//------------------------------// // Cutie Mark Crusaders vs Overmind // Story: Ponies Versus Starcraft // by ambion //------------------------------// Awaken my child...err guys how did this happen...’just roll with it?’ Budget issues? Okay...children. Know that I am the Overmind, and that you have been created to - Get Out Of the Spawning Pool! Come on! Please? Alright. Seriously now. You have been created to serve me- are these for real, guys? I just don’t feel we’re connecting here. Yeah, yeah, I know about the economy. No, I didn’t think that ravenous mutable space monsters were subject to it. This is really the best we can get? I mean, anything going ‘three for one’ in a bargain bin’s gotta be suspect. I’m just saying. Fine. Pay attention now, this is important- Three pairs of eyes turned down. Like one pony Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo noticed the curious purple sludge spread across the ground beneath their hooves. In one strange motion they tried to rear away from it in case it was yucky, lean closer to see if it was, and rear away again because, indeed, it was. “Eww, what is this stuff?” The little white unicorn said, and made a face. Of course, they’d already splashed through the syrup of the spawning pool, but didn’t seem to mind that. It wasn’t fair. “So gross!” “It ain’t even honest mud!” The Overmind had no corporeal form. Even were it to have one it wouldn’t have the necessary limbs, but still it managed a sort of psycho-audiotory face-hoof. You know how many times I rehearsed that speech, you guys? Sorry, the Overmind is a little bit...unfocused, a similar, wormier voice said as it slithered into the fillies’ minds. Like, a million times. I mean, not a whole lot else I can do, right?  “You ain’t answered our question!” It is the creep- “Yeah, creepy is right! Blegh.” All I wanted, all I wanted was to have my awesome speech in my awesome voice... The second voice did the metaphysical equivalent of turning in for a team huddle, all the while peering cautiously over a non-existent shoulder. Okay, yeah, I’m starting to see your point. These...things are kind of useless- Angry fillies shouted protests, though they weren’t really sure what direction to shout them in.“Hey! I heard that!” “Who you calling useless? Sigh. Look, I even have to say the word. because I can’t actually sigh. I mean, I’m called the Overmind but I don’t feel all that upbeat. And then you numb-don’t-have-actual-skulls-but-whatever cerebrates go and decide that ‘hey, bargain bin, best idea ever!’ “Hey, we’re talking to you here!” “We are not useless!” Hold on! Look, boss, I’m sorry. It’s been a rough day on everyone. Did you get a recepeit? Umm... You know, I’m not even surprised. I’m not. Think we can get any use of these...what are they? Scootaloo flared her wings in an orange buzz. “Cutie Mark Crusaders!” It shouldn’t be possible for a non corporeal entity and another whose closest analogue would be a sea sponge to share a questioning look. These managed. Er...what’s a cutie mark? Their earlier upset forgotten, the three launched into an excited tirade, constantly speaking over one another to elaborate just what a cutie mark was. The Overmind caught only a small bit of it, but it was that little bit called idea. Even if Scootaloo was bouncing on top of an evolution chamber, even if Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle we’re using a zerg egg as a ball - a use guaranteed to make for one extremely dizzy overlord... it was an idea. One that spread dark wings. So um, yeah. You do things to see if it’s what you’re good at them... “Yeah.” And you haven’t found them yet... “Yeah...” You wouldn’t happen to have tried the universe consuming, species assimilating sort of gig, have you? “Um...” “What would that cutie mark even look like?” Wanna find out? Filly eyes widened and lit up. “You mean, crusaders of the universe?” Er. Yeah. That. Bouncing, excitement shrieking fillies made for their own very noisy silence. Ok. Really now, You’re not seriously thinking of sending them into danger, are you? What? No. Even -I- have standards. Besides, I can’t exactly see them bringing overwhelming power to a fight. Can you? No, but look at this. The Overmind pushed a thought into its cerebrate. If the squishy gurgling of complex organs was more simply depicted, it might be represented as a status bar full up and a notification beep, chiming ‘upgrade complete!’ The spawning pool? They were in there all of ten seconds! And the evolution chamber too. What looked suspiciously like a face on the bulging structure was smiling contentedly. But, how?  the cerebrate intoned with open awe. Well, we’re zerg. We tap potential, and build ourselves off of that. Purity of blah blah, remember? And these, uh, Cutie Mark Crusaders. They’re nothing BUT potential. I mean, it’s their magic, right? Imagine if WE got cutie marks. Zerg that aren’t just -built- for a job, but specifically good at it too. Magic zerg. Magic. Zerg. “...oh my squishy membranous body...” Oh your squishy membranous body indeed. With a cutie mark, no less. The cerebrate managed a metaphysical nod. Cutie Mark? I could go for that. Do you think it’d look good? I mean, I haven’t had much luck with the cerebratinas lately...been trying to work out, but no limbs, you know? Always ends up as a kind of jaunty wiggle. “So what do we do first?” The cerebrate rambled on, quite unawares the conversation had left it behind. I’ve tried getting some hydralisks to set up a radio, you know, get in the mood for a workout, but they insist on only playing the chart toppers... “I wanna get my cutie mark!” ...got nothing against them, mind you, just that I like a little more variety in my music, you know? Wouldn’t hurt if there were some good songs up there either... “Please?” three fillies insisted as one. With a mental nudge from the overmind, the cerebrate recalled itself. They regarded the eager fillies. They are too cute to infest. I don’t think I could do it. Me neither. So what are we gonna do? They need something to do. Oh right. Um. Okay crusaders, uh. Listen up. If you could...umm... The Overmind scanned frantically through the minds of its minions, looking for a suitable challenge for three eager fillies. At one corner of awareness it caught the grumbling complaints of an overlord, one of those hulking, flying intermediaries of the hive mind, as it turned away from a crumbling old missile turret. Despite heavy damage, the tower’s circuitry had sparked enough to fizzle into life and send a missile speeding after the slow creature, which it impacted with a wet smack. This! Right. This. I need you to blow it up. After several awkward seconds of exertion, the Overmind realized it couldn’t actually push an image into the crusaders’ minds. It was a new sensation, to say the least. Um. Er...there’s a tower, two hills over that way and along a ridge. “A tower?” Scootaloo asked with incredulous tones. She leaned against a hydralisk den, which wiggled excitedly at her touch. The Overmind felt a familiar surge, sounding in its mind like ‘ding! upgrade complete!’ “Like a wizard’s tower?” followed up Sweetie Belle, tentatively considering the idea. Apple Bloom just ran with it. “Would there be treasure inside?” The Overmind imagined the fillies stumbling about with a stockpile of dubious warheads. No. Nothing at all. It could feel the crusaders’ attention slipping away. It got a bit desperate for a moment. It hijacked the nearest notable zerg creature. Look, look! This happened to be a guardian. For the uninitiated, the name is very misleading. It may infer something sturdy, maybe even stalwart in a kind of insidious space monster way. What it actually happened to be was a giant flying crab - it didn’t have wings of any kind, gravity just seemed to be debating whether it was worth the effort or not. It didn’t really ‘guard’ so much as launch hideous gobs of bio weaponry at extreme range. It was like a sneeze weaponized right up into bombardment scales of artillery. The Overmind lead the big, ponderous space-crab-thing into a steep dive, pulling up and away near enough the fillies’ heads to stir the breeze through their manes. The guardian did a barrel roll, then came around for a graceless landing. You got the moves. I sure do. Think that’s got them though? They looked to the fillies. The three of them stood silent, agape and staring. I’m going to come out with a tentative ‘yes.’ Great. Ok, crusaders. You’re lift awaits.They hopped aboard, three tiny, adorable fleas. With a burbling grunt that shook through them, the guardian huffed and lifted into the air once more. The Overmind proverbially sat back in a non-existent but nonetheless comfortable chair and nodded approvingly as the little party drifted off to the horizon. It’s good to see the small ones getting involved. Every zergling helps, kind of thing? We all work together, we zerg do. Even our non-zergy zerg. Right. Obviously the fillies aren’t actually going to do anything. Naturally. I just wanted to make that clear. The guardian will destroy the turret, the crusaders will be all excited and feel the satisfaction of thinking they contributed, la de da, they’ll realize how great we are and stick around. More evolutions for us. It’s a foolproof plan. Now the problem with foolproof plans is this: the zerg may be the masters of genetic adaptability and evolution, but the universe itself makes it a note of pride to evolve bigger and brighter fools. When those fools are in fact foals and those foals are the Cutie Mark Crusaders...don’t go there. Please. As for the guardian...it had seemed faster from a distance. The fillies were bored. Scootaloo was especially glum. “What’s the matter?” Apple Bloom asked of her. “We’re flying. That’s kind of cool.” “True,” she conceded sadly. “But we’re flying on a creature that doesn’t even have wings! It’s so unfair.” Sweetie Belle scooted to Scootaloo. “And it spits. That’s uncouth.” Apple Bloom hesitated. “Er. What’s that mean again?” Scootaloo groaned. “This looked way more awesome from the ground. Wings!” she shouted emphatically, falling upon her back and throwing all four hooves up in the air. “Wings wings wings wings!” moaning her disappointment, she gave up and lay back. The massive, crab like legs undulated as if the beast stood in gentle waves. Whether or not the motion contributed anything, the barren landscape beneath still rolled by very slowly. The unicorn and earth pony exchanged glances, then had a hushed conversation while their friend bemoaned her plight of flight. After a while, they handed her something. There was a rope, and a helmet. “What’s this?” Glancing to her friends, she saw that they were similarly kitted, with the additions of small backpack hang-glider kites. “We can all do a bit of flying here, at least ‘til Mr. Guardian gets us there.” “Where’d you even get this stuff?” The two fillies gave the third a look of uttermost seriousness. “Don’t go askin’ unnecessary questions, Scootaloo. You wanna fly or don’t you?” “Well, yeah!” She couldn’t quite fly, but with a tow rope to help out, she could glide on her own wingpower. Altogether, the fillies flew. Mr. Guardian gave a contented jiggle and grumble.   The scourge is a strain of zerg flyer worth mentioning at this point. They combine the best properties of loving hugs with the worst properties of imminent detonations. A guardian can call its own tries to avoid scourge, even allied ones, when at all possible. It’s simple, really. Scourge are are tiny, agile and very fast, whereas guardians are none of these things. All in all, Mr. Guardian was pretty happy. It’s fizzling little mind recognized in a small but key way what that the fillies weren’t nearly as likely to cause critical explosions as more familiar flyers were. This just goes to show that the zerg, by and large, really didn’t know anything about Cutie Mark Crusaders. Meanwhile, in the darkest recesses of its hindbrain, the echoes of wings wings wings sang to its genome, while certain genetic markers picked up clues from the way the ponies glided along behind it. It didn’t look like any tower they had expected. Unlike spires and pinnacles, the dull, square shape looked as if it would be happier squatting in a cave than being under the open sky. Maybe for good reason too, for deep grooves had been gouged in its frame and pieces of plating had fallen away under some assault or other. Mr. Guardian slowed to a gentle, considerate halt, feeling mighty pleased with itself. The sight of two hangliders drifting down towards the ground made for some confusion, which was only compounded by the orange filly that landed on its back. It was supposed to be all three; it had never really had friends before, didn’t they like it? Scootaloo crept up to the hulking creature’s head. She glanced about furtively, though for what reason is a little uncertain. There’s not likely many things to see her on the back of a monster at considerable altitude. All the same she looked and, satisfied that there were no embarrassing onlookers, gave Mr. Guardian a big, warm hug. “Thanks,” she whispered in what amounted to an ear, then leapt and glided after the other crusaders. Mr. Guardian wiggled. He jiggled, and jibed, then whole tracts of muscles contorted in fascinating ways as he broke out in a case of jives. Its little heart - which was to say its downright humongous cardiovascular array - brimmed with delight, which sang wings wings wings and don’t spit it’s uncouth through the beast. If the fillies had looked back, they would have seen evolution: beautiful, hideous evolution at work. Instead they saw a tower. It didn’t look like there would be anything worthwhile inside, and The Overmind had assured them there wasn’t, which made it all but certain there had to be something worthwhile inside. This passes for logic. The door was dented enough for the fillies to squeeze through the gap. There were row upon row of big metal tubes that seemed ready to be slotted into a strange machine. In the corner a flight of steps up to the second floor where several lighted terminals like the sort Twilight Sparkle kept went up into the gloom.. “And it wanted to blow this up. At least let us look around first, who knows what we could find?” Sweetie Belle poked at one of the cylinders. The front was tapered, like an arrow, while the back end was thickened. The whole of it whispered of speed and mass. “I dunno. I don’t think I want a cutie mark for this. It’s so...gray.” Apple Bloom climbed up the steps. “Don’t give up so easy. Maybe there’s something up here.” She prodded at buttons aimlessly, a few of which still flashed with light under the cracked console. Machinery groaned into life. Huge metallic pieces grabbed at the tubes, each moving into the places of the former, while these were slotted into the uppermost machine. From the recesses, metal wailed as it sheared and tore, making the whole tower tremble. “What’s it doing? What’s it doing?!” Apple Bloom bounded back down the stairs and huddled fearfully with her friends. Had she stayed at the console, she might have seen the readout. It read : Critical systems failure. Imminent destruction: 1:00. 59. 58. 57... The Overmind picked up unsettling vibes. Considering what it was and what it did, they had to be strange indeed to unsettle it. It trained its considerable faculties on the source, and to its horror figured out the problem. Oh. Crap. You let the fillies do their thing, didn’t you? Maybe. Yes. No time! the vast consciousness beat a hasty search of the surrounding area for something. Anything to use. There was only...what in the void had they down to that guardian? The cerebrate peaked over its boss’ metaphysical shoulder. Oh my. That’s different. Let’s hope so, ‘cause a guardian couldn’t manage what I’m about to pull. With a silent, psychic scream, the Overmind forced it’s attention into Mr. Guardian. Huge, meaty wings unfurled...as did smaller ones. These - looking like ressurrected omelets pressed into a delta wing, flapped eagerly and took formation around the great beast. Fly, fly! Mr Guardian flew. It still wasn’t fast, but gravity can do a lot in a pinch, and as the monster inclined forwards the wind around it rose to a howl of acceleration. The pair of tiny hangers-ons, more or less tiny replicas of the huge new creature joined Mr. Guardian in its heroic dive. Even in its death throes, the turret was a nasty piece of work. It spat a pair of missiles at the beast Assuming direct control. The overarching control that guided the entire swarm focused the whole of its attention into Mr. Guardian. Two broodlings, two missiles. The little beasts tucked their wings and shot off ahead, sinking their needle claws into the rusted metal of the missiles. With a frenzy born of necessity they ripped through the metal and into the weapons’ mechanized hearts, shredding everything and anything. With a resounding boom the first missile shorted out, soon the second did also, and the broodlings leapt on, headfirst once more into a mad dive. The wrecked missiles fell, shook apart and detonated in a plume of fury and and flame that buffeted even the mighty Mr. Guardian’s newly made wings. The Overmind did not envy Mr. Guardian the rough landing that the situation called for. The broodling spawn landed neatly despite their incredible speed and raked at the steel door, peeling away the decrepit bulkhead with uncommon strength. Flung aside, the fillies were revealed, afraid and alone. The Overmind’s heart swelled with purpose. Get outside, Now! Onto Mr. Guardian. Gotta get away before it blows! Full of fear and excitement, they obeyed without question. Mr. Guardian, Broodlord born, flapped desperately to get airborne. They aren’t gonna make it, they aren’t gonna make it! But the Overmind wasn’t the Overmind for nothing. It had wicked micro skills. The two broodlings, the same size as the fillies, reemerged from the shuddering structure, just as a warmup explosion rocked the turret. Each dragged a missile with the strength born of heroism. Missiles in tow, they dragged them under Mr. Guardian’s wings, and the big meaty flaps curled around them, gripping the steel best they could. Tiny claws tore at the wiring. Inside the turret, the last second ticked away. Hold on!  The fillies screamed. The guardian turned broodlord screamed. The broodlings screamed. The cerebrate shrieked like the big cissy it was. But the missiles, impromptu rocket engines... Those roared. The world trembled The turret erupted in deafening flame and the broodlord tore into the shaking sky. Everything clung to everything else for dear life as the wind went wild and tore at everything it could, for what seemed an eternity. Heat washed over them all, and all the while the impromptu engines roared their fury. Clear! You’re clear! Drop them now! The Overlord bid Mr. Guardian to do just that; singed wings flung themselves open. Twin missiles spun ahead and exploded for a second wave of heat and shrapnel that showered over them. The last bits of metal bounced away, all that remained was the acrid haze of smoke around and behind them. One and all were silent for a moment as the realization that yes, they really had made it caught up with them. Sigh. Huge big relieved sigh. The cerebrate started laughing the nervous laughter of relief. At its hive cluster, a whole team of drones dabbed at it with damp cloths. “That...was...AWESOME!” Scootaloo cried out. “Really awesome!” “And super fun!” The Cutie Mark Crusaders started the mad dance of checking their flanks for the tell-tale mark. None had shown. “Still no cutie marks? Uugh.” “Cheer up Scootaloo. That was just the first day with ‘em. If it’s gonna be like this, we’ll get them in no time at all!” “Yeah!” they cheered together, and renewed their celebrations atop Mr. Guardian, even dragging the two hapless broodlings into an impromptu spot of dancing. The Overmind mentally nudged its cerebrate. You remember where you found them, yeah? Yeah, why? I’m sure we can evolve a recepit forging zerg strain. Like right now. No more Cutie Mark Crusaders for me. I don’t want to try that again. How about we just let them fly off into the sunset? It’s usually how this sort of thing goes. Does it? Well...alright then. So they did. The two broodlings and Mr. Guardian were made honorary Crusaders, and everyone was joyfully surprised when these zerg finally - after many adventures of their own - found their cutie marks, and they all lived happily ever after The End. ‘The End?’ Are you serious? Did you actually just do that? Yep. I don’t believe it. That goes beyond tacky. Too bad. It was awesome. You didn’t do too bad yourself. Well...true, I suppose. See, it all worked out great. Really though:  -The End.-