"Right, and if you can do that, I'll eat my hat."
Cricket briefly studied the hat in question. Commander Blattaria, since the younger changeling had first made squad leader, had since nearly doubled in body weight from pure fat, and had also picked up an impressively fancy hat. It was... incredible. Cricket had never seen it's equal, and by this point, he'd seen headwear in seven different kingdoms. It was the kind of hat that a king would wear if they needed to give their crown a day off. There were feathers from at least ten different birds sticking out of it, as well as various precious and semi-precious stones set in it's band. The wide brim somehow always conspired to set itself just so, making the wearer look incredibly rakish, even debonair, even on a fat cockroach like Blattaria. The overall design should have been gaudy, and yet somehow, it managed to look incredibly, impossibly stylish. Rumor was that it was magical. It probably was, given that it was doing the impossible: making Blattaria look good.
Squad Leader Mole Cricket kept his expression neutral as he said, "Well, either you can promote me to lieutenant or you can devour your headwear, sir, it's all one to me. I'd prefer the promotion, naturally, but it will be your choice. However, you still have not answered my question: Do I have your permission to launch the raid, sir?"
The two sat inside of Blattaria's tent, his preferred place of rest while on campaign. It was incredibly well designed, and had been plundered, along with his magnificent hat, from a merchant caravan that his soldiers had come across about two years ago. Were it not for the fact that Blattaria used the extracted bodies of his political rivals and enemies as furnishings (as a warning to others, Cricket assumed), it would have been quite pleasant.
Extraction was the worst possible punishment a changeling could face: being drained completely of love and being trapped in Dry Hibernation, with the queen's order never to restore them. The fat roach liked to use his connections to disgrace his political enemies to the point that the queen would have no choice save that most terrible of fates. It was typically reserved only for those who were either found guilty of gross incompetence (somehow Blat was an exception to that rule, which was a sign to Cricket that there was something seriously wrong with the world), cowardice (again, Blat was given a pardon), or treason.
The two changelings looked at the model of Sphinxopolis set on the back of an extracted changeling. The changelings had, for the last thirty years, been hitting this city-state twice a year on raids. They extracted a sizable amount of love from the inhabitants, then left, so that those who dwelled within could recover, gain more love, and be extracted again. Sadly, this had an unintentional side effect: After each raid, the city would improve it's defenses, making the following raid a bit harder. Worse, the various city states were getting very tired of this treatment, and were starting to work together. The Sphinxes within were the last real holdouts on forming an alliance with the city's neighbors, but it was only a matter of time.
The place had, in thirty years, gone from a modest city-state with laughable defenses to the textbook definition of "Unassailable Fortress City That Makes The Attacking Army Want To Cry Just Looking At It". And the queen was a prisoner inside...
Nobuggy had the heart, or the guts, to tell the queen she wasn't a very good actress: she kept insisting on taking the lead role infiltrating the various city states, and while nine times out of ten, it went well (the residents must be blind, or morons, not to notice the radical change in behavior, but being able to perfectly imitate the target's appearance cuts a lot of slack, Cricket supposed), but that one time out landed the whole hive in hot water every time...
Blattaria sighed, and said, "The queen got herself caught, and now she's locked up inside. I won't lie to you, Squaddie, if she's not rescued soon, it could easily mean a civil war. And that fortress is sealed up tighter than... well, it's impossible, plain and simple. And you want permission to raid that, to try and rescue the queen?"
Cricket nodded. The queen was still too young to be expected to produce a queen's egg, which would contain her heir. If she were... well, civil war would be an understatement for the nightmare that would ensue. However, Cricket already had a plan in mind. "Yes sir. I'll need three new bugs for my squad, though, since with the injuries we suffered last mission, we're under strength." The three injured weren't going to be good for much asides from tending to the freshly hatched: at least two would never be able to fly again, and all three would never be able to go any faster than a walk. Blattaria's habit of giving Cricket's squad the most dangerous missions was eating through the less capable soldiers he was given at a worrying pace.
Blattaria hesitated, but then chuckled, saying, "I have three in mind. Goliath, Portia, and Pill."
"Goliath, sir?" Cricket asked, incredulous, "I thought he was just a myth. You mean to say that he's a real changeling?"
Blattaria chuckled, and said, "Yes, he's real. And he's your problem now. They'll meet you outside, and you can introduce them to your squad. And yes, you have my permission to perform the raid. I'd wish you good luck, but we both know I'd be lying. Dismissed." The fat roach relaxed into his chair, formed from a trio of posed changelings (Cricket's heart went out to them: bad enough to be stuck like that, but add to that the pain of having to support that fat slob's ever-expanding flanks? That's just wrong). Obviously, the commander considered the matter closed, with no further need for discussion. Cricket saluted, then turned to leave. "Oh, and Squaddie?" Cricket stopped in his tracks. "If you fail, feel free to come back. I could use a new coffee table."
Cricket, still keeping his expression neutral, even with his back to the commander, said, "And after I succeed, I'll be certain to secure you a pot of mustard, sir. I'd imagine that hat is going to taste rather bland." Before the commander could speak a word in response, Cricket left the tent.
After exiting the tent, he turned towards three changelings who were sitting right outside the tent. They were, to a bug, amongst the strangest he'd ever seen.
The first one could only be Goliath. He was easily the biggest changeling that the squaddie had ever seen. Too heavy to fly, and so large that the only creature he could successfully disguise himself as was an adult dragon, the changeling was legendary for two things: his monstrous strength, and his lack of any other noteworthy attribute, including intelligence.
The second, probably Pill, had a carapace that seemed oddly rounded. He'd heard of a few changelings that had been specially modified for the "Catapult" corps, units that were intended to be hurled against walls like those of Sphinxopolis. After the first three tests of the project ended... painfully, the plan was cancelled. The upside was, the modified carapace was much harder than normal, and allowed the changeling in question to roll into a perfect ball, making them a one bug fortress. The downside was, they were much slower, could not fly, and were barely able to fight effectively. Heavy armor, but little else. Were he not standing next to Goliath, he'd have been the biggest changeling Cricket had ever seen, five times that of an adult changeling.
The third, by process of elimination, must be Portia. She was... a hatchling, and from the look of her, an Aristo. Great, that was all he needed. She was a dinky little thing, kind of cute, in a childish sort of way. He was tempted to leave her behind for such a dangerous mission, but he'd need all the help he could get, and an Aristo would have at least a little magic, which could be useful. He'd have to see what she could do.
Squad Leader Mole Cricket shouted, "Attention!" The three changelings in front of him snapped to attention, then looked briefly surprised to find themselves in that state without having thought about it. Before they had time to think further, Cricket said, "I'll be your new commander. You'll be meeting your fellow squadmates shortly. Before you do, I want you three to understand this: from now until you leave my squad, you're my responsibility. If you mess up, it ends up on my plate. If you get in trouble out there, I'll be the one who pulls you out. And if something tries to drag you away, it'll only be because they're dragging me away too, because I'll have your tail in my mouth, and will be pulling in the opposite direction. I will be relying on all of you to do your jobs. Rely on me to do mine. And lets all come home in one piece. Understood?"
"SIR YES SIR!!!"
Cricket had not counted on the volume of Goliath's voice, but temporarily deafened or not, he wasn't going to act surprised. It was time to go to work, and whether the fat old roach knew it or not, he'd handed Cricket the perfect tools for the job.
...
There was an impression of time moving by quickly, then snapping back to normal speed.
...
It was now nearly sunset, and a team of six sphinxes were hauling a massive beast of a changeling, covered head to hooves in heavy chains, across the bridge that led to the city-state of Sphinxopolis. The city was on high alert, expecting an attack at any time, but a squad with a prisoner, especially one of this... magnitude, had to be let in. It wouldn't do to be stuck outside with such a beast when night fell.
The city's guard captain stepped forward to receive the prisoner, with a team of a dozen sphinx guards to help haul in the beast. The leader of this team seemed a little young, but there were a few go-getters in the ranks these days, so the captain didn't think much of it.
Once they were through the gates, the leader of the squad asked, in a friendly tone, "Want to hear a riddle?"
Sphinxes were notorious for their love of riddles, and the captain was no different. "Sure, I'd love to hear one," he said, in an equally friendly tone.
The leader asked, "What's the difference between a sphinx, and a changeling disguised as a sphinx?"
Well, it sounded more like a joke, rather than a proper riddle, but the guard decided he'd take the bait. "I don't know."
Cricket smiled wickedly. He loved moments like this. He dropped his disguise, and asked, still in his friendly tone, "Then why did they leave you in charge of the gates?" The guard captain's face was priceless, the split second before Cricket's hoof knocked him out.
It was a quick, clean fight, mostly. The only noteworthy event was one large specimen of a sphinx, with a club, getting a clean hit on Cricket, dazing him briefly. Goliath stopped the backhand blow that would have knocked out the squad leader, but otherwise, there was nothing truly important in the encounter. The element of surprise, combined with the element of Goliath, who wasn't chained, but covered by an illusion supplied by Portia, made the numerical advantage of the sphinxes moot. Pill and Portia dismounted from the massive changeling's back and joined the gathering ranks. Once the dust cleared, Cricket turned towards the gates, which were beginning to close. "Goliath," he ordered, "get those gates for me!"
Goliath did something surprising: He spat a long thread of green adhesive goo, which struck both doors just as they closed. Then, with a seemingly negligent pull, he yanked the massive bronze gates off of their hinges, sending them flying towards him. The massive changeling caught the multi-ton gates with surprising deftness, hefted them over his head, then turned towards Cricket. Goliath asked, "Okay, whur duya wannum, boss?"
Okay, he'd have to remember Goliath could do that. More importantly, he'd have to remember that Goliath did exactly what you told him, even if it should have been impossible. The squad leader turned towards their goal, the central palace, and saw a large number of sphinx guards running down the street towards them. A mischievous smile on his face, he pointed towards the approaching enemies, and said, "Anywhere over there is fine."
The sphinxes broke ranks and scattered in every direction, desperate to avoid the multi-ton gates as they slammed down where the guards had been just moments before. Now that the way was mostly clear, it was time for phase two.
"Portia, the signal! Pill! Scarab! On me! All others, secure the gates until the main army arrives!"
Portia saluted, then cast a spell, sending a massive flare of light skyward, letting the army outside know that the gates were secured, and that the main force could attack any time. Pill rolled into a ball, and Scarab, a young female changeling who had only been in the squad for a few weeks, and had a bizarre hobby of rolling balls around with her hind legs, took up a position behind the now spheroid changeling. Cricket jumped atop Pill, standing atop his own hind legs. With no further signal, Scarab began pushing, Cricket began running backwards, and the trio was moving at incredibly high speeds, down the streets of the city, towards the main palace.
Sphinxes that tried to stop them were scattered like bowling pins, and with Cricket on top to spot any major obstacles, and Scarab to steer, they very quickly made their way to the central palace. The ornamental gates proved to be no barrier, thanks to the momentum they had built up by then. Now at their destination, Cricket leapt from atop Pill, then ordered the two to return to the city gates, to join with the rest of the army when it arrived. This next part called for stealth, not power.
Disguising himself as a royal courier, Cricket quickly made his way inside. So good was his disguise that a scribe flagged him down and passed him a document, telling him that it was to be taken to the pharaoh immediately. The pharaoh was, as usual, holding court in the throne room, trying to decide to do with the prisoner.
Once in private, Cricket read the document (Cricket had been taught to read multiple languages, even Sphinxian Heiroglyphs, by his mentor. Good intel is hard to find, and rarely in your own language). After a moment, his eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. After a moment, he opened his mouth, and stuffed the document down his craw. Commoner changelings did not have a digestive system like other creatures did, so anything swallowed would remain intact and undisturbed until he coughed it up. That document was definitely something he'd need to study in detail later...
He made all speed to the throne room, where the pharaoh, several nobles, and several important military officials were trying, with no success, to convince the queen that it would be in her best interest to take her forces and leave. The discussion was still polite, but did not sound like it would be for long.
Cricket's shout, in full commanding officer tone, cut through the chatter like a katana through a stick of butter.
"LADIES, GENTLEBEASTS, I AM HERE TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR CITY IS NOW UNDER THE CONTROL OF THE CHANGELING HIVE!!! IF YOU HAVE ANY OBJECTIONS, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO STATE THEM NOW!!!"
One impressively built sphinx made to open his mouth. Quick as lightning, Cricket whipped off his helmet, threw it into the air, then kicked it, with both back legs, full force. The helmet shot forward like a bullet, striking the sphinx in the face, rendering him unconscious. The helmet bounced off of the offending sphinx's face, back towards Cricket. With a well practiced motion, he caught the helmet, and then, with a slight grunt of effort, he popped the dent the sphinx's face had made out of the his helmet with his bare hooves, then shouted, "ANYBEAST ELSE HAVE ANY OBJECTIONS?" Nobeast did. He put his helmet back on with a smile.
When Blattaria arrived to officially take command of the city, he found Queen Chrysalis and Cricket chatting amiably in the throne room. There was a rather conspicuously placed pot of mustard set on a table in the center of the room, as well as a variety of other condiments. The queen, all smiles and good cheer, welcomed the Commander, and said, "You know, Lieutenant Cricket here was just telling me the most amusing story, about a gentlebug's wager you and he made prior to his launching this delightfully effective attack, for the sake of rescuing me. Something about you eating your hat, I believe?"
Blattaria started to raise an objection, when the queen gave the commander a glare, silencing him. "Yes, I am aware that, prior to this action, he was a squad leader, but after having witnessed him in action, I believe that his being kept at such a low rank would be a disservice to changelingkind. Moreover, since you've been hesitant to select your successor, I've decided that, until such time as a more suitable candidate can be found, unlikely as that may be, Lieutenant Mole Cricket will serve in that capacity. This is non-negotiable, and if I hear that you attempted to demote the young lieutenant without my permission, I will be most displeased."
Cricket kept his expression most definitely neutral, but inside, he was rolling on the floor, laughing aloud, whooping aloud, and dancing crazy. While the, ah, antagonistic relations between himself and the commander would certainly intensify after today, so long as Cricket held the Queen's high regard, he was well on his way to holding Blattaria's position.
And he'd need that position, he reflected, as Blattaria sat before the table, began applying condiments to his prized hat, after plucking off the gemstones and feathers, of course, then began to eat it. If the document he now had nestled inside his stomach was accurate, he would need that kind of authority to pull off the plan now forming in his brain. A dangerous, treasonous, long term plan that would secure the future of changelingkind for generations to come, if not for all of eternity. Because that one little document told Cricket something that he imagined only a select few changelings remembered...
Exactly where changelings came from.
...
There was an impression of time moving again, then stopping.
...
Cricket sat in a cave, a campfire in front of him, waiting. After a moment, Portia entered, saluted, then asked, "You summoned me, sir?"
Cricket grinned and said, "Yes. Good work out there, Miss Fimbriata. Very impressive. I've decided to nominate you for squad leader... provided you can answer some questions for me."
The young changeling nodded. Cricket pulled out the document from his mouth, and let Portia look it over. After a moment, Cricket asked, "To your knowledge, is this accurate?"
Portia could only nod mutely.
After a moment, Cricket asked, "Two spells are mentioned in that document. One of them, I doubt you would have the power to break. It would take more power than the hive currently possesses to overcome it. The second, however, the Obedience spell... can you break that one?"
Portia nodded again. After a moment, she said, "Sir, if the queen ever finds out that..."
Cricket cut her off with a motion of his hoof, his face a mask of rage. "At this moment, I could not care less about the queen. When I became a soldier, I swore an oath, to always act in the best interests of the hive. Queens change, but the hive remains. And now I find that everything, everything that we believed, that we have built our lives around, everything that we are... is built upon a betrayal a thousand years old. A betrayal perpetrated by the first queen, and the aristos of that era, and perpetuated by their successors. And the commoners forced to cooperate with that betrayal, against their will, have been made slaves to those who took everything from us, have been forced to lick the hooves of our oppressors for so long that we've forgotten what freedom tastes like."
Portia held the commander's gaze, then after a moment, she smiled. "It sounds to me as if you are plotting to upset the so-called "natural order". Sounds like fun. Need some help?"
Cricket smiled in response, and said, "Spoken like a true fallen aristo. I'm sorry about your father, by the way. I saw him in Blat's tent. I can't promise you that I will be able to save him, but if you work with me, I promise you, you'll get to use Blattaria for a table before this is done."
Portia Fimbriata, last survivor of the house of the Jumping Spider, one of Blattaria's greatest political enemies, smiled toothily, and said, "It would be my pleasure, Commander."
Lieutenant Mole Cricket's smile was equally wicked as he said, "Not yet, but soon. Welcome to the Queen's Arrow, Portia." Portia grinned at that. The nickname given to the squad that Cricket had led today had been given by the queen herself. A nice name with a delicious double meaning: all would assume that it was the arrow belonging to the queen, to be cast against her enemies, striking them down with speed and precision. Nobuggy would suspect, until the fateful day came, that it was also the arrow that would strike the queen down, for the betrayal that her ancestors had committed, and that she had helped to perpetuate as well...
The changelings had been beautiful once. And ponies. They would be again. Cricket would see to that.