Deep inside the changeling hive, in one of the many, many rooms, one changeling was trying to sleep.
He was #3 of strike team seven, a number and occupation he held with pride. Though said pride had been dampened by the utter failure that was called the Canterlot invasion. It had happened weeks ago, but his body was still sore.
He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Which was pretty hard, considering changeling beds were little more than an alcove in the hive’s stone walls. He eventually decided to just stare into the dimly lit room. It was one of the many barracks in the hive. ‘Barracks’ was being generous, as it was pretty much just like any other room, except bigger, and filled with lots of alcoves for lots of soldiers. The whole place was dimly lit by green, magical lights. #3 didn’t know how they worked, and he never bothered to find out. He just wanted to sleep.
“Psst! Hey!” a chirping voice whispered from the alcove above the one #3 was in, prompting him to turn around. He didn’t need this right now. He wanted to sleep, not get a migraine.
“Hey! #3!” the voice sounded again. “Are you asleep?”
#3 grumbled. “Yes.”
“Then you’re being pretty bad at it,” the voice said, this time from behind him. “I mean, if you’re asleep, you’re not supposed to be talking and awake.”
#3 groaned. “Thanks for pointing that out,” he said as he turned around. “Anything else you want to tell me, #44? Like the sky being blue, or that I want you to leave me alone so I can sleep?”
#44 of strike team six was standing on the floor in front of #3’s little alcove. #44 was all in all an okay soldier, but he was a constant thorn in #3’s side. Rude, annoying, selfish... Pretty much an average changeling, except for one thing. “Well, I’m not telling you about that last one, because it’s obviously not true,” #44 said. Unlike most changelings, his voice held a high-pitched chirp, instead of a low-pitched buzz. Rare, but not unheard of. #3 just wished he never heard of it, because it was incredibly grating.
“Are you just here to annoy me, or did you actually need me for something?” #3 asked.
“The annoying is a plus, but I wanted to ask you something,” #44 said. “D’you think the rumours are true?”
#3 sat up and raised an eyebrow. “Rumours? What rumours?”
#44 rolled his eyes. “Figures, noling would share that with you. There’s been talk of a new invasion.”
“They wouldn’t share it with me because it’s stupid,” #3 retorted. “I’m still sore from being launched out of Canterlot. If we’re going to attack again, we need a plan that isn’t doomed to fail.”
“Pfft, we totally had those ponies beat,” #44 said. “Except we didn’t realize that love could be used against us as well. But hey, we know that now, so we won’t fail next time!”
“Beat?” #3 hopped out of the alcove. “We got our carapaces cracked! Do I need to remind you of the part where we fought those six ponies?”
“I think that went pretty well,” #44 said.
“We were defeated by a bookworm, a farmer, a weatherpony, a fashionista, a wuss, and whatever that pink pony was!” #3 shouted. “And there were three hundred of us!” In response to his shouting, someling in the barracks yelled at him to shut up, but he ignored it.
“Feh, beginner’s luck.” #44 dismissively waved a hoof. “Next time, I won’t trip over that cowering pony.”
#3 slapped himself in the face with a hoof. “You couldn’t even defeat a rock if you wanted to.”
“Just you wait,” #44 said. He kicked at a random pebble on the ground, shooting it off into the distance. It hit a wall, bounced off, and hit #44 straight in the face, causing the changeling to recoil in surprise.
#3 snickered. “See? Hopeless.”
“Shut up,” #44 muttered. “I’m sure Queen Chrysalis will come up with a better plan for next time.”
“She will,” #3 said. “After all, if she doesn’t come up with one, then who will?”
#44 shrugged. “I dunno. As long as it involves a bit more winning and a bit less gloating, I’m okay with it.”
“Less gloating? What are you, crazy?” #3 asked. “Gloating is essential to victory. It crushes the opponent’s spirit! How can you hope to take over a city without gloating?”
#44 shrugged. “There’s always a first time. But at least a gloating queen is better than an angry queen.”
“I’m just glad she didn’t take it out on me,” #3 said. “I heard she banished someling to cool off. What do you think happened to that guy?”
“Beats me.” #44 chuckled. “I saw him being lifted outside, so I guess he’s alone somewhere, miserable and starving.”
#3 grimaced. “Nasty. Y’know, isn’t it our job, as soldiers, to make sure no changeling is harmed?”
“I couldn’t care less,” #44 scoffed. “We’re soldiers, we answer to the queen and the queen alone. It’s his own fault for failing.”
“But didn’t we all fail?” #3 sure felt sore enough to realize that they had failed.
“I wouldn’t say ‘fail’, more like...” #44 paused for a moment, waving a hoof around in a vague gesture. “We just... didn’t succeed?”
“That’s the same thing, you dolt. That’s like saying you’re tactically retreating when you’re actually just fleeing,” #3 said.
“Hey, there’s a big difference!” #44 said indignantly. “It’s... Uh...” He took a few moments to find the right words. “Saying you failed just sounds so negative. We didn’t lose, we just... didn’t win.”
#3 groaned. “I’m pretty sure taking a beating and then being thrown away for miles by some kind of magic love shield thing counts as losing.”
#44 prodded #3 in the chest. “Y’know, your negativity is the reason we lost. Stop being such a Negative Nancy and start winning. For the glory of the queen, the hive, and the entire changeling race!”
#3 pushed #44’s hoof away. “Fine, if it’ll make you leave me alone, I’ll be more positive. Now go to sleep.” Without waiting for an answer, or even a reaction, #3 walked outside the barracks, purposefully bumping into #44 as he left.
As he walked through the dank, dimly lit tunnels, #3 snorted. Stupid, annoying #44. Stupid invasion. Stupid pony princesses. Stupid ponies in general. He needed some fresh air.
Every once in a while, he could hear another changeling’s hooves clip-clopping on the hive’s floor, or their wings buzzing in the distance. All of them with different jobs, different lives... Different everything. Not that #3 really cared. Being a soldier was what he did, and it was what he did best. His job wasn’t the most glamorous, or the most forgiving.
He stepped outside and took a deep breath as the cool night breeze flowed over his body. The only reason he was a soldier was... Well, because he was told to be one by the queen. It wasn’t always fun, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Like all other changelings, he served the queen as well as he could.
Certainly a lot different from ponies. They did silly things like look out for each other and defend their so-called friends. Changelings sure wouldn’t do that. Why would #3 ever want to look out for changelings like #44? It’d be a waste of time.
Though considering these ponies did defeat their aggressors, maybe they were on to something. Very maybe.
“Bleh,” #3 mumbled to himself. “What am I even thinking about?” He grumbled. He must’ve hit his head after being launched away from Canterlot. With a sigh, he turned around and went back into the hive. He needed some sleep. Get his mind off things.
The gloomy ambience of the hive didn’t do anything to ease #3’s thoughts. Occasionally, he stopped to peek into a room, to see what other changelings were doing. Most of them were sleeping, or taking care of some last-minute work.
One room in particular made him pause for a while longer. A large room that was just a little bit more brightly lit than others. The alcoves there were a lot smaller and more plentiful than in other rooms. In those countless little alcoves slept countless little figures: changeling nymphs.
Usually, #3 would find them incredibly annoying. Nymphs were like mini-changelings who didn’t have a job and never kept their mouths shut. But when they were asleep, and not harassing others, they could be a little endearing. Just a very tiny little bit.
#3 smiled to himself. Someday in the future, these nymphs would be grown up, and be a soldier instead of him, when he was too old to work. He was already looking forward to chewing them out over every little thing, just like the elders had done to him in the past.
A thought occurred to him: while soldiers only listened to Queen Chrysalis’ direct orders, and as such, only acted in her best interests, the queen’s primary objective was to ensure the changeling race prospered. Indirectly, #3 was fighting for these little twerps as well.
#3 turned away from the nymph-filled room and headed back to the barracks, grimacing. It meant that, in some way, changelings weren’t that different from ponies.
That thought stuck in #3’s head, even after he crawled back in his own alcove and fell asleep, dreaming about the day the changeling race would finally defeat their pastel-coloured prey.