now empty tables, flinching every time Six paused in her sharpening to watch the stallion pass her by.

Such was the routine for over an hour of travel time, but luckily for the bartender, it was about to come to an end. Just as the stallion began to clean the same rack of glasses for the sixth time, Princess Cadance entered the car.

Having been told of a small crowd forming just outside the closest dining car, Cadance didn’t need to be told who it was. Only one pony could ever elicit such a response, and she had seen it happen before. Though that first time, it was among members of the military high command, not the general public.

Having pushed past the crowd of displaced ponies, Cadance entered the room fully and found her mare. Knowing just what to do, Cadance simply strolled past the relieved-looking bartender, over the small assortment of splinters covering the ground, and took a seat right next to Six. 

The Spartan in question glared at the nonchalant Cadance, “What are you doing here?”

Ignoring the annoyed Spartan’s question, Cadance spoke over her shoulder towards the bartender. “Can you bring us two hot fudge sundaes, please?”

“R-right away, Princess,” the stallion stuttered before making himself scarce

All the while, Six never ceased staring at the pink Alicorn, even as she resumed her sharpening. Cadance met her gaze soon after, a smile on her face.

“You know, I am a seven-time-world champion in staring contests. Little Twilight was good, but she could never beat the master!”

Aside from the briefest looks of confusion upon the Spartan’s face, Six continued to stare.

“Normally, you find a corner to sulk in and sharpen your knife. What made you choose the middle of the room today?”

“Tch,” Six tutted, breaking the stare and focusing on her blade.

“If you really want to play the part of an edgy loner, I’m sure Shiny has room in his Ogres and Oubliettes game. You’d make a fine rogue!”

Six remained silent, not even bothering with a response.

Cadance sighed, “Six? Ah… What happened?” She began softly, “It’s been a while since you were this… detached.”

A silence of several long seconds passed before the Spartan spoke, voice tainted with anger.

“I let my guard down.”

“Did somepony get hurt?”

Another pause followed before Six spoke once more, “Just myself.”

Cadance began to tap her hoof against the table in thought, “…I think I understand. Stallion turn you down?”

Like a rubber band snapping under tension, Six turned to look at Cadance with such confusion and annoyance it seemed entirely out of place on the Spartan’s usually stoic features.

“What?” Six asked, looking at Cadance like she had grown a second head.

Cadance didn’t notice the look on the Spartan’s face and continued speaking, “Not a stallion, then. A mare? You know we don’t judge if you bat for the same team…”

“Cadance, what the hell are you talking about?”

The alicorn shrugged, “Well, since you don’t seem to have any obvious injuries– not that I can tell with that mountain of metal on you. Even a Diamond Dog would have trouble digging through all that. So it must be your heart that’s hurt, right?”

Six grunted, “Just leave me alone.”

Cadance pressed on, “Can you please tell me what happened? We’re friends, right? Friends help and look out for each other.”

After a pregnant pause, Six sighed deeply, setting her knife down on the table, posture drooping considerably.

“I let myself be manipulated.”

With a silent look of surprise, Cadance asks, “By whom?”

Six hissed her answer like a snake, “The changeling we’re escorting.”

“King Phasma?” Cadance confirmed. The Spartan nodded, “He does seem… enigmatic. What did he do, specifically?”

“Made me believe… and hope.”

Cadance blinked, “Usually, those are good things. What was he lying about?”

“Home.”

With a gasp of surprise, Cadance responded, “You mean he knows about… you know?”

Six tensed up, “You know too?”

Her response was a nervous chuckle, “Uh, we all do…? The Princesses, that is. Auntie Luna told Celestia and I what happened. I, uh… I was at a loss for words. I still am. I’d like to say I’m sorry, but that seems… worthless. How does King Phasma know?”

Six shrugged, “Changeling magic, probably. I’m no expert on magic, after all.”

Cadance frowned, “One of your Spartans is a changeling. Spirit, right? Does she know about any of this? Or how he would know about you?”

Six shook her head, “No, the only people who know about it are you three… Four.” She corrected.

The alicorn leaned back in her chair in thought, “Sounds like it’s not changeling magic, then. Or maybe it is, and it’s only available to Princes and Princesses– but then Chrysalis would know about you and… No, it can’t be changeling magic...”

Six slammed her armored hoof against the table, cracking the wooden structure in half, shocking Cadance and sending her knife clattering to the debris-covered floor.

“It has to be!” Six shouted, “He knows too much!”

Cadance stared at the heavily breathing Spartan in shock, her own heart having jumped at Six’s outburst. Taking several deep breaths, Cadance slowly began to relax once more. “... I visited him in the gardens last night. He was staring up at the stars. I tried to play it off like I accidentally found him, but he knew right away that I had sought him out. The way he brushed me off and talked about me… he knows something I don’t. He’s got more secrets in him than the dozens of secret doors in Auntie Celestia’s study do.”

The Spartan grunted in agreement as the alicorn began to wonder.

“Hope. He told you something about your old world, right? Something he couldn’t have known?”

“A lie,” was her response.

“But It’s one you wanted to believe?”

“More than anything.”

Cadance shook her head. “What does he gain from this? What can he gain?”

“Amusement?” Six offered

Cadance crossed her forelegs, “He seemed more… sad when he talked to me.”

“Probably because I called him out on his lies. I ruined his game.


The flying carriages dipped below the clouds, revealing the badlands below.

The wasteland was featureless aside from dirt, rocks, small cliffs, and a giant sinkhole swarming with changeling drones. The sinkhole, formerly Firaxis, was the entrance to the changeling’s entire kingdom.

Now, after the war had ended, they were hard at work on repairing Firaxis.

The carriages continued their dive towards the ground. Several squads of Royal Guards peeled off of the flying carriage convoy to greet and check up on their grounded comrades. Phasma peered over the edge of his golden carriage and spotted the bright, twinkling helmets of Royal Guards on the ground below. The changelings were, it seemed, under military occupation.

The convoy set down on the rough terrain outside the sinkhole, where several Royal Guard squads had cleared the way and stood guard.

As the ponies, Six, and Phasma dismounted from the flying carriages, drones quickly gathered beyond the Royal Guard cordon. They pushed each other to get a view of the visitors. The few that tried flying up to see were quickly forced back down to the ground by pegasi Royal Guards.

Phasma stood tall, looking over the heads, shoulders, and plumes of the Royal Guards. The drones were staring right back at him in confusion and awe.

The arrival was not quiet. The Royal Guards barked orders to the changelings to stay back, the carriages had landed with the creaking and groaning of metal and wood under the weight of gravity, and a very, very heavy Spartan, and the changelings, who at first were talking quietly with each other, were raising their voices and speaking in confused tones.

Then, Six stepped off the carriage, and the quiet returned to the Badlands. Attention shifted between Phasma and Six as the changelings chittered and whispered to each other.

Even before the Royal Guards could order it, the crowd dispersed and a way was cleared, the drones skittering away from them. The gathered changelings thinned out as the less-brave drones made themselves scarce. As they left, Phasma caught a few of the whispers. They were not about him.

Luna and Celestia departed from their own carriage and Phasma’s ears swiveled in their direction.

Luna gestured to the fleeing changelings, “See, sister? There are no threats here. They cower before our Guards. You can go back to Canterlot. I have this well in hoof.”

Celestia replied quietly, “My mind is set. I will not leave you here. I don’t doubt that you are capable of fighting, but I’m scared of any surprises, Luna.”

Luna huffed and walked away from Celestia.

Celestia took a moment to recollect herself, breathe deeply, and straighten her posture. When she saw Phasma staring from a distance away, she strode over towards him.

“So, King Phasma. We have arrived at the changeling hive.”

Phasma looked out over the hole, “All I see is a hole. Where’s the… superstructure? The spires? The Hive itself?”

“Did it have those in the past?” Celestia asked.

‘Considering I’ve yet to see a single universe where a hive doesn’t have a structure somewhere, yes.’

Phasma sighed, “Sure. Have you arranged a meeting with her?”

Celestia hummed, “Queen Chrysalis? No, I have not. We will be meeting with the Provisional Government.”

“The Provisional Government?” Phasma repeated. “I take it that this government is one you set up?”

She smiled, “Surprisingly, no. A changeling had a change of heart, ironically, and decided to… rebel.”

Phasma chuckled, “I can’t imagine why anyone would rebel against Chrysalis.”

Celestia continued to smile but didn't laugh.

Well then,” Phasma gestured to the hole. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I get my MacGuffins.”

“Your what?”

“My…. mana-thingies. The thingies that I need. Those thingies. The ones you are paying me with.”

Celestia’s eyes widened with understanding, “Oh, you mean the Synthesized Electrum Mana?”

“Mmm, that’s the stuff. You got it with you?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, “What kind of fool do you take me for? Yes, King Phasma, I have decided to walk into the middle of the changeling hive with your payment on me. You will get it after we are done here and after we are sure that there is no danger. Rest assured, you will get your payment.”

Phasma scoffed, “Right. You think I’m plotting an ambush.”

“It is an assumption I am duty-bound to make and to plan for,” Celestia shrugged.

“But you’re still walking into the hive?”

Celestia laughs, “With half an army at my back and several contingencies in place, yes.”

“Of course. Right, then. Lead the way to this Provisional Government.”

‘Contingencies, aye? I wonder what that could mean. Divisions of Royal Guards hidden around the place? Unlikely, they would be spotted. Special artifacts and weapons of war? Or rather, peace enforcement, as she would call it? In any case, it’s probably for the best that I never have to find out.’

As the royals departed for the hole that was once the changeling hive of Firaxis, Six followed, never letting King Phasma out of her sight.


Once a cave and a network of tunnels and warrens, the Outer-Hive had been exposed to the open air of the Badlands above. 

Even as the changeling drones worked tirelessly to cover up the exposed Hive, it would take years to repair the damage; the veritable mountain of stone and resin that had been blown away would take an incalculable amount of work to recreate.

The envoy made its way down the one remaining tunnel that led to the main Hive. They passed by dozens of collapsed hallways and rooms that were in the process of being excavated by teams of drones.

The drones stepped aside for the Royal Guard escort, sticking to the walls and side corridors as the Princesses and King passed by. Phasma regarded the drones with a curious gaze when they stopped their work to stare back at him. Almost every time, those drones noticed Six sulking behind him and quickly made themselves busy again, turning their back to the King.

Every now and again, a particularly confused drone would reach out to Phasma. They did not reach out with a hoof or even physically at all. They reached out with their auras to where his Weave should be. Phasma felt them brush up against him as if he were walking through a spiderweb. The uncomfortable feeling on his constricted Weave was unsettling, but he made no outward reaction. Instead, he brushed back, pushing them away.

The drones scampered away, taking the hint.

Phasma realized that the tunnel they were taking was at an incline. Much like the Third Hive,  they were on their way further underground. It seemed that the changeling Hive, whether or not it had a real designation, would be structured somewhat similarly to that buried coffin that was once a city.

As the ponies and Phasma descended, they came across more drones working on the tunnel. Given that it was the only surviving entrance to the submerged Hive, the changelings had been working on widening the thoroughfare. The tunnel went from being wide enough for two changelings to walk side-by-side to seven, and it was only getting wider.

Finally, the tunnel ended and Phasma stepped out into the Hive proper.

Much like the Third Hive, the Grand Hive occupied the majority of a truly gargantuan cave chamber. The entire hive was divided into two sections across the circular cave. Below, large, simplistic buildings formed the vast majority of the city. In the center of it all, a column stretched up to the ceiling of the cave. Around it, hive spires jutted out like stalagmites and stalactites.

Unlike the ridiculous amount of pony architecture that Phasma had been living in for years, the changeling architecture was angular in nature. It reminded him of Earth in that regard. The central column was even more familiar to Phasma; it resembled the Fourth Hive’s superstructure, only mirrored halfway up to form the center of the column. Without a doubt, that was where Chrysalis would be.

While the lower, grounded city was full of shades of gray, black, and green, the city hanging above and around the central spire was a veritable rainbow of stones, metals, and gems. The buildings themselves also looked more like a wealthy palace or chateau than the austere, spartan changeling habitats below. Oranges, purples, countless reds, and blues painted it like a Vincent Van Gogh painting, hanging above the dreary green and black sea below.

Above and beyond it all was a Weave strong enough to make him pause mid-step. It was not Chrysalis’s, that was certain. It almost felt… gentle. Unlike the Weaves of the royals he usually dealt with, this was far less intrusive.

‘Auras. They call them Auras here.’

In addition to the almost-comforting extra-dimensional embrace of the powerful Aura, Phasma picked up on the presence of other, lesser Auras. While the powerful one felt like something akin to sunshine, these smaller and conflicting ones felt more like meager gusts of wind.

‘Likely belong to Princes and Princesses. Or whatever they call those lesser, younger royals in this world.’


Despite the presence of the one the drones called Demon, the envoy managed to acquire something close to a crowd as they descended. Changelings stopped what they were doing to watch the processions, with some coming as close as they would dare. Phasma spied more than a few changelings lose any courage they managed to muster and scamper away.

Builders, lings ferrying carts laden with supplies or materials, soldiers, and everyling in between gawked at the envoy as they progressed into the Hive. The simple architecture of the Grand Hive grew in number of stories and complexity as they got closer to the center. Simple shops increased in number and splendor. Statues of changeling drones and royals also became more frequent, as did carvings of changeling history and lore engraved on plinths.

Phasma and the Princesses had just entered a large plaza when the Grand Hive’s welcoming party arrived. Stopping before a damaged statue of a very ornate and seemingly divine Queen, a drone stepped out from the crowd and through the Royal Guard escort.

The most striking detail that Phasma noticed about the changeling was that he was quite visibly drunk.

‘And judging by the fact that the Royal Guards let him through, he’s important. Meaning he’s going to be the Chamberlain or other high-ranking official sent to meet us. Or maybe we’ll get lucky and–’

“Curxe,” Celestia greeted the changeling, bringing the group to a halt.

‘Damn.’

Princesses…” the drone slurred, dragging his S’s. “Nice to see you in our city. Wish I could say the same about your choice of heavily-armored pegasi…” Curxe said, glaring past the royals at Six.

Phasma decided to voice his displeasure, “If you are the one in charge around here, I would have expected that you would be conducting yourself with some semblance of dignity.”

Curxe harrumphed, “A-hem! With the Queen gone, I think I’ve deserved a little drink as celebration, hmm?”

Phasma frowned, “I was told that you deposed the Queen weeks ago.”

“And it's still something to be celebrated! Well, anyway, celebrations aside...” He looks towards Celestia with an accusing glare,  “Who’s this royal you’ve brought to the Hive? I remember our agreement strictly prohibiting interference in our politics.”

‘While letting Celestia handle the greeting would make it easier, I think I should make it clear who is in charge of who here.’

Before Celestia could say anything, Phasma stepped forward, “I am King Phasmatodea of the Fifth Hive. While you have never heard of me, I would suggest that you don’t immediately dismiss me. I try to be as kind and as patient as possible, but I am quite infamous for having a limit. I have come to help with negotiations between your Hive and the ponies. Because apparently, you need all the help you can get.”

Curxe pulled out a flask and took a long sip, his eyes never leaving Phasma’s before he spoke in an unamused tone, “The only help we need is one that doesn’t include another royal threatening another changeling. So forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm King Phasma.

Phasma bared his fangs at the drone, “I wouldn’t be dishing out petty threats if you didn’t slight me. Then again, I assume you’ve been dealing with Queen Chrysalis all your life. I know just how grating that can be…”

‘In the name of diplomacy and curtailing my ever-growing ego, I suppose I should cut him a little slack.’

“Aye, you’re not wrong there.” Curxe shook his head and continued, “So you’re here to help the ponies negotiate, then? Well, as the head of the provisional government, I welcome you all to the Grand Hive of the Empress, or well… what's left of it. Your little Demon there has no regard for collateral damage. ” 

Curxe took another swig from his flask as Phasma shrugged– and also wondered just how Curxe managed to put so much liquid into such a small flask.

“I’ve seen worse– and done worse to ancient, irreplaceable changeling cities.” Phasma turned to Celestia, “Anyone else I have to speak to, or is it just Curxe?”

Celestia gestured to Curxe, “Curxe here is the changeling responsible for the Grand Hive and all its citizens. If you will excuse the rather unbecoming behavior he displays, you will find that he is more than capable of leading his species.”

Phasma snorted, “Why are they always drunkards? First it was–” Phasma glanced at Celestia, “– never mind. Alright then, Curxe. Lead the way to wherever it is that we will be yelling at each other. All these drones staring at me are starting to give me the heebie-jeebies.”

Curxe turned around and began walking towards the large column-shaped Palace, “Well, what do you expect when a changeling walks in without an aura to speak of? Might wanna get that checked out. Can’t be good for your health.”

“My Weave seems to have an adverse effect on you drones, so I keep it wrapped up and stuffed into a box.” As he reached his telekinesis into his armored saddlebags, Phasma explained, “It’s about as comfortable as you can imagine. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to uncloak it, but I want to get this over with quickly.”

“Seeing as my flask is also running dry, I’ll agree with you there. Follow me back to the palace. I’m sure you're just dying to see the once and mighty Queen Chrysalis reduced to but a shadow of her former self. Been thinking of opening it up as a tourist destination, might be an efficient way to raise funds from the pony tourists we’re no doubt going to receive once this is all set and done with.”

Phasma laughed, “Be sure to import some surface vegetation, then! They find underground cities with no vegetation to be disturbing. It affects how willing they are to return.”

Curxe grinned, “I like your thinking.”

“... He is not wrong,” Luna quietly admitted, glaring at the rather sparse plaza they were departing.


Six cursed quietly under her breath as a few changelings scurried out of her way. The few Praetorians that she passed stayed ramrod straight, sweating as she stomped by.

During the past three days of negotiation, Six had to endure the boring arguments. Worse than that, she had to stand behind him. Three days. For three days, she stood at attention like a perfect little soldier. He never said a word to her, let alone acknowledged her existence. After dismissing her whole life in the dream, Phasma refused to even look at her in the waking world.

“Three goddamn days!” She seethed.

Her schedule followed the same routine: wake up, eat breakfast, stand at guard while the politicians talked, eat lunch, stand at guard while the politicians yelled, eat dinner, then waste her two hours of freedom each night. There were only so many laps that Six could run or pushups she could do before seeking some other way to get rid of the last hours of the day.

Six froze mid-step as her ears flicked to the left. An open doorway led to one of the two communal rooms that the envoy shared. Through it, Six could see King Phasma standing in the kitchen unit, whisking away with his back to the door.

She stared as he opened up a few cabinets with his telekinesis, rifling through them to produce a bottle filled with a pink substance. He was humming a song as he worked. Six did not recognize it, nor did she care.

‘There he is. Acting like nothing happened like there’s nothing wrong! Bastard! Is this how they all are, so damn uncaring about what they do? ONI could learn a thing or two from this spineless coward!’

Phasma slowed his whisking.

 “If you are hoping that they will have anything like cookies– or, given your spartan diet, granola, and ground-up rocks, you will be disappointed.”

Flaring her nostrils like a bull preparing to charge, Six stomped her way into the room.

“Shut up!” She hissed. “If I weren’t here to protect you, you’d be dead already. While you see this as nothing more than a game, the fate of two entire species is being decided!”

Phasma exhaled slowly and put down his cooking utensils, “Doomsday this, end-of-the-world that. One thing I’ve come to realize is that Equus– or whatever you call this place– is constantly in danger. For every world-ending threat you put down, two more take its place… Shit, I had something clever to say until you made your comment. Oh, right. Your threat. While I am certain you could kill me with ease if you got close, what makes you think I would let that happen? Slings–”

In a swift stroke that spanned a heartbeat, Six hurled a knife at Phasma. It embedded itself in the stone wall, mere inches from his face.

Phasma paused, “.... Slings, bows, artillery shells, nuclear ICBMs, Rods from God. War has always been about range. I’ve got wings, you know, and unlike yours, I actually know how to use mine. Can you even get off the ground? How many knives do you even have? All I have to do is fly up and start raining hell down onto you.”

“What makes you think I’d ever let you even leave the ground before I’d slit your throat?” Six growled.

“What makes you think that you have any choice in the matter, sweetie? This isn’t Reach–”

Six bellowed a challenge and charged at the changeling King.

In a sudden flash of orange, Six impacted the kitchen counter that Phasma was standing in front of. Stone, wood, and metal splintered into a thousand fragments as she caved in part of the wall behind the counter.

Phasma resumed speaking, “Have you won a battle against a trained war mage?”

Six immediately pinpointed his position on the ceiling. Rising from the rubble, she glared up at Phasma. The changeling was walking across the ceiling on all fours, head swiveled around 180 degrees and staring at Six.

Phasma continued, “How about an actual alicorn-tier threat?” He waited for an answer, “... I didn’t think so. You would have an answer to teleporting if you did.”

Six retrieved her knife from the wall next to her. In one blur so quick that you could miss it if you blinked, she hurled it again at Phasma. The long, sharpened blade hit him square in the right foreleg, embedding deep into chitin and drawing blood.

Phasma hissed in pain, stopping as he pulled the knife free.

“I’m no stranger to war. To pain. To dying! You’re down a knife, now!” He spat out from gritted teeth.

Holding it in his orange magical grip, Phasma shattered the knife. The titanium-alloy blade that had saved Six’s life more times than she could count was snapped like a twig by the royal. One of the last pieces of her past was destroyed like it was nothing more than an annoyance.

He continued as Six stared in horror, “You’ll find that you can lose a lot more than you realize.”

Six watched as the pieces fell to the floor. The red-hot anger she had kept inside her billowed like the flames of a forge.

“You bastard!” She screamed before leaping at the upside-down changeling with her bladed wings extended and whistling through the air.

Phasma fired a bolt of magic, the laser beam focused right on her visor. The Spartan’s shields glowed gold– then rapidly transitioned to red as they bore the magical attack. Her shields shattered but not before she landed right on top of him. The changeling had raised his forelegs to protect his neck and head, hanging off the ceiling as he did so. Six’s bladed wings tore through his chitin like a MAC round through a Covie cruiser. Blood splattered across both of them and the ceiling.

The royal screamed in pain and anger before vanishing in another flash of orange. Only this time, instead of reappearing somewhere else, a large, winged lizard with orange scales had replaced him. 

The heavy thud of Phasma’s armored saddlebags shook the room. They did not teleport with him when he teleported. Six went for Phasma, aiming to capitalize on his moment of hesitation when he noticed the bags.

Six swept a wing in from the side, aiming to rip off one of his wings. When the diamond-sharp blades sparked against his scales and failed to cut, Six resorted to more blunt force trauma. With his free hooves– now turned into clawed hands, Phasma grabbed onto her forelegs to stop her from bludgeoning his lizard face any further.

The two fell from the ceiling as gravity caught up to them.

Struggling to break free from his grip, Six noticed a pale blue light beginning to emerge from his mouth. Having seen that light many-a-time emerge from Covenant plasma carbines, Six reacted immediately and kicked out with both hindlegs. The kick hit him right in the lower chest and sent him across the room just as his attack emerged.

A massive beam of plasma ripped across the room as Phasma sailed across and impacted against the far wall. He screeched in pain and the beam shut off as he glared daggers at her.

Another flash of orange replaced the glared-daggers and turned the sensation into a physical one. Claws now dug into her back as the changeling-dragon-King teleported right onto her prone form and buried his claws into the joints between her armor segments. Six’s visor lit up with a red warning as her armor integrity was compromised. Searing pain lanced through her sides as the claws dug straight through and into her back.

But before Six could roll over and smash the changeling into the ground, there was another flash of light. This time, it was cyan. 

Six and Phasma froze as a voice boomed out from the newcomer.

“Cease this bloodshed at once, fools!”